Rendezvous With Rama - Arthur C. Clarke Page 0,64

the breakers on the two flanks collapsed as they ran into deeper water.

Antislosh plates, Norton told himself—exactly the same as in Endeavour’s own propellant tanks, but on a thousandfold greater scale. There must be a complex pattern of them all around the sea, to damp out any waves as quickly as possible. The only thing that matters now is: are we right on top of one?

Sergeant Barnes was one jump ahead of him. She brought Resolution to a full stop and threw out the anchor. It hit bottom at only five meters.

“Haul it up!” she called to her crewmates. “We’ve got to get away from here!”

Norton agreed heartily. But in which direction? The Sergeant was headed full speed toward the wave, which was now only five kilometers away. For the first time, he could hear the sound of its approach—a distant, unmistakable roar, which he had never expected to hear inside Rama. Then it changed in intensity. The central portion was collapsing again, and the flanks again were building up.

He tried to estimate the distance between the submerged baffles, assuming that they were spaced at equal intervals. If he was right, there should be one more to come; if they could station the raft in the deep water between them, they would be perfectly safe.

Sergeant Barnes cut the motor and threw out the anchor again. It went down thirty meters without hitting bottom.

“We’re OK,” she said, with a sigh of relief. “But I’ll keep the motor running.”

Now there were only the lagging walls of foam along the coast. Out here in the central sea it was calm again, apart from the inconspicuous blue ripple still speeding toward them. The Sergeant was just holding Resolution on course toward the disturbance, ready to pour on full power at a moment’s notice.

Then, only two kilometers ahead of them, the sea started to foam once more. It humped up in white-maned fury, and now its roaring seemed to fill the world. Upon the sixteen-kilometer-high wave of the Cylindrical Sea, a smaller ripple was superimposed, like an avalanche thundering down a mountain slope. And that ripple was quite large enough to kill them.

Sergeant Barnes must have seen the expressions on the faces of her crewmates. She shouted above the roar: “What are you scared about! I’ve ridden bigger ones than this.” That was not quite true; nor did she add that her earlier experience had been in a well-built surfboat, not an improvised raft. “But if we have to jump, wait until I tell you. Check your life jackets.”

She’s magnificent, like a Viking warrior going into battle, and obviously enjoying every minute, thought the Commander. And she’s probably right—unless we’ve miscalculated badly.

The wave continued to rise, curving upward and over. The slope above them probably exaggerated its height, but it looked enormous, an irresistible force of nature that would overwhelm everything in its path.

Then, within seconds, it collapsed, as if its foundations had been pulled out from underneath it. It was over the submerged barrier, in deep water again. When it reached them a minute later, Resolution merely bounced up and down a few times before Sergeant Barnes swung her around and set off at top speed toward the north.

“Thanks, Ruby—that was splendid. But will we get home before it comes around for the second time?”

“Probably not; it will be back in about twenty minutes. But it will have lost all its strength then. We’ll scarcely notice it.”

Now that the wave had passed, they could relax and enjoy the voyage—though no one would be completely at ease until they were back on land. The disturbance had left the water swirling in random eddies, and had also stirred up a most peculiar acidic smell—“like crushed ants,” as Jimmy put it well. Though unpleasant, the odor caused none of the attacks of seasickness that might have been expected. It was something so alien that human physiology could not respond to it.

A minute later, the wave front hit the next underwater barrier as it climbed away from them and up the sky. This time, seen from the rear, the spectacle was unimpressive, and the voyagers were ashamed of their previous fears. They began to feel themselves masters of the Cylindrical Sea.

The shock was therefore all the greater when, not more than a hundred meters away, something like a slowly rotating wheel began to rear up out of the water. Glittering metallic spokes, five meters long, emerged dripping, spun for a moment in the fierce Raman glare, and splashed