Rendezvous With Rama - Arthur C. Clarke [89]
But that was in the days before Rama; now nothing would ever be the same again.
42
Temple of Glass
'If we try it,' said Karl Mercer, 'do you think the biots will stop us?'
'They may; that's one of the things I want to find out. Why are you looking at me like that?'
Mercer gave his slow, secret grin, which was liable to be set off at any moment by a private joke he might or might not share with his shipmates.
'I was wondering, Skipper, if you think you own Rama. Until now, you've vetoed any attempt to cut into buildings. Why the switch? Have the Hermians given you ideas?'
Norton laughed, then suddenly checked himself. It was a shrewd question, and he was not sure if the obvious answers were the right ones.
'Perhaps I have been ultra-cautious—I've tried to avoid trouble. But this is our last chance; if we're forced to retreat we won't have lost much.'
'Assuming that we retreat in good order.'
'Of course. But the biots have never shown hostility; and except for the Spiders, I don't believe there's anything here that can catch us—if we do have to run for it.'
'You may run, Skipper, but I intend to leave with dignity. And incidentally, I've decided why the biots are so polite to us.'
'It's a little late for a new theory.'
'Here it is, anyway. They think we're Ramans. They can't tell the difference between one oxy-eater and another.'
'I don't believe they're that stupid.'
'It's not a matter of stupidity. They've been programmed for their particular jobs, and we simply don't come into their frame of reference.'
'Perhaps you're right. We may find out—as soon as we start to work on London.'
Joe Calvert had always enjoyed those old bank-robbery movies, but he had never expected to be involved in one. Yet this was, essentially, what he was doing now.
The deserted streets of 'London' seemed full of menace, though he knew that was only his guilty conscience. He did not really believe that the sealed and windowless structures ranged all around them were full of watchful inhabitants, waiting to emerge in angry hordes as soon as the invaders laid a hand on their property. In fact, he was quite certain that this whole complex—like all the other towns—was merely some kind of storage area.
Yet a second fear, also based on innumerable ancient crime dramas, could be better grounded. There might be no clanging alarm bells and screaming sirens, but it was reasonable to assume that Rama would have some kind of warning system. How otherwise did the biots know when and where their services were needed?
'Those without goggles, turn your backs,' ordered Sergeant Myron. There was a smell of nitric oxides as the air itself started to burn in the beam of the laser torch, and a steady sizzling as the fiery knife sliced towards secrets that had been hidden since the birth of man.
Nothing material could resist this concentration of power, and the cut proceeded smoothly at a rate of several metres a minute. In a remarkably short time, a section large enough to admit a man had been sliced out.
As the cut-away section showed no signs of moving, Myron tapped it gently—then harder—then banged on it with all his strength. It fell inwards with a hollow, reverberating crash.
Once again, as he had done during that very first entrance into Rama, Norton remembered the archaeologist who had opened the old Egyptian tomb. He did not expect to see the glitter of gold; in fact, he had no preconceived ideas at all, as he crawled through the opening, his flashlight held in front of him.
A Greek temple made of glass—that was his first impression. The building was filled with row upon row of vertical crystalline columns, about a metre wide and stretching from floor to ceiling. There were hundreds of them, marching away into the darkness beyond the reach of his light.
Norton walked towards the nearest column