Rendezvous With Rama - Arthur C. Clarke Page 0,65

back. It was as if a giant starfish, with tubular arms, had broken the surface.

At first sight it was impossible to tell whether it was an animal or a machine. Then it flopped over and lay half-awash, bobbing up and down in the gentle aftermath of the wave.

Now they could see that there were nine arms, apparently jointed, radiating from a central disc. Two of the arms were broken, snapped off at the outer joint. The others ended at a complicated collection of manipulators that reminded Jimmy strongly of the crab he had encountered. The two creatures came from the same line of evolution, or the same drawing board.

At the middle of the disc was a small turret, bearing three large eyes. Two were closed, one open—and even that appeared to be blank and unseeing. No one doubted that they were watching the death throes of some strange monster, tossed up to the surface by the submarine disturbance that had just passed.

Then they saw that it was not alone. Swimming around it, and snapping at its still feebly moving limbs, were two small beasts like overgrown lobsters. They were efficiently chopping up the monster, and it did nothing to resist, though its own claws seemed quite capable of dealing with the attackers.

Again Jimmy was reminded of the crab that had demolished Dragonfly. He watched intently as the one-sided conflict continued and quickly confirmed his impression.

“Look, Skipper,” he whispered. “Do you see—they’re not eating it. They don’t even have any mouths. They’re simply chopping it to pieces. That’s exactly what happened to Dragonfly.”

“You’re right. They’re dismantling it… like… like a broken machine.” Norton wrinkled his nose. “But no dead machine ever smelled like that.”

Then another thought struck him. “My God—suppose they start on us! Ruby, get us back to shore as quickly as you can!”

Resolution surged forward with reckless disregard for the life of her power cells. Behind them, the nine spokes of the great starfish—they could think of no better name for it—were clipped steadily shorter, and presently the weird tableau sank back into the depths of the sea.

There was no pursuit, but they did not breathe comfortably again until Resolution had drawn up to the landing stage and they had stepped thankfully ashore.

As he looked back across that mysterious and now sinister band of water, Norton grimly determined that no one would ever sail it again. There were too many unknowns, too many dangers.

He looked back upon the towers and ramparts of New York and the dark cliff of the continent beyond. They were safe now from inquisitive man.

He would not tempt the gods of Rama again.

CHAPTER 33

SPIDER

From now on, Norton had decreed, there would always be at least three people at Camp Alpha, and one of them would always be awake. In addition, all exploring parties would follow the same routine. Potentially dangerous creatures were on the move inside Rama, and though none had shown active hostility, a prudent commander would take no chances.

As an extra safeguard, there was always an observer up on the hub, keeping watch through a powerful telescope. From this vantage point, the whole interior of Rama could be surveyed, and even the South Pole appeared to be only a few hundred meters away. The territory around any group of explorers was to be kept under regular observation; in this way, it was hoped to eliminate any possibility of surprise. It was a good plan—and it failed completely.

After the last meal of the day, and just before the 2200 sleep period, Norton, Rodrigo, Calvert, and Laura Ernst were watching the regular evening news telecast beamed specially to them from the transmitter at Inferno, Mercury. They had been particularly interested in seeing Jimmy’s film of the Southern Hemisphere, and the return across the Cylindrical Sea—an episode that had excited all viewers. Scientists, news commentators, and members of the Rama Committee had given their opinions, most of them contradictory. No one could agree whether the crablike creature Jimmy had encountered was an animal, a machine, a genuine Raman, or something that fitted none of these categories.

They had just been watching, with a distinctly queasy feeling, the giant starfish being demolished by its predators, when they discovered that they were no longer alone. There was an intruder in the camp.

Laura Ernst noticed it first. She froze, then said: “Don’t move, Bill. Now look slowly to the right.”

Norton turned his head. Ten meters away was a slender-legged tripod surmounted by a spherical body no larger than a soccer