“But I’m reasonably sure of this. If Rama does have a propulsion system, it’s something completely outside our present knowledge. In fact, it would have to be the fabulous ‘Space Drive’ people have been talking about for two hundred years.”
“You wouldn’t rule that out?”
“Certainly not. If we can prove that Rama has a Space Drive—even if we learn nothing about its mode of operation—that would be a major discovery. At least we’d know that such a thing is possible.”
“What is a Space Drive?” asked the Ambassador for Earth, rather plaintively.
“Any kind of propulsion system, Sir Robert, that doesn’t work on the rocket principle. Anti-gravity—if it is possible—would do very nicely. At present, we don’t know where to look for such a drive, and most scientists doubt if it exists.”
“It doesn’t,” Professor Davidson interjected. “Newton settled that. You can’t have action without reaction. Space Drives are nonsense. Take it from me.”
“You may be right,” Perera replied with unusual blandness. “But if Rama doesn’t have a Space Drive, it has no drive at all. There’s simply no room for a conventional propulsion system, with its enormous fuel tanks.”
“It’s hard to imagine a whole world being pushed around,” said Dennis Solomons. “What would happen to the objects inside it? Everything would have to be bolted down. Most inconvenient.”
“Well, the acceleration would probably be very low. The biggest problem would be the water in the Cylindrical Sea. How would you stop that from…”
Perera’s voice suddenly faded away, and his eyes glazed over. He seemed to be in the throes of an incipient epileptic fit, or even a heart attack. His colleagues looked at him in alarm; then he made a sudden recovery, banged his fist on the table and shouted: “Of course! That explains everything! The southern cliff—now it makes sense!”
“Not to me,” grumbled the Lunar Ambassador, speaking for all the diplomats present.
“Look at this longitudinal cross-section of Rama,” Perera continued excitedly, unfolding his map. “Have you got your copies? The Cylindrical Sea is enclosed between two cliffs, which completely circle the interior of Rama. The one on the north is only fifty metres high. The southern one, on the other hand, is almost half a kilometre high. Why the big difference? No one’s been able to think of a sensible reason.”
“But suppose Rama is able to propel itself—accelerating so that the northern end is forward. The water in the Sea would tend to move back; the level at the south would rise—perhaps hundreds of metres. Hence the cliff. Let’s see—”
Perera started scribbling furiously. After an astonishingly short time—it could not have been more than twenty seconds—he looked up in triumph.
“Knowing the height of those cliffs, we can calculate the maximum acceleration Rama can take. If it was more than two per cent of a gravity, the Sea would slosh over into the southern continent.”
“A fiftieth of a gee? That’s not very much.”
“It is—for a mass of ten million megatons. And it’s all you need for astronomical manoeuvring.”
“Thank you very much, Dr. Perera,” said the Hermian Ambassador. “You’ve given us a lot to think about. Mr. Chairman can we impress on Commander Norton the importance of looking at the South Polar region?”
“He’s doing his best. The Sea is the obstacle, of course. They’re trying to build some kind of raft—so that they can at least reach New York.”
“The South Pole may be even more important. Meanwhile, I am going to bring these matters to the attention of the General Assembly. Do I have your approval?”
There were no objections, not even from Dr. Taylor. But just as the Committee members were about to switch out of circuit, Sir Lewis raised his hand.
The old historian very seldom spoke; when he did, everyone listened. “Suppose we do find that Rama is active and has these capabilities. There is an old saying in military affairs that capability does not imply intention.”
“How long should we wait to find what its intentions are?” asked the Hermian. “When we discover them, it may be far too late.”
“It is already too late. There is nothing we can do to affect Rama. Indeed, I doubt if there ever was.”
“I do not admit that, Sir Lewis. There are many things we can do—if it proves necessary. But the time is desperately short. Rama is a cosmic egg, being warmed by the fires of the sun. It may hatch at any moment.”
The Chairman of the Committee looked at the Ambassador for Mercury in frank astonishment. He bad seldom been so surprised in his diplomatic career.
He would never have dreamed that a Hermian was capable of such a poetic flight of imagination.
20. Book of Revelation
When one of his crew called him “Commander”, or, worse still “Mister Norton”, there was always something serious afoot. He could not recall that Boris Rodrigo had ever before addressed him in such a fashion, so this must be doubly serious. Even in normal times, Lieut-Commander Rodrigo was a very grave and sober person.
“What’s the problem, Boris?” he asked when the cabin door closed behind them.
“I’d like permission, Commander, to use Ship Priority for a direct message to Earth.”
This was unusual, though not unprecedented. Routine signals went to the nearest planetary relay—at the moment, they were working through Mercury—and even though the transit time was only a matter of minutes, it was often five or six hours before a message arrived at the desk of the person for whom it was intended. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, that was quite good enough; but in an emergency more direct, and much more expensive, channels could be employed, at the captain’s discretion.
“You know, of course, that you have to give me a good reason. All our available bandwidth is already clogged with data transmissions. Is this a personal emergency?”
“No, Commander. It is much more important than that. I want to send a message to the Mother Church.”
Uh-uh, said Norton to himself. How do I handle this?
“I’d be glad if you’ll explain.”
It was not mere curiosity that prompted Norton’s request—though that was certainly present. If he gave Boris the priority he asked, he would have to justify his action.
The calm, blue eyes stared into his. He had never known Boris to lose control, to be other than completely self-assured. All the Cosmo-Christers were like this; it was one of the benefits of their faith, and it helped to make them good spacemen. Sometimes, however, their unquestioning certainty was just a little annoying to those unfortunates who had not been vouchsafed the Revelation.
“It concerns the purpose of Rama, Commander. I believe I have discovered it.”
“Go on.”
“Look at the situation. Here is a completely empty, lifeless world—yet it is suitable for human beings. It has water, and an atmosphere we can breathe. It comes from the remote depths of space, aimed precisely at the solar system—something quite incredible, if it was a matter of pure chance. And it appears not only new; it looks as if it has never been used.”
We’ve all been through this dozens of times, Norton told himself. What could Boris add to it?
“Our faith has told us to expect such a visitation though we do not know exactly what form it will take. The Bible gives hints. If this is not the Second Coming, it may be the Second Judgement; the story of Noah describes the first. I believe that Rama is a cosmic Ark, sent here to save those who are worthy of salvation.”
There was silence for quite a while in the Captain’s cabin. It was not that Norton was at a loss for words; rather, he could think of too many questions, but he was not sure which ones it would be tactful to ask.