The chances that Lucifer’s Hammer would hit Earth head-on were one in a million.
Then one in a thousand.
Then one in a hundred.
And then…
LUCIFER’S HAMMER
“A WORK IN THE GRAND TRADITION…even the miracle of Sensurround may be inadequate to convey all the imaginative reverberations.”
Los Angeles Times
“A MEGATON OF SUSPENSEFUL EXCITEMENT…which should keep readers going non-stop, cover to cover.”
Library Journal
“A ‘DISASTER’ THRILLER OF RARE QUALITY…for its expertise and the scale of its apocalypse…Strings out the suspense almost unbearably.”
John Barkham Reviews
By Larry Niven
Published by Ballantine Books:
The Known Space Series:
A GIFT FROM EARTH
THE LONG ARM OF GIL HAMILTON
NEUTRON STAR
PROTECTOR
RINGWORLD
THE RINGWORLD ENGINEERS
TALES OF KNOWN SPACE: The Universe of Larry Niven
WORLD OF PTAVVS
THE RINGWORLD THRONE
Other Titles:
ALL THE MYRIAD WAYS
CONVERGENT SERIES
CRASHLANDER
THE FLIGHT OF THE HORSE
A HOLE IN SPACE
THE INTEGRAL TREES
LIMITS
THE SMOKE RING
A WORLD OUT OF TIME
With Steven Barnes:
THE CALIFORNIA VOODOO GAME
With David Gerrold:
THE FLYING SORCERERS
With Jerry Pournelle:
FOOTFALL
LUCIFER’S HAMMER
Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold or destroyed” and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.
A Fawcett Crest Book
Published by Ballantine Books
Copyright © 1977 by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
ISBN 0-449-20813-3
This edition published by arrangement with Playboy Press.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Printed in Canada
First Fawcett Crest Edition: July 1978
First Ballantine Books Edition: June 1983
40 39 38 37
To Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, the first men to walk on another world; to Michael Collins, who waited; and to those who died trying, Gus Grissom, Roger Chaffee, Ed White, Georgi Dobrovolsky, Viktor Patsayev, Nikolai Volkov, and all the others.
Acknowledgments
Excerpts from GIFFORD LECTURES, 1948 by Emil Brunner. Excerpt from a private speech by Robert Heinlein. Reprinted by permission.
From “Pure, Sweet, Culture” by Frank Garparik. Copyright © 1977 by Frank Garparik. Used with permission of the author.
From How The World Will End by Daniel Cohen. Copyright © 1973, McGraw-Hill. Used with permission of McGraw-Hill Book Co.
From The Naked Ape by Desmond Morris. Copyright © 1967, McGraw-Hill. Used with permission of McGraw-Hill Book Co.
Excerpt from The Cosmic Connection: An Extraterrestrial Perspective by Carl Sagan. Copyright © 1973 by Carl Sagan and Jerome Agel. Reprinted by permission of Doubleday & Company, Inc.
Excerpts from The Coming Dark Age by Roberto Vacca, translated from the Italian by Dr. J. S. Whale. Translation copyright © 1973 by Doubleday & Company, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Doubleday & Company, Inc.
From Moons and Planets: An Introduction to Planetary Science by William K. Hartmann. Copyright © 1972, Wadsworth Publishing Co., Inc. Used with permission of Wadsworth Publishing Co., Inc.
Excerpts from Sovereignty by Bertrand de Jouvenal. Copyright © 1957 by University of Chicago Press. Used with permission of University of Chicago Press.
From The Elements Rage by Frank W Lane. Copyright © 1965 by Chilton Book Co. Used with permission of Chilton Book Co.
Song “The Friggin Falcon” © 1966 by Theodore R. Cogswell. All rights reserved, including the right of public performance for profit. Used by permission of the author and the author’s agent, Kirby McCauley.
