Rendezvous with Rama

by Arthur C. Clarke

  He waited as patiently as he could for the next ten minutes, trying - without much success - to think of other problems. He hated wasting mental effort; it was very unlikely that he could out-guess the message that was coming, and he would know its contents soon enough. Then he would start worrying effectively.

  When the Exec called back, he was obviously speaking under considerable strain.

  'It's not really urgent Skipper - an hour won't make any difference. But I prefer to avoid radio. I'll send it down by messenger.’

  'But why - oh, very well - I trust your judgement. Who will carry it through the airlocks?’

  'I'm going myself; I'll call you when I reach the Hub.’

  'Which leaves Laura in charge.’

  'For one hour, at the most. I'll get right back to the ship.’

  A medical officer did not have the specialized training to be acting commander, any more than a commander could be expected to do an operation. In emergencies, both jobs had sometimes been successfully switched; but it was not recommended. Well, one order had already been broken tonight...

  'For the record, you never leave the ship. Have you woken Laura?’

  'Yes. She's delighted with the opportunity.’

  'Lucky that doctors are used to keeping secrets. Oh have you sent the acknowledgement?’

  'Of course, in your name.’

  'Then I'll be waiting.’

  Now it was quite impossible to avoid anxious anticipations. 'Not really urgent - but I prefer to avoid radio...’

  One thing was certain. The Commander was not going to get much more sleep this night.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX - Riot Watcher

  Sergeant Pieter Rousseau knew why he had volunteered for this job; in many ways, it was a realization of a childhood dream. He had become fascinated by telescopes when he was only six or seven years old, and much of his youth had been spent collecting lenses of all shapes and sizes. These he had mounted in cardboard tubes, making instruments of ever-increasing power until he was familiar with the moon and planets, the nearer space-stations, and the entire landscape within thirty-kilometres of his home.

  He had been lucky in his place of birth, among the mountains of Colorado; in almost every direction, the view was spectacular and inexhaustible. He had spent hours exploring, in perfect safety, the peaks which every year took their toll of careless climbers. Though he had seen much, he had imagined even more; he had liked to pretend that over each crest of rock, beyond the reach of his telescope, were magic kingdoms full of wonderful creatures. And so for years he had avoided visiting the places his lenses brought to him, because he knew that. the reality could not live up to the dream.

  Now, on the central axis of Rama, he could survey marvels beyond the wildest fantasies of his youth. A whole world lay spread out before him - a small one, it was true, yet a man could spend an entire lifetime exploring four thousand square kilometres, even when it was dead and changeless.

  But now life, with all its infinite possibilities, had come to Rama. If the biological robots were not living creatures, they were certainly very good imitations.

  No one knew who invented the word 'biot'; it seemed to come into instant use, by a kind of spontaneous generation. From his vantage point on the Hub, Pieter was Biot-Watcher-in-Chief, and he was beginning, - so he believed - to understand some of their behaviour patterns.

  The Spiders were mobile sensors, using vision - and probably touch - to examine the whole interior of Rama. At one time there had been hundreds of them rushing around at high speed, but after less than two days they had disappeared; now it was quite unusual to see even one.

  They had been replaced by a whole menagerie of much more impressive creatures; it had been no minor task, thinking of suitable names for them. There were the Window Cleaners, with large padded feet, who were apparently polishing their way the whole length of Rama's - six artificial suns. Their enormous shadows, cast right across the diameter of the world, sometimes caused temporary eclipses on the far side.

  The crab that had demolished Dragonfly seemed to be a Scavenger. A relay chain of identical creatures had approached Camp Alpha and carried off all the debris that had been neatly stacked on the outskirts; they would have carried off everything else if Norton and Mercer had not stood firm and defied them. The confrontation had been anxious but brief; thereafter, the Scavengers seemed to understand what they were allowed to touch, and arrived at regular intervals to see if their services were required. It was a most convenient arrangement, and indicated a high degree of intelligence - either on the part of the Scavengers themselves, or some controlling entity elsewhere.

