There was a short pause in Heilmann's delivery and his voice took on an increased sense of urgency. "Don't waste any more time, Michael. Activate the weapons and go directly to the pod. We have already supplied it with the food and other essentials that you will need… Good luck on your voyage home. We'll see you back on Earth."
58
HOBSON'S CHOICE
I'm certain that Heilmann and Yamanaka were being extremely cautious," Richard Wakefield explained. "They probably left early so they could take extra supplies. And with these lightweight pods, each extra kilogram can be critical."
"How critical?" asked Nicole.
"Well—it could make all the difference between getting into a safe orbit around Earth—or shooting past it so quickly that we couldn't be rescued."
"Does that mean," O'Toole inquired somberly, "that only one of us might be able to use the pod?"
Richard paused before answering. "I'm afraid that's possible; it's a function of the time of departure. We'll have to do some quick calculations to determine exactly. But personally I see no reason why we shouldn't consider flying this entire spacecraft. I was trained as a backup pilot, after all… We have only limited control authority, since the ship is so large, but if we jettison everything we don't absolutely need, we may be able to do it… Again, we'll need to do the computations."
Nicole's assignments from General O'Toole and Richard were to check the supplies that had been placed in the pod, determine their adequacy, and then approximate both the mass and packaging volume required to support either two or three travelers. In addition Richard, still favoring flying back to Earth in the military ship, asked Nicole to go through the Newton supply manifest and estimate how much mass could be thrown overboard.
While O'Toole and Wakefield used the computers in the control center, Nicole worked alone in the huge bay. First she examined the remaining pod very carefully. Although the pods were normally used by a single person for local extravehicular activity (EVA), they had also been designed as emergency escape vehicles. Two people could sit behind the tough, transparent front window with a week's supplies on the shelves at the rear of the small cabin. But three people? Nicole wondered. Impossible. Someone would have to squeeze into the shelf space. And then there would not be adequate room for the supplies. Nicole thought momentarily about being confined to the tiny shelves for seven or eight days. It would be even worse than the pit in New York.
She looked through the supplies that had been hastily thrown into the pod by Heilmann and Yamanaka. The food allocation was more or less correct, both in quantity and variety, for a one-week voyage; the medical kit, however, was woefully inadequate. Nicole made a few notes, constructed what she considered to be a proper supply list for either a two or three person crew, and estimated the mass and packaging requirements. She then started to cross the bay.
Her eyes were drawn to the bullet-shaped nuclear weapons lying placidly on their sides right beside the pod airlock. Nicole walked over and touched the bombs, her hands idly running across the polished metal surface. So these are the first great weapons of destruction, she thought, the outcome of the brilliant physics of the twentieth century.
What a sad commentary on our species, Nicole mused, as she was walking among the nuclear bombs. A visitor comes to see us. It cannot speak our language, but it does discover where we live. When it turns the corner onto our street, while its purpose is still utterly unknown, we blast it into oblivion.
She shuffled across the bay toward the living quarters, aware of a profound feeling of sadness deep within her. Your problem, Nicole said to herself, is that you always expect too much. From yourself. From those you love. Even from the human race. We are yet too immature a species.
A momentary wave of nausea forced Nicole to stop for a moment. What's this? she thought. Are these bombs making me ill? In the back of her mind Nicole recalled a similar feeling of nausea fifteen years before, two hours into her flight from Los Angeles to Paris. It can't be, she told herself. But III check just to be certain…
"That's the second reason why the three of us cannot all fit in a single pod. Don't feel bad, Nicole. Even if the physical space could accommodate our bodies and the needed supplies, the velocity change capability of the pod with all that mass is barely enough to close the orbit around the Sun. Our chances of being rescued would be virtually nil."
"Well," Nicole replied to Richard, trying to be cheerful, "at least we still have the other option. We can go home in this big vehicle. According to my estimates, we can dump in excess of ten thousand kilograms—"
"I'm afraid it doesn't matter," General O'Toole interrupted.
Nicole looked at Richard. "What's he talking about?"
Richard Wakefield stood up and walked over to Nicole. He took her hands in his. "They screwed up the navigation system too," Richard said. "Their automatic search algorithms, the big number crunchers being used to try to decrypt O'Toole's code, were overlaid into the general purpose computers on top of the vidcomm and navigation subroutines. This ship is useless as a transportation module."
General O'Toole's voice was distant and lacked its usual upbeat timbre. "They must have started only minutes after I left. Richard read the command buffers and found out that the decryption software was uplinked less than two hours after my departure."
"But why would they incapacitate the Newton?" Nicole asked.
"Don't you understand?" O'Toole said with passion. "The priorities had changed. Nothing was as important as detonating the nuclear weapons. They didn't want to waste the time for the radio signals to go back and forth to Earth. So they moved the computations up here, where each successive candidate code could be commanded from the computer without delay."
