But most of the time they pushed aside their fears. It was part of their job. Like the early space shuttle astronauts in America, who knew that every so often the vehicle would crash or explode, the Newton cosmonauts accepted that there were uncontrollable risks associated with their mission. Healthy denial caused the group to avoid discussion of the unsettling issues most of the time and to focus on the more bounded (and therefore more controllable) items, such as the sequence of events for the following day.
Reggie’s outburst and the simultaneous appearance of the crab biot on the monitor triggered one of the few philosophical group discussions that ever occurred on the project. O’Toole staked out his position early. Although he was fascinated by the Ramans, he did not fear them. God had seen fit to place him on this mission and, if He so chose, could decide that this extraordinary adventure would be O’Toole’s last. In any case, whatever happened would be God’s will.
Richard Wakefield articulated a point of view that was apparently shared by several of the other crew members. To him, the entire project was both a challenging voyage of discovery and a test of personal mettle. The uncertainties were there, to be sure, but they produced excitement as well as danger. The intense thrill of new learning, together with the possible monumental significance of this extraterrestrial encounter, more than compensated for the risks. Richard had no qualms about the mission. He was certain that this was the apotheosis of his life; if he didn’t live beyond the end of the project, it would still have been worth it, He would have done something important during his brief existence on Earth.
Nicole listened attentively to the discussion. She didn’t say much herself, but she found her own opinions crystallizing as she followed the flow of the conversation. She enjoyed watching the responses, both verbal and nonverbal, from the other cosmonauts. Shigeru Takagishi was clearly in the Wake-field camp. He was vigorously nodding his head the entire time Richard was talking about the excitement of participating in such a significant effort. Reggie Wilson, now subdued and probably embarrassed by his earlier tirade, did not say much. He commented only when asked a direct question. Admiral Heilmann looked uncomfortable from the beginning to the end. His entire contribution was to remind everyone of the passage of time.
Surprisingly, Dr. David Brown did not add much to the philosophical discussion. He made several short comments and once or twice seemed on the verge of launching into a long, amplifying explanation. But he never did. His true beliefs about the nature of Rama were not revealed.
Francesca Sabatini initially acted as a kind of moderator or interlocuter, asking questions of clarification and keeping the conversation on an even keel. Toward the end of the discussion, however, she offered several personal, candid comments of her own. Her philosophical view of the Newton mission was altogether different from that expressed by O’Toole and Wakefield.
“I think you’re making this entire thing much too complex and intellectual!” she said after Richard had delivered a long panegyric on the joys of knowledge. “There was no need for me to do any deep soul-searching before I applied to be a Newton cosmonaut-1 approached the issue the same way I do all my major decisions. I did a risk!reward trade-off. I judged that the rewards — considering all the factors, including fame, prestige, money, even adventure — more than warranted the risks. And I absolutely disagree with Richard in one respect. If I die on this mission I will not be at all happy. For me, most of the rewards from this project are delayed; I cannot benefit from them if I do not return to Earth.”
Francesca’s comments aroused Nicole’s curiosity. She wanted to ask the Italian journalist some more questions, but Nicole didn’t think it was the proper time or place. After the meeting was over, she was still intrigued by what Francesca had said. Can life really be that simple to her? Nicole thought to herself. Can everything be evaluated in terms of risks and rewards? She remembered Francesca’s lack of emotion when she drank the abortion liquid. But what about principles or values? Or even feelings? As the meeting broke up Nicole admitted to herself that Francesca was still very much a puzzle.
Nicole watched Dr. Takagishi carefully. He was handling himself much better today. “I have brought a printout of the official sortie strategy, Dr. Brown,” he was saying, waving a four-inch-thick set of papers in his hand, “to remind us of the fundamental tenets of sortie design that resulted from over a year of unhurried mission planning. May I read from the summary?”
“I don’t think you need to do that,” David Brown responded. “We’re all familiar with—”
“I’m not,” interrupted General O’Toole. “I would like to hear it. Admiral Heilmann asked me to pay close attention and brief him on the issues.”
Dr. Brown waved for Takagishi to continue. The diminutive Japanese scientist was borrowing a page from Brown’s own portfolio. Even though he knew that David Brown personally favored going after the crab biots on the second sortie, Takagishi still was attempting to convince the other cosmonauts that the top-priority activity should be a scientific foray into the city of New York.
Reggie Wilson had excused himself an hour earlier and had gone to his room for a nap. The remaining five crew members onboard the Newton had spent most of the afternoon struggling, without success, to reach an agreement on the activities for the second sortie. Since the two scientists Brown and Takagishi had radically different opinions on what should be done, no consensus was possible. Meanwhile, behind them on the large monitor, there had been intermittent views of the space cadets and Admiral Heilmann working inside Rama. The current picture showed Tabori and Turgenyev at the campsite adjoining the Cylindrical Sea. They had just finished assembling the second motorboat and were checking its electrical subsystems.