  Garbage disposal on Rama was very simple; everything was thrown into the Sea, where it was, presumably, broken down into forms that could be used again. The process was rapid; Resolution had disappeared overnight, to the great annoyance of Ruby Barnes. Norton had consoled her by pointing out that it had done its job magnificently - and he would never have allowed anyone to use it again. The Sharks might not be as discriminating as the Scavengers.

  No astronomer discovering an unknown planet could - have been happier that Pieter when he spotted a new type of biot and secured a good photo of it through his telescope. Unfortunately, it seemed that all the interesting species were over at the South Pole, where they were performing mysterious tasks round the Horns. Something that looked like a centipede with suction pads could be seen from time to time exploring Big Horn itself, while round the lower peaks Pieter had caught a glimpse of a burly creature that could have been a cross between a hippopotamus and a bulldozer. And there was even a double-necked giraffe, which apparently acted as a mobile crane.

  Presumably, Rama, like any ship, required testing, checking and repairing after its immense voyage. The crew was already hard at work; when would the passengers appear?

  Biot classifying was not Pieter's main job; his orders were to keep watch on the two or three exploring parties that were always out, to see that they did not get into trouble, and to warn them if anything approached. He alternated every six hours with anyone else who could be spared, though more than once he had been on duty for twelve hours at a stretch. As a result, he now knew the geography of Rama better than any man who would ever live. It was as familiar to him as the Colorado mountains of his youth.

  When Jerry Kirchoff emerged from Airlock Alpha, Pieter knew at once that something unusual was happening. Personnel transfers never occurred during the sleeping period, and it was now past midnight by Mission Time. Then Pieter remembered how short-handed they were, and was shocked by a much more startling irregularity.

  'Jerry - who's in charge of the ship?' - 'I am,' said the Exec coldly, as he flipped open his helmet. 'You don't think I'd leave the bridge while I'm on watch, do you?’

  He reached into his suit carry-all, and pulled out a small can still bearing the label: CONCENTRATED ORANGE JUICE: TO MAKE FIVE LITRES.

  'You're good at this Pieter. The skipper is waiting for it.' Pieter hefted the can, then said, 'I hope you've put enough mass inside it - sometimes they get stuck on the first terrace.’

  'Well, you're the expert.’

  That was true enough. The Hub observers had had plenty of practice, sending down small items that had been forgotten or were needed in a hurry. The trick was to get them safely past the low-gravity region,. and then to see that the Coriolis effect did not carry them too far away from the Camp during the eight-kilometre roll downhill.

  Pieter anchored himself firmly, grasped the can, and hurled it down the face of the cliff. He did not aim directly towards Camp Alpha, but almost thirty degrees away from it.

  Almost immediately, air resistance robbed the can of its initial speed, but then the pseudo-gravity of Rama took over and it started to move downwards at a constant velocity. It hit once near the base of the ladder, and did a slow-motion bounce which took it clear of the first terrace.

  'It's OK now,' said Pieter. 'Like to make a bet?’

  'No,' was the prompt reply.
'You know the odds.’

  'You're no sportsman. But I'll tell you now - it will stop within three hundred metres of the Camp.’

  'That doesn't sound very close.’

  'You might try it some time. I once saw Joe miss by a couple of kilometres.’

  The can was no longer bouncing; gravity had become strong enough to glue it to the curving face of the North Dome. By the time it had reached the second terrace it was rolling along at twenty or thirty kilometres an hour, and had reached very nearly the maximum speed that friction would allow.

  'Now we'll have to wait,' said Pieter, seating himself at the telescope, so that he could keep track of the messenger. 'It will be there in ten minutes. Ah, here comes the skipper - I've got used to recognizing people from this angle - now he's looking up at us.

  'I believe that telescope gives you a sense of power.’

  'Oh, it does. I'm the only person who knows everything that's happening in Rama. At least, I thought I did,' he added plaintively, giving Kirchoff a reproachful look.

  'If it will keep you happy, the skipper found he'd run out of toothpaste.’

