Lucifer's Hammer

She smiled. “I’m really flattered, Tim.”

“You really do look elegant. Your own creation?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She was still easy to talk to. Tim was finding that a pleasant rediscovery when the doorbell rang. The others had come.

It was a pleasant evening. The caterers had done their job well, so there was no trouble with the food, even without George to help. Tim relaxed and found he was having fun.

They listened.

They never had before. They listened as Tim told them how it had been: the cold, dark hours of watching, of studying star patterns, of keeping the log; of endless hours poring over photographs; all with no result except the joy of knowing the universe. And they listened. Even Greg, who usually made no secret of how he felt about rich men who didn’t pay proper attention to their money.

It was only a family gathering in Tim’s living room, but he was elated, and nervous, and quiveringly alert. He saw Barry’s smile and headshake and read Barry’s mind from that: What a way to spend a life! He’s actually envying me, Tim thought, and it was delicious. Tim glanced up to catch his sister watching with wry amusement. Jill had always been able to tell what Tim was thinking. He’d been closer to her than either had been to their brother Pat.

But it was Pat who trapped him behind the bar and wanted to talk.

“Like your place,” Pat said. “Mom doesn’t know what to make of it.” He tilted his head to indicate where their mother was wandering around the room, looking at gadgets. At the moment she was fascinated by the Kalliroscope’s random and strange patterns. “Bet I know what she’s thinking. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Bring girls here. Have wild parties.”

“None of your goddamn business.”

Pat shrugged. “Too bad. Man, there are times when I wish I… to hell with it. But you really ought to take advantage. You won’t have forever. Mom will have her way.”

“Sure,” Tim said. Why the hell did Pat have to bring that up? His mother would, before the night was over. Timmy, why aren’t you married yet?

One day I’ll answer, Tim told himself. One day I’ll say it. “Because every time I find a girl I think I could live with, you scare her spitless and she runs away, that’s why.”

“I’m still hungry,” Penelope Joyce a

“Good Lord.” Jill patted her stomach. “Where do you put it? I want your secret. Only don’t tell me it’s your clothes. Greg says we can’t afford your creations.”

Penelope took Tim’s hand. “Come on, show me where the popcorn is. I’ll shake. You get the bowls.”

“But—”

“They’ll find their own drinks.” She led him to the kitchen. “Let them talk about you while you’re out here. They’ll admire you even more. After all, you’re the star tonight.”

“Think so?” He looked into her eyes. “I can never tell when you’re putting me on.”

“There’s luck. Where’s the butter?”

The show was great. Tim knew that when he saw his family watching it, watching him on television.

Randall had gone all over the world, showing amateur astronomers staring at the sky. “Most comets are discovered by amateurs,” Randall said. “The public rarely appreciates how much these skywatchers aid the big observatories. Of course, some amateurs aren’t amateur at all.” The scene cut to Tim Hamner showing off his mountain observatory, and his assistant, Marty, demonstrating equipment. Tim had thought the sequence would be too short, but when he watched his family watching him and it ended with them eager for more he realized that Harv Randall had been right. Always leave them wanting a little more…

“And,” Randall’s voice said, “some are more amateur than others.” The camera zoomed in on a smiling teen-age boy with a telescope. The instrument looked competent, but it was obviously home-built. “Gavin Brown, of Centerville, Iowa. Gavin, how did you happen to be looking for comets at the right time and place?”

“I wasn’t.” Brown’s voice was not pleasant. He was young, and shy, and he talked too loud. “I made some adjustments to the setting circles because I wanted to look at Mercury in the daytime, only you have to have everything adjusted right to find Mercury because it’s so close to the Sun, and—”

“So you found Hamner-Brown by accident,” Harvey Randall said.

Greg McCleve laughed. Jill gave her husband a sharp look.

“Tell me, Gavin,” Randall said. “Since you didn’t see the comet until well after Mr. Hamner did, but you reported it almost at the same instant — how did you know it was a new comet?”

“It was something that didn’t belong there.”

“You mean you know everything that does belong there?” Randall said. The screen showed a photograph of the sky around Hamner-Brown. It was full of stars.

“Sure. Doesn’t everybody?”

“He does, too,” Tim said. “He stayed here a week, and I swear, he can draw star maps from memory.”

“He stayed here?” Tim’s mother asked.

“Sure. In the spare room.”

“Oh.” Tim’s mother stared very hard at the set.

“Where’s George tonight?” Jill asked. “Another date? Mother, did you know that Tim’s houseboy has been dating Linda Gillray?”

“Pass the popcorn,” Penelope Joyce said. “Where is Brown now, Tim?”

“Back in Iowa.”

“Those commercials sell much soap?” Greg asked. He pointed at the set.

“Kalva does all right,” Tim said. “Twenty-six point four percent of the market last year—”

“Jeez, they must be better than I thought,” Greg said. “Who’s your advertising man?”

Then the program was on again. There wasn’t much more about Tim Hamner. Once discovered, Hamner-Brown Comet was the world’s. Now the star was Charles Sharps, who talked about comets and the importance of knowing the Sun and planets and stars. Tim wasn’t disappointed, but he thought the others were. Except for Pat, who watched Sharps and kept nodding. Once, Pat looked up and said, “If I’d had a science professor like him in my freshman year, I might have discovered a comet myself. Do you know him very well?”

“Sharps? Never met him. But I’ve got more of him on the video recordings,” Tim said. “There’s more of me, too.”

Greg pointedly glanced at his watch. “Got to be in the office at five A.M.,” he said. “The market’s going crazy. And after that show, it will be worse.”

“Huh?” Tim frowned. “Why?”

“Comets,” Greg said. “Signs in the sky. Portents of evil change. You’d be surprised how many investors take things like that seriously. Not to mention that diagram the professor drew. The one that showed the comet hitting Earth.”

“But it didn’t,” Pat protested.

’Tim! Could it?” his mother demanded.

“Of course not! Didn’t you listen? Sharps said it was billions to one,” Tim said.

“I saw it,” Greg said. “And he said comets did hit the Earth, sometimes. And this one will be close.”

“But he didn’t mean it that way,” Tim protested.

Greg shrugged. “I know the market. I’m going to be in the office when the big board opens—”

The phone rang. Tim looked puzzled. Before he could get up, Jill answered it. She listened for a moment, then looked puzzled as well. “It’s your answering service. They want to know whether they should put through a call from New York.”

“Eh?” Tim got up to take the phone. He listened. On me TV a NASA official was explaining how they might, just might, be able to get up a probe to study the comet. Tim put the phone down.

“You look dazed,” Penelope Joyce said.

“I am dazed. That was one of the producers. They want me to be a guest on the ‘Tonight Show.’ With Dr. Sharps, Pat, so I’ll meet him after all.”

“I watch Joh

Randall’s documentary ended in a blaze of glory, with photographs of the Sun and stars taken by Skylab, and a strong plea for a ma