Rama 2 by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee

The other cosmonauts all noticed Nicole’s agitation. “What’s going on here?” Richard Wakefield said good-naturedly. “One of our scientists takes a little morning walk on his own and the company doctor goes into panic?” He switched on his radio. “Hello, Dr. Takagishi, wherever you are. This is Wakefield. Will you please let us know that you’re all right so that we can finish our breakfast.”

There was a long silence. Every member of the crew knew that it was an absolutely mandatory requirement to carry a communicator at all times. You could choose to turn off the transmission capability, but you had to listen under any and all circumstances.

“Takagishi-san,” Nicole said next with an urgent edge in her voice. “Are you all right? Please respond.” During the extended silence, Nicole’s sinking feeling in her stomach turned into a large knot. Something terrible had happened to her friend.

“I’ve explained that to you twice, Dr. Maxwell,” David Brown said in exasperation. “It makes no sense to evacuate part of the crew. The most efficient way to search for Dr. Takagishi is to use the entire staff. Once we find him we will clear out of Rama with great haste. And to answer your last question, no, this is not a ploy on the part of the crew to avoid compliance with the evacuation order.”

He turned to Admiral Heilmann and handed him the microphone. “Dam­mit, Otto,” he muttered, “you talk to that bureaucratic nincompoop. He thinks he can command this mission better than we can, even though he’s a hundred million kilometers away.”

“Dr. Maxwell, this is Admiral Heilmann. 1 am in complete agreement with Dr. Brown. Anyway, we really can’t afford to argue with such long delay times. We are going to proceed with our plan. Cosmonaut Tabori will stay here with me at Beta and pack all the heavy equipment, including the biot. I will coordinate the search. Brown, Sabatini, and des Jardins will cross the ice to New York, the most likely destination if the professor went under his own power. Wakefield, Turgenyev, and Yamanaka will look for him in the heli­copters.”

He paused for a moment. “There’s no need for you to respond to this transmission in a hurry. The search will already have begun before your next message will arrive.”

Back in her hut, Nicole very carefully packed her medical supplies. She criticized herself for not foreseeing that Takagishi might try one last time to visit New York. You made another mistake, Nicole said to herself. The least you can do is make certain you ‘re prepared when you find him.

She knew the personal packing procedure by heart. Nevertheless, she skimped on her own supplies of food and water to ensure that she had whatever an injured or sick Takagishi might need. Nicole had mixed emo­tions about her two companions on the quest to find the Japanese scientist, but it never occurred to her that the grouping might have been purposely planned. Everyone knew Takagishi’s fascination with New York. Given the circumstances, it was not surprising that Brown and Sabatini were accompa­nying her to the primary search area.

Just before Nicole left the hut, she saw Richard Wakefield at her door. “May I come in?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she replied.

He walked in with an uncharacteristic uncertainty, as if he were confused or embarrassed. “What is it?” Nicole asked after an awkward silence.

He smiled. “Well,” he said sheepishly, “it seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago. Now it strikes me as a little stupid—maybe even childish.” Nicole noticed he was holding something in his right hand. “I brought you something,” he continued. “A good luck charm, I guess. I thought you might take it with you to New York.”

Cosmonaut Wakefield opened his hand. Nicole recognized the figurine of Prince Hal. “You can say what you will about valor and discretion and all that, but sometimes a little luck is more important.”

Nicole was surprisingly touched. She took the little figurine from Wake-field and studied its intricate detail with admiration. “Does the prince have any special qualities I need to know about?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh yes.” Richard brightened. “He loves to spend witty evenings in pubs with fat knights and other unsavory characters. Or battle renegade dukes and earls. Or court beautiful French princesses.”

Nicole blushed slightly. “If I’m lonely and want the prince to amuse me, what do I do?” she asked.