Contents
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
1-THE ANVIL
January: The Portent
January: Interlude
February: One
February: Two
March: One
March: Interludes
March: Two
April: One
April: Interludes
April: Two
May
June: One
June: Interludes
June: Two
June: Three
June: Four
2-THE HAMMER
Hammerfall Morning
Hammerfall: One
Hot Fudge Tuesdae: One
Hammerfall: Two
Hot Fudge Tuesdae: Two
Hot Fudge Tuesdae: Three
Tuesday Afternoon
3-THE QUICK AND THE DEAD
Rich Man, Poor Man
The Landlord
The Mailman: One
The Mailman: Two
The Stronghold: One
Sanctuary
Beggar Man
The Stronghold: Two
4-AFTER DOOMSDAY
First Week: The Princess
Second Week: Mountain Men
Fourth Week: The Wanderers
Fourth Week: The Prophet
Sixth Week: The High Justice
Ninth Week: The Organization Man
Journey’s End
Exile’s Story
The Magician
The Expedition
Expendables
Valley of Death
Aftermath
The Final Decision
Epilogue
Dramatis Personae
TIMOTHY HAMNER, amateur astronomer
ARTHUR CLAY JELLISON, United States Senator from California
MAUREEN JELLISON, his daughter
HARVEY RANDALL, Producer-Director for NBS Television
MRS. LORETTA STEWART RANDALL
BARRY PRICE, Supervising Engineer, San Joaquin Nuclear Project
DOLORES MUNSON, Executive Secretary to Barry Price
EILEEN SUSAN HANCOCK, Assistant Manager for Corrigan’s Plumbing Supplies of Burbank
LEONILLA ALEXANDROVNA MALIK, M.D., physician and kosmonaut
MARK CZESCU, biker
GORDON VANCE, Bank President and neighbor to Harvey Randall
ANDY RANDALL, Harvey Randall’s son
CHARLIE BASCOMB, cameraman
MANUEL ARGUILEZ, sound technician
DR. CHARLES SHARPS, Planetary Scientist and Project Director, California Institute of Technology’s Jet Propulsion Laboratories
PENELOPE JOYCE WILSON, fashion designer
FRED LAUREN, convicted sex offender
COL. JOHN BAKER, USAF, astronaut
HARRY NEWCOMBE, letter carrier, U.S. Postal Service
MRS. DORA COX, Housekeeper and wife of the foreman of Senator Jellison’s ranch
GEORGE CHRISTOPHER, rancher, neighbor to Senator Jellison
ALICE COX, schoolgirl and horsewoman
JOE CORRIGAN, owner of Corrigan’s Plumbing Supplies
ALIM NASSOR, formerly George Washington Carver Davis, one-time
political leader
HAROLD DAVIS, Alim Nassor’s natural brother
THE REVEREND HENRY ARMITAGE
DR. DAN FORRESTER, Member of technical staff, JPL
LT. COL. RICK DELANTY, USAF, astronaut
MRS. GLORIA DELANTY
BRIGADIER PIETER JAKOV, kosmonaut
FRANK STONER, biker
JOANNA MACPHERSON, Mark Czescu’s roommate
COLLEEN DARCY, bank Teller
GENERAL THOMAS BAMBRIDGE, USAF, Commander in Chief, Strategic Air Command
JOHN KIM, Press Secretary to the Mayor of Los Angeles
THE HONORABLE BENTLY ALLEN, Mayor of Los Angeles
ERIC LARSEN, Patrolman, Burbank PD
JOE HARRIS, Investigator, Burbank PD
COMET WARDENS, a Southern California religious group
MAJOR BENNET ROSTEN, USAF, Minuteman Squadron Commander
MRS. MARIE VANCE, wife of Gordon Vance
HARRY STIMMS, automobile dealer in Tujunga, California
CORPORAL ROGER GILLINGS, Army
SERGEANT THOMAS HOOKER, Army
MARTY ROBBINS, Tim Hamner’s assistant and caretaker
JASON GILLCUDDY, writer
HUGO BECK, owner of a commune in the foothills of the High Sierra
Prologue
Before the sun burned, before the planets formed, there were chaos and the comets.
