Rama II

After sleeping for five hours O’Toole awakened at three o’clock. He was aware that the most important action of his life was facing him. It seemed to him that everything he had done — his career, his religious studies, even his family activities — had been preparing him for this moment. God had trusted him with a monumental decision. But what did God want him to do? His forehead broke out in a sweat as O’Toole knelt before the image of Jesus on the cross that was behind his desk.

Dear Lord, he said, clasping his hands earnestly, my hour approaches and I still do not see Thy will clearly. It would be so easy for me just to follow my orders and do what everyone wants. Is that Thy desire? How can I know for certain?

Michael O’Toole closed his eyes and prayed for guidance with a fervor surpassing any he had ever felt previously. As he prayed, he recalled another time, years before, when he had been a young pilot working as part of a temporary peacekeeping force in Guatemala. O’Toole and his men had awakened one morning to find their small air base in the jungle completely surrounded by the right-wing terrorists that were trying to bring the fledgling democratic government to its knees. The subversives wanted the planes. In exchange they would guarantee safe passage to O’Toole and his men.

Major O’Toole had taken fifteen minutes to deliberate and pray before deciding to fight it out. In the ensuing battle the planes were destroyed and almost half his men were killed, but his symbolic stand against terrorism emboldened the young government and many others throughout Central America at a time when the poor countries were struggling desperately to overcome the ravages of two decades of depression. O’Toole had been awarded the Order of Merit, the highest COG military accolade, for his exploits in Guatemala.

Onboard the Newton years later, General O’Toole’s decision process was much less straightforward. In Guatemala the young major had not had any questions about the morality of his actions His order to destroy Rama, however, was altogether different. In O’Toole’s opinion, the alien ship had not taken any overtly bellicose actions. In addition, he knew that the order was based primarily on two factors: fear of what Rama might do and the uproar of xenophobic public opinion. Historically, both fear and public opin­ion were notoriously unconcerned about morality. If somehow he could learn what Rama’s true purpose was, then he could…

Below the painting of Jesus on the desk in his room was a small statue of a young man with curly hair and wide eyes. This figure of St. Michael of Siena had accompanied O’Toole on every journey he had made since his marriage to Kathleen. Seeing the statue gave him an idea. General O’Toole reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out an electronic template. He switched on the power, checked the template menu, and accessed a concor­dance indexing the sermons of St. Michael.

Under the word “Rama,” the general found a host of different references in the concordance. The one that he was looking for was the only one marked in a bold font. That specific reference was the saint’s famous “Rama sermon,” delivered in camp to a group of five thousand of Michael’s neo­phytes three weeks before the holocaust in Rome. O’Toole began to read.

“As the topic for my talk to you today, I am going to address an issue raised by Sister Judy in our council, namely what is the basis for my state­ment that the extraterrestrial spacecraft called Rama might well have been the first a

“There is a precedent, established in the old testament prophecies fore­telling the coming of Jesus, of prophetic a

“But what I think is most hopeful about the arrival of the first Rama spacecraft eight years ago — and I say first because I am certain there will be others — is that it forces humanity to think of itself in an extraterrestrial perspective. Too often we limit our concept of God and, by implication, our own spirituality. We belong to the universe. We are its children. It’s just pure chance that our atoms have risen to consciousness here on this particu­lar planet.

“Rama forces us to think of ourselves, and God, as beings of the universe. It is a tribute to His intelligence that He has sent such a herald at this moment. For as I have told you many times, we are overdue for our final evolution, our recognition that the entire human race is but a single organ­ism. The appearance of Rama is another signal that it is time for us to change our ways and begin that final evolution.”

General O’Toole put down the template and rubbed his eyes. He had read the sermon before — right before his meeting with the pope in Rome, in fact — but somehow it had not seemed as significant then as it did now. So which are you, Rama? he thought. A threat to Courtney Bothwell or a herald of Christ’s second coming?

During the hour before breakfast General O’Toole was still vacillating. He genuinely did not know what his decision would be. Weighing heavily upon him was the fact that he had been given an explicit order by his command­ing officer. O’Toole was well aware that he had sworn, when he had received his commission, not only to follow orders, but also to protect the Courtney Bothwells of the planet. Did he have any evidence that this particular order was so immoral that he should abrogate his oath?

As long as he thought of Rama as only a machine, it was not too difficult for General O’Toole to countenance its destruction. His action would not, after all, kill any Ramans. But what was it that Wakefield had said? That the Raman spaceship was probably more intelligent than any living creatures on Earth, including human beings? And shouldn’t superior machine intelli­gence have a special place among God’s creations, perhaps even above lower life forms?

Eventually General O’Toole succumbed to fatigue. He simply had no energy left to deal with the unending stream of questions without answers. He reluctantly decided to cease his internal debate and prepared to imple­ment his orders.

His first action was to rememorize his RQ code, the specific string of fifty integers between zero and nine that was known only by him and the proces­sors inside the nuclear weapons. O’Toole had personally entered his code and checked that it had been properly stored in each of the weapons before the Newton mission had been launched from Earth. The string of digits was long to minimize the probability of its being duplicated by a repetitive, electronic search routine. Each of the Newton military officers had been counseled to derive a sequence that met two criteria: The code should be almost impossible to forget and should not be something straightforward, like all the phone numbers in the family, that an outside party might figure out easily from the perso

For sentimental reasons, O’Toole had wanted nine of the numbers in his code to be his birthdate, 3-29-42, and the birthdate of his wife, 2-7-46. He knew that any decryption specialist would immediately look for such obvious selections, so the general resolved to hide the birthdates in the fifty digits. But what about the other forty-one digits? That particular number, forty-one, had intrigued O’Toole ever since a beer and pizza party during his sophomore year at MIT. One of his associates then, a brilliant young num­ber theorist whose name he had long forgotten, had told O’Toole in the middle of a drunken discussion that forty-one was a “very special number, the initial integer in the longest continuous string of quadratic primes.”