Rama II

59 DREAM OF DESTINY

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 seriously 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. ! 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.

A bier was resting on top of a burning cart. Nicole gasped. Her mother’s body, dressed in regal green robes, lay on top of the bier. In the light from the fire Nicole could see some of the others in the room. Richard was smiling at her, holding the hand of a dark little girl about two years old. General O’Toole was very close to the fire, kneeling in prayer beside it. Behind him were a variety of biots and two or three odd forms that must have been octospiders.

The flames consumed the bier and began to burn her mother’s body. Her mother rose slowly from her supine position, When Anawi turned in Nicole’s direction, her face changed. It was Omen’s head on top of her mother’s body.

“Ronata,” he said distinctly, “the prophecies must be heeded. The Senoufo blood will be spread, even unto the stars. Minowe will be left behind. Ronata must travel with those who come from far away. Go now, and save the strange ones and Ronata’s children.”