Juggler of Worlds

Juggler of Worlds

by Larry Niven, Edward M. Lerner


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For too long, the Puppeteers have controlled the fate of worlds. Now Sigmund is pulling the strings...

Covert agent Sigmund Ausfaller is Earth's secret weapon, humanity's best defense against all conspiracies, real and potential - and imaginary - of foes both human and alien. Who better than a brilliant paranoid to expose the devious plots of others?

He may finally have met his match in Nessus, representative of the secretive Puppeteers, the elder race who wield vastly superior technologies. Nessus schemes in the shadows with Earth's traitors and adversaries, even after the race he represents abruptly vanishes from Known Space.

As a paranoid, Sigmund had always known things would end horribly for him. Only the when, where, how, why, and by whom of it all had eluded him. That fog has begun to lift...

But even Sigmund has never imagined how far his investigations will take him - or that his destiny is entwined with the fates of worlds.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781250208972
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Publication date: 06/02/2009
Series: Known Space Series
Pages: 352
Product dimensions: 4.25(w) x 7.00(h) x 1.00(d)

About the Author

LARRY NIVEN is the multiple Hugo- and Nebula-winning author of the Ringworld series, along with many other science fiction masterpieces. His Beowulf's Children, co-authored with Jerry Pournelle and Steven Barnes, was a New York Times bestseller. He lives in Chatsworth, California.

EDWARD M. LERNER has degrees in physics and computer science, a background that kept him mostly out of trouble until he began writing SF full-time. His books include Probe, Moonstruck, and the collection Creative Destruction. Fleet of Worlds was his first collaboration with Larry Niven. He lives in Virginia with Ruth, his wife of a mere thirty-five years.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter one

Sigmund Ausfaller woke up shivering, prone on a cold floor. His head pounded. Tape bound his wrists and ankles to plasteel chains.

He had always known it would end horribly. Only the when, where, how, why, and by whom of it all had eluded him.

That fog was beginning to lift.

How had he gotten here, wherever here was? As though from a great distance, Sigmund watched himself quest for recent memories. Why was it such a struggle?

He remembered the pedestrian concourse of an open-air mall, shoppers streaming. They wore every color of the rainbow, clothing and hair and skin, in every conceivable combination and pattern. Overhead, fluffy clouds scudded across a clear blue sky. The sun was warm on his face. Work, for once, had been laid aside. He'd been content.

Happiness is the sworn enemy of vigilance. How could he have been so careless?

Sigmund forced open his eyes. He was in a nearly featureless room. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were resilient plastic. Light came from one wall. I could be anywhere, Sigmund thought-and then two details grabbed his attention.

The room wasn't quite a box. The glowing wall had a bit of a curve to it.

There were recessed handholds in walls, floor, and ceiling.

Panic struck. He was on a spaceship! Was gravity a hair higher than usual? Lower? He couldn't tell.

Plasteel chains clattered dully as Sigmund sat up. He had watched enough old movies to expect chains to clink. Even as the room spun around him and everything faded to black, he found the energy to feel cheated.

COLD PLASTIC PRESSED AGAINST Sigmund's cheek. He opened his eyes a crack to see the same spartan room. Cell.

This time henoticed that one link of his chains had been fused to a handhold in the deck.

Had he passed out from a panic attack? Where was he?

Sigmund forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply until the new episode receded. Fear could only muddy his thoughts. More deep breaths.

He had never before blacked out from panic. He could not believe that his blackout stemmed from panic. Yes, his faint had closely followed the thought he might be aboard a spaceship. It also had occurred just after he had sat up. Sigmund remembered his thoughts having been fuzzy. They seemed sharper now.

He'd been drugged! Doped up and barely awake, he'd sat up too fast. That was why he had passed out.

More cautiously this time, Sigmund got into a sitting position. His head throbbed. He considered the pain dispassionately. Less disabling than the last time, he decided. Perhaps the drugs were wearing off.

Some odd corner of his mind felt shamed by his panic attacks. Most Earthborn had flatland phobia worse than he, and so what? True, he'd been born on Earth, but his parents had been all over Known Space. Somehow they took pleasure in strange scents, unfamiliar night skies, and wrong gravity.

