Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [55]
"Couple of things." He handed Al the memo. "Check this story out. If it's true, I want a medium-size fire built under those people. Let 'em save money on their goddamn salaries, not cheating a Silver Star vet out of a leg that fits."
"Yes, sir."
"And then you can take a look at Braden's district. Seems to me the Party ought to have a bright young chap in there. I mind a city councilman—"
"Ben Tyson," Al said helpfully.
"That's his name. Tyson. Think he could beat Braden?"
"He might. With your help."
"Look into it. I've about had it with Mr. Braden being so goddam busy saving the world he hasn't got time to look after his constituents." Senator Jellison wasn't smiling at all.
Al nodded. Braden, he thought, you're dead. When the boss gets in that mood—
The intercom buzzed. "Dr. Sharps," Carrie said.
"Right. Don't go, Al. I want you to hear this. Charlie?"
"Yes, Senator?" Dr. Sharps said.
"How's the launch going?" Jellison asked.
"Everything's fine. It would be even better if I didn't have every VIP in Washington calling me to ask about it."
"Goddammit, Charlie, I went out on a long limb for you. If anybody's got a right to know, it's me."
"Yes. Sorry," Sharps said. "Actually, things are better than we expected. The Russians are helping a lot. They've got a big booster, and they're taking up a lot of consumables they'll share with our team. Lets us take up more science packages. For once we've got a division of labor that makes sense."
"Good. You won't ever know how many favors I used up getting that launch for you. Now tell me again how valuable all this is."
"Senator, it's about as valuable as we can get—given what we're doing. It's not going to cure cancer, but we'll sure learn a lot about planets and asteroids and comets. Also, that TV fellow, Harvey Randall, wants you in his next documentary. He seems to think the network ought to thank you for getting this launch."
Jellison looked up at Al Hardy. Hardy grinned and nodded vigorously. "They'll love us in L.A.," Al said.
"Tell him I like it," Jellison said. "Any time. Have him check with my assistant. Al Hardy. You got that?"
"Right. Is that all, Art?" Sharps asked.
"Nooo." Jellison drained the whiskey glass. "Charlie, I keep getting people in here who think that comet's going to hit us. Not crazies. Good people. Some of 'em with as many degrees as you have."
"I know most of them," Sharps admitted.
"Well?"
"What can I say, Art?" Sharps was quiet for a moment. "Our best projected orbit puts that comet right on top of us—"
"Jesus," Senator Jellison said.
"But there's several thousand miles' error in those projections. And a miss by a thousand miles is still a miss. It can't reach out and grab us."
"But it could hit."
"Well … this isn't for publication, Art."
"Didn't ask for it for publication."
"All right. Yes. It could hit us. But the odds are against it."
"What kind of odds?"
"Thousands to one."
"I recall you said billions to one—"
"So the odds have narrowed," Sharps said.
"Enough so we ought to be doing something about it?"
"How could you? I've spoken with the President," Sharps said.
"So have I."
"And he doesn't want to panic anybody. I agree. It's still thousands to one against anything happening at all," Sharps insisted. "And a complete certainty that a lot of people will get killed if we start making preparations. We're already getting crazy things. Rape artists. Nut groups. People who see the end of the world as an opportunity—"
"Tell me about it," Jellison said dryly. "I told you, I saw the President too, and he's got your opinion. Or you've got his. I'm not talking about warning the public, Charlie, I'm talking about me. Where will this thing hit, if it does?"
There was another pause.
"You've studied it, haven't you?" Jellison demanded. "Or that crazy genius you keep around, uh, Forrester, he's studied it. Right?"
"Yes." The reluctance was plain