Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [305]
Tim Hamner swayed from exhaustion and pain. "We won't leave," he said. "We'll fight. All of us." But his voice was not strong, he sounded beaten.
"Do something," Maureen said. "Tell them." She gripped Harvey's arm.
"You tell them."
"I can't. But you're a hero, now. Your force held them—"
"You stand pretty high yourself," Harvey said.
"Let's both tell them," Maureen said. "Come with me. We'll talk to them. Together."
And that's a hell of an offer, Harvey thought. For the power plant itself? For Johnny Baker's memory? Because she was jealous of Marie with George Christopher? Whatever her motive, she'd just offered him the leadership of the Stronghold—and her look made it plain that he wasn't going to get another such.
"We'd have to hold their territory," Al Hardy was saying. "Deke couldn't do it—"
"We could!" Tim cried. "You beat them! We could."
Hardy nodded gravely. "Yes, I suppose we could. But first we have to take it—and we can't do that with magic weapons. Grenades and gas bombs aren't much use in the attack. We'd lose people. A lot of people. How many lives are your electric lights worth?"
"Many," Leonilla Malik said. Her voice didn't carry very far. "If I had had proper lights for the operating theater last night, I could have saved ten more at least."
Maureen was moving toward the platform. Harvey hesitated, then went with her. What would he say? Men would charge machine guns for a cause. Viva la republic! For King and Country! Duty, Honor, Country! Remember the Alamo! Liberte! Egalitel Fraternite! But nobody had ever gone over the top shouting "A Higher Standard of Living!" or "Hot Showers and Electric Razors!"
And what about me? he thought. When I get up there, I'm committed. When the New Brotherhood comes over the water with their new raft and their mortars, I'd have to be first into the boats, first to attack, first to be blown apart.
And what could I possibly be yelling that would make me do it?
He remembered the battle: the noise, loneliness, fear, the shame of running, the terror when you didn't. Running was a decision of the moment, but not running went on and on. A rational army would run away. He caught her arm to hold her back.
She turned, and her look was … full of concern. Sympathy. She spoke, low, so no one else would hear. "We all have to do our jobs," she said. "And this is right. Don't you see that?"
The short delay had been too much; Al Hardy was retiring, having made his point. The crowd was turning away, talking among themselves. Harvey heard snatches of conversation:
"Hell, I don't know. I sure as hell don't want to fight anymore." "Dammit, Baker got killed for that place. Wasn't that worth something?" "I'm tired, Sue. Let's go home."
Before Hardy could leave the platform, Rick Delanty barred his way. "The Senator said this was an important decision," he said. "Let's talk about it. Now." Delanty was no longer planning murder, Harvey saw with relief. But he seemed determined. "Al, you say we'll live through the winter. Let's talk about that."
Hardy shrugged. "If you choose. I think it has all been said."
Delanty's grin was crafty, artificial. "Oh, hell, Al, we're all here and the liquor's gone, and tomorrow it's back to moving rocks. Let's talk it all out right now. We can survive the winter?"
"Yes."
"But without coffee. That's all gone."
Hardy frowned. "Yes."
"How are we fixed for clothing? There are glaciers coming, and the clothes are rotting off our backs. Can we dig anything out of underwater department stores?"
"Some plastics, maybe. It can wait, now that we don't have to worry about the New Brotherhood getting there first." Oddly, there was no cheering this time. "We'll have to make most of our clothing. Or shoot it." Hardy smiled.
"Transportation? The cars and trucks are dying like sterile beasts, aren't they? Will we have to eat the horses?"
Al Hardy ran his hands through his hair. "No. For awhile I thought … No. Horses don't breed fast, but we'll have the trucks for years yet."
"What else have we run out of? Penicillin?"
"Yes—"
"Aspirin? And