  After that, conversation languished; but at last Pieter said: 'Wish you'd taken that bet ... he's only got to walk fifty metres ... now he sees it ... mission complete.’

  'Thanks, Pieter - a very good job. Now you can go back to sleep.’

  'Sleep! I'm on watch until 0400.’

  'Sorry - you must have been sleeping. Or how else could you have dreamed all this?’

  SPACE SURVEY HQ TO COMMANDER SSV ENDEAVOUR. PRIORITY AAA. CI.ASSIFICATION YOUR EYES ONLY. NO PERMANENT RECORD. SPACEGUARD REPORTS ULTRA HIGH SPEED VEHICLE APPARENTLY LAUNCHED MERCURY TEN TO TWELVE DAYS AGO ON RAMA INTERCEPT. IF NO ORBIT CHANGE ARRIVAL PREDICTED DATE 322 DAYS 15 HOURS. MAY BE NECESSARY YOU EVACUATE BEFORE THEN. WILL ADVISE FURTHER.

  C IN C Norton read the message half a dozen times to memorize the date. It was hard to keep track of time inside Rama; he had to look at his calendar watch to see that it was now Day 315. That might leave them only one week...

  The message was chilling, not only for what it said, but for what it implied. The Hermians had made a clandestine launch - that in itself a breach of Space Law. The conclusion was obvious; their 'vehicle' could only be a missile.

  But why? It was inconceivable - well, almost inconceivable - that they would risk endangering Endeavour, so presumably he would receive ample warning from the Hermians themselves. In an emergency, he could leave at a few hours' notice, though he would do so only under extreme protest, at the direct orders of the Commander in-Chief.

  Slowly, and very thoughtfully, he walked across to the improvised life-support complex and dropped the message into an electrosan. The brilliant flare of laser light bursting out through the crack beneath the seat-cover told him that the demands of security were satisfied. It was too bad, he told himself, that all problems could not be disposed of so swiftly and hygienically.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - Missile

  The missile was still five million kilometres away when the glare of its plasma braking jets became clearly visible in Endeavour's main telescope. By that time the secret was already out, and Norton had reluctantly ordered the second and perhaps final evacuation of Rama; but he had no intention of leaving until events gave him no alternative.

  When it had completed its braking manoeuvre, the unwelcome guest from Mercury was only fifty kilometres from Rama, and apparently carrying out a survey through its TV cameras. These were clearly visible - one fore and One aft - as were several small omni-antennas and one large directional dish, aimed steadily at the distant star of Mercury. Norton wondered what instructions were coming down that beam, and what information was going back.

  Yet the Hermians could learn nothing that they did not already know; all that Endeavour had discovered had been broadcast throughout the solar system. This spacecraft - which had broken all speed records to get here could only be an extension of its makers' will, an instrument of their purpose. That purpose would soon be known, for in three hours the Hermian Ambassador to the United Planets would be addressing the General Assembly.

  Officially, the missile did not yet exist. It bore no identification marks, and was not radiating on any standard beacon frequency. This was a serious breach of law, but even SPACEGUARD had not yet issued a formal protest. Everyone was waiting, with nervous impatience, to see what Mercury would do next.

  It had been three days since the missile's existence and origin - had been announced; all that time, the Hermians had remained stubbornly silent. They ,could be very good at that, when it suited them.

  Some psychologists had claimed that it was almost impossible to understand fully the mentality of anyone born and bred on Mercury. Forever exiled from Earth by its three-times-more-powerful gravity, Hermians could stand on the Moon and look across the narrow gap to the planet of their ancestors - even of their own parents but they could never visit it. And so, inevitably, they claimed that they did not want to.

  The pretended to despise the soft rains, the rolling fields, the lakes and seas, the blue skies - all the things that they could know only through recordings. Because their planet was drenched with such solar energy that the day time temperature often reached six hundred degrees, they affected a rather swaggering roughness that did not bear a moment's serious examination. In fact, they tended to be physically weak, since they could only survive if they were totally insulated from their environment. Even if he could have tolerated the gravity, a Hermian would have been quickly incapacitated by a hot day in any equatorial country on Earth.

