Rama: The Omnibus

by Arthur C. Clarke

  Because of Dr. Sinha’s attitude, Narong and Johann had been slow to react when communications from the Asian group out on the polar ice ceased. After over a week of silence, Valhalla had finally dispatched a pair of drone rovers to check on the scientists. The drones had located the campsite, where everything appeared to be in order, as well as an abandoned icemobile with a dead power system that was two kilometers away. However, the rovers found no sign of the people anywhere. A subsequent Valhalla investigative team headed by Narong also failed to find any clues related to the vanished group, even though the whole vicinity was searched. The team did determine, however, that there were peculiar malfunctions in all the communications equipment used by the inter-Asian scientists.

  Under normal circumstances, the ISA would have sent a blue-ribbon commission to Valhalla to complete the investigation that Narong and his team had started. However, ISA headquarters in Mutchville had just received instructions to begin closing down all Martian operations when Narong’s first investigative report reached them. The missing Asian scientists were not high on the ISA priority list at that time.

  Dr. Won’s body was still completely buried in ice when it arrived at Valhalla. Satoko Hayakawa supervised both the thawing and the autopsy, reporting that Dr. Won had no broken bones, no blood loss from wounds, and no cancerous tissues. Food was still present in her digestive system. When Satoko was pressed for a cause of death, she tentatively ascribed Dr. Won’s death to a heart attack. “There are some peculiarities in the cardiac region,” she told Johann, “but that’s certainly not my area of expertise.”

  Dr. Won’s portable computer was found in her waist pouch. Although it was no longer functioning, Narong and Yasin discovered after a careful component-by-component test that the memory was still operational. Working together, the two engineers jury-rigged an apparatus that permitted them to access the contents of the memory. The readout process was very slow, and fraught with difficulties. It took them two days to assemble a full translation of the contents, much of which was scientific gobbledygook that neither of them could understand. But Dr. Won’s portable computer memory also contained her astonishing personal diary, beginning with the date that she and her colleagues left the Sri Lankan spaceport to rendezvous with the transportation platform in Earth orbit, and ending on the presumed day of her death. Narong and Yasin stored the entire diary on the memories of two separate processors at Valhalla. They then brought an edited, hardcopy printout of the last several days of Dr. Won’s journal to Johann in his office.

  “What you are about to read is incredible,” Narong said.

  “In my opinion, this Dr. Won lost her mind out there on the ice,” Yasin offered, “and began imagining things. They must have been working her too hard… Either that, or this whole damn story is part of some kind of complicated hoax that backfired. What’s written in that diary is crazy and cannot be believed. Just what you would expect from a woman scientist who—”

  “If you don’t mind,” Narong interrupted, “let’s let Johann read it himself and draw his own conclusions.”

  “Have at it, Ace,” Yasin said.

  Johann began to read the sheets that had been handed to .

  20 DECEMBER 2142

  I’m tired. We are all tired. We have been working twelve to fourteen hours a day, trying to find the right place to drill. Today we thought we had located a spot that met all our criteria. We inserted the drill and began the process. Only about forty meters down into the ice we saw indications that the layers were impinging. Dr. Sinha criticized me severely for my inept geological analysis. We moved to another site but found it unacceptable also.

  21 DECEMBER 2142

  The longest workday of the trip. I am completely exhausted. But the day was worthwhile. It looks as if we have finally found the perfect place to drill. It is only six kilometers from our new campsite, and more than sixty kilometers from where the Ukrainians took their core. We are already over a hundred meters down and everything looks perfect. Dr. Kawakita has done a preliminary analysis of the upper layers of the core and seems very pleased with the results. Before going to bed, I reminded Dr. Sinha that we had not communicated with Valhalla for three days. He said we would send a message to the outpost tomorrow night.

  22 DECEMBER 2142

  Something bizarre happened when we returned to our campsite tonight. When we were still about a hundred meters away, I saw a long, thin, white ribbon float out of our tent. It looked like the tail of a high-flying kite. Inside the ribbon were tiny illuminated particles that appeared to be moving on their own, back and forth, from side to side within the structure. The whole thing was twenty or thirty meters long, and hovered in front of the tent for no more than two or three seconds before zooming away at an unbelievable speed.

  Drs. Sinha and Kawakita were talking, and not even facing the campsite, when I first saw the ribbon. By the time they turned around, the ribbon was disappearing in the distance. I believe Dr. Jailani saw the object, too, but he wouldn’t corroborate my story. The men have all convinced themselves that what I saw was some kind of transient polar atmospheric phenomenon. That doesn’t seem likely to me.

  Our day, which had been so productive at the drill site (we are now down over two hundred meters and everything still looks great), ended on a dissonant note. Ismail was not certain that he successfully transmitted our routine message to Valhalla. He reported to Dr. Sinha that even though the primary transmitter repeatedly passed self-test, there were peculiarities during the transmission sequence. Dr. Sinha belittled Dr. Jailani. He said that we would probably have a confirmation message from Valhalla while we were sleeping. Dr. Sinha also reminded Dr. Jailani that it had been his original intention to include a competent engineer among our team instead of a fourth scientist.

