Rama 2 by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee

62 THE FINAL HOUR

Nobody had spoken for five min­utes. Each of the three cosmo­nauts sat enmeshed in his own private world, aware that the first missile was now less than an hour away. Richard raced through all the sensor outputs hurriedly, searching vainly for any indication that Rama was taking some protective action. “Shit,” he muttered, looking again at the close-up radar picture that showed the lead missile drawing closer and closer.

Richard walked over to where Nicole was sitting in the corner. “We must have failed,” he said quietly. “Nothing has changed.”

Nicole rubbed her eyes. “I wish I weren’t so tired,” she said. “Then maybe we could do something interesting for our last fifty minutes.” She smiled grimly. “Now I know what it must be like to be on Death Row.”

General O’Toole approached from the other side of the room. He was holding two of the small black balls in his left hand. “You know,” be said, “often I have wondered what I would do if I ever had a specified, finite time before I died. Now here I am, and my mind keeps focusing on a single thing.”

“What’s that?” Nicole asked.

“Have either of you ever been baptized?” he replied tentatively.

“Whaaat?” exclaimed Richard with a laugh of surprise.

“I thought not,” said General O’Toole. “What about you, Nicole?”

“No, Michael,” she answered. “My father’s Catholicism was more tradi­tion than ceremony.”

“Well,” persisted the general. “I’m offering to baptize you both.”

“Here? Now?” inquired the astounded Wakefield. “Are my ears deceiving me, Nikki, or did I just hear this gentleman suggest that we spend the last hour of our life being baptized?”

“It won’t take—” O’Toole started to say.

“Why not, Richard?” Nicole interrupted. She stood up with a bright smile on her face. “What else do we have to do? And it’s a hell of a lot better than morbidly sitting around here waiting for the great fireball.”

Richard almost cackled. “This is wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I, Richard Wakefield, lifelong atheist, am considering being baptized on an extraterres­trial spaceship as the final action of my life. I love it!”

“Remember what Pascal wrote,” Nicole teased.

“Ah, yes,” Richard replied. “A simple matrix from one of the world’s great thinkers. “There may or may not be a God; I may or may not believe in Him. The only way I can lose is if there is a God and I do not believe in Him. Therefore I shall believe in Him to minimize my downside risk.'” Richard chuckled. “But I did not agree to believe in God, only to being baptized.”

“So you’ll do it,” Nicole said.

“Why not?” he replied, parroting her earlier comment. “Maybe that way I don’t have to stay in Limbo with the virtuous pagans and unbaptized children.” He grinned at O’Toole. “All right, General, we’re all yours. Do your thing.”

“Now you listen closely to this, TB,” Richard said. “You’re probably the only robot ever to be in a human’s pocket during a baptism.”

Nicole nudged Richard in the ribs. The patient General O’Toole waited a few moments and then began the ceremony.

At Richard’s insistence, they had left the lair and walked out into the open plaza. Richard had wanted the sky of Rama overhead and neither of the other two had objected. Nicole had gone over to the Cylindrical Sea to fill the baptismal flask with water while General O’Toole completed his preparations. The American general was taking the baptism seriously but was apparently not offended by Richard’s lighthearted banter.

Nicole and Richard knelt down in front of O’Toole. He sprinkled water on Richard’s head. “Richard Colin Wakefield, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

When O’Toole had finished baptizing Nicole in the same simple way, Richard stood up and grinned. “I don’t feel any different,” he said. “I’m just like I was before—scared shitless about dying in the next thirty minutes,”

General O’Toole had not moved. “Richard,” he said softly, “could I ask you to kneel again? I would like to say a short prayer.”

“What’s this?” Richard asked. “First a baptism, now a prayer?” Nicole looked up at him. Her eyes asked him to accede. “All right,” he said, “I guess I might as well go all the way.”

