Hamner’s face didn’t change. “Gavin Brown is a kid in Centerville, Iowa. Ground his own mirror to build his telescope. He reported the comet at the same time I did. The IAU rules it a simultaneous sighting. If I hadn’t waited to be certain…” Hamner shrugged and continued, “I called Brown this afternoon. Sent him a plane ticket, because I want to meet him. He didn’t even want to come until I promised to show him around the solar observatory at Mount Wilson. That’s all he really cares about! Sunspots! He found the comet by accident!”
“When will we see this comet? That is,” Harvey backtracked, “will it be visible at all?”
“Much too early to ask. Wait a month. Watch the news.”
“I’m not supposed to watch the news. I’m supposed to report the news,” said Harvey. “And this could be news. Tell me more.”
Hamner was eager to do that. He rattled on, while Harvey nodded with a broadening grin. Beautiful! You didn’t have to know what all the words meant to know the equipment was expensive, and probably photogenic to boot. Expensive and elaborate equipment, and the kid with a bent pin for a hook and a willow stick for a rod had caught just as big a fish as the millionaire!
Millionaire. “Mr. Hamner, if this comet turns out to be worth a documentary—”
“Well, it might. And the discovery would be. How amateur astronomers can be important…”
Hooked, by God! “What I was going to ask was, if we can make a documentary on the comet, would Kalva Soap be interested in sponsoring it?”
The change in Hamner was subtle, but it was there. Harvey instantly revised his opinion of the man. Hamner had a lot of experience with people after his money. He was an enthusiast, but hardly a fool.
“Tell me, Mr. Randall, didn’t you do that thing on the Alaskan glacier?”
“Harvey. Yes.”
“It stunk.”
“Sure did,” Harvey agreed. “The sponsor insisted on control. And got it. And used it. I didn’t inherit control of a big company.” And to hell with you, too, Mr. Timothy Comet Hamner.
“But I did. And this would be worth doing. You did the Hell’s Gate Dam story too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I liked that one.”
“So did I.”
“Good.” Hamner nodded several times. “Look, this could be worth sponsoring. Even if the comet never becomes visible, and I think it will. Lord knows they spend enough of the advertising budget sponsoring crap that nobody wants to watch. Might as well tell a story worth telling. Harvey, you need a refill.”
They went to the bar. The party was thinning out fast. The Jellisons were just leaving, but Loretta had found another conversation. Harvey recognized a city councilman who’d been after Harvey’s station to do a show on a park that was his current goal. He probably thought Loretta would influence Harvey — which was correct — and that Harvey had influence over what the network and its Los Angeles station did — which was a laugh.
Rodriguez was busy for the moment and they stood at the bar. “There’s all kinds of excellent new equipment for studying comets,” Hamner said. “Including a big orbital telescope only used once, for Kahoutek. Scientists all over the world will want to know how comets differ, how Kahoutek was different from Hamner-Brown. Lot of scientists right here. Cal Tech, and the planetary astronomers at JPL. They’ll all want to know more about Hamner-Brown.”
Hamner-Brown resonated in his mouth, and Tim Hamner obviously loved the taste. “You see, comets aren’t just something pretty up in the sky. They’re left over from the big gas cloud that formed the solar system. If we could really learn something about comets — maybe send up a space probe — we’d know more about what the original cloud of gas and dust was like before it fell in on itself and made the Sun and the planets and moons and things like that.”
“You’re sober,” Harvey said in wonder.
Hamner was startled. Then he laughed. “I meant to get drunk just to celebrate, but I guess I’ve been talking instead of drinking.” Rodriguez came over and put drinks in front of them. Hamner lifted his scotch rocks in a salute.
“The way your eyes glow,” Harvey said, “I thought you must be drunk. But what you say makes a lot of sense. I doubt we could get a space probe launched, but what the hell, we could try. Only you’re talking about more than a single documentary for something like that. Listen, is there a chance? I mean, could we send a probe into the comet? Because I know some people in the aerospace industry, and…”
And, thought Harvey, that would be a story. Who can I get for editor? he wondered. And Charlie Bascomb’s available to do camera…
“Jellison, too,” Hamner said. “He’d be for it. But look, Harv, I know a lot about comets, but not that much. It’s all guesswork right now. Be a few months before Hamner-Brown gets to perihelion.” He added quickly, “Closest point to the Sun. Which isn’t the same as the closest point to the Earth…”
“How close will that be?” Harvey asked.
Hamner shrugged. “Haven’t analyzed the orbit yet. Maybe close. Anyway, Hamner-Brown will be moving fast when it rounds the Sun. It will have fallen all the way from the halo, out there beyond Pluto, a long way. You understand, I won’t really be computing the orbit. I’ll have to wait for the professionals, just like you.”
Harvey nodded. They lifted their glasses and drank.
“But I like the idea,” Hamner said. “There’s going to be a lot of scientific pressure for studies of Hamner-Brown, and it wouldn’t hurt to push the idea with the general public. I like it.”
“Of course,” Harvey said carefully, “I’d have to have a firm commitment on sponsorship before I could do much work on this. Are you sure Kalva Soap would be interested? The show might pull a good audience — but it might not.”
Hamner nodded. “Kahoutek,” he said. “They were burned on that one before. Nobody wants to be disappointed again.”
“Yeah.”
“So you can count on Kalva Soap. Let’s get across why it’s important to study comets even if you can’t see them. Because I can promise the sponsorship, but I can’t promise the comet will deliver. It might not be visible at all. Don’t tell people anything more than that.”
“I have a reputation for getting my facts straight.”
“When your sponsor doesn’t interfere,” Hamner said.
“Even then, I have my facts straight.”
“Good. But right now there aren’t any facts. Hamner-Brown is pretty big. It has to be, or I couldn’t have seen it out that far. And it looks to get pretty close to the Sun. It has a chance of being spectacular, but really, it’s impossible to tell. The tail could stretch way-y-y out, or it could just blow away. It depends on the comet.”
“Yeah. Look,” Harvey said, “can you name one newsman who lost his reputation because of Kahoutek?” He nodded at the puzzled look that got. “Right. None. No chance. The public blamed the astronomers for blowing it all out of proportion. Nobody blamed the news people.”
“Why should they? You were quoting the astronomers.”
“Half the time,” Harvey agreed. “But we quoted the ones who said exciting things. Two interviews. One man says Kahoutek is going to be the Big Christmas Comet. Another says, well, it’s going to be a comet, but you might not see it without field glasses. Guess which tape gets shown on the six o’clock news?”
Hamner laughed. He was draining his glass when Julia Sutter came over.
“Busy, Tim?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Your cousin Barry is making a fool of himself out in the kitchen. Can you get him to go home?” She spoke low and urgently.
Harvey hated her. Was Hamner sober? Would he remember any of this in the morning? Damn.
“Be right with you, Julia,” Hamner said. He broke free and made his way back to Harvey. “Just remember, our series on Hamner-Brown is going to be honest. Even if it costs ratings. Kalva Soap can afford it. When do you want to start?”