  23 DECEMBER 2142

  I am alone in our campsite, still in a state of astonishment. It is nearly midnight. I have been trying to use the backup transmitter to send an important message to Valhalla, to tell them of our amazing discovery today, for over an hour. Either I’m not following Ismail’s instructions properly, or this transmitter also is not working. I may try again later, for I’m certain I will not sleep much. tonight.

  Today was the most extraordinary day of my life. Even now it’s difficult for me to believe that what we saw and experienced could possibly have been real. Our team has discovered some kind of elaborate cavern structure, clearly built by intelligent beings, buried beneath the Martian polar ice. We are all certain that the cavern was not built by humans.

  We are all well aware of the ramifications of what we have found. Before I left the other scientists three and a half hours ago to return to this campsite, we carefully composed a report to be transmitted to Valhalla. The report was purposely lacking in details, because we did not want to raise an alarm that might cause some of the outpost personnel to rush out here to join us. If we had said that we had found clear, incontrovertible evidence of the existence of extraterrestrials, we likely would have been besieged.

  It’s a moot point now. The report has not been transmitted. Valhalla does not know that the discovery of the century has been made on the Martian polar plains. Drs. Sinha and Kawakita do not need to worry about sharing their Nobel Prizes with anyone else.

  Dr. Sinha woke us all exceptionally early this morning, more than an hour before sunrise. There was no confirmation from Valhalla that our message last night had been received, but Dr. Sinha was anxious for us to begin working out on the ice and did not want to waste any time troubleshooting the communications equipment. We ate our normal quick breakfast and were on our way to the drill site while it was still dark. Halfway along the trek, we all saw an extremely bright streak of light across the sky that seemed to terminate on the surface not far from where we were in the icemobiles. After a brief consultation, we moved off the pathway and headed toward where we believed the meteorite had fallen.

  We searched for almost an hour. It was well after dawn when Dr. Kawakita, scanning the
nearby terrain of small ice hills with his binoculars, saw something unusual. We parked the icemobiles and followed Dr. Kawakita on foot for about two hundred meters. What he had seen turned out to be a peculiar rectangular plate, twenty meters wide and almost a hundred meters long, elevated above the ice three or four meters by two dozen identical thick posts. The whole construction was the exact white color of the ice (“for camouflage,” according to Ismail), except for thin bands of bright red along the borders and in rings around the posts.

  The surface of the plate appeared to be metallic. It was exceptionally smooth to the touch. Dr. Sinha took many photographs while we conversed through the microphones in our helmets. Not more than ten minutes after we decided to conduct a search of the area around the plate, Dr. Jailani and I stumbled upon a large rectangular hole in the ice. We knew immediately that it was too perfect to have been created by nature.

  When Drs. Sinha and Kawakita joined us, we all took turns shining our flashlights down into the hole. We could see some structure on either side of the hole below us, but nothing that we could identify. Ismail suggested that we drop one of our emergency flares into the hole and take photographs of what was illuminated. It was an excellent suggestion.

  The still pictures and videos were remarkable. They indicated there was a multilevel construction underneath the surface, on both sides of the hole. Both before and during lunch there was a long, excited discussion of what we should do next. Although we did not have with us the best equipment for beginning an exploration of the subsurface tunnels, Dr. Sinha insisted that we should conduct at least a preliminary investigation.

  The men pulled out our two heavy-duty ropes, which we always carry with us in case there is an emergency on the ice, and secured them around thick stanchions pounded into the ice at the corners of the hole. By the middle of the afternoon all three of the men had eased themselves down the pair of ropes to the first underground level and were busy taking pictures of the tunnels and corridors on either side of the central hole. It had been decided that I would stay outside, not only out of concern for my personal safety, but also in case something was needed quickly from the surface. For the rest of the afternoon we communicated frequently on our walkie-talkies. The men described what they saw, and I logged their comments on my computer.

  The men spent three hours exploring the maze of corridors on both sides of the hole on the first level. They found occasional objects of unknown purpose, always white in color with some scattered red surface markings, but nothing else. The extent of the subsurface tunneling was staggering. Someone or something has invested an enormous amount of time and resources in carving these underground caverns in the Martian ice.

  Around sunset the others climbed out of the hole and decided that they were going to work for several more hours after taking a short break. They were all still incredibly excited, and bursting with energy. They asked me if I would return to the campsite, send the report to Valhalla, and return with some other supplies and equipment by daybreak. Ismail volunteered to go to the campsite with me, in case I was afraid to go alone, but I could see his expression through his faceplate and I knew that he really wanted to stay with the other men.

  The last two hours before I departed the men removed one of the two ropes from its stanchion and tied it to the bottom of the other so that they would have access to the second subsurface level. When I reminded them that the two-rope configuration had been created originally for safety purposes, Dr. Sinha pointed out that after my return with the additional ropes, they would again have a safe, redundant means of descent. Just before I departed, the several small objects that had been removed from the tunnel were placed into one of our canvas bags. I was asked to return them to the campsite for safekeeping.

