“Wife?” asked Taylor innocently.

“No, child of course,” snapped the Professor, before he caught the grin on the other’s face. Mild laughter rippled round the table, though the overcrowded terrestrials looked more envious than amused. After a century of determined effort, Earth had still failed to get its population below the target of one billion…

“…appointed commanding officer Solar Survey Research Vessel Endeavour. First voyage to retrograde satellites of Jupiter… um, that was a tricky one… on asteroid mission when ordered to prepare for this operation… managed to beat deadline…”

The Professor cleared the display and looked up at his colleagues.

“I think we were extremely lucky, considering that he was the only man available at such short notice. We might have had the usual run-of-the-mill captain.” He sounded as if he was referring to the typical peg-legged scourge of the spaceways, pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other.

“The record only proves that he’s competent,” objected the Ambassador from Mercury (population: 112,500 but growing). “How will he react in a wholly novel situation like this?”

On Earth, Sir Lewis Sands cleared his throat. A second and a half later, he did so on the Moon.

“Not exactly a novel situation,” he reminded the Hermian, “even though it’s three centuries since it last occurred. If Rama is dead, or unoccupied—and so far all the evidence suggests that it is—Norton is in the position of an archaeologist discovering the ruins of an extinct culture.” He bowed politely to Dr. Price, who nodded in agreement. “Obvious examples are Schliemann at Troy or Mouhot at Angkor Vat. The danger is minimal, though of course accident can never be completely ruled out.”