Rama 2 by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee

“Wouldn’t you love to see that assembly line?” Nicole asked.

Valeriy Borzov nodded. A small flying craft, like a bat or a hummingbird zoomed past the viewport in the near field and headed off in the direction of Rama. “The exterior drones will confirm the similarities. Each of them has a stored set of images from Rama I. Any variations will be logged and reported within three hours.”

“And if there are no unexplained variations?”

“Then we proceed as planned,” General Borzov answered with a smile. “We dock, open up Rama, and release the interior drones.” He glanced at his watch. “All of which should take place about twenty-two hours from now, provided the life science officer asserts that the crew is ready.”

“The crew is in fine shape,” Nicole reported. “I’ve just finished looking at a synopsis of the cruise health data again. It’s been surprisingly regular. Except for hormonal abnormalities in all three women, which were not totally unexpected, we have seen no significant anomalies in forty days.”

“So physically we’re all ready to go,” the commander said thoughtfully, “but what about our psychological readiness? Are you troubled about this recent spate of arguments? Or can we chalk it up to tension and excite­ment?”

Nicole was silent for a moment. “I agree these four days since the docking have been a little rough. Of course, we knew about the Wilson-Brown prob­lem even before launch. We partially solved it by having Reggie on your ship during most of the cruise, but now that we’ve joined the two spacecraft and the team is all together again, those two seem to be at each other at every opportunity. Particularly if Francesca is around.”

“I tried to talk to Wilson twice while the two ships were separated/’ Brozov said in a frustrated tone. “He wouldn’t discuss it. But it’s clear that he is very angry about something.”

General Borzov walked over to the control panel and started fiddling with the keyboards. Sequencing information appeared on one of the monitors. “It must involve Sabatini,” he continued. “Wilson didn’t do much work during cruise, but his log indicates that he spent an inordinate amount of time on the videophone with her. And he was always in a foul mood. He even offended O’Toole.” General Borzov turned and looked intently at Nicole. “As my life science officer, I want to know if you have any official recom­mendations about the crew, especially with respect to psychological interac­tions among the team members.”

Nicole had not expected this. When General Borzov had scheduled this final “crew health assessment” with her, she had not thought that the meet­ing would extend to the mental health of the Newton dozen as well. “You’re asking for a professional psychological evaluation also?” she asked.

“Certainly,” General Borzov replied. “I want an A5401 from you that attests to both the physical and psychological readiness of every one of the crew members. The procedure clearly states that the commanding officer, before each sortie, should request crew certification from the life science officer.”

“But during the simulations you asked only for physical health data.”

Borzov smiled. “I can wait, Madame des Jardins,” he said, “if you’d like time to prepare your report.”

“No, no,” Nicole said after some reflection. “I can give my opinions now and then officially document them later tonight.” She hesitated several more seconds before continuing. “I wouldn’t put Wilson and Brown together as crew members on any subteam, at least not in the first sortie. And I’d even have some qualms, although this opinion is certainly not as strong, about combining Francesca in a group with either of the two men. I would place no other limitations of any kind on this crew.”

“Good. Good.” The commander grinned broadly, “I appreciate your re­port, and not just because it confirms my own opinions. As you can under­stand, these matters can sometimes be fairly delicate.” General Borzov abruptly changed the subject. “Now I have another question of an altogether different nature to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Francesca came to me this morning and suggested that we have a party tomorrow night. She contends that the crew is tense and in need of some kind of release before the first sortie inside Rama. Do you agree with her?”

Nicole reflected for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea,” she replied. “The strain has been definitely showing. . . . But what kind of party did you have in mind?”

“A dinner all together, here in the control room, some wine and vodka, maybe even a little entertainment.” Borzov smiled and put his arm on Nicole’s shoulder. “I’m asking your professional opinion, you understand, as my life science officer.”

“Of course,” Nicole said with a laugh. “General,” she added, “if you think it’s time for the crew to have a party, then I’d be delighted to lend a hand. …”

Nicole finished her report and transferred the file by data line over to Borzov’s’s computer in the military ship. She had been very careful in her language to identify the problem as a “personality conflict” rather than any kind of behavioral pathology. To Nicole, the problem between Wilson and Brown was straightforward: jealousy, pure and simple, the ancient green-eyed monster itself.

She was certain that it was wise to prevent Wilson and Brown from working closely together during sorties inside Rama. Nicole chastized herself for not having raised the issue with Borzov on her own. She realized that her mission portfolio included mental health as well, but somehow she had diffi­culty thinking of herself as the crew psychiatrist. / avoid it because it ‘s not an objective process, she thought. We have no sensors yet to measure good or bad mental health.

Nicole walked down the hall of the living area. She was careful to keep one foot on the floor at all times; she was so accustomed to the weightless environment that it was almost second nature. Nicole was glad that the Newton design engineers had worked so hard to minimize the differences between being in space and on the Earth. It made the job of being a cosmo­naut much simpler by allowing the crew to concentrate on the more impor­tant elements of their work.

Nicole’s room was at the end of the corridor. Although each of the cosmo­nauts had private quarters (the result of heated arguments between the crew and the system engineers, the latter having insisted that sleeping in pairs was a more efficient use of the space), the rooms were very small and confining. There were eight bedrooms on this larger vehicle, called the scientific ship by the crew members. The military ship had four more small bedrooms. Both spacecraft also had exercise rooms and “lobbies,” common rooms where there was more comfortable furniture as well as some entertainment options not available in the bedrooms.

As Nicole passed Janos Tabori’s room on her way to the exercise area, she heard his unmistakable laugh. His door was open as usual. “Did you really expect me,” Janos was saying, “to trade bishops and leave your knights in command of the center of the board? Come on, Shig, 1 may not be a master, but I do learn from my mistakes. I fell for that one in an earlier game.”

Tabori and Takagishi were involved in their usual postprandial chess match. Almost every “night” (the crew had stayed on a twenty-four-hour day that coincided with Greenwich Mean Time) the two men played for an hour or so before sleeping. Takagishi was a ranked chess master but he was also softhearted and wanted to encourage Tabori. So in virtually every game, after establishing a solid position, Takagishi would allow his edge to be eroded.

Nicole stuck her head in the door. “Come in, beautiful,” Janos said with a grin. “Watch me destroy our Asiatic friend in this pseudocerebral endeavor.” Nicole had started to explain that she was going to the exercise room when a strange creature, about the size of a big mouse, scurried through her legs and into Tabori’s room. She jumped back involuntarily as the toy, or whatever it was, headed for the two men.

“The ousel cock, so black of hue With orange-lawny bill, The throstle, with his note so true The wren with little quill .

The robot was singing as it skipped toward Janos. Nicole dropped down on her knees and examined the curious newcomer. It had the lower body of a human and the head of a donkey. It continued to sing. Tabori and Takagishi stopped their game and both laughed at the bewildered expression on Nicole’s face.

“Go on,” said Janos, “tell him that you love him. That’s what the fairy queen Titania would do/’

Nicole shrugged her shoulders. The little robot was temporarily quiet. As Janos urged again, Nicole mumbled “I love you” to the twenty-centimeter Athenian with a mule’s head.

The miniature Bottom turned to Nicole. “Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that. And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.”