  24 DECEMBER 2142

  I will try to be coherent in this entry, but it will not be easy. I am frightened. I fear something dreadful has happened. I have not heard anything from my colleagues since I departed last evening to return to the campsite. At the present moment I am sitting on a tarpaulin on the ice, not more than ten meters from the entrance to the rectangular hole. It is about two hours before sunset. Around me are two bags of ropes, food, and other equipment that I carried over here from the icemobile this morning, as well as the packs and electronic apparatus that were here when I left last night.

  I guess I should start at the beginning. I managed to sleep about three hours last night after another unsuccessful attempt to use the backup transmitter. When I awakened, it was of course still dark outside. I carefully assembled all the items on the requisition list and loaded them onto the back of the icemobile.

  When the icemobile navigation system indicated that I was less than a kilometer away from the beacon we had placed next to the rectangular hole, I suddenly had an eerie feeling that I was being followed. I told myself that my fear was ridiculous, but nevertheless I turned around slowly in my seat and looked behind me. There, sparkling against the dark sky, no more than forty meters away, was a long white ribbon like the one I had seen coming out of our tent two nights earlier. I was paralyzed with terror. I could not drive. The icemobile bounced off the pathway and smashed into a small ice wall. The automatic brake activated and almost immediately the fault protection process switched off the icemobile.

  I stared at the bright ribbon in the sky behind me for several seconds. It seemed to be hovering there, watching me. The tiny individual particles inside the ribbon moved in random patterns, up and down, and from side to side, bouncing back toward the center of the ribbon when they hit one of the sides of the formation. After what seemed to be forever, the ribbon curled upon itself and zoomed over my head, disappearing in the direction of the rectangular hole.

  For a long time I could not move. My hands were trembling so violently I could not push the icemobile ignition button. I told myself to be calm, but it was impossible. Finally, after much effort, I managed to activate the icemobile, return to the pathway, and continue on my way.

  I tried several times to reach the others using the walkie-talkie. I was afraid something was desperately wrong when I reached the other icemobile and saw that it had not been moved in my absence. Nevertheless, I still gathered up the two bags of equipment and supplies and carried them over the rough terrain to the vicinity of the rectangular hole.

  Throughout the morning I made intermittent attempts to contact my colleagues. I also examined thoroughly the entire surface region around the hole. I was convinced that nothing had been touched since my departure the previous evening. The conclusion was inescapable. The men must have descended to the second subsurface level and never come out of the hole again.

  So what should I do now? I have two possible courses of action. I can wait here beside the hole, hoping that I will eventually hear from my colleagues, or I can descend the rope myself and try to find them. If they are alive and so deep in the caverns that our walkie-talkies cannot communicate, then they will eventually emerge from the hole. They weren’t carrying more than a day’s worth of food and water in the packs and pouches of their spacesuits.

  The option of descending myself into the hole is not very appealing. Despite the knots tied carefully in the rope at half-meter intervals, I do not trust either my strength or my balance enough to make a fifteen-meter climb in each direction. And what if something terrible happened to the others down at the second level? Is there any reason to believe the same thing would not happen to me?

  No, a descent should only be considered as a last recourse. My best plan is to sit here and wait, hoping that one of them will respond to my communications before too much more time passes.

  25 DECEMBER 2142

  The sun rose about an hour ago. There is no change in the status here. As each hour passes it becomes more likely that my colleagues have all perished.

  I am frightened and depressed. Last night, after waking from a nightmare, I found myself methodically reviewing everything that has happened in the last several days. I now realize how foolhardy and ridic
ulous it was for us to attempt to explore this cavern on our own. We should have noted its location, used our flares to take a few photographs and videos as evidence, and then returned to Valhalla immediately.

  I have decided I will stay here and wait for the others no more than one day. I do not intend to descend into that hole. It is not a question of courage. It simply makes no sense for me to risk my life that way.

  Before returning to the campsite and Valhalla, however, I plan to go back to our drill site and salvage what I can of our scientific investigations. That’s the least I can do for the others. Dr. Kawakita’s theories may be vindicated by the data already contained in the on-site computers.

  I am no longer as terrified as I was yesterday. What I am feeling now is fatigue, sorrow, and disorientation. It would be an understatement to say that this entire experience has overwhelmed me. If I do not hear anything ever from the other scientists, I must summon all my resources and organizational skills for the journey back to Valhalla.

  Narong and Yasin had left Johann while he was reading Dr. Won’s journal. When he was finished, Johann took a deep breath and called Narong back into his office.

  “Your face is pale,” Narong said.

  “I’m not surprised,” Johann replied. “I have just read what may be the most amazing document ever written by a human being. If this journal is accurate, Dr. Won and her colleagues have made the most significant discovery in human history.”

  “Yasin still thinks it’s all a hoax,” Narong said.

  “Perpetrated by whom, for what purpose?” Johann said. “And we know something that Yasin does not, namely that those bright particle formations have been seen before, by several different people. It is unlikely that Dr. Won—”

  “But it is possible that she could have had access to the Rama Society information. And conceivable that this clique of scientists might have designed a clever plan, even involving Dr. Won’s journal, to gain international recognition for themselves. Then the plan backfired and cost them their lives.”