brought the art of triple redundancy to a high degree of perfection. This was demonstrated in the air-lock system, the stairways at the hub, the artificial suns. And where it really mattered they had even taken the next step. New York appeared to be an example of triple-triple redundancy.
Ruby was steering Resolution toward the central complex, where a flight of steps led up from the water to the top of the wall or levee that surrounded the island. There was even a conveniently placed mooring post to which boats could be tied. When she saw this, Ruby became quite excited. Now she would never be content until she found one of the craft in which the Ramans sailed their extraordinary sea.
Norton was the first to step ashore. He looked back at his three companions and said, “Wait here on the boat until I get to the top of the wall. When I wave, Pieter and Boris will join me. You stay at the helm, Ruby, so that we can cast off at a moment’s notice. If anything happens to me, report to Karl and follow his instructions. Use your best judgment—but no heroics. Understood!”
“Yes, Skipper. Good luck!”
Commander Norton did not really believe in luck; he never got into a situation until he had analyzed all the factors involved and had secured his line of retreat. But once again Rama was forcing him to break some of his cherished rules. Almost every factor here was unknown, as unknown as the Pacific and the Great Barrier Reef had been to his hero three and a half centuries ago. Yes, he could do with all the luck that happened to be lying around.
The stairway was a virtual duplicate of the one they had descended on the other side of the sea, where doubtless his friends were looking straight across at him through their telescopes. And “straight” was now the correct word; in this one direction, parallel to the axis of Rama, the sea was indeed completely flat. It might well be the only body of water in the universe of which this was true, for on all other worlds, every sea and lake must follow the surface of a sphere, with equal curvature in all directions.
“Nearly at the top,” he reported, speaking for the record and for his intently listening second-in-command, five kilometers away. “Still completely quiet. Radiation normal. I’m holding the meter above my head, just in case this wall is acting as a shield for anything. And if there are any hostiles on the other side, they’ll shoot that first.”
He was joking, of course. And yet, why take any chances, when it was just as easy to avoid them?
When he took the last step, he found that the flat-topped embankment was about ten meters thick. On the inner side, an alternating series of ramps and stairways led down to the main level of the city, twenty meters below. In effect, he was standing on a high wall, which completely surrounded New York, and so was able to get a grandstand view of it.
It was a view almost stunning in its complexity, and his first act was to make a slow panoramic scan with his camera. Then he waved to his companions and radioed back across the sea: “No sign of any activity; everything quiet. Come on up—we’ll start exploring.”
CHAPTER 23
N.Y., RAMA
It was not a city; it was a machine. Norton had come to that conclusion in ten minutes, and saw no reason to change it after they had made a complete traverse of the island. A city, whatever the nature of its occupants, surely had to provide some form of accommodation; there was nothing here of that nature, unless it was underground. And if that was the case, where were the entrances, the stairways, the elevators? He had not found anything that even qualified as a simple door.
The closest analogy to this place that he had ever seen on Earth was a giant chemical-processing plant. However, there were no stockpiles of raw materials, or any indications of a transport system to move them around. Nor could he imagine where the finished product would emerge—still less what that product could possibly be. It was all very baffling, and more than a little frustrating.
“Anybody care to make a guess?” he said at last, to all who might be listening. “If this is a factory, what does it make? And where does it get its raw materials?”
“I’ve a suggestion, Skipper,” said Mercer, over on