Rama 3 – The Garden of Rama by Clarke, Arthur C.

“But then who did build the Node?”

“That’s definitely a Level III question,” Richard said with a smile.

Kenji and Nai laughed. Nicole and Richard had explained the Eagle’s informational hierarchy to them during the long stories at dinner. “I wonder if it is even possible,” Kenji mused, “for us to conceive of beings so advanced that their machines can create other machines smarter than we are.”

“I wonder if it is even possible,” Katie now interrupted, “for us to discuss some more trivial issues. For example, where are all the young people my age? So far I don’t mink I have seen more than two colonists between twelve and twenty-five.”

“Most of the younger set are onboard the Nina,” Kenji responded. “It should arrive here in about three weeks with the bulk of the colony population. The passengers on the Pinta were handpicked for the task of checking out the veracity of the video we received.”

“What’s veracity!” Katie asked.

“Truth and accuracy,” Nicole said. “More or less. It was one of your grandfather’s favorite words. . . . And speaking of your grandfather, he was also a great believer that young people should always be permitted to listen to adult conversation, but not to interrupt it. … We have many things to discuss tonight with the Watanabes. The four of you don’t have to stay.”

“I want to go out and see the lights,” Benjy said. “Will you come with me, please, Ellie?”

Ellie Wakefield stood up and took Benjy by the hand. The two of them said good night politely and were followed out the door by Katie and Patrick. “We’re going to see if we can find anything exciting to do,” Katie said

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as they departed. “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Watariabe. Mother, we’ll be back in a couple of hours or so.”

Nicole shook her head as the last of her children left the house. “Katie has been so frenetic since the Pinta arrived,” she said in explanation, “she is barely even sleeping at night. She wants to meet and talk to everybody.”

The Lincoln biot, who had now finished cleaning the kitchen, was standing unobtrusively by the door behind Benjy’s chair. “Would you like something to drink?” Nicole asked Kenji and Nai, motioning in the direction of the biot. “We don’t have anything as delicious as the fresh fruit drinks that you brought from Earth, but Line can whip up some interesting synthetic concoctions.”

“I’m fine,” Kenji said, shaking his head. “But I just realized we have spent the entire evening talking about your incredible odyssey. Certainly you must have questions for us. After all, forty-five years have passed on Earth since the Newton was launched.”

Forty-five years, Nicole suddenly thought. Is that possible? Can Genevieve really be almost sixty years old?

Nicole remembered clearly the last time she had seen her father and daughter on Earth. Pierre and Genevieve had accompanied her to the airport in Paris. Her daughter had hugged Nicole fiercely until the last call for boarding and then looked up at her mother with intense love and pride. The girl’s eyes had been full of tears. Genevieve had been unable to say anything- And during that forty-five years my father has died. Genevieve has become an older woman, a grandmother even, Kenji said. While I have been wandering in time and space. In a wonderland.

The memories were too powerful for Nicole. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. There was still quiet in the Wakefield living room as she returned to the present.

“Is everything all right?” Kenji asked sensitively. Nicole nodded and stared at the soft, open eyes of her new friend. She imagined for a brief moment that she was talking to her fellow Newton cosmonaut Shigeru Takagi-shi. This man is full of curiosity, as Shig was. I can trust him. And he has talked to Genevieve only a few years ago.

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“Most of the general Earth history has been explained to us, in bits and snippets, during our many conversations with other passengers from the Pinta,” Nicole said after a protracted silence. “But we know absolutely nothing about our families except what you told us briefly that first night. Both Richard and I would like to know if you’ve remembered any additional details that might have been omitted in our first conversations.”

“As a matter of fact,” Kenji said, “I went back through my journals this afternoon and read again the entries I made when I was doing the preliminary research for my book on the Newton. The most important thing that I neglected to mention in our earlier discussion was how much your Genevieve looks like her father, at least from the lips down. King Henry’s face was striking, as I’m certain you remember. As an adult Genevieve’s face lengthened and began to resemble his quite markedly. . . . Here, look at these, I managed to find a couple of photographs from my three days at Beauvois stored in my data base.”

Seeing the pictures of Genevieve overwhelmed Nicole. Tears rushed immediately into her eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she held the two photographs of Genevieve and her husband Louis Gaston. Oh, Genevieve, she cried to herself, How I have missed you. How I would love to hold you in my arms for just a moment.

Richard leaned over her shoulder to see the pictures. As he did so he caressed Nicole gently. “She does look something like the prince,” he commented softly, “but I think she looks much more like her mother.”

“Genevieve was also extremely courteous,” Kenji added, “which surprised me considering how much she had suffered during all the media uproar in 2238. She answered my questions very patiently. I had intended to make her one of the centerpieces of the Newton book until my editor dissuaded me from the project altogether.”

“How many of the Newton cosmonauts are still alive?” Richard asked, keeping the conversation going while Nicole continued to gaze at the two photographs.

“Only Sabatini, Tabori, and Yamanaka,” Kenji replied.

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“Dr. David Brown had a massive stroke, and then died six months later under somewhat unusual circumstances. I believe that was in 2208. Admiral Heilmann died of cancer in 2214 or so. Irina Turgenyev suffered a complete mental breakdown, a victim of ‘Return to Earth* syndrome identified among some of the twenty-first century cosmonauts, and eventually committed suicide in 2211.”

Nicole was still struggling with her emotions. “Until three nights ago,” she said to the Watanabes when the room was again silent, “I had never even told Richard or the children that Henry was Genevieve’s father. While I was living on Earth, only my father knew the truth. Henry may have suspected, but he didn’t know for certain. Then, when you told me about Genevieve, I realized that I should be the one to tell my family. I …”

Nicole’s voice trailed off and more tears appeared in her eyes. She wiped her face with one of the tissues Nai handed her. “I’m sorry,” Nicole said, “I’m never like this. It’s just such a shock to see a picture and to recall so many things. …”

“When we were living in Rama II and then at the Node,” Richard said, “Nicole was a model of stability. She was a rock. No matter what we encountered, no matter how bizarre, she was unflappable. The children and Michael O’Toole and I all depended on her. It’s very rare to see her—”

“Enough,” Nicole exclaimed after wiping her face. She put the photographs aside. “Let’s go on to other subjects. Let’s talk about die Newton cosmonauts, Francesca Sabatini in particular. Did she get what she wanted? Fame and riches beyond compare?”

“Pretty much,” Kenji said. “I wasn’t alive during her heyday in the first decade of the century, but even now she is still very famous. She was one of the people interviewed on television recently about the significance of re-colonizing Mars.”

Nicole leaned forward in her chair. “I didn’t tell you this during dinner, but I’m certain Francesca and Brown drugged Borzov, causing his appendicitis symptoms. And she purposely left’ me at the bottom of that pit in New York. The woman was totally without scruples.”

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Kenji was silent for several seconds. “Back in 2208, just before Dr. Brown died, he had occasional lucid periods in his generally incoherent state. During one such period he gave a fantastic interview to a magazine reporter in which he confessed partial responsibility for Borzov’s death and implicated Francesca in your disappearance. Si-gnora Sabatini said the entire story was ‘poppycock—die crazy outpourings of a diseased brain,* sued the magazine for a hundred million marks, and then settled comfortably out of court. The magazine fired the reporter and formally apologized to her.”

“Francesca always wins in the end,” Nicole remarked.