Rama II r-2

by Arthur C. Clarke

  The German admiral studied his American colleague. “No one ever envi­sioned the Rama spacecraft on a collision course with the Earth!” Heilmann said. “If it does not alter its trajectory, it will gouge an enormous hole in the surface and kick up such dust that the temperatures will drop all over the world for several years… At least, that’s what the scientists say,”

  “But that’s preposterous,” O’Toole argued. “You heard all the discussion during the conference call. No rational person really believes that Rama will actually hit the Earth.”

  “Impact is only one of several disaster scenarios. What would you do if you were chief of staff? Destroying Rama now is a safe solution. Nobody loses.”

  Visibly shaken by the conversation, Michael O’Toole excused himself from the meeting with Admiral Heilmann and headed for his room. For the first time in his entire association with the .Newton mission, O’Toole thought that he might actually be ordered to use his RQ code to activate the weap­ons. Never before, never for a moment, had he considered that the bombs in the metal containers at the back of the military ship were anything more than a palliative for the fears of the civilian politicians.

  Sitting at the computer terminal in his room, the concerned O’Toole recalled the words of Armando Urbina, the Mexican peace activist who had advocated a total dismantling of the COG nuclear arsenal. “As we have seen both at Rome and Damascus,” Senor Urbina had said, “if the weapons exist, they can be used. Only if there are no weapons at all can we guarantee that human beings will never again suffer the horror of nuclear devastation.”

  Richard Wakefield did not return before the Raman nightfall. Since the communication station at Beta had been knocked out of commission by the hurricane (the Newton had monitored the breakup of the Cylindrical Sea and the onset of the windstorm through telemetry relayed by Beta before it was silenced), Richard had moved out of communications range when he was halfway across the Central Plain. His last transmission to Janos Tabori, who had volunteered to man the commlink, had been typically Wakefield. As the signal from inside Rama was fading, Janos, in a lighthearted tone, had asked Richard how he wanted to be remembered “to your fans” in case he was “swallowed by the Great Galactic Ghoul.”

  “Tell them that I loved Rama not wisely, but too well,” Richard had shouted into his communicator.

  “What’s that?” Otto Heilmann Had puzzled. The admiral had come look­ing for Janos to discuss a Newton engineering problem.

  “He killed her,” Janos had said, trying without success to lock up the signal again.

  “Who killed — What are you talking about?”

  “It’s not important,” Janos had answered, spinning around in his chair and floating into the air. “Now, what can I do for you, Herr Admiral?”

  Richard’s failure to return was not considered serious until several hours after the following Raman dawn. The cosmonauts remaining on the Newton had convinced themselves the night before that Wakefield had become ab­sorbed in some task (“Probably fixing the Beta comm station,” Janos had offered), had lost track of the time, and had decided not to take a solitary ride out in the dark. But when he didn’t return in the morning, a feeling of gloom began to pervade the conversation of the crew.

  “I don’t know why we won’t admit it,” Irina Turgenyev said suddenly during a period of quiet at dinnertime. “Wakefield is not coming back either. Whatever got Takagishi and des Jardins got him as well.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Irina,” Janos replied heatedly.

  “Da,” she remarked. “That’s what you’ve always said. Ever since the beginning when General Borzov was cut to pieces. Then it was an accident that the crab biot attacked Wilson. Cosmonaut des Jardins disappears down an alley—”

  “Coincidence,” Janos shouted, “all coincidence!”

  “You’re stupid, Janos,” Irina shouted back. “You trust everybody and ev­erything. We should blow the damn thing to pieces before it does any more—”

  “Stop, stop, you two!” David Brown said loudly as the two Soviet col­leagues continued to argue.

  “All right, now,” added General O’Toole. “We’re all a little tense. There’s no need for us to quarrel.”

  “Will anyone be going in to look for Richard?” the emotional Janos asked no one in particular.

  “Who would be crazy enough—” Irina began to respond.

