Rendezvous with Rama

by Arthur C. Clarke

  The second day back on ship, everything had almost returned to normal; the exploration of Rama already seemed part of another life. Norton started to deal with the accumulated office work and to make plans for the future; but he refused the requests for interviews that had somehow managed to insinuate themselves into the Survey and even SPACEGUARD radio circuits. There were no messages from Mercury, and the UP General Assembly had adjourned its session, though it was ready to meet again at an hour's notice.

  Norton was having his first good night's sleep, thirty hours after leaving Rama, when he was rudely shaken back to consciousness. He cursed groggily, opened a bleary eye at Karl Mercer - and then, like any good commander, was instantly wide awake.

  'It's stopped turning?’

  'Yes. Steady as a rock.’

  'Let's go to the bridge.’

  The whole ship was awake; even the simps knew that something was afoot, and made anxious, meeping noises until Sergeant McAndrews reassured them with swift hand-signals. Yet as Norton slipped into his chair and fastened the restraints round his waist, he wondered if this might be yet another false alarm.

  Rama was now foreshortened into a stubby cylinder, and the searing rim of the sun had peeked over one edge. Norton jockeyed Endeavour gently back into the umbra of the artificial eclipse, and saw the pearly splendour of the corona reappear across a background of the brighter stars. There was one huge prominence, at least half a million kilometres high, that had climbed so far from the sun that its upper branches looked like a tree of crimson fire.

  So now we have to wait, Norton told himself. The important thing is not to get bored, to be ready to react at a moment's notice, to keep all the instruments aligned and recording, no matter how long it takes That was strange. The star field was shifting, almost as if he had actuated the Roll thrusters. But he had touched no controls, and if there had been any real movement, he would have sensed it at once.

  'Skipper!' said Calvert urgently from the Nay position, 'we're rolling - look at the stars! But I'm getting no instrument readings!' 'Rate gyros operating?’

  'Perfectly normal - I can see the zero jitter. But we're rolling several degrees a second!’

  'That's impossible!’

  'Of course it is - but look for yourself...’

  When all else failed, a man had to rely on eyeball instrumentation. Norton could not doubt that the star field was indeed slowly rotating - there went Sirius, across the rim of the port. Either the universe, in a reversion of pre-Copernican cosmology, had suddenly decided to revolve around Endeavour; or the stars were standing still, and the ship was turning.

  The second explanation seemed rather more likely, yet it involved apparently insoluble paradoxes. If the ship was really turning at this rate, he would have felt it literally by the seat of his pants, as the old saying went. And the gyros could not all have failed, simultaneously and independently.

  Only one answer remained. Every atom of Endeavour must be in the grip of some force - and only a powerful gravitational field could produce this effect. At least, no other known field...

  Suddenly, the stars vanished. The blazing disc of the sun had emerged from behind the shield of Rama, and its glare had driven them from the sky.

  'Can you get a radar reading? What's the doppler?’

  Norton was fully prepared to find that this too was inoperative, but he was wrong.

  Rama was under way at last, accelerating at the modest rate of O.O15 gravities. Dr Perera, Norton told himself, would be pleased; he had predicted a maximum of 0.02. And Endeavour was somehow caught in its wake like a piece of flotsam, whirling round and round behind a speeding ship...

  Hour after hour, that acceleration held constant; Rama was falling away from Endeavour at steadily increasing speed. As its distance grew, the anomalous behaviour of the ship slowly ceased; the normal laws of inertia started to operate again. They could only guess at the energies in whose backlash they had been briefly caught, and Norton was thankful that he had stationed Endeavour at a safe distance before Rama had switched on its drive.

  As to the nature of that drive, one thing was now certain, even though all else was mystery. There were no jets of gas, no beams of ions or plasma thrusting Rama into its new orbit. No one put it better than Sergeant-Professor Myron when he said, in shocked disbelief: 'There goes Newton's Third Law.’

  It was Newton's Third law, however, upon which Endeavour had to depend the next day, when she used her very last reserves of propellant to bend her own orbit outwards from the sun. The change was slight, but it would increase her perihelion distance by ten million kilometres. That was the difference between running the ship's cooling system at ninety-five per cent capacity - and a certain fiery death.

  When they had completed their own manoeuvre, Rama was two hundred thousand kilometres away, and difficult to see against the glare of the sun. But they could still obtain accurate radar measurements of its orbit; and the more they observed, the more puzzled they became.

  They checked the figures over and over again, until there was no escaping from the unbelievable conclusion. It looked as if all the fears of the Hermians, the heroics of Rodrigo, and the rhetoric of the General Assembly, had been utterly in vain.

  What a cosmic irony, said Norton as he looked at his final figures, if after a million years of safe guidance Rama's computers had made one trifling error - perhaps changing the sign of an equation from plus to minus.

  Everyone had been so certain that Rama would lose speed, so that it could be captured by the sun's gravity and thus become a new planet of the solar system. It was doing just the opposite.

  It was gaining speed - and in the worst possible direction.

  Rama was falling ever more swiftly into the sun.