Chaos was a local thickening in the interstellar medium. Its mass was great enough to attract itself, to hold itself, and it thickened further. Eddies formed. Particles of dust and frozen gas drifted together, and touched, and clung. Flakes formed, and then loose snowballs of frozen gases. Over the ages a whirlpool pattern developed, a fifth of a light-year across. The center contracted further. Local eddies, whirling frantically near the center of the storm, collapsed to form planets.
It formed as a cloud of snow, far from the whirlpool’s axis. Ices joined the swarm, but slowly, slowly, a few molecules at a time. Methane, ammonia, carbon dioxide; and sometimes denser objects struck it and embedded themselves, so that it held rocks, and iron. Now it was a single stable mass. Other ices formed, chemicals that could only be stable in the interstellar cold.
It was four miles across when the disaster came.
The end was sudden. In no more than fifty years, the wink of an eye in its lifetime, the whirlpool’s center collapsed. A new sun burned fearfully bright.
Myriads of comets flashed to vapor in that hellish flame. Planets lost their atmospheres. A great wind of light pressure stripped all the loose gas and dust from the inner system and hurled it at the stars.
It hardly noticed. It was two hundred times as far from the sun as the newly formed planet Neptune. The new sun was no more than an uncommonly bright star, gradually dimming now.
Down in the maelstrom there was frantic activity. Gases boiled out of the rocks of the inner system. Complex chemicals developed in the seas of the third planet. Endless hurricanes boiled across and within the gas-giant worlds. The inner worlds would never know calm.
The only real calm was at the edge of interstellar space, in the halo, where millions of thinly spread comets, each as far from its nearest brother as Earth is from Mars, cruise forever through the cold black vacuum. Here its endless quiet sleep could last for billions of years…but not forever. Nothing lasts forever.
1
------------
THE ANVIL
Against boredom, even the gods themselves struggle in vain.
Nietzsche
January: The Portent
The bay-trees in our country are all wither’d
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth
And lean-look’d prophets whisper fearful change.
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
William Shakespeare, Richard II
The blue Mercedes turned into the big circular drive of the Beverly Hills mansion at precisely five after six. Julia Sutter was understandably startled. “Good God, George, it’s Tim! And dead on time.”
George Sutter joined her at the window. That was Tim’s car, yup. He grunted and turned back to the bar. His wife’s parties were always important events, so why, after weeks of careful engineering and orchestration, was she terrified that no one would show up? The psychosis was so common there ought to be a name for it.
Tim Hamner, though, and on time. That was strange. Tim’s money was third-generation. Old money, by Los Angeles standards, and Tim had a lot of it. He only came to parties when he wanted to.
The Sutters’ architect had been in love with concrete. There were square walls and square angles for the house, and softly curving free-form pools in the gardens outside; not unusual for Beverly Hills, but startling to Easterners. To their right was a traditional Monterey villa of white stucco and red tile roofs, to the left a Norman chateau magically transplanted to California. The Sutter place was set well back from the street so that it seemed divorced from the tall palms the city fathers had decreed for this part of Beverly Hills. A great loop of drive ran up to the house itself. On the porch stood eight parking attendants, agile young men in red jackets.
Hamner left the motor running and got out of the car. The “key left” reminder screamed at him. Ordinarily Tim would have snarled a powerful curse upon Ralph Nader’s hemorrhoids, but tonight he never noticed. His eyes were dreamy; his hand patted at his coat pocket, then stole inside. The parking attendant hesitated. People didn’t usually tip until they were leaving. Hamner kept walking, dreamy-eyed, and the attendant drove away.
Hamner glanced back at the red-coated young men, wondering if one or another might be interested in astronomy. They were almost always from UCLA or Loyola University. Could be…Reluctantly he decided against it and went inside, his hand straying from time to time to feel the telegram crackle under his fingers.