  “No,” interrupted Admiral Heilmann firmly. “I told him that his visit was unauthorized and that we would not come after him under any circum­stances. Besides, Dr. Brown and the two pilots tell me that we can barely fly the two Newton ships home with the manpower remaining — and their anal­ysis assumed Wake6eld was with us. We cannot take any more risks.”

  There was a long and somber silence at the dinner table. “I had planned to tell everyone when the meal was over,” David Brown then said, standing up beside his chair, “but it looks to me as if this group could use some good news now. An hour ago we received our orders. We’re to depart for Earth at 1-14 days, a little over a week from now. Between now and then we will cross train the personnel, rest for the voyage home, and make certain that all the Newton engineering systems are working properly.”

  Cosmonauts Turgenyev, Yamanaka, and Sabatini all shouted their ap­proval. “If we’re going to leave without returning to Rama,” Janos inquired, “why are we waiting so long? Surely we can be well enough prepared in three or four days.”

  “As I understand it,” Dr. Brown replied, “our two military colleagues have a special task that will occupy most of their time — and some of ours — for much of the next three days.” He glanced over at Otto Heilmann. “Do you want to tell them?”

  Admiral Heilmann stood up at his place. “I need to discuss the details first with General O’Toole,” he said in a ringing voice. “We’ll explain it to everyone else in the morning.”

  O’Toole didn’t need Otto Heilmann to show him the message that had been received only twenty minutes before. He knew what it said. In compli­ance with the procedure, there were only three words: proceed with trin­ity.

  54

  ONCE A HERO

  Michael O’Toole could not sleep.

  He tossed and turned, switched on his favorite music, and repeated both the “Hail Mary” and “Our Father” litanies over and over. Nothing worked. He longed for a distraction, some­thing that would make him forget his responsibilities and allow his soul some repose.

  Proceed with Trinity, he thought to himself at last, focusing on the true cause of his disquiet. What exactly did that mean? Use the teleoperator forklifts, open up the containers, pick up the weapons (they were about the size of refrigerators), check out the subsystems, put the bombs in a pod, carry them over to the Rama seal, ferry them to the heavy load elevator…

  And what else? he thought. One more thing. It wouldn’t take much more than a minute at each weapon, but it was by far the most important. Each bomb had a redundant pair of tiny numerical keyboards on its side. He and Admiral Heilmann each had to use the keyboards to input a special sequence of digits, an RQ code it was called, before the weapons could be activated. Without those codes the bombs would remain absolutely dormant, forever. The original debates over whether or not to include nuclear weapons in the limited Newton supply manifest had echoed through the corridors of COG military headquarters in Amsterdam for several weeks. The ensuing vote had been close. It was decided that the Newton would carry the nuclear weapons, but to alky widespread concerns it was also decided to implement rigorous safety measures that would guard against their unwarranted use.

  During these same meetings, the COG military leadership avoided public outcry by placing a top secret classification on the fact that the Newton was transporting nuclear bombs to its rendezvous with Rama. Not even the civilian members of the Newton crew had been told about the existence of the weapons.

  The secret working group on Trinity safety procedures had met seven times at four different locations around the world prior to t
he Newton launch. To make the deployment process immune to untoward electronic inputs, manual action had been chosen as the method of activation for the nuclear weapons. Thus neither a lunatic on the Earth nor a frightened cos­monaut on the Newton could trigger the process with a simple electronic command. The current COG chief of staff, a brilliant but passionless disci­plinarian named Kazuo Norimoto, had expressed concern that without elec­tronic command capability the military was unduly dependent upon the humans selected for the mission. He had been persuaded, however, that it was far better to depend on the Newton military officers than to worry about a terrorist or fanatic somehow gaining possession of the activation code.

