once near the base of the ladder, and did a slow-motion bounce which took it clear of the first terrace.
“It’s OK now,” said Rousseau. “Like to make a bet?”
“No” was the prompt reply. “You know the odds.”
“You’re no sportsman. But I’ll tell you now—it will stop within three hundred meters of the camp.”
“That doesn’t sound very close.”
“You might try it sometime. I once saw Joe miss by a couple of kilometers.”
The can was no longer bouncing; gravity had become strong enough to glue it to the curving face of the north dome. By the time it had reached the second terrace it was rolling along at twenty or thirty kilometers an hour, and had reached nearly the maximum speed that friction would allow.
“Now we’ll have to wait,” said Rousseau, seating himself at the telescope so that he could keep track of the messenger. “It will be there in ten minutes. Ah, here comes the Skipper. I’ve got used to recognizing people from this angle. Now he’s looking up at us.”
“I believe that telescope gives you a sense of power.”
“Oh, it does. I’m the only person who knows everything that’s happening in Rama. At least, I thought I did,” he added plaintively, giving Kirchoff a reproachful look.
“If it will keep you happy, the Skipper found he’d run out of toothpaste.”
After that, conversation languished; but at last Rousseau said: “Wish you’d taken that bet. He’s only got to walk fifty meters. Now he sees it. Mission complete.”
“Thanks, Pieter—a very good job. Now you can go back to sleep.”
“Sleep! I’m on watch until 0400.”
“Sorry—you must have been sleeping. Or how else could you have dreamed all this?”
SPACE SURVEY H.Q. TO COMMANDER SSS ENDEAVOUR. PRIORITY AAA. CLASSIFICATION YOUR EYES ONLY. NO PERMANENT RECORD.
SPACEGUARD REPORTS ULTRA-HIGH-SPEED VEHICLE APPARENTLY LAUNCHED MERCURY TEN TO TWELVE DAYS AGO ON RAMA INTERCEPT. IF NO ORBIT CHANGE ARRIVAL PREDICTED DATE 322 DAYS 15 HOURS. MAY BE NECESSARY YOU EVACUATE BEFORE THEN. WILL ADVISE FURTHER. C IN C.
Norton read the message half a dozen times to memorize the date. It was hard to keep track of time inside Rama; he had to look at his calendar watch to see that it was now Day 315. That might leave them only one week.
The message was chilling, not only for what it said, but also for what it implied. The Hermians had made a clandestine launch, which in itself was a breach of space law. The conclusion was obvious: their “vehicle” could only be a missile.
But why? It was inconceivable—well, almost inconceivable—that they would risk endangering Endeavour. So presumably he would receive ample warning from the Hermians themselves. In an emergency he could leave at a few hours’ notice, though he would do so only under extreme protest, at the direct orders of the Commander in Chief.
Slowly, and thoughtfully, he walked across to the improvised life-support complex and dropped the message into an electrosan. The brilliant flare of laser light bursting out through the crack beneath the seat cover told him that the demands of security were satisfied. It was too bad, he told himself, that all problems could not be disposed of so swiftly and hygienically.
CHAPTER 37
MISSILE
The missile was still five million kilometers away when the glare of its plasma braking jets became clearly visible in Endeavour’s main telescope. By that time the secret was out, and Norton had reluctantly ordered the second and perhaps final evacuation of Rama. But he had no intention of leaving until events gave him no alternative.
When it had completed its braking maneuver, the unwelcome guest from Mercury was only fifty kilometers from Rama and apparently carrying out a survey through its TV cameras. These were clearly visible—one fore and one aft—as were several small omniantennas and one large directional dish, aimed steadily at the distant star of Mercury. Norton wondered what instructions were coming down that beam and what information was going back.
Yet the Hermians could learn nothing that they did not already know; all that Endeavour had discovered had been broadcast throughout the solar system. This spacecraft, which had broken all speed records to get here, could be only an extension of its makers’ will, an instrument of their purpose. That purpose would soon be known, for in three hours the Hermian Ambassador to the United Planets would be addressing the General Assembly.
Officially, the missile did not exist. It bore no identification marks and was not radiating on any standard beacon frequency. This was a serious breach of law, but even SPACEGUARD had not yet