He checked the grapples attaching the scooter to the bomb framework, and re-checked the safety line on his own suit. A cold anger was growing in his mind, adding to his determination. Did this manoeuvre mean that the Hermians were going to explode the bomb without warning, giving Endeavour no chance to escape? That seemed incredible – an act not only of brutality but of folly, calculated to turn the rest of the solar system against them. And what would have made them ignore the solemn promise of their own Ambassador?
Whatever their plan, they would not get away with it.
The second message from Mercury was identical with the first, and arrived ten minutes later. So they had extended the deadline – Norton still had one hour. And they had obviously waited until a reply from Endeavour could have reached them before calling him again.
Now there was another factor; by this time they must have seen Rodrigo, and would have had several minutes in which to take action. Their instructions could already be on the way. They could arrive at any second.
He should be preparing to leave. At any moment, the sky-filling bulk of Rama might become incandescent along the edges, blazing with a transient glory that would far outshine the sun.
When the main thrust came on, Rodrigo was securely anchored. Only twenty seconds later, it cut off again. He did a quick mental calculation; the delta vee could not have been more than fifteen kilometres an hour. The bomb would take over an hour to reach Rama; perhaps it was only moving in close to get a quicker reaction. If so, that was a wise precaution; but the Hermians had left it too late.
Rodrigo glanced at his watch, though by now he was almost aware of the time without having to check. On Mercury, they would now be seeing him heading purposefully towards the bomb, and less than two kilometres away from it. They could have no doubt of his intentions, and would be wondering if he had already carried them out.
The second set of cables went as easily as the first; like any good workman, Rodrigo had chosen his tools well. The bomb was disarmed; or, to be more accurate, it could no longer be detonated by remote command.
Yet there was one other possibility, and he could not afford to ignore it. There were no external contact fuses, but there might be internal ones, armed by the shock of impact. The Hermians still had control over their vehicle’s movements, and could crash it into Rama whenever they wished. Rodrigo’s work was not yet completely finished.
Five minutes from now, in that control room somewhere on Mercury, they would see him crawling back along the exterior of the missile, carrying the modestly-sized wire-cutters that had neutralized the mightiest wea-pon ever built by man. He was almost tempted to wave at the camera, but decided that it would seem undignified; after all, he was making history, and millions would watch this scene in the years to come. Unless, of course, the Hermians destroyed the recording in a fit of pique; he would hardly blame them.
He reached the mounting of the long-range antenna, and drifted hand-over-hand along it to the big dish. His faithful cutters made short work of the multiplex feed system, chewing up cables and laser wave guides alike. When he made the last snip, the antenna started to swing slowly around; the unexpected movement took him by surprise, until he realized that he had destroyed its automatic lock on Mercury. Just five minutes from now, the Hermians would lose all contact with their servant. Not only was it impotent; now it was blind and deaf.
Rodrigo climbed slowly back to the scooter, released the shackles, and swung it round until the forward bumpers were pressing against the missile, as close as possible to its centre of mass. He brought thrust up to full power, and held it there for twenty seconds.
Pushing against many times its own mass, the scooter responded very sluggishly. When Rodrigo cut the thrust back to zero, he took a careful reading of the bomb’s new velocity vector.
It would miss Rama by a wide margin – and it could be located again with precision at any future time. It was, after all, a very valuable piece of equipment.
Lieutenant Rodrigo was a man of almost pathological honesty. He would not like the Hermians to accuse him of losing their property.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE – Hero
‘Darling,’ began Norton, ‘this nonsense has cost us more than a day, but at least it’s given me a chance to talk to you.
‘I’m still in the ship, and she’s heading back to station at the polar axis. We picked up Rod an hour ago, looking as if he’d just come off duty after a quiet watch. I suppose neither of us will ever be able to visit Mercury again, and I’m wondering if we’re going to be treated as heroes or villains when we get back to Earth. But my conscience is clear; I’m sure we did the right thing. I wonder if the Ramans will ever say “thank you”.
‘We can stay here only two more days; unlike Rama, we don’t have a kilometre-thick skin to protect us from the sun. The hull’s already developing dangerous hot-spots and we’ve had to put out some local screening. I’m sorry – I didn’t want to bore you with my problems…
‘So there’s time for just one more trip into Rama, and I intend to make the most of it. But don’t worry – I’m not taking any chances.’
He stopped the recording. That, to say the least, was stretching the truth. There was danger and uncertainty about every moment inside Rama; no man could ever feel really at home there, in the presence of forces beyond his understanding. And on this final trip, now that he knew they would never return and that no future operations would be jeopardized, he intended to press his luck just a little further.
‘In forty-eight hours, then, we’ll have completed this mission. What happens then is still uncertain; as you know, we’ve used virtually all our fuel getting into this orbit. I’m still waiting to hear if a tanker can rendezvous with us in time to get back to Earth, or whether we’ll have to make planet-fall at Mars. Anyway, I should be home by Christmas. Tell Junior I’m sorry I can’t bring a baby biot; there’s no such animal…
‘We’re all fine, but we’re very tired. I’ve earned a long leave after all this, and we’ll make up for lost time. Whatever they say about me, you can claim you’re married to a hero. How many wives have a husband who saved a world?’
As always, he listened carefully to the tape before dup-ing it, to make sure that it was applicable to both his families. It was strange to think that he did not know which of them he would see first; usually, his schedule was determined at least a year in advance, by the inexorable movements of the planets themselves.
But that was in the days before Rama; now nothing would ever be the same again.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO – Temple of Glass ‘If we try it,’ said Karl Mercer, ‘do you think the bio will stop us?’
‘They may; that’s one of the things I want to find out Why are you looking at me like that?’
Mercer gave his slow, secret grin, which was liable to be set off at any moment by a private joke he might or might not share with his shipmates.
‘I was wondering, Skipper, if you think you own Rama. Until now, you’ve vetoed any attempt to cut into buildings. Why the switch? Have the Hermians given you ideas?’
Norton laughed, then suddenly checked himself. It was a shrewd question, and he was not sure if the obvious answers were the right ones.
‘Perhaps I have been ultra-cautious – I’ve tried to avoid trouble. But this is our last chance; if we’re forced to retreat we won’t have lost much.’
‘Assuming that we retreat in good order.’
‘Of course. But the biots have never shown hostility; and except for the Spiders, I don’t believe there’s anything here that can catch us – if we do have to run for it.’
‘You may run, Skipper, but I intend to leave with dignity. And incidentally, I’ve decided why the biots are so polite to us.’
‘It’s a little late for a new theory.’
‘Here it is, anyway. They think we’re Ramans. They can’t tell the difference between one oxy-eater and another.’
‘I don’t believe they’re that stupid.’
‘It’s not a matter of stupidity. They’ve beep programmed for their particular jobs, and we simply don’t come into their frame of reference.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. We may find out – as soon as we start to work on London.’
Joe Calvert had always enjoyed those old bank-robbery movies, but he had never expected to be involved in one. Yet this was, essentially, what he was doing now.