“…The sequence of sorties has been carefully designed,” Takagishi was reading, “to be consistent with the mission policies and priorities document, ISA-NT-0014. The primary goals of the first sortie are to establish the engineering infrastructure and to examine the interior on at least a superficial level. Of particular importance will be the identification of any characteristics of this second Rama spacecraft that are in any way different from the first.
“Sortie number two is designed to complete the mapping of the inside of Rama, focusing particularly on regions unexplored seventy years ago, as well as the collections of buildings called cities and any interior differences identified on the first sortie. Encounters with biots will be avoided on the second sortie, although the presence and location of the various kinds of biots will be part of the mapping process.
“Interaction with the biots will be delayed until the third sortie. Only after careful and prolonged observation will any attempt be made—”
“That’s enough, Dr. Takagishi,” David Brown interrupted. “We all have the gist of it. Unfortunately that sterile document was prepared months before launch. The situation we face now was never contemplated. We have the lights going on and off. And we have located and are tracking a herd of six crab biots just beyond the southern edge of the Cylindrical Sea.”
“I disagree,” said the Japanese scientist respectfully. “You said yourself that the unpredicted lighting profile did not represent a fundamental difference between the two spacecraft. We are not facing an unknown Rama. I submit that we should implement the sorties in accordance with the original mission plan.”
“So you favor dedicating this entire second sortie to mapping, including or perhaps even featuring a detailed exploration of New York?” asked O’Toole.
“Exactly, General O’Toole. Even if one takes the position that the strange sound heard by cosmonauts Wakefield, Sabatini, and myself does not constitute an official difference, the careful mapping of New York is clearly one of the highest priority activities. And it is vital that we accomplish it on this sortie. The temperature in the Central Plain has already risen to minus five degrees. Rama is carrying us closer and closer to the Sun. The spacecraft is heating from the outside in. I predict the Cylindrical Sea
will begin to melt from the bottom in three or four more days—”
“I have never said that New York was not a legitimate target for exploration,” David Brown interrupted again, 4< but I have maintained from the very beginning that the biots are the true scientific treasure of this voyage. Look at these amazing creatures!” he said, filling the center screen with a film of the six crab biots moving slowly across a bland region in the Southern Hemi-cylinder. “We may never have another opportunity to capture one. The drones have almost finished reconnoitering the entire interior and no other biots have been spotted.”
The rest of the crew members, including Takagishi, looked at the monitor with rapt attention. The bizarre assemblage of aliens, arranged in a triangular formation with a slightly larger specimen in the lead, approached a jumbled mound of loose metal. The lead crab moved directly into the obstacle, paused a few seconds, and then used its claws to chop the elements of the mound into still smaller pieces. The two crabs in the second row transferred the metal fragments onto the backs of the remaining three members of the troop. This new material increased the size of the small piles already on the tops of the shells of the three crab biots in the back row.
“They must be the Raman garbage crew,” Francesca said. Everyone laughed.
“But you can see why I want to move quickly,” David Brown continued. “Right now the short film we just saw is on its way to all the television networks on Earth. Over a billion of our fellow men and women will watch it today with the same mixture of fear and fascination that all of you just felt. Imagine what kind of laboratories we will be able to build to study such a creature. Imagine what we will learn—”
“What makes you think you can capture one?” General O’Toole asked. “They look as if they could be quite formidable.”
“We are certain that these creatures, although they appear to be biological, are actually robots. Hence the name “biots,” which became popular during and after the first Rama expedition. Based on all the reports from Norton and the other Rama I cosmonauts, each of these biots is designed to perform a singular function. They have no intelligence as we know it. We should be able to outsmart them… and capture them.”
A camera close-up of the scissorlike claws appeared on the giant screen. They were obviously very sharp. “I don’t know,” said General O’Toole. “I’d be inclined to follow Dr. Takagishi’s suggestion and observe them for quite a while before trying to catch one.”
“I disagree,” said Francesca. “Speaking as a journalist, no story could be bigger than the attempted capture of one of those things. Everyone on Earth will watch. We may never have another chance like this.” She paused for a moment. “The ISA has been pushing us for some upbeat news. The Borzov incident didn’t exactly convince the taxpayers of the world that their space money is being wisely spent.”
“Why can’t we do both tasks on the same sortie?” General O’Toole asked.
“One subteam could explore New York and the other would go after a crab.”
“No way,” replied Nicole. “If the goal of this sortie is to seize a biot, then all of our resources should be applied in that direction. Remember, we are limited in both manpower and time.”
“Unfortunately,” David Brown now said with a wan smile, “we can’t make this decision by committee. Since we don’t have complete agreement, I must make the choice… Therefore, the purpose of the next sortie will be to capture a crab biot. I presume that Admiral Heilmann will agree with me. If he doesn’t, we will submit the issue to a vote of the crew.”
The meeting broke up slowly. Dr. Takagishi wanted to offer one more argument, to point out that the majority of the biot species seen by the first Rama explorers did not materialize until after the thawing of the Cylindrical Sea. But nobody wanted to listen anymore. Everyone was tired.