"In fairness to mission control," Richard interjected, now pacing around the room, "we should acknowledge that the fully loaded Newton military ship actually has less orbit change capability than a two-person pod with an auxiliary propulsion system. In the eyes of the ISA safety manager, there was no increased risk associated with making this craft inoperable."
"But none of this should have happened in the first place," the general argued. "Dammit! Why couldn't they just have waited for my return?"
Nicole sat down abruptly in one of the available chairs. Her head was spinning and she felt momentarily dizzy. "What's the matter?" Richard said, approaching her with alarm.
"I have been having occasional periods of nausea today," Nicole replied. "I think I'm pregnant. I'll know for certain in about twenty minutes." She smiled at the dumbfounded Richard. "It's extremely rare for a woman to become pregnant within ninety days of an injection of neutrabriolate. But it has happened before. I don't suppose—"
"Congratulations," an enthusiastic General O'Toole suddenly interrupted. "I had no idea that the two of you were planning to have a family."
"Nor did I," Richard replied, still looking shocked. He gave Nicole a vigorous hug and held her close. "Nor did I," he repeated.
"There will be no more discussion of this subject," General O'Toole said emphatically to Richard. "Even if Nicole weren't pregnant with your child, I would insist that the two of you go in the pod and leave me here. It's the only sensible decision. In the first place, we both know that mass is the most critical parameter and I am the heaviest of the three of us by far. In addition, I am old and you two are both quite young. You know how to fly the pod; I've never even trained inside it a single time. Besides," he added dryly, "I will be court-martialed on Earth for refusing to follow orders."
"As for you, my good doctor," O'Toole continued moments later, "I don't need to tell you that you are carrying a very special baby. He or she will be the only human child that was ever conceived inside an extraterrestrial space vehicle." He stood up and glanced around. "Now," he said, "I propose we open a bottle of wine and celebrate our last evening together."
Nicole watched General O'Toole glide over to the larder. He opened it and started rummaging around. "I'm perfectly happy with fruit juice,
Michael," she said. "I shouldn't drink more than a single glass of wine now anyway."
"Of course," he replied quickly. "I temporarily forgot. I was hoping that we could do something special on this last night. I wanted to share one last time—" General O'Toole stopped himself and brought the wine and juice back to the table. He handed cups to both Richard and Nicole. "I want you both to know," he said quietly, his mood now subdued, "that I cannot imagine a finer pair of people than the two of you. I wish you every success, especially with the baby."
The three cosmonauts drank in silence for several seconds. "We all know it, don't we?" General O'Toole said in barely audible tone. "The missiles must be on their way. How long do you figure I have, Richard?"
"Judging from what Admiral Heilmann said on the tape, I would say that the first missile will reach Rama at I-5 days. That would be consistent both with the pod being outside the debris field and the deflection velocities that must be imparted to the surviving pieces of the spacecraft."
"I'm afraid I'm lost," Nicole said. "What missiles are we talking about?"
Richard leaned over toward her. "Both Michael and I are certain," he said gravely, "that the COG has ordered a missile strike against Rama. They had no assurance that the general would ever return to the Newton and enter his code. And the search algorithm with the automatic punch was a long shot at best. Only a missile strike could guarantee that Rama would not have the capability of harming our planet."
"So I have a little more than forty-eight hours to make my final peace with God," General O'Toole said after reflecting for several seconds. "I have lived a fabulous life. I have much to be thankful for. I will go into His arms without regret."
59
DREAM OF DESTINY
As Nicole stretched her arms over her head and to her sides, she brushed against Richard on her left and one of the water containers hanging slightly out of the shelf behind her. "It's going to be crowded." she observed, squirming in her seat.
"Yes, it is," Richard replied distractedly. His attention was focused on the display in front of the pilot's seat in the pod. He entered some commands and waited for the response. When it finally came, Richard frowned.
"I guess I'll make one more attempt to repackage the supplies," Nicole said with a sigh. She turned around in her seat and stared at the shelves. "I could save us some room and fourteen kilograms if our rescue was guaranteed in seven days," she said.
Richard did not respond. "Dammit," he muttered when a set of numbers appeared on the display.
"What's the matter?" Nicole asked.
"There's something not quite right here," Richard said. "The navigation code was developed for considerably less payload mass—it may not converge if we lose one of the accelerometers." Nicole waited patiently for Richard to explain. "So if we have any hiccoughs along the way, we will probably have to stop for several hours and reinitialize."
"But I thought you said there was plenty of fuel for the two of us."
"Plenty of fuel, yes. However, there are some subtleties in the reprogrammed navigation algorithms that assume the pod contains less than a hundred kilograms, basically only O'Toole and his supplies."
Nicole could read the concern in Richard's brow. "We're all right, I think, if there are no malfunctions," he continued. "But no pod has ever been operated under conditions like this."
Through the front window they could see General O'Toole walking across the bay toward them. He was carrying a small object in his hand. It was TB, one of Richard's tiny Shakespearean robots.