The big double doors opened onto an enormous area that extended right through the house. Large arches, rimmed by red brick, separated the entry from the living areas: a mere suggestion of walls between rooms. The floor was continuous throughout: brown tile laid with bright mosaic patterns. Of the two hundred and more guests expected, fewer than a dozen were clustered near the bar. Their talk was bright and cheery, louder than necessary. They looked isolated in all that empty space, all that expanse of tables with candles and patterned tablecloths. There were nearly as many uniformed attendants as guests. Hamner noticed none of this. He’d grown up with it.
Julia Sutter broke from the tiny group of guests and hurried to meet him. There was a tight look around her eyes: Her face had been lifted, and was younger than her hands. She made a kissing motion a fraction of an inch from Tim’s cheek and said, “Timmy, I’m glad to see you!” Then she noticed his radiant smile.
She drew back a little and her eyes narrowed. The note of mock concern in her voice covered real worry. “My God, Timmy! What have you been smoking?”
Tim Hamner was tall and bony, with just a touch of paunch to break the smooth lines. His long face was built for melancholy. His mother’s family had owned a highly successful cemetery-mortuary, and it showed. Tonight, though, his face was cracked wide apart in a blazing smile, and there was a strange light in his eyes. He said, “The Hamner-Brown Comet!”
“Oh!” Julia stared. “What?” That didn’t make sense. You don’t smoke a comet. She tried to puzzle it out while her eyes roved to her husband—was he having a second drink already?—to the door—when were the others coming? The invitations had been explicit. The important guests were coming early—weren’t they?—and couldn’t stay late, and—
She heard the low purr of a big car outside, and through the narrow windows framing the door saw half a dozen people spilling out of a dark limousine. Tim would have to take care of himself. She patted his arm and said, “That’s nice, Timmy. Excuse me, please?” A hasty intimate smile and she was gone.
If it bothered Hamner it didn’t show. He ambled toward the bar. B
ehind him Julia went to welcome her most important guest, Senator Jellison, with his entourage. He always brought everyone, administrative assistants as well as family. Tim Hamner’s smile was blazing when he reached the bar.
“Good evening, Mr. Hamner.”
“Good it is. Tonight I’m walking on pink clouds. Congratulate me, Rodrigo, they’re going to name a comet after me!”
Michael Rodriguez, laying out glasses behind the bar, missed a beat. “A comet?”
“Right. Hamner-Brown Comet. It’s coming, Rodrigo, you can see it, oh, around June, give or take a few weeks.” Hamner took out the telegram and opened it with a snap.
“We will not see it from Los Angeles,” Rodriguez laughed. “What may I serve you tonight?”
“Scotch rocks. You could see it. It could be as big as Halley’s Comet.” Hamner took the drink and looked about. There was a group around George Sutter. The knot of people drew Tim like a magnet. He clutched the telegram in one hand and his drink in another, as Julia brought the new guests over and introduced them.
Senator Arthur Clay Jellison was built something like a brick, muscular rather than overweight. He was bulky, jovial and blessed with thick white hair. He was photogenic as hell, and half the people in the country would have recognized him. His voice sounded exactly as it did on TV: resonant, enveloping, so that everything he said took on a mysterious importance.
Maureen Jellison, the Senator’s daughter, had long, dark red hair and pale clear skin and a beauty that would have made Tim Hamner shy on any other night; but when Julia Sutter turned to him and (finally!) said, “What was that about a—”
“Hamner-Brown Comet!” Tim waved the telegram. “Kitt Peak Observatory has confirmed my sighting! It’s a real comet, it’s my comet, they’re naming it after me!”
Maureen Jellison’s eyebrows went up slightly. George Sutter drained his glass before asking the obvious question. “Who’s Brown?”
Hamner shrugged; his untasted drink slopped a little onto the carpet, and Julia frowned. “Nobody’s ever heard of him,” Tim said. “But the International Astronomical Union says it was a simultaneous sighting.”
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