“We all understand that, Dr. Takagishi,” David Brown interjected before Heilmann could respond. “But there are extenuating factors that override the uncertainties. First, as Francesca pointed out, the entire Earth will again be watching if we go after the biots right away. You heard what Jean-Claude Revoir said twenty minutes ago — we have already done more for space exploration than anyone since the original Soviet and American cosmonauts back
in the twentieth century. Second, we are prepared to complete the hunt now. If we abandon the attempt and return all our equipment to Beta, then we will have wasted a huge amount of time and effort. Finally, there is no obvious danger. Why do you insist on making such dire predictions? AH we saw the biots do was engage in some kind of self-defense activity.”
“Professor Brown,” the eminent Japanese scholar tried one last rational appeal, “please look around you. Try to imagine the capabilities of the creatures who made this amazing vehicle. Try to appreciate the possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, what we are trying to do might be viewed as a hostile act and has somehow been communicated to whatever intelligence is managing this spacecraft. Suppose as a result that we, as representatives of the human species, are condemning not only ourselves, but also, in some larger sense, all of our fellow—”
“Poppycock,” David Brown scoffed. “How can anyone ever accuse me of wild speculation?..” He laughed heartily. “This is absurd. The evidence overwhelmingly indicates that this Rama has the same purpose and function as its predecessor and is completely oblivious to our existence. Just because one single subfamily of robots bands together when threatened does not have overwhelming significance.” He looked around at the others. “I say that’s enough talk, Otto. Unless you object, we’re going out to capture a biot.”
There was a short hesitation from across the Cylindrical Sea. Then the cosmonauts heard Admiral Heilmann’s affirmative reply. “Go ahead, David. But don’t take any unnecessary chances.”
“Do you think we’re really in danger?” Hiro Yamanaka asked Dr. Takagi-shi while the new capture tactics were being reviewed by Brown, Tabori, and Wakefield. The Japanese pilot was staring off in the distance at the massive structures in the southern bowl, thinking, perhaps for the first time, of the vulnerability of their position.
“Probably not!” his countryman replied, “but it’s insane to take such—”
“Insane is a perfect word for it,” Reggie Wilson interrupted. “You and I were the only two vocal opponents of continuing this stupidity. But our objections were made to sound foolish and even cowardly. Personally, I wish one of those goddamn things would challenge the esteemed Dr. Brown to a duel. Or better still, a bolt of lightning would come shooting out of those spires over there.”
He pointed at the great horns that Yamanaka had been regarding earlier. Wilson’s voice changed and there was a fearful edge to it. “We are over our heads here. I can feel it in the air. We are being warned of danger by powers that none of us can begin to understand. But we are ignoring the warnings.”
Nicole turned away from her colleagues and glanced at the lively planning meeting taking place fifteen meters away from her. Engineers Wakefield and Tabori were definitely enjoying the challenge of outwitting the biots. Nicole wondered if perhaps Rama really was sending them some kind of a warning. Poppycock, she said to herself, repeating David Brown’s expression. She shuddered involuntarily as she recalled the several seconds when the crab biots had devastated the metal snare. I’m overreacting. And so is Wilson. There’s no reason to be afraid.
Yet, as she turned again and looked through the binoculars to study the biot formation half a kilometer away, there was a palpable fear in her that would not be assuaged. The six crabs had not moved in almost two hours. They were still locked in their original arrangement. What are you really all about, Rama? Nicole asked herself for the umpteenth time. Her next question startled her. She had never verbalized it before. And how many of us mil make it back to Earth to tell your tale?
On the second capture attempt Francesca wanted to be on the ground beside the biots. As before, Turgenyev and Tabori were up in the prime helicopter along with the most important equipment. Brown, Yamanaka, and Wakefield were in the other helicopter. Dr. Brown had invited Wakefield to provide him with real-time advice; Francesca had of course persuaded Richard to take some aerial pictures for her to complement the automatic images from the helicopter system.
Reggie Wilson drove the ground-based cosmonauts to the biot site in the rover. “Now here’s a good job for me,” he said as they approached the location of the alien crabs. “Chauffeur.” He gazed up at the distant ceiling of Rama. “You hear that, you guys? I’m versatile. I can do many things.” He looked over at Francesca beside him in the front seat. “By the way, Mrs. Sabatini, were you planning to thank Nicole for her spectacular work? It was her action shots on the ground that captured the audience in your last transmission.”
Francesca was busy checking all her video equipment and at first ignored Reggie’s comment. When he repeated his jibe, she responded, without looking up, “May I remind Mr. Wilson that I do not need his unsolicited advice on how to conduct my business?”
“There was a time,” Reggie mused out loud, shaking his head, “when things were very different.” He glanced at Francesca. There was no indication that she was even listening. “Back when I still believed in love,” he said in a louder voice. “Before I knew about betrayal. Or ambition and its selfishness.”
He jerked the rover wheel vigorously to the left and brought it to a stop about forty meters west of the biots. Francesca jumped out without a word.
Within three seconds she was chattering to David Brown and Richard Wakefield on the radio about the video coverage of the capture. The ever polite Dr. Takagishi thanked Reggie Wilson for driving the rover.
“We’re coming in,” Tabori shouted from above. He managed to position the dangling nexus properly on his second attempt. The nexus was a round, heavy sphere about twenty centimeters in diameter, with a dozen small holes or indentations on its surface. It was slowly dropped onto the center of the shell of one of the outside biots. Next Janos, transmitting a barrage of commands from the hovering helicopter to the processor in the nexus, ordered the extension of the massed threads of metal rolled up inside the sphere. The crabs did not stir as the threads wrapped themselves around the target biot.
“What do you think, inspector?” Janos hollered at Richard Wakefield in the other helicopter.
Richard surveyed the strange apparatus. The thick cable was attached to a ring stanchion at the rear of the helicopter. Fifteen meters below, the metal ball sat on the back of the target biot, thin filaments extending from inside the ball around the top and bottom of the carapace. “Looks fine,” Richard replied. “Now there’s only the single question remaining. Is the helicopter stronger than their collective grip?”
David Brown commanded Irina Turgenyev to lift the prey. She slowly increased the speed of the blades and tried to ascend. The tiny slack in the cable disappeared but the biots barely moved. “They’re either very heavy or they’re holding onto the ground somehow,” Richard said. “Hit them with a sharp burst.”
The sudden jolt in the cable lifted the entire biot formation momentarily skyward. The helicopter strained as the biot mass dangled two or three meters off the ground. The two crabs not attached to the target biot dropped first, falling into a motionless heap seconds after takeoff. The other three crabs lasted longer, ten seconds altogether before they finally disengaged their claws from their companion and fell to the ground below. There were universal cries of joy and congratulations as the helicopter climbed higher into the sky.