  Yet in matters that really counted, they were tough. The psychological pressures of that ravening star so close at hand, the engineering problems of tearing into a stubborn planet and wrenching from it all the necessities of life - these had produced a spartan and in many ways highly admirable culture. You could rely on the Hermians; if they promised something, they would do it though the bill might be considerable. It was their own joke that, if the sun ever showed signs of going nova, they would contract to get it under control - once the fee had been settled. It was a non-Hermian joke that any child who showed signs of interest in art, philosophy or abstract mathematics was ploughed straight back into the hydroponic farms. As far as criminals and psychopaths were concerned, this was not a joke at all. Crime was one of the luxuries that Mercury could not afford.

  Commander Norton had been to Mercury once, had been enormously impressed - like most visitors - and had acquired many Hermian friends. He had fallen in love with a girl in Port Lucifer, and had even contemplated signing a three-year contract, but parental disapproval of anyone from outside the orbit of Venus had been too strong. It was just as well.

  'Triple A message from Earth, Skipper,' said the bridge. 'V9ice and back-up text from Commander-in-Chief. Ready to accept?’

  'Check and file text; let me have the voice.

  'Here it comes.’

  Admiral Hendrix sounded calm and matter-of-fact, as if he was issuing a routine fleet order, instead of handling a situation unique in the history of space. But then, he was not ten kilometres from the bomb.

  'C-in-C to Commander, Endeavour. This is a quick summary of the situation as we see it now. You know that the General Assembly meets at i4.oo and you'll be listening to the proceedings. It is possible that you may then have to take action immediately, without consultation; hence this briefing.

  'We've analysed the photos you have sent us; the vehicle is a standard space-probe, modified for high-impulse and probably laser-riding for initial boost. Size and mass are consistent with fusion bomb in the 500 to 1,ooo megaton range; the Hermians use up to 1oo megatons routinely in their mining operations, so they would have had no difficulty in assembling such a warhead.

  'Our experts also estimate that this would be the minimum size necessary to assure destruction of Rama. If it was detonated against the thinnest part of the shell underneath the Cylindrical Sea - the hull would be ruptured and the spin of the body would
complete its disintegration.

  'We assume that the Hermians, if they are planning such an act, will give you ample time to get clear. For your information, the gamma-ray flash from such a bomb could be dangerous to you up to a range of a thousand kilometres.

  'But that is not the most serious danger. The fragments of Rama, weighing tons and spinning off at almost a thousand kilometres an hour, could destroy you at an unlimited distance. We therefore recommend that you proceed along the spin axis, since no fragments will be thrown off in that direction. Ten thousand kilometres should give an adequate safety margin.

  'This message cannot be intercepted; it is going by multiple-pseudo-random routing, so I can talk in clear English. Your reply may not be secure, so speak with discretion and use code when necessary. I will call you immediately after the General Assembly discussion. Message concluded. C-in-C, out.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - General Assembly

  According to the history books - though no one could really believe it - there had been a time when the old United Nations had '72 members. The United planets had only seven; and that was sometimes bad enough. In order of distance from the Sun, they were Mercury, Earth, Luna, Mars, Ganymede, Titan and Triton.

  The list contained numerous omissions and ambiguities which presumably the future would rectify. Critics never tired of pointing out that most of the United Planets were not planets at all, but satellites. And how ridiculous that the four giants, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune were not included ...

  But no one lived on the Gas Giants, and quite possibly no one ever would. The same might be true of the other major absentee, Venus. Even the most enthusiastic of planetary engineers agreed that it would take centuries to tame Venus; meanwhile the Hermians kept their eyes on her, and doubtless brooded over long-range plans.

  Separate representation for Earth and Luna had also been a bone of contention; the other members argued that it put too much power in one corner of the solar system. But there were more people on the Moon than all the other worlds except Earth itself - and it was the meeting place of the UP. Moreover, Earth and Moon hardly ever agreed on anything, so they were not likely to constitute a dangerous bloc.