Rendezvous With Rama - Arthur C. Clarke Page 0,40
had detected no unusual activity. Frustratingly, the television camera on the hub had been blinded by a fog that had reduced visibility to a few meters and had only now started to retreat.
When they operated the final air-lock door and floated out into the cat’s cradle of guide ropes around the hub, Norton was struck first by the change in the light. It was no longer harshly blue, but was much more mellow and gentle, reminding him of a bright, hazy day on Earth.
He looked outward along the axis of the world, and could see nothing except a glowing, featureless tunnel of white, reaching all the way to those strange mountains at the South Pole. The interior of Rama was completely blanketed by clouds, and nowhere was a break visible in the overcast. The top of the layer was quite sharply defined; it formed a smaller cylinder inside the larger one of this spinning world, leaving a central core, five or six kilometers wide, quite clear except for a few stray wisps of cirrus.
The immense tube of cloud was lit from within by the six artificial suns of Rama. The locations of the three on this northern continent were clearly defined by diffuse strips of light, but those on the far side of the Cylindrical Sea merged together into a continuous glowing band.
What is happening down beneath those clouds? Norton asked himself. But at least the storm, which had centrifuged them into such perfect symmetry about the axis of Rama, had now died away. Unless there were some other surprises, it would be safe to descend.
It seemed appropriate, on this return visit, to use the team that had made the first deep penetration into Rama. Sergeant Myron—like every other member of Endeavour’s crew—now fully met Surgeon Commander Ernst’s physical requirements; he even maintained, with convincing sincerity, that he was never going to wear his old uniforms again.
As Norton watched Mercer, Calvert, and Myron “swimming” quickly and confidently down the ladder, he reminded himself how much had changed. That first time, they had descended in cold and darkness; now, they were going toward light and warmth. And on all earlier visits they had been certain that Rama was dead. That might yet be true, in a biological sense. But something was stirring; and Boris Rodrigo’s word would do as well as any other: the “spirit” of Rama was awake.
When they had reached the platform at the foot of the ladder and were preparing to start down the stairway, Mercer carried out his usual routine test of the atmosphere. There were some things that he never took for granted; even when the people around him were breathing perfectly comfortably, without aids, he had been known to stop for an air check before opening his helmet. When asked to justify such excessive caution, he had answered: “Because human senses aren’t good enough, that’s why. You may think you’re fine, but you could fall flat on your face with the next deep breath.”
He looked at his meter, and said, “Damn!”
“What’s the trouble?” asked Calvert.
“It’s broken—reading too high. Odd; I’ve never known that to happen before. I’ll check it on my breathing circuit.”
He plugged the compact little analyzer into the test point of his oxygen supply, then stood in thoughtful silence for a while. His companions looked at him with anxious concern; anything that upset Mercer was to be taken seriously indeed.
He unplugged the meter, used it to sample the Rama atmosphere again, then called Hub Control. “Skipper! Will you take an O2 reading?”
There was a much longer pause than the request justified. Then Norton radioed back: “I think there’s something wrong with my meter.”
A slow smile spread across Mercer’s face. “It’s up fifty per cent, isn’t it?”
“Yes. What does that mean?”
“It means that we can all take off our masks. Isn’t that convenient?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Norton, echoing the sarcasm in Mercer’s voice. “It seems too good to be true.” There was no need to say any more. Like all spacemen, Norton had a profound suspicion of things that were too good to be true.
Mercer cracked his mask open a trifle and took a cautious sniff. For the first time at this altitude, the air was perfectly breathable. The musty, dead smell had gone; so had the excessive dryness, which in the past had caused several respiratory complaints. Humidity was now an astonishing eighty per cent; doubtless the thawing of the sea was responsible for this. There was a muggy feeling in the air,