Richard came over beside Nicole and showed her a tiny keyboard just above Prince Hal’s buttocks. “He’ll respond to many commands/’ Richard said, handing her a very small baton the size of a pin. “This will fit perfectly into any of the key slots. Try t for talk or a for action if you want him to show you his stuff.”

Nicole put the little prince and the baton in the pocket of her flight suit. “Thank you, Richard,” she said. “This is very sweet.”

Wakefield was flustered. “Well, you know, it’s no big deal. It’s just that we’ve had a spate of bad luck and I thought, I mean, maybe—”

“Thanks again, Richard,” Nicole interrupted, “I appreciate your con­cern.” They walked out of her hut together.

34 STRANGE COMPANIONS

Dr. David Brown was the kind of abstract scientist who neither liked nor trusted machines. Most of his published papers were written about theoretical subjects because he abhorred the formality and detail of empirical science. Empiricists had to contend with instrumentation and, even worse, engineers. Dr. Brown considered all engineers to be nothing more than glorified carpenters and plumbers. He tolerated their existence only because some of them were necessary if his theories were ever to be proved by actual data.

When Nicole innocently asked Dr. Brown some simple questions about the workings of the icemobile, Francesca could not restrain a cackle. “He has absolutely no idea,” the Italian journalist responded, “and he couldn’t care less. Would you believe that the man doesn’t even know how to drive an electric cart? I’ve seen him stare at a simple food processing robot for over thirty minutes, trying without success to figure out how to use it. He would starve to death if nobody helped him.”

“Come on, Francesca,” Nicole replied as the two women climbed into the front seat of the icemobile, “he can’t be that bad. After ail, he has to use all the crew computers and communication devices, as well as the image pro­cessing system onboard the Newton. So you must be exaggerating.”

The tenor of the conversation was light and harmless. Dr. David Brown slumped in the backseat and heaved a sigh. “Surely you two exceptional women have something more important to discuss. If not, perhaps you could explain to me why a lunatic Japanese scientist takes off from our camp in the middle of the night.”

“According to Maxwell’s assistant, that obsequious cipher named Mills, many people on Earth think our good Japanese doctor was kidnapped by the Ramans.”

“Come on, Francesca. Be serious. Why would Dr. Takagishi decide to strike out on his own?”

“I have an idea,” Nicole said slowly, “that he was impatient with the scheduled exploration process. You know how fervently he believes in the importance of New York. After the Wilson incident . . . well, he was fairly certain that an evacuation would be ordered. By the time we come back inside, if we come back, the Cylindrical Sea may have melted and it will be more difficult to reach New York.”

Nicole’s natural honesty was urging her to tell Brown and Sabatini about Takagishi’s heart problems. But her intuitive sense told her not to trust her two companions. “He just doesn’t seem like the type to go off half-cocked,” Dr, Brown was saying. “I wonder if he heard or saw something.”

“Maybe he had a headache or couldn’t sleep for some other reason,” Francesca offered. “Reggie Wilson used to prowl around at night when his head was bothering him.”

David Brown leaned forward, “By the way,” he said to Nicole, “Francesca tells me that you think Wilson’s instability might have been exacerbated by the headache pills he was using. You certainly seem to know your drugs. I was extremely impressed by how quickly you identified the particular sleep­ing pill I had taken.”

“Speaking of drugs,” Francesca added after a short pause. “Janos Tabori mentioned something about a discussion he had with you concerning Borzov’s death. I may not have understood him correctly, but I thought he said that you believe a drug reaction may have been involved.”

They were driving steadily across the ice. The conversation had been even in tone, apparently casual. There was no obvious reason to be suspicious.

Nevertheless, Nicole said to herself as she framed a response to Francesca’s remarks, those last two comments seemed too smooth. Almost practiced. She turned to look at David Brown. She suspected that Francesca could dissem­ble without effort, but Nicole was certain she would be able to tell from Dr. Brown’s facial expression whether or not their questions were rehearsed. He squirmed slightly under her unblinking gaze.