On principle, Sigmund had been to the moon twice. He had had to know: Could he leave Earth should the need ever arise? The second time, it was to make sure the success of that first trip wasn't a fluke.

He listened carefully. The soft whir of a ventilation fan. Hints of conversation, unintelligible. His own heartbeat. None of the background powerplant hum that permeated the spaceships he'd been on. Gravity felt as normal as his senses could judge.

Recognizing facts, spotting patterns, drawing inferences . . . he managed, but slowly, as though his thoughts swam through syrup. Traces of drugs remained in his system. He forced himself to concentrate.

If this was a ship, it was still on Earth. Someone meant to panic him, Sigmund decided. Someone wanted something from him. Until they got it, he'd probably remain alive.


For as long as Sigmund could remember, there had always been some they to worry about.

But even as Sigmund formed that thought, he knew "always" wasn't quite correct. . . .

IN THE BEGINNING, they were unambiguous enough: the Kzinti.

The Third Man-Kzin War broke out in 2490, the year Sigmund was born. He was five before he knew what a Kzin was-something like an upright orange cat, taller and much bulkier than a man, with a naked, rat-like tail. By then, the aliens had been defeated. The Kzinti Patriarchy ceded two colony worlds to the humans as reparations. In Sigmund's lifetime, they had attacked human worlds three more times. They'd lost those wars, too.

Fafnir was one of the worlds that changed hands after the third war. His parents had wanderlust and not a trace of flatland phobia. They left him in the care of an aunt, and went to Fafnir in 2500 for an adventure.

And found one.

Conflict erupted that year between humans on Fafnir and the Kzinti settlers who had remained behind. His parents vanished, in hostilities that failed to rise to the level of a numeral in the official reckoning of Man- Kzin Wars. It was a mere "border incident."

Everyone knew the Kzinti ate their prey.

So they, for a long time, were Kzinti. Sigmund hated the ratcats, and everyone understood. And he hated his parents for abandoning him. The grief counselors told his aunt that that was normal. And he hated his aunt, as much as she reminded him of Mom-or perhaps because she did-for allowing Mom and Dad to leave him with her.

The same year his parents disappeared, the Puppeteers emerged from beyond the rim of Human Space. A species more unlike the Kzinti could not be imagined. Puppeteers looked like two-headed, three-legged, wingless ostriches. The heads on their sinuous necks reminded him of sock puppets. The brain, Aunt Susan told him, hid under the thick mop of mane between the massive shoulders.

So they came to include these other aliens, these harmless-seeming newcomers, because Sigmund didn't believe in coincidence. And then they came to include all aliens-because, really, how could anyone truly know otherwise?

That was when Aunt Susan took him to a psychotherapist. Sigmund remembered the stunned look on her face after his first session. After she spoke alone with the therapist. Sigmund remembered her sobbing all that night in her bedroom.

He had a sickness, or sicknesses, he couldn't spell, much less understand: a paranoid personality disorder. Monothematic delusion with delusional misidentication syndrome. He didn't know if he believed the supposed silver lining: that it was treatable.

What Sigmund did believe was the other consolation Dr. Swenson offered Aunt Susan-that paranoia is an affliction of the brightest.

In time, Sigmund understood. Trauma can cause stress can cause biochemical imbalances can cause mental illness. A day and a night asleep in an autodoc corrected the biochemical imbalance in his brain. But a single chemical tweak wasn't enough: Knowing the world is out to get you is its own stress. Three months of therapy with Dr . Swenson addressed the paranoid behaviors Sigmund had already learned.

Dr. Swenson was right: Sigmund was very smart. Smart enough to figure out what the therapist wanted to hear. Smart enough to learn what thoughts to keep to himself.

TREMBLING, SIGMUND TRIED AGAIN to shake off the drugs. Reliving old horrors served no useful purpose-especially now. He needed to focus.

Start with them. They weren't Kzinti: The room was too small. Kzinti would have gone crazy.

They wanted something from him; how he responded might be the only control he had in this situation. Who might they be?

Others might see in him only a middle-aged, midlevel financial analyst. A United Nations bureaucrat. A misanthrope dressed always in black, in a world where everyone else wore vibrant colors.