“Almighty God, please hear our prayer,” the general said in a strong voice. He also was kneeling now. His eyes were closed and his hands were clasped in front of him. “We three have gathered here in what may be our final hour to pay homage to Thee. We beseech Thee to consider how we may serve Thee if we continue to live and, if it be Thy will, we ask Thee to spare us a painful and horrible death. If we are to die, we pray that we may be accepted into Thy heavenly kingdom. Amen.”

General O’Toole stopped for just a moment and then began to recite the Lord’s prayer. After he had said, “Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name—” the lights in the great spaceship were abruptly extin­guished. Another Raman day was over. Richard and Nicole waited respect­fully until their friend had finished the prayer before pulling out their flash­lights.

Nicole thanked the general and gave him a small hug. “Well, here we are,” Richard jabbered nervously. “Twenty-seven minutes and counting. We’ve had a baptism and a prayer. What should we do now? Who has an idea for the last, and I mean the very last, amusement? Should we sing? Dance? Play some kind of game?”

“I would prefer to remain up here by myself,” General O’Toole said solemnly, “and face my death in atonement and prayer. And I imagine the two of you would like to be alone together.”

“All right, Nikki,” Richard said. “Where shall we share our final kiss? On the shore of the Cylindrical Sea or back in the White Room?”

Nicole had been awake for thirty-two consecutive hours and was abso­lutely exhausted. She fell into Richard’s arms and closed her eyes. At that moment scattered flashes of light intruded upon the new blackness of the Raman night.

“What’s that?” General O’Toole asked anxiously.

“It must be the horns,” Richard answered excitedly. “Come on, let’s go.”

They ran to the south edge of the island and stared at the massive, enig­matic structures in the southern bowl. Filaments of light were darting be­tween different pairs of the six spires surrounding the great monolith in the center. The yellow arcs seemed to sizzle in the air, undulating gently back and forth in the middle while remaining connected to one of the little horns at each end. A distant cracking sound accompanied the spectacular sight.

“Amazing,” said O’Toole, overcome with awe. “Absolutely amazing.”

“So Rama is going to maneuver,” Richard said. He could hardly contain himself. He hugged Nicole, then O’Toole, and finally kissed Nicole on the lips. “Whoopee!” he yelled as he danced along the wall.

“But Richard/’ Nicole shouted after him, “isn’t it too late? How can Rama move out of the way in such a short time?”

Richard ran back to his colleagues. “You’re right,” he said breathlessly. “And those damn missiles probably have terminal guidance anyway.” He started running again, this time heading back toward the plaza. “I’m going to watch on the radar.”

Nicole glanced over at General O’Toole. “I’m coming,” he said. “But I’ve already run enough for one day. I want to watch this show for another few seconds. You can go on without me if you want.”

Nicole waited. As the two of them walked briskly toward the plaza, Gen­eral O’Toole thanked Nicole for allowing him to baptize her. “Don’t be silly,” she replied. “I’m the one who should thank you.” She put her hand on his shoulder. The baptism itself wasn’t that important, she continued in her private thoughts. It was obvious that you were concerned about our souls. We agreed primarily to show our affection for you. Nicole smiled to herself. At least I think that was the reason. . . .

The ground underneath them began to shake vigorously and General O’Toole stopped, momentarily frightened. “That’s apparently what hap­pened during the last maneuver,” Nicole said, steadying both of them by taking the general’s hand, “although I was personally lying unconscious at the bottom of a pit and missed the entire event.”

“Then the light show was just an announcement of the maneuver?”

“Probably. That’s why Richard was so elated.”

They had barely opened the lair covering when Richard bolted up the stairs. “They’ve done it!” he exclaimed. “They’ve done it!”

O’Toole and Nicole stared at him as he caught his breath. “They’ve deployed some kind of mesh or net—I don’t know exactly what it is—about six, maybe eight hundred meters thick—all around the spacecraft.” He turned around. “Come on,” he said, dashing down the steps three at a time.

Despite her fatigue, Nicole responded to his excitement with a final burst of adrenaline. She bounded down the stairs after Richard and ran to the White Room. He was standing in front of the black screen, flipping back and forth from the exterior image that showed the new material around the vehicle to the radar view that depicted the incoming missiles.