Rendezvous With Rama - Arthur C. Clarke Page 0,63

quickly as you can.”

Jimmy was still straining, unheroically and unsuccessfully, when there was a flicker of light in the sky behind them. All eyes turned toward the South Pole, and Jimmy instantly forgot his sickness. The Horns had started their fireworks display again.

There were the kilometer-long streamers of fire, dancing from the central spike to its smaller companions. Once again they began their stately rotation, as if invisible dancers were winding their ribbons around an electric Maypole. But now they began to accelerate, moving faster and faster, until they blurred into a flickering cone of light.

It was a spectacle more awe-inspiring than any they had yet seen here, and it brought with it a distant crackling roar, which added to the impression of overwhelming power. The display lasted for about five minutes; then it stopped as abruptly as if someone had turned a switch.

“I’d like to know what the Rama Committee make of that,” Norton muttered to no one in particular. “Has anyone here got any theories?”

There was no time for an answer, because at that moment Hub Control called in great excitement.

“Resolution! Are you OK? Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“We think it was an earthquake. It must have happened the minute those fireworks stopped.”

“Any damage?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t really violent—but it shook us up a bit.”

“We felt nothing at all. But we wouldn’t, out here in the sea.”

“Of course—silly of me. Anyway, everything seems quiet now… until next time.”

“Yes, until next time,” Norton echoed. The mystery of Rama was steadily growing; the more they discovered about it, the less they understood.

There was a sudden shout from the helm. “Skipper—look—up there in the sky!”

Norton lifted his eyes and swiftly scanned the circuit of the sea. He saw nothing until his gaze had almost reached the zenith and he was staring at the other side of the world.

“My God,” he whispered slowly, as he realized that the “next time” was already almost here.

A tidal wave was racing toward them down the eternal curve of the Cylindrical Sea.

CHAPTER 32

THE WAVE

Even in that moment of shock, Norton’s first concern was for his ship.

“Endeavour!” he called. “Situation report!”

“All OK, Skipper” was the reassuring answer from Exec. “We felt a slight tremor, but nothing that could cause any damage. There’s been a small change of attitude; the bridge says about point two degrees. They also think the spin rate has altered slightly. We’ll have an accurate reading on that in a couple of minutes.”

So it’s beginning to happen, Norton said to himself, and a lot earlier than we expected; we’re still a long way from perihelion and the logical time for an orbit change. But some kind of trim was undoubtedly taking place—and there might be more shocks to come.

Meanwhile, the effects of this first one were all too obvious, up there on the curving sheet of water that seemed perpetually falling from the sky. The wave was about ten kilometers away, and stretched the full width of the sea from northern to southern shore. Near the land it was a foaming wall of white, but in deeper water it was a barely visible blue line, moving much faster than the breakers on either flank. The drag of the shoreward shallows was already bending it into a bow, with the central portion getting farther and farther ahead.

“Sergeant,” said Norton urgently, “this is your job. What can we do?”

Sergeant Barnes had brought the raft completely to rest and was studying the situation intently. Her expression, Norton was relieved to see, showed no trace of alarm—rather, a certain zestful excitement, like that of a skilled athlete about to accept a challenge.

“I wish we had some soundings,” she said. “If we’re in deep water there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Then we’re all right. We’re about four kilometers from shore.”

“I hope so, but I want to study the situation.”

She applied power again and swung Resolution around until it was just under way, heading directly toward the approaching wave. Norton judged that the swiftly moving central portion would reach them in less than five minutes, but he could also see that it presented no serious danger. It was only a racing ripple a fraction of a meter high, and would scarcely rock the boat. The walls of foam lagging far behind it were the real menace.

Suddenly, in the very center of the sea, a line of breakers appeared. The wave had clearly hit a submerged wall, several kilometers in length, not far below the surface. At the same time,