Rama II

26 SECOND SORTIE

David Brown had placed a single large sheet of paper on the table in the middle of the control center. Franceses had divided it into partitions, representing hours, and was now busy writing down whatever he told her, “The damn mission planning software is too inflexible to be useful in a situation like this,” Dr. Brown was saying to Janos Tabori and Richard Wakefield. “It’s only good when the sequence of activities being planned is consistent with one of the preflight strategies.”

Janos walked over to one of the monitors. “Maybe you can use it better than I can,” Dr. Brown continued, “but I have found it much easier this morning to rely on pencil and paper.” Janos called up a software program for mission sequencing and began to key in some data.

“Wait a minute,” Richard Wakefield interjected. Janos stopped typing on the keyboard and turned to listen to his colleague. “We’re getting all worked up over nothing. We don’t need to plan the entire next sortie at this mo­ment. In any case, we know the first major activity segment must be the completion of the infrastructure. That will take another ten or twelve hours. The rest of the sortie design can be done in parallel.”

“Richard’s right,” Francesca added. “We’re trying to do everything too fast. Let’s send the space cadets into Rama to finish setting up. While they’re gone we can work out the details of the sortie.”

“That’s impractical,” Dr. Brown replied. “The academy graduates are the only ones who know how long each of the various engineering activities should take. We can’t make meaningful timelines without them.”

“Then one of us will stay here with you,” Janos Tabori said. He grinned. “And we can use Heilmann or O’Toole inside, as an extra worker. That shouldn’t slow us down too much.”

A consensus decision was reached in half an hour. Nicole would stay onboard the Newton again, at least until the infrastructure was completed, and represent the cadets in the mission planning process, Admiral Heilmann would go into Rama with the four other professional cosmonauts. They would finish the remaining three infrastructure tasks: the assembly of the rest of the vehicles, the deployment of another dozen portable monitoring stations in the Northern Hemicylinder, and the construction of the Beta campsite!communications complex on the north side of the Cylindrical Sea.

Richard Wakefield was in the process of reviewing all the detailed subtasks with his small team when Reggie Wilson, who had been virtually silent during the entire morning, suddenly jumped up from his chair. “This is all bullshit!” he shouted. “I can’t believe all the nonsense I’m hearing.”

Richard stopped his review. Brown and Takagishi, who had already started discussing the sortie design, were suddenly silen. All eyes were focused on Reggie Wilson.

“A man died here four days ago,” he said. “Killed, most likely, by whoever or whatever is operating that gigantic spacecraft. But we went inside explor­ing anyway. Next the lights go on and off unexpectedly.” Wilson looked around the room at the rest of the crew. His eyes were wild. His forehead was sweating. “And what do we all do? Huh? How do we respond to this warning from alien creatures far superior to us? We sit down calmly and plan the rest of our exploration of their vehicle. Don’t any of you get it? They don’t want us in there. They want us to leave, to go home to Earth.”

Wilson’s outburst was greeted by an uncomfortable silence. At length General O’Toole walked over beside Reggie Wilson. “Reggie,” he said qui­etly, “we were all upset by General Borzov’s death. But none of the rest of us see any connection—”

“Then you’re blind, man, you’re blind. I was up in that goddamn helicop­ter when the lights went out. One minute it was bright as a summer day and the next, poof, it was pitch black. It was fucking weird, man. Somebody turned out all the lights. In this discussion never once have I heard anybody ask why the lights went out. What’s the matter with you people? Are you too smart to be afraid?”

Wilson ranted for several minutes. His recurring theme was always the same. The Ramans had planned Borzov’s death, they were sending a warn­ing with the lights going on and off, there would be more disasters if the crew insisted on continuing with the exploration.

General O’Toole stood beside Reggie during the entire episode. Dr, Brown, Francesca, and Nicole had a hurried discussion on the side and then Nicole approached Wilson. “Reggie,” she said informally, interrupting his diatribe, “why don’t you and General O’Toole come with me? We can continue this conversation without delaying the rest of the crew.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “You, Doctor? Why should I come with you? You weren’t even in there. You haven’t seen enough to know anything.” Wilson moved over in front of Wakefield. “You were there, Richard,” he said. “You saw that place, You know what kind of intelligence and power it would take to make a space vehicle that large and then launch it on a trip between the stars. Hey, man, we’re nothing to them. We’re less than ants. We haven’t got a chance.”

“I agree with you, Reggie,” Richard Wakefield said calmly after a mo­ment’s hesitation. “At least where our comparative capabilities are con­cerned. But we have no evidence they’re hostile. Or even care about whether or not we explore their craft. On the contrary, the very fact that we are alive—”

“Look,” shouted Irina Turgenyev suddenly. “Look at the monitor.” A solitary image was frozen on the giant screen in the control center. A crablike creature filled the entire frame. It had a low, flat body, about twice as long as it was wide. Its weight was supported on six triple-jointed legs. Two scissorlike claws extended in front of the body and a whole row of manipulators, which looked uncannily like tiny human hands at first glance, nestled close to some kind of opening in the carapace. On closer inspection the manipulators were a veritable hardware store of capabilities — there were pincers, probes, rasps, and even something that resembled a drill.

Its eyes, if that’s indeed what they were, were deeply recessed in protec­tive hoods and raised like periscopes above the top of the shell. The eyeballs themselves were crystal or jelly, vivid blue in color, and utterly expressionless. From the legend on the side of the image it was clear that the photograph had been taken just moments before, by one of the long-range drones, at a

spot roughly five kilometers south of the Cylindrical Sea. The frame, filmed with a telescopic lens, covered an area roughly six meters square.

“So we have company in Rama,” said Janos Tabori. The rest of the cos­monauts stared at the monitor in amazement.

All of the crew later agreed that the image of the crab biot on the giant screen would not have been so frightening if it had not occurred at that precise moment. Although Reggie’s behavior was definitely aberrant, there was enough sense in what he was saying to remind each of them of the dangers in their expedition. None of the crew was completely free from fear. All of them had, in some private moment, confronted the disquieting fact that the super-advanced Ramans might not be friendly.

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.”