Sigmund saw more. All those year

Table of Contents


Dramatis Personae,

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Juggler of Worlds (Known Space Series) 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 32 reviews.
harstan More than 1 year ago
Amalgamated Regional Militia Intel Agent Sigmund Ausfaller works extremely hard to keep aliens from harming the Earth and its colonies. However, the brilliant but obsessed ARM operative determines that the top hazard at the moment comes from the sheep like obsessive Puppeteers. They herd to protect their species from the remotest of threats.--------------- The Puppeteers General Products sector sells items deemed safe to their species to the highest bidder. Recently they sold spaceship hulls that are guaranteed to protect anyone inside from any form of radiation. However, a scientific expedition using a General Products anti-radiation hull arrives with the outside husk in perfect order, but inside everything including the crew has been gutted and mutilated. Sigmund needs to know why while the Puppeteers begin the sale of specialty technology to chosen ones in order to increase their espionage activity until they learn that in several millenniums the galactic core will explode. Reacting to this future threat, the Puppeteers sheepishly vanish leaving behind selected scouts to keep watch on the others pulling strings along the way.---------------------- A Ringworld prequel like FLEET OF WORLDS, JUGGLER OF WORLDS is an engaging science fiction thriller intended to and succeeding in thrilling long time fans of the series. Much of the novel repeats action from the saga although refreshes it to a degree by using someone else¿s interpretation of known events at least to the Ringworld audience. More so than usual the similarities between Sigmund and the Puppeteers are obvious as both are obsessed on preventing external real or perceived threats from harming their species by pulling the strings of others. This is a solid entry though a bit slow as readers know what occurred already.--------- Harriet Klausner
Cynara on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
The second two books in this series of prequels were a decided improvement over the first. Juggler felt like a Niven book, and despite being rather shamelessly cobbled together out of classic Known Space short stories, at least they were very good short stories. If I'd read them more recently I probably would have enjoyed the new POVs very much. If I'd never read them at all, I might have found the story somewhat episodic, but I wouldn't have noticed it was a retread.On the other hand, it was a pleasure to be properly back inside Known Space with Sigmund Ausfeller as guide. I believe there's also a blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to Louis Wu. I was looking out for it; if you subtitle your series '200 years before the discovery of the Ringworld", and Ringworld's hero very publicly turns 200 just before he leaves to discover the thing, you'd better have his birth pop up somewhere.
kinnerc on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I was a bit nervous when I realised that Juggler of Worlds was to be a retelling of Fleet of Worlds from the human perspective, but I thought, "Hey, I like slight differences like that. It could work."Well, I'm not sure it did. Juggler turned out not only to be a retelling of Fleet from the human perspective, but seemed to be a retelling of a good portion of the short stories of Known Space, including "Neutron Star" and "At the Core" as well as the semi-new story, "Procrustes." Basically we're talking about 30% of the novel collection Crashlander was used heavily as a basis for Juggler and told in such a way that you didn't need to have read those stories to follow along. And that's good I guess...except for those of us who have read those stories.But what got to me was a section of the novel where our heroes go to ß Lyrae and find a statis box...or think they do. This chapter turns out to be a re-telling of "The Soft Weapon," regarded by everyone except, perhaps, Gene Roddenberry, as the weakest link in the 1968 Neutron Star short story collection, from Nessus' point of view. The problem is that the original story is done in 3rd person, so telling it from Nessus' point of view is such a small change that the effect is that Niven & Lerner cut & pasted "The Soft Weapon" directly into Juggler of Worlds!I was less than impressed.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great story
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A great read for anyone, but especially for long-time fans of Known Space. Fills in a lot of the background behind short stories written long ago...great fun!
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theFlyingDutchman More than 1 year ago
It's pretty nice, but unfortunately rather disjointed. The reason is that it's essentially a sequel to about a dozen of the Known Space stories, or a revisiting of the story from a different character's viewpoint. That's a reasonable thing to do (though Heinlein did it better) but it means you don't get a single coherent tale. I was hoping for a sequel to the (very good) "Fleet of Worlds" and while it is that to some extent, it isn't anywhere near as good. Still worth reading.
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