  But what if one of the Newton military officers were seized by panic? How could the system be protected against a unilateral act of nuclear warfare by a crew member? When all the discussions were completed, the resultant safety system was relatively simple. There would be three military officers in the crew. Each of them would have an RQ code known only to himself. Manual input of any two of the long numerical sequences would arm the nuclear devices. The system was thus protected against either a recalcitrant officer or a frightened one. It sounded like a foolproof system.

  But our current situation was never considered in the contingency analyses, O’Toole thought as he lay in his bed. In the event of any dangerous action, either military or civilian, each of us was supposed to designate an alternate to leant our code. But who would have thought that an appendectomy was dan­gerous? Valeriy’s RQ died with him. Which means the system now requires two for two.

  O’Toole rolled over on his stomach and pressed his face against the pillow. He now clearly understood why he was still awake. If I don’t input my code those bombs cannot be used. He remembered a luncheon on the military ship with Valeriy Borzov and Otto Heilmann during the leisurely cruise toward Rama. “It’s a perfect set of checks and balances,” the Soviet general had joked, “and probably played a role in our individual selections. Otto would pull the trigger at the slightest provocation and you, Michael, would agonize over its morality even if your life were threatened. I’m the tie­breaker.”

  But you are dead, General O’Toole said to himself, and we have been ordered to activate the bombs. He rose from the bed and walked over to his desk. As he had done all his life when facing a tough decision, O’Toole pulled a small electronic notebook from his pocket and made two short lists, one summarizing the reasons for following his orders to destroy Rama and the other presenting arguments against it. He had no strictly logical reasons to oppose the destruction command — the giant vehicle was probably a life­less machine, his three colleagues were almost certainly dead, and there was a nontrivial implied threat to the Earth. But still O’Toole hesitated. There was something about committing such a flagrantly hostile act that offended his sensibilities.

  He returned to his bed and rolled over on his back. Dear God, he prayed, staring at the ceiling, how can I possibly know what is right in this situation? Please show me the way.

  Only thirty seconds after his morning alarm, Otto Heilmann heard a soft knock on his door. General O’Toole walked in moments later. The American was already dressed for the day. “You’re up early, Michael,” Admiral Heilmann said, fumbling for his morning coffee that had been automatically heating for five minutes already.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” O’Toole said pleasantly. He courteously waited for Heilmann to pick up his coffee packet.

  “What is it?” the admiral asked.

  “I want you to call off the meeting this morning.”

  “Why?” Heilmann replied. “We need some assistance from the rest of the crew, as you and I discussed last night. The longer we wait to get started, the more chance we will delay our departure.”

  “I’m not ready just yet,” O’Toole said.

  Admiral Hermann’s brow furrowed. He took a long sip from his coffee and studied his companion. “I see,” he said quietly. “And what else is needed before you will be ready?”

  “I want to talk to someone, General Norimoto perhaps, to understand why we are destroying Rama. I know you and I talked about it yesterday, but I want to hear the reasons from the person giving the order.”

  “It is a military officer’s duty to follow orders. Asking questions could be viewed as a disciplinary breach—”

  “I understand all that, Otto,” O’Toole interrupted, “but this is not a battlefield situation. I am not refusing to comply with the order. I just want to be certain…” His voice trailed off and O’Toole stared off in the dis­tance.

  “Certain of what?” Heilmann asked.

  O’Toole took a deep breath. “Certain that I’m doing the right thing.”

  A video conference with Norimoto was arranged and the Newton crew meeting was delayed. Since it was the middle of the night in Amsterdam, it was some time before the encoded transmission could be translated and presented to the COG chief of staff. In his typical manner, General Norimoto then requested several more hours to prepare his response, so that he could obtain “staff consensus” on what he was going to say to O’Toole.

  The general and Admiral Heilmann were sitting together in the Newton military control center when the transmission from Norimoto began. Gen­eral Norimoto was dressed in his full military uniform. He did not smile when he greeted the Newton officers. He put on his glasses and read from a prepared text.