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE - Phoenix

  As the details of its new orbit became more and more clearly defined, it was hard to see how Rama could possibly escape disaster. Only a handful of comets had ever passed as close to the sun; at perihelion, it would be less than half a million kilometres above that inferno of fusing hydrogen. No solid material could withstand the temperature of such an approach; the tough alloy that comprised Rama's hull would start to melt at ten times that distance.

  Endeavour had now passed its own perihelion, to everyone's relief, and was slowly increasing its distance from the sun. Rama was far ahead on its closer, swifter orbit, and already appeared well inside the outermost fringes of the corona. The ship would have a grandstand view of the drama's final stage.

  Then, five million kilometres from the sun, and still accelerating, Rama started to spin its cocoon. Until now,, it had been visible under the maximum power of Endeavour's telescopes as a tiny bright bar; suddenly it began to scintillate, like a star seen through horizon mists. It almost seemed as if it was disintegrating; When he saw the image breaking up, Norton felt a poignant sense of grief at the loss of so much wonder. Then he realized that Rama was still there, but that it was surrounded by a shimmering haze.

  And then it was gone. In its place was a brilliant, star like object, showing no visible disc - as if Rama had suddenly contracted into a tiny ball.

  It was some time before they realized what had happened. Rama had indeed disappeared: it was now surrounded by a perfectly reflecting sphere, about a hundred kilometres in diameter. All that they could now see was the reflection of the sun itself, on the curved portion that was closest to them. Behind this protective bubble, Rama was presumably safe from the solar inferno.

  As the hours passed, the bubble changed its shape. The image of the sun became elongated, distorted. The sphere was turning into an ellipsoid, its long axis pointed in the direction of Rama's flight. It was then that the first anomalous reports started coming in from the robot observatories, which, for almost two hundred years, had been keeping a permanent watch on the sun.

  Something was happening to the solar magnetic field, in the region around Rama. The million-kilometre-long lines of force that threaded the corona, and drove its wi
sps of fiercely ionized gas at speeds which sometimes defied even the crushing gravity of the sun, were shaping themselves around that glittering ellipsoid. Nothing was yet visible to the eye, but the orbiting instruments reported every change in magnetic flux and ultra-violet radiation.

  And presently, even the eye could see the changes in the corona. A faintly-glowing tube or tunnel, a hundred thousand kilometres long, had appeared high in the outer atmosphere of the sun. It was slightly curved, bending along the orbit which Rama was tracing, and Rama itself - or the protective cocoon around it - was visible as a glittering head racing faster and faster down that ghostly tube through the corona.

  For it was still gaining speed; now it was moving at more than two thousand kilometres a second, and there was no question of it ever remaining a captive of the sun. Now, at last, the Raman strategy was obvious; they had come so close to the sun merely to tap its energy at the source, and to speed themselves even faster on the way to their ultimate unknown goal ...

  And presently it seemed that they were tapping more than energy. No one could ever be certain of this, because the nearest observing instruments were thirty million kilometres away, but there were definite indications that matter was flowing from the sun into Rama itself, as if it was replacing the leakages and losses of ten thousand centuries in space.

  Faster and faster Rama swept around the sun moving now more swiftly than any object that had ever travelled through the solar system. In less than two hours, its direction of motion had swung through more than ninety degrees, and it had given a final, almost contemptuous proof of its total lack of interest in all the worlds whose peace of mind it had so rudely disturbed.

  It was dropping out of the Ecliptic, down into the southern sky, far below the plane in which all the planets move. Though that, surely, could not be its ultimate goal, it was aimed squarely at the Greater Magellanic Cloud, and the lonely gulfs beyond the Milky Way.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX - Interlude

  'Come in,' said Commander Norton absentmindedly at the quiet knock on his door.

  'Some news for you, Bill. I wanted to give it first, before the crew gets into the act. And anyway, it's my department.’

  Norton still seemed far away. He was lying with his hands clasped under his head, eyes half shut, cabin light low - not really drowsing, but lost in some reverie or private dream.

  He blinked once or twice, and was suddenly back in his body.

  'Sorry Laura - I don't understand. What's it all about?’

  'Don't say you've forgotten!’

  'Stop teasing, you wretched woman. I've had a few things on my mind recently.’

  Surgeon-Commander Ernst slid a captive chair across in its slots and sat down beside him.

  'Though interplanetary crises come and go, the wheels of Martian bureaucracy grind steadily away. But I suppose Rama helped. Good thing you didn't have to get permission from the Hermians as well.’

  Light was dawning.

  'Oh - Port Lowell has issued the permit!’

  'Better than that - it's already being acted On.' Laura glanced at the slip of paper in her hand. 'Immediate,' she read. Probably right now, your new son is being conceived. Congratulations.’

  Thank you. I hope he hasn't minded the wait.’

  Like every astronaut, Norton had been sterilized when he entered the service; for a man who would spend years in space, radiation-induced mutation was not a risk - it was a certainty. The spermatazoon that had just delivered its cargo of genes on Mars, two hundred million kilometres away, had been frozen for thirty years, awaiting its moment of destiny.

