Rama 2 by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee

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 the 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. 1 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.”