Nicole approached Takagishi and clandestinely activated her biometry scanner. The warning file was empty. “Clean as a whistle,” she said with a smile.
Takagishi looked at her very seriously. “Our decision is a mistake,” he said somberly. “We should be going into New York.”
27
TO CATCH A BIOT
Be very careful,” Admiral Heilmann said to Francesca. “It makes me nervous to see you leaning out like that.”
Signora Sabatini had hooked her ankles underneath the seats of the helicopter and was now stretching out beyond the plane of the door. She was holding a small video camera in her right hand. Three or four meters below her, apparently oblivious to the whirring machine overhead, the six crab biots plodded methodically along. They were still in their phalanx formation, arranged like the first three rows of a set of bowling pins.
“Move out over the sea!” Francesca shouted to Hiro Yamanaka. “They’re coming to the edge and will be turning again.”
The helicopter veered sharply to the left and flew over the side of the five-hundred-meter cliff that separated the southern half of Rama from the Cylindrical Sea. The bank here was ten times higher above the water than its northern counterpart. David Brown gasped as he looked down at the frozen sea half a kilometer below him,
“This is ridiculous, Francesca,” he said– “What do you hope to accomplish? The automatic camera in the nose of the copter will take adequate pictures!’
“This camera was specifically designed for zoom action,” she said. “Besides, a little jitter gives the images more verisimilitude.” Yamanaka steered back toward the bank. The biots were now about thirty meters directly ahead. The lead biot came up to within half a body length of the edge, paused for a fraction of a second, and then turned abruptly to its right. Another quick ninety-degree right turn completed the maneuver and left the biot heading in the exact opposite direction. The other five crabs followed their leader, executing their turns row by row with military precision.
“I got it that time,” Francesca said happily, pulling herself back into the helicopter. “Head on and full frame. And I think I caught a glimmer of movement in the leader’s blue eye just before it turned.”
The biots were now ambling away from the cliff at their normal speed of ten kilometers per hour. Their movement caused a slight indentation in the loamy soil. Their heading was along a path parallel to their last previous sweep toward the sea. From above, the whole region looked like a suburban yard in which part of the grass had been mowed — on one side the ground was neat and packed, while in the territory not yet covered by the biots there was no orderly pattern in the soil markings.
“This could get boring,” Francesca said, playfully reaching up and putting her arms around David Brown’s neck. “We may have to amuse ourselves with something else.”
“We’ll only watch them one more strip. Their pattern is fairly simple.” He ignored Francesca’s light tickling on his neck. It seemed as if he were going through some kind of checklist in his mind. At length Brown spoke into the communicator. “What do you think, Dr. Takagishi? Is there anything else we should do at this time?”
Back in the scientific control center on the Newton, Dr. Takagishi was following the progression of the biots on the monitor. “It would be extremely valuable,” he said, “if we could find out more about their sensory capabilities before we try to capture one of them. So far they have not responded to noises or to distant visual stimuli. In fact, they have apparently not even noticed our presence. As I’m sure you would agree, we don’t have enough data yet to come to any definitive conclusions. If we could expose them to an entire range of electromagnetic frequencies and calibrate their responses, then we might have a better idea—”
“But that would take days,” Dr. Brown interrupted. “And in the final analysis we would still have to take our chances. I can’t imagine what we might learn that would materially alter our plans.”
“If we found out more about them first,” Takagishi argued, “then we could design a better, safer capture procedure. It might even occur that we would learn something that would dissuade us altogether—”
“We’re almost finished,” the Hungarian answered. “Another thirty minutes at the most. Then I’ll be ready for a nap.”
“Lunch comes first,” Francesca interjected. “You can’t go to sleep on an empty stomach.”
“What are you cooking, beautiful?” Tabori bantered.
“Osso buco a la Rama.”
“That’s enough,” Dr. Brown said. He paused for a couple of seconds. “O’Toole,” he then continued, “can you handle the Newton all by yourself? At least for the next twelve hours?”
“Affirmative,” was the response.
“Then send down the rest of the crew. By the time we all meet at the new campsite, it should be ready for occupancy. We’ll have some lunch and a brief nap. Then we’ll plan our biot hunt.”
Below the helicopter the six crablike creatures continued their relentless march across the barren soil. The four human beings watched them encounter a distinct boundary, where the floor changed from dirt and small rocks into a fine wire mesh. As soon as they touched the narrow lane dividing the two sections, the biots executed a U-turn. They then headed back toward the sea along a parallel line adjacent to their last track. Yamanaka banked the helicopter, increased his altitude, and headed for the Beta campsite ten kilometers across the Cylindrical Sea,
They were all correct, Nicole was thinking. Seeing it on the monitor is nothing by comparison. She was descending on the chairlift into Rama. Now that she was beyond the halfway point, she had a breathtaking view in every direction. She remembered a similar feeling once, when she had been standing on the Tonto Plateau in the Grand Canyon National Park. But that was made by nature and took over a billion years, she said to herself. Rama was actually built by somebody. Or something.
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