"I almost forgot I had him," O'Toole said a minute later after he had been thanked profusely by Richard. Cosmonaut Wakefield was soaring around the supply depot like a joyous child, a wide smile on his delighted face.
"I thought I'd never see any of them again," Richard yelled from one of the side walls where his exuberant momentum had carried him.
"I was passing your room," General O'Toole shouted back, "right before the scientific ship departed. Cosmonaut Tabori was arranging your things. He asked me to keep that particular robot, just in case—"
"Thank you, thank you, Janos," Richard said. He walked carefully down the wall and anchored himself to the floor. "This is a very special one, Michael," he said with a gleam in his eye. He switched on TB's power. "Do you know any Shakespearean sonnets?"
"There's one that Kathleen especially likes, if I can recall it. I think the first line is, 'That time of year thou mayst'—"
"That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang,
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west…"
The feminine voice coming from TB startled both Nicole and General O'Toole. The words struck a resonant chord in O'Toole; he was deeply moved and a few tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Nicole took the general's hand and squeezed it compassionately after TB had finished the sonnet.
"You didn't say anything to Michael about the problems you found with the pod navigation," Nicole said. She and Richard were lying side by side in one of the small bedrooms on the military ship.
"No," replied Richard quietly. "I didn't want to worry him. He believes that we are going to be safe and I don't want him to think differently."
Nicole extended her arm and touched Richard. "We could stay here, darling—then at least Michael would survive."
He rolled over toward her. She could tell he was looking at her, even though she couldn't see him very clearly in the dark. "I thought about that," Richard said. "But he would never accept it… I even thought about sending you by yourself. Would you want to do that?"
"No," Nicole answered after thinking for a moment. "I don't think so. I'd rather go with you, unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Unless there really is a big difference in the odds. If one of us can survive but two of us are almost certainly doomed, it doesn't make much sense—"
"I can't give you an accurate probabilistic assessment," Richard interrupted. "But I don't think there's a major difference if we go together. My knowledge of the pod and its system might almost be worth the extra mass. But either way, we're better off in the pod than if we stay here."
"You're absolutely convinced that missiles are on the way, aren't you?"
"Yes, indeed. Nothing else makes sense. I would bet that such a contingency plan was under development as soon as Rama changed course and headed for the Earth."
They were silent again. Nicole tried to sleep but was unsuccessful. They had both decided to rest for six hours before departing so that they could store some energy for what would doubtless be an exhausting voyage. Nicole's mind, however, would not turn off. She kept imagining General O'Toole perishing in a nuclear fireball.
"He really is a wonderful man," Nicole said very quietly. She wasn't certain if Richard was still awake.
"Yes, he is," Richard answered in the same tone. "I envy his inner strength. I can't imagine giving up my own life for someone else so willingly," He paused for a moment. "I guess that comes from his deep religious beliefs. He doesn't see death as an end, only as a transition."
I could do it, Nicole thought. I could give up my life for Genevieve. Maybe even for Richard and this unborn baby. Perhaps in O'Toole's religion everyone is part of his family.
Richard, meanwhile, was struggling with his own emotions. Was he being selfish in not insisting that Nicole go alone? Could he really justify the extra risk of his presence in terms of his extra skills? He dismissed the questions and tried to think of something else.
"You haven't said much about the baby," Nicole said softly after another short silence.
"I haven't really had time to integrate him, or her, into what's going on," Richard replied. "I guess I've been insensitive… You know I'm happy about it. I just want to wait until we're rescued before I seriou
sly start thinking about what it will be like to be a father." He leaned over and gave Nicole a kiss. "Now, darling, I hope you won't think I'm being rude, but I'm going to try to sleep. It could be a long time before we have another opportunity—"
"Of course," she said. "I'm sorry." Nicole's mind drifted to another picture, this one of a small baby. I wonder if he'll be intelligent, she thought. And will he have Richard's blue eyes and long fingers?
Nicole was curled up in a ball in the corner of the dimly lit room. The taste of manna melon was still in her mouth. She was awakened by a strange tapping on her shoulder. Nicole glanced up and saw the gray velvet avian bending over her. The cherry rings around its neck glowed in the dark. "Come," it said pleadingly. "You must come with us."
She followed the avian into the hallway and turned to the right, away from the vertical corridor. The other avians were standing quietly against the wall. They were all watching her carefully. The whole procession followed the gray avian down the tunnel.
In a few moments the tunnel expanded into a large room. There was a solitary small light on the far wall, but otherwise the room was dark. Others were present, but Nicole could not see them clearly. Occasionally she glimpsed their silhouettes as they moved across the beam from the single light source. Nicole started to say something but the avian leader interrupted her. "Shh," it said, "they will be here soon."
Nicole heard a noise coming toward them from the opposite side of the room. It sounded like a cart with wooden wheels moving on a dirt path. As it approached, the avians around Nicole backed up and pressed against her. Moments later there was a fire in front of them.
Rama: The Omnibus Page 67