Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [247]
It was a strange feeling.
There were men waiting for them on the porch. They waved Dan Forrester on into the house without speaking to him. George Christopher jerked his thumb at Harry. "They need you inside," he said.
"In a minute." Harry helped Hugo Beck get down from the truck, then lifted off Forrester's backpack. When he turned, George had his shotgun pointed at Hugo's midsection.
"I brought him," Harry said. "You must have heard that on the telegraph."
"We heard about Dr. Forrester. Not this creep. Beck, you were put on the road. I sent you out myself. Didn't I remember to say 'Don't come back'? I'm sure I did."
"He's with me," Harry repeated.
"Harry, have you lost your mind? This scummy little thief isn't worth—"
"George, if I have to start going around Christopher territory, the Senator will no doubt tell you any news he thinks you should hear."
"Don't push it," George said; but the shotgun moved slightly, so it wasn't pointed at anyone. "Why?"
"You can put him back on the road if you like," Harry said. "But I think you should listen to him first."
Christopher thought about it for a moment. Then he shrugged. "They're waiting inside. Let's go."
Hugo Beck stood before his judges. "I came bringing information," he said, too softly.
His judges were few. Deke Wilson, Al Hardy, George Christopher. And the others. It struck Harry as it had the rest: The astronauts looked like gods. Harry recognized Baker from his photograph on the cover of Time, and it wasn't hard to know who the others were. The lovely woman who didn't speak must be the Soviet kosmonaut. Harry burned to talk to her. Meanwhile, there were other things to be said.
"Do you know what you're doing, Harry?" Al Hardy asked. His tone made it a sincere question, as if he were half certain that Harry had lost his mind. "You're the information service. Not Beck."
"I know," Harry said. "I thought you should have this firsthand. It's a little hard to believe."
"And that I can believe," George Christopher said.
"Don't I get a seat?" Harry asked. Hardy waved him toward a chair and Harry settled back, wishing that Hugo would show more backbone. His behavior reflected on Harry. This reception wasn't what Harry was used to, and it was Beck that caused it. No china cups and coffee. No shot of whiskey.
The balance of power was life and death at the Stronghold. One played the game well or stayed out of it. Harry tried to stay out of it, enjoy his utility without getting involved in local politics. This time he'd had to play. Had he seriously offended Christopher? And did he give a damn? It was strange, how Harry's macho instincts had kicked in after Hammerfall.
"We put him on the road," George Christopher was saying. "Him and that Jerry Owen, on my orders. Hell, even the Shire threw them out, and those scummy jerks tried to live by stealing off the rest of us, and Owen tried teaching communism to my ranch-hands! Beck comes back in over my dead body."
There was a chuckle from the back of the room, from either Leonilla Malik or Pieter Jakov. No one paid any attention. There was nothing humorous in the situation, and Harry wondered if he'd gone too far. "While you're discussing Hugo Beck, Dr. Forrester is about dead on his feet," Harry said. "Can you do something for him, or does it depend on getting Beck settled first?"
Al Hardy didn't look away from the center of the room, where Christopher was glaring at Beck. "Eileen," he called. "Take Dr. Forrester out to the kitchen and take care of him."
"Right." Eileen came in; she must have been standing in the hall. She led Dan Forrester out. The astrophysicist followed woodenly, clearly about to pass out from exhaustion.
Hugo Beck licked his thick lips. "I'll settle for a meal," Hugo said, sweating. "H-hell, I'd settle for a stale soda cracker. I just want to know you're still here."
That earned him puzzled looks. "We're here," said Al Hardy. "Have you got information