  Norton wondered if he would be home in time for the birth. He had earned rest, relaxation - such normal family life as an astronaut could ever know. Now that the mission was essentially over, he was beginning to unwind, and to think once more about his own future, and that of both his families. Yes, it would be good to be home for a while, and to make up for lost time - in many ways...

  'This visit,' protested Laura rather feebly, 'was purely in a professional capacity.’

  'After all these years,' replied Norton, 'we know each other better than that. Anyway, you're off duty now.’

  'Now what are you thinking?' demanded Surgeon-Commander Ernst, very much later. 'You're not becoming sentimental, I hope.’

  'Not about us. About Rama. I'm beginning to miss it.’

  'Thanks very much for the compliment.’

  Norton tightened his arms around her. One of the nicest things about weightlessness, he often thought, was that you could really hold someone all night, without cutting off the circulation. There were those who claimed that love at one gee was so ponderous that they could no longer enjoy it.

  'It's a well-known fact, Laura, that men, unlike women, have two-track minds. But seriously - well, more seriously - I do feel a sense of loss.’

  'I can understand that.’

  'Don't be so clinical; that's not the only reason. Oh, never mind.' He gave up. It was not easy to explain, even to himself.

  He had succeeded beyond all reasonable expectation; what his men had discovered in Rama would keep scientists busy for decades. And, above all, he had done it without a single casualty.

  But he had also failed. One might speculate endlessly, but the nature and the purpose of the Ramans was still utterly unknown. They had used the solar system as a refuelling stop - as a booster station - call it what you will, and had then spurned it completely, on their way to more important business. They would probably never even know that the human race existed; such monumental indifference was worse than any deliberate insult.

  When Norton bad glimpsed Rama for the last time, a tiny star hurtling outwards beyond Venus, he knew that part of his life was over. He was only fifty-five, but he felt he had left his youth down there on the curving plain, among mysteries and wonders now receding inexorably beyond the reach of man. Whatever honours and achievements the future brought him, for the rest of his life he would be haunted by a sense of anticlimax, and the knowledge of opportunities missed.

  So he told himself; but even then, he should have known better.

  And on far-off Earth, Dr Carlisle Perera had as yet told no one how he had woken from a restless sleep with the message from his subconscious still echoing in his brain: The Ramans do everything in threes.

  -The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sir Arthur Charles Clarke was born in Minehead, England, in 1917, and now lives in Colombo, Sri Lanka. He is a graduate, and Fellow, of King’s College, London, and Chancellor of the International Space University and the University of Moratuwa, near the Arthur C. Clarke Centre for Modern Technologies.

  Sir Arthur has twice been Chairman of the British Interplanetary Society. While serving as an RAF radar officer in 1945, he published the theory of communications satellites, most of which operate in what is now called the Clarke Orbit. The impact of this invention upon global politics resulted in his nomination for the 1994 Nobel Peace Prize.

  He has written over seventy books, and shared an Oscar nomination with Stanley Kubrick for the movie based on his novel 2001: A Space Odyssey. The recipient of three Hugo Awards and three Nebula Awards as well as an International Fantasy Award and a John W. Campbell Award, he was named a Grand Master from the Science Fiction Writers of America. His Mysterious World, Strange Powers, and Mysterious Universe TV series have been shown worldwide. His many honors include several doctorates in science and literature, and a host of prizes and awards including the Vidya Jyothi (“Light of Science”) Award by the President of Sri Lanka in 1986, and the CBE (Commander of the British Empire) from H. M. Queen Elizabeth in 1989. In a global satellite ceremony in 1995 he received NASA’s highest civilian honour, its Distinguished Public Service Medal. And in 1998 he was awarded a Knighthood “for services to literature” in the New Year’s Honours List.

  His recreations are SCUBA diving on Indian Ocean wrecks with his company, Underwater Safaris, table tennis (despite Post Polio Syndrome), observing th
e moon through his fourteen-inch telescope, and playing with his Chihuahua, Pepsi, and his six computers.

  Table of Contents

  RENDEZVOUZ WITH RAMA

  Enter the SF Gateway

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE – Spaceguard

  CHAPTER TWO – Intruder

  CHAPTER THREE - Rama and Sita

  CHAPTER FOUR - Rendezvouz

  CHAPTER FIVE - First EVA

  CHAPTER SIX - Committee

  CHAPTER SEVEN - Two Wives

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Through the Hub

  CHAPTER NINE - Reconnaissance

  CHAPTER TEN - Descent into Darkness

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Men, Women and Monkeys

  CHAPTER TWELVE - The Stairway of the Gods

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - The Plain of Rama

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Storm Warning

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - The Edge of the Sea

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Kealakekua

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Spring

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Dawn

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - A Warning from Mercury

  CHAPTER TWENTY - Book of Revelation

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE- After the Storm

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - To Sail the Cylindrical Sea

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - NY, Rama

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - Dragonfly

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE - Maiden Flight

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - The Voice of Rama

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - Electric Wind

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - Icarus

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - First Contact

  CHAPTER THIRTY - The Flower

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - Terminal Velocity

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO - The Wave

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE - Spider

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR - His Excellency Regrets...

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE - Special Delivery