Louis felt a bubbling scream somewhere in him, buried deep and well under control, but rising. Soon it would be near the surface …
And he wondered if Nessus would leave them.
That was bad. It was a question with an obvious answer. There was every reason why the puppeteer should leave, and no reason why he should not.
Unless he still hoped to find civilized natives here.
"The floating vehicles and the age of the skeletons both indicate that there is nobody tending the machinery of the cell block," Speaker speculated. "The fields that trapped us must have collected a few vehicles after the city was deserted; but then there were no more vehicles on the Ringworld. So the machines still work, because nothing has strained their powers in so long a time."
"That may be so," said Nessus. "But someone is monitoring our conversation."
Louis felt his ears prick up. He saw Speaker's fan out.
"It must have required excellent technique to tap a closed beam. One wonders if the eavesdropper has a translator."
"What can you tell about him?"
"Only his direction. The source of the interference is your own present whereabouts. Perhaps the eavesdropper is above you."
Reflexively Louis tried to look up. Not a prayer. He was head down, with two crash balloons and the flycycle between him and the ceiling.
"We've found the Ringworld civilization," he said aloud.
"Perhaps. I think a civilized being could have repaired the third zap gun, as you called it. But the main thing … let me think."
And the puppeteer went off into Beethoven, or the Beatles, or something classical-sounding. For all Louis could tell he was making it up as he went along.
And when he said let me think, he meant it. The whistling went on and on. Louis was getting thirsty. And hungry. And his head was pounding.
He had given up hope, several separate times, when the puppet= came on again. "I would have preferred to use the Slaver disintegrator, but it is not to be. Louis, you will have to do it; you are primate-descended, better than Speaker at climbing. You will secure the -"
"Climbing?"
"When I finish you may ask questions, Louis. Secure the flashlight-laser from wherever you put it. Use the beam to puncture the balloon in front of you. You will have to snatch at its fabric as you fall. Use it to climb over the flycycle until you are balanced on top. Then -"
"You're out of your mind."
"Let me finish, Louis. The purpose of all this activity is to destroy the zap gun, as you called it. Probably there are two zap guns. One is over the door you entered by, or under it. The other may be anywhere. Your only clue may be that it looks like the first zap gun."
"Sure, and it may not. Never mind that. How do you expect me to grab at the fabric of an exploding balloon fast enough to — No. I can't."
"Louis. How can I reach you if a weapon waits to burn out my machinery?"
"I don't know."
"Do you expect Speaker to do the climbing?"
"Can't cats climb?"
Speaker said, "My ancestors were plains cats, Louis. My burnt hand is healing slowly. I cannot climb. In any case, the leaf-eater's proposition is insane. Surely you see that he is merely looking for an excuse to desert us."
Louis saw. Perhaps he let the fear show.
"I will not leave you yet," Nessus said. "I will wait. Perhaps you will conceive a better plan. Perhaps the eavesdropper will show himself. I will wait."
Louis Wu, wedged upside down and motionless between two shaped balloons, naturally found it difficuk to measure time. Nothing changed. Nothing moved. He could hear Nessus whistling in the distance; but nothing else seemed to be happening.
Eventually Louis started counting his own heartbeats. Seventy-two to the minute, he figured.
Precisely ten minutes later he was heard to say, "Seventy-two. One. What am I doing?"
"Were you speaking to me, Louis?"
"Tanjit! Speaker, I can't take this. I'd rather die now than go crazy first." He began forcing his arms down.
"I command, Louis, under combat conditions. I order you to remain calm, and wait."
"Sorry." Louis forced his arms down, relax, jerk down, relax. There it was: his belt. His hand was too far forward. He forced his elbow back, relax, jerk back …
"What the puppeteer suggests is suicide, Louis."
"Maybe." He had it: the flashlight-laser. Two more jerks freed it from his belt and pointed it forward; he would burn into the dashboard but would not burn himself.
He fired.
The balloon collapsed slowly. As it did, the one at his back pushed him forward into the dashboard. Under the lighter pressure, it was easy to push the fiashligbt-laser into his belt and to clutch two handfuls of wrinkling, collapsing fabric.
He was also sliding out of his seat. Faster, faster — He gripped with manic force, and when he turned over, falling, his hands did not slip on the fabric. He hung by his hands beneath his flycycle, with a ninety foot drop below and -
"Speaker!"
"Here I am, Louis. I have secured my own weapon. Shall I pop the other balloon for you?"
"Yes!" It was right across his path, blocking him entirely.
The balloon did not collapse. One side of it puffed dust for two seconds, then disappeared in a great puff of air. Speaker had zapped it with one beam of the disintegrator.
"Finagle knows how you can aim that thing," Louis wheezed. He began to climb.
It was easy going while the fabric held out. Translate: Despite the hours hed spent with blood flowing to his brain, Louis managed not to let go. But the fabric ended in the vicinity of the foot throttle; and the 'cycle had rolled half over with his weight, so that he still hung from underneath.
He pulled himself close against the 'cycle, braced himself with his knees. He began to rock.
Speaker-To-Animals was making curious sounds.
The cycle rocked back and forth, further with each swing. Louis assumed, because he had to, that most of the metal was in the belly of the 'cycle. Otherwise the 'cycle would roll, and wherever he placed himself Louis would be underneath, and therefore Nessus would not have made the suggestion.
The 'cycle rolled far. Louis, nauseated, fought the urge to vomit. If his breathing passages got clogged now, it was all over.
The 'cycle rolled back, and over, and was precisely upside down. Louis lunged across the underside and snatched at the other end of the collapsed balloon. And had it.
The 'cycle continued its roll. Louis was flattened chestdown across the belly of the machine. He waited, clinging.
The inert hulk paused, hesitated, rolled back. His vestibular canals spun, and Louis lost — what? Yesterday's late lunch? He lost it explosively, in great agonizing heaves, across the metal and across his sleeve; but he didn't shift his position more than an inch.
The flycycle continued to heave like the sea. But Louis was anchored. Presently he dared to look up.
A woman was watching him.
She seemed to be entirely bald. Her face reminded Louis of the wire-sculpture in the banquet hall of the Heaven tower. The features, and the expression. She was as calm as a goddess or a dead woman. And he wanted to blush, or hide, or disappear.
Instead he said, "Speaker, we're being watched. Relay to Nessus."
"A minute, Louis. I am discomposed. I made the mistake of watching you climb."
"Okay. She's — I thought she was bald, but she isn't. Theres a fringe of hairbearing scalp that crosses over her ears and meets at the base of her skull. She wears the hair long, more than shoulder length." He did not say that her hair was rich and dark falling past one shoulder as she bent slightly forward to watch Louis Wu, nor that her skull was finely and delicately shaped, nor that her eyes seemed to spear him like a martini olive. "I think she's an Engineer; she either belongs to the same race or follows the same customs. Have you got that?"