Larry Niven - Lucifer's Hammer

Tim’s face showed joy, but only for a moment.

“…but it won’t do any good, and you know it. To save that power plant we will have to send out all our strength, everyone, not to defend the plant, but to attack the New Brotherhood. Pursue them, fight them, wipe them out. Take all their weapons. Then set up patrols around the edges of the lake. Keep the enemy at least a mile from the plant. It would take all our strength, Tim, and the cost would be horrible.”

“But—”

“Think about it,” Hardy said. “Patrols. Spies. An army of occupation. All to stop one fanatic from getting one hit on one crucial piece of equipment and putting it out of commission for one day. That’s the task. Isn’t it?”

“For now,” Tim said. “But given peace and quiet for a few weeks, Price will have Number Two on line. Then as long as either works, the other can be repaired.”

The roomful of survivors was sobering now, most of them, because the last of the liquor was as dead as the coffee supply. They muttered to each other, spoke, argued, and they seemed to Harvey to be divided in opinion, but the strength was against Tim. As it should be, Harvey thought. Not more war.

But… he looked at Maureen. Now she was crying openly. Because of Baker? Baker had made his choice, and Maureen wouldn’t let him be wasted? Her eyes met his. “Talk to them,” she said. “Make them understand.”

“I don’t understand myself,” Harvey said.

“What we can afford,” she said. “A civilization has the ethics it can afford. We can’t afford much. We can’t afford to take care of our enemies — you know about that.”

He shuddered. He knew about that.

Leonilla Malik came in the back way, through the Mayor’s office. She bent over the Senator. “I am told that you need me,” she said.

“Who told you that?” Jellison demanded.

“Mister Hardy.”

“I’m all right. Get back to your hospital.”

“Doctor Valdemar is on duty. I have a few minutes.”

She stood slightly behind the Senator, and she watched him carefully, her expression professional — and concerned.

“We must count the costs,” Al Hardy was saying. “You ask us to risk everything. We have assured survival. We are alive. We have fought the last battle. Tim, electric lights are not worth throwing that away.”

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 the liquor. No anesthetics of any kind.”

“We’ll be able to ferment liquor!”

“So. We’ll live. Through this winter, and the next one, and the one after that.” Rick paused, but before Hardy could say anything, he thundered, “As peasants! We had a ceremony here today. An award, to the kid who caught the most rats this week. And we can look forward to that for the rest of our lives. To our kids growing up as rat catchers and swineherds. Honorable work. Needed work. Nobody puts it down. But… don’t we want to hope for something better?

“And we’re going to keep slaves,” Delanty said. “Not because we want to. Because we need them. And we used to control the lightning!”

The phrase struck Harvey Randall with a physical shock. He saw it hit the others, too. A lot of them. They stood, unable to turn away.

“Sure we can huddle here in our valley,” Delanty shouted. “We can stay here and be safe and our kids can grow up herding pigs and shoveling sewage. There’s a lot here to be proud of, because it’s so much more than what might have been — but is it enough? Is it enough for us to be safe when we leave everybody else out in the cold? You all say how sorry you are to have to turn people away. To have to send people Outside. Well, we’ve got the chance now. We can make all of Outside, the whole damn San Joaquin Valley, as safe as we are.