Rama 2 by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee

“All right,” Brown said, turning to the others, “this is it. Wilson, Takagi­shi, and des Jardins in the rover with Wakefield. Francesca, you come with me in the second helicopter with Hiro.”

Nicole started walking toward the rover but Francesca intercepted her. “Have you ever used one of these?” The Italian journalist extended a video camera the size of a small book.

“Once,” Nicole answered, studying the camera in Francesca’s hand, “eleven or twelve years ago. I recorded one of Dr. Delon’s brain operations. I guess—”

“Look,” interrupted Francesca, “I could use some help. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you earlier, but I didn’t know— Anyway, I need another camera, one on the ground, especially now that we’re live on INN. I’m not asking for miracles. You’re the only one who—”

“What about Reggie?” Nicole replied. “He’s the other journalist.”

“Reggie won’t help,” Francesca said quickly. Dr. Brown called for her to come to the helicopter. “Will you do it, Nicole? Please? Or should I ask someone else?”

Why not? ran through Nicole’s mind. I have nothing else to do unless an emergency comes up. “Sure,” she replied.

“Thanks a million,” Francesca shouted as she handed Nicole the camera and dashed off to the waiting helicopter.

“Well, well,” said Reggie Wilson as Nicole approached the rover with the camera cradled in her hands. “I see that our crew doctor has been recruited by the number one journalist. I hope you asked for the minimum wage.”

“Lighten up, Reggie,” Nicole replied. “It doesn’t bother me to help oth­ers when I have nothing specific to do myself.”

Wakefield switched on the rover and began to drive east toward the biots. The headquarters had been intentionally established in the area already “cleaned” by the crabs. The packed soil made progress very easy for the rover. They were within a hundred meters of the biots in less than three minutes. Overhead the two helicopters circled around the crabs.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Nicole called to Franceses on the rover transmitter.

“Try to move parallel to the biots/’ Francesca answered. “You can proba­bly run alongside, at least for some of the time. The most important moment is when Janos tries to close the snare.”

“We’re all ready here,” Tabori announced a few seconds later, “Just give the word.”

“Are we on the air?” Brown asked Francesca. She nodded her head. “All right,” he said to Janos. “Go ahead.”

From out of one of the helicopters came a long, thick cable with what looked like an inverted basket on the end. “Janos will try to center the snare on the target biot/’ Wakefield explained to Nicole, “and let the sides drape naturally over the corner of the shell. Then he will increase the tension and pull the biot off the ground. We will cage the crab after we return it to the Beta campsite.”

“Let’s see what they look like from down there,” Nicole heard Francesca say. The rover was now right next to the biots. Nicole climbed out and jogged beside them. She was frightened at first. For some reason she had not expected them to be so large or so strange looking. Their metallic sheen reminded her of the cold exterior of many of the new buildings in Paris. As she ran along on the soil, the biots were only about two meters away from her. With the automatic focusing and framing of the camera, it was not difficult for Nicole to take the proper pictures.

“Don’t get in front of them,” Dr. Takagishi warned her. He didn’t need to worry. Nicole had not forgotten what they had done to that mound of metal.

“Your pictures are really very good,” Francesca’s voice boomed on the rover receiver. “Nicole, try to speed up to the lead biot and then fall back little by little, letting the camera pan across each of the ranks.” She waited while Nicole moved to the front of the biots. “Wow. That’s superb. Now 1 know why we brought an Olympic champion with us.”

On his first two attempts Janos missed with the snare. However, on the third try it landed perfectly on the number four crab’s back. The edges of the net or basket spread out to the limit of the shell. Nicole was starting to sweat. She had been running already for four minutes. “From now on,” Francesca said to her from the helicopter, “focus on the single target crab. Move up as close as you dare.”

Nicole reduced her distance from the closest biot to about a meter. She nearly slipped once and a cold chill swept over her. If I were to fall across their path, she thought, they ‘d make mincemeat out of me. Her camera was fixed on the right rear crab as Janos tightened the cables.

“Now!” he shouted. The snare, with the biot entrapped, began to rise off the ground. Everything happened very fast. The target biot used its scissor-like claws to snap through one of the metal threads of the snare. The other five biots came to a brief halt, for maybe one full second, and then immedi­ately all attacked the snare with their claws. The metal net was completely shredded and the biot was freed in five seconds,

Nicole was amazed by what she was seeing. Despite her pounding heart she continued to film. The lead biot now sat down on the ground. The other five surrounded it in an extremely tight circle. Each of the biots attached one claw to the crab in the center and the other to its neighbor on the right. The formation was finished in less than five more seconds. The biots were locked and motionless.

Francesca was the first to speak. “Absolutely incredible,” she screamed in elation. “We just made the hair stand up on every human being on Earth.”

Nicole felt Richard Wakefield beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said. She was still shaking. The two of them glanced over at the biots. There was no movement.

“They’re in a huddle,” Reggie Wilson said from the rover. “The score is now Biots seven, Humans zero.”

“Since you are so convinced that there is no danger, I’ll agree to go ahead. But I must confess that I myself am nervous about another attempt. Those things clearly communicate with each other. And I don’t think they want to be captured.”

“Otto, Otto/’ Dr. Brown replied. “This procedure is only a straightfor­ward refinement of what we tried the first time. The line nexus will adhere to the shell of the crab and will wrap its thin cables tightly around the entire carapace. The other biots will not be able to use their claws. There will be no room between the line and the shell.”

“Admiral Heilmann, this is Dr. Takagishi.” There was definite concern in his voice as he spoke into the communicator. “I must register my strongest objection to proceeding with this hunt. We have seen already how little we understand about these creatures. As Wakefield said, our attempt to snare one of them has obviously triggered their main fault protection responses. We have no idea at all how they will react next.”

“We all understand that, Dr. Takagishi,” David Brown interjected before Heilmann could respond. “But there are extenuating factors that override the uncertainties. First, as Francesca pointed out, the entire Earth will again be watching if we go after the biots right away. You heard what Jean-Claude Revoir said twenty minutes ago—we have already done more for space explo­ration than anyone since the original Soviet and American cosmonauts back

in the twentieth century. Second, we are prepared to complete the hunt now. If we abandon the attempt and return all our equipment to Beta, then we will have wasted a huge amount of time and effort. Finally, there is no obvious danger. Why do you insist on making such dire predictions? AH we saw the biots do was engage in some kind of self-defense activity.”

“Professor Brown,” the eminent Japanese scholar tried one last rational appeal, “please look around you. Try to imagine the capabilities of the crea­tures who made this amazing vehicle. Try to appreciate the possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, what we are trying to do might be viewed as a hostile act and has somehow been communicated to whatever intelligence is manag­ing this spacecraft. Suppose as a result that we, as representatives of the human species, are condemning not only ourselves, but also, in some larger sense, all of our fellow—”

“Poppycock,” David Brown scoffed. “How can anyone ever accuse me of wild speculation? . . .” He laughed heartily. “This is absurd. The evidence overwhelmingly indicates that this Rama has the same purpose and function as its predecessor and is completely oblivious to our existence. Just because one single subfamily of robots bands together when threatened does not have overwhelming significance.” He looked around at the others. “I say that’s enough talk, Otto. Unless you object, we’re going out to capture a biot.”