  “General O’Toole, we have carefully reviewed the questions contained in your last transmission. All your concerns were included on the issues list that was discussed here on Earth before we reached the decision to proceed with Trinity. Under the unique provisions contained in the ISA-COG operating protocols, you and the other Newton military personnel are temporarily part of my special staff; therefore, I am your commanding officer. The message that was transmitted to you should be treated as an order.”

  General Norimoto managed just a glimmer of a smile. “Nevertheless,” he continued reading, “because of the significance of the action contained in your order and your obvious concern about its repercussions, we have pre­pared three summary statements that should help you to understand our decision:

  “One: We do not know if Rama is hostile or friendly. We have no way of obtaining additional data to resolve the issue.

  “Two: Rama is hurtling toward Earth. It might impact our home planet, take hostile action once it’s in our neighborhood, or perform benign activi­ties that we can’t define.

  “Three: By implementing Trinity when Rama is still ten or more days away, we can guarantee the safety of the planet, regardless of Rama’s inten­tions or future actions.”

  The general paused for the briefest of moments. “That is all,” he then concluded. “Proceed with Trinity.”

  The screen went black, “Are you satisfied?” Admiral Heilmann asked.

  “I guess so!” O’Toole said with a sigh. “I didn’t hear anything new, but I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

  Admiral Heilmann looked at his watch. “We’ve wasted almost an entire day,” he said. “Should we have the crew meeting after dinner?”

  “I’d rather not,” O’Toole replied. “This episode has exhausted me and I hardly slept at all last night. I’d prefer to wait until the morning.”

  “All right,” Heilmann said after a pause. He stood up and put his arm on O’Toole’s shoulder. “We’ll get started first thing after breakfast.”

  In the morning General O’Toole did not attend the scheduled crew meet­ing. He phoned Heilmann and asked the admiral to proceed with the discus­sion without him. O’Toole’s excuse was that he had a “vicious stomach upset.” He doubted if Admiral Heilmann really believed his explanation, but it didn’t really matter.

  O’Toole watched and listened to the meeting on the video monitor in his room, never interrupting or adding to the proceedings. None of the other cosmonauts seemed particularly surprised that the Newton was carrying a nuclear arsenal. Heilmann did a thorough job of explaining what was to be done. H
e enlisted the help of Yamanaka and Tabori, as he and O’Toole had discussed, and outlined a sequence of events that would be complete with the weapons deployed inside Rama in seventy-two hours. That would leave the crew another three days to prepare for departure.

  “When will the bombs detonate?” Janos Tabori asked nervously after Admiral Heilmann was finished.

  “They will be set to explode sixty hours after our scheduled departure. According to the analytical models, we should be out of the debris field in twelve hours, but for safety we have specified, in our procedure, that the weapons will not be exploded unless we are at least twenty-four hours away… If our departure is delayed because of some crisis, we can always over­write the detonation time by electronic command.”

  “That’s reassuring” Janos remarked.

  “Any more questions?” Heilmann asked.

  “Just one,” Janos said. “As long as we’re inside Rama putting these things in their proper locations, I assume that it’s all right if we look around for our lost friends. In case they may be wandering—”

  “The timeline is very tight, Cosmonaut Tabori,” the admiral replied, “and the deployment itself, inside the structure, only takes a few hours. Unfortu­nately, due to our delays in starting the procedure, we will place the weapons in their designated positions during the time that Rama is dark.”

  Great, O’Toole thought in his room, that’s something else that can be blamed on me. All in all, though, he felt that Admiral Heilmann had han­dled the meeting very well, ft –was nice of Otto not to say anything about the code, O’Toole told himself. He probably figures I’ll come around. And he’s probably right.

  When O’Toole woke up from a short nap it was past lunchtime and he had a ravenous appetite. There was nobody in the dining room except Francesca Sabatini; she was finishing her coffee and studying some kind of engi­neering data on a nearby computer monitor.