Rendezvous with Rama

39. Command Decision

“Well, Rod, how do the Hermians fit into your theology?”

“Only too well, Commander,” replied Rodrigo with a humourless smile. “It’s the age-old conflict between the forces of good and the forces of evil. And there are times when men have to take sides in such a conflict.”

I thought it would be something like that, Norton told himself. This situation must have been a shock to Boris, but he would not have resigned himself to passive acquiescence. The Cosmo-Christers were very energetic, competent people. Indeed, in some ways they were remarkably like the Hermians.

“I take it you have a plan, Rod.”

“Yes, Commander. It’s really quite simple. We merely have to disable the bomb.”

“Oh. And how do you propose to do that?”

“With a small pair of wire-cutters.”

If this had been anyone else, Norton would have assumed that they were joking. But not Boris Rodrigo.

“Now just a minute! It’s bristling with cameras. Do you suppose the Hermians will just sit and watch you?”

“Of course; that’s all they can do. When the signal reaches them, it will be far too late. I can easily finish the job in ten minutes.”

“I see. They certainly will be mad. But suppose the bomb is booby-trapped so that interference sets it off?”

“That seems very unlikely; what would be the purpose? This bomb was built for a specific deep-space mission, and it will be fitted with all sorts of safety devices to prevent detonation except on a positive command. But that’s a risk I’m prepared to take—and it can be done without endangering the ship. I’ve worked everything out.”

“I’m sure you have,” said Norton. The idea was fascinating—almost seductive in its appeal; he particularly liked the idea of the frustrated Hermians; and would give a good deal to see their reactions when they realized—too late—what was happening to their deadly toy.

But there were other complications, and they seemed to multiply as Norton surveyed the problem. He was facing by far the most difficult, and the most crucial, decision in his entire career.

And that was a ridiculous understatement. He was faced with the most difficult decision any commander had ever had to make; the future of the entire human race might well depend upon It. For just suppose the Hermians were right? When Rodrigo had left, he switched on the DO NOT DISTURB sign; he could not remember when he had last used it, and was mildly surprised that it was working. Now, in the heart of his crowded, busy ship, he was completely alone—except for the portrait of Captain James Cook, gazing at him down the corridors of time.

It was impossible to consult with Earth; he had already been warned that any messages might be tapped—perhaps by relay devices on the bomb itself. That left the whole responsibility in his hands.

There was a story he had heard somewhere about a President of the United States—was it Roosevelt or Perez?—who had a sign on his desk saying “The buck stops here”. Norton was not quite certain what a buck was, but he knew when one had stopped at his desk.

He could do nothing, and wait until the Hermians advised him to leave. How would that look in the histories of the future? Norton was not greatly concerned with posthumous fame or infamy, yet he would not care to be remembered for ever as the accessory to a cosmic crime—which it had been in his power to prevent.

And the plan was flawless. As he had expected, Rodrigo had worked out every detail, anticipated every possibility even the remote danger that the bomb might be triggered when tampered with. If that happened, Endeavour could still be safe, behind the shield of Rama. As for Lieutenant Rodrigo himself, he seemed to regard the possibility of instant apotheosis with complete equanimity.

Yet, even if the bomb was successfully disabled, that would be far from the end of the matter. The Hermians might try again—unless some way could be found of stopping them. But at least weeks of time would have been bought; Rama would be far past perihelion before another missile could possibly reach it. By then, hopefully, the worst fears of the alarmists might have been disproved. Or the reverse…

To act, or not to act—that was the question. Never before had Commander Norton felt such a close kinship with the Prince of Denmark. Whatever he did, the possibilities for good and evil seemed in perfect balance. He was faced with the most morally difficult of all decisions. If his choice was wrong, he would know very quickly. But if he was correct he might never be able to prove it…

It was no use relying any further on logical arguments and the endless mapping of alternative futures. That way one could go round and round in circles for ever. The time had come to listen to his inner voices.

He returned the calm, steady gaze across the centuries. “I agree with you, Captain,” he whispered. “The human race has to live with its conscience. Whatever the Hermians argue, survival is not everything.”

He pressed the call button for the bridge circuit and said slowly, “Lieutenant Rodrigo—I’d like to see you.”

Then he closed his eyes, hooked his thumbs in the restraining straps of his chair, and prepared to enjoy a few moments of total relaxation.

It might be some time before he would experience it again.