But Tim Hamner was calling for a new battle!
Harvey, fresh from his work with the crossbow, was thinking helplessly: Shut up, shut up! When Al Hardy came up to offer the power-plant personnel refuge at the Stronghold, Harvey wanted to cheer, and some of Hardy’s audience did cheer. But Rick Delanty still looked like murder, and Tim Hamner…
“We won’t leave,” Tim said. “Use your boats to bring us men and guns and ammunition! Not for us to run away. We’re not leaving.”
“Be reasonable,” Al Hardy said. His voice projected; it reached all corners of the hall. It projected warmth, friendliness, understanding: a politician’s basic skill, and Al Hardy was well trained. Tim was outclassed. “We can feed everyone. We can use engineers and technical people. We lost people to the New Brotherhood, but we lost none of our food; we even captured some of their stores. We not only have enough to eat, we have enough to be well fed during the winter! We can feed everyone, including Deke Wilson’s women and children and the few survivors from his area. The New Brotherhood has been hurt, badly hurt” — he paused for the cheers again, and went on just as they died, his timing perfect — “and is now far too weak to attack us again. By spring the few surviving cannibals will be starving—”
“Or eating each other,” someone shouted.
“Exactly,” Hardy said. “And by spring we’ll be able to take their land. Tim, not only do we not need to turn any of our friends away, we need new people to work the lands we have taken or will have in spring. I don’t mean for your friends to run. I mean to welcome them as our guests, friends, as new citizens here. Does everyone agree?”
There were shouts. “Hell yeah!” “Glad to have them.”
Tim Hamner spread his hands, palms outward, pleading. He wobbled on his damaged hip. There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “Don’t you understand? The power plant! We can’t leave it, and without help the New Brotherhood will destroy it!”
“No, dammit,” Harvey muttered. He felt Maureen stiffen. “No more wars,” Harvey said. “We’ve had enough. Hardy’s right.” He looked for approval from Maureen, but only got a blank stare.
George Christopher was laughing. It carried, like Al Hardy’s voice. “They’re too damned weak to attack anything,” he shouted. “First we crunched them. Then you did. They won’t stop running until they’re back to Los Angeles. Who needs to worry about them? We chased the bastards fifty miles ourselves.”
More laughter in the room. Then Maureen broke away from Harvey and moved past her father. When she spoke her voice did not carry the way Hardy’s did, but it commanded silence, and the crowd listened to her. “They still have their weapons,” she said. “And, Tim, you said their leaders are still alive…”
“Well, one of them is,” Hamner said. “The crazy preacher.”
“Then some of them will try to destroy the power plant again,” Maureen said. “As long as he’s alive, he’ll keep trying.” She turned to Hardy. “Al, you know that. You heard Hugo Beck. You know.”
“Yes,” Hardy said. “We can’t protect the plant. But again I invite everyone there to come live here. With us.”
“Damn right, the Brotherhood’s no threat to us,” George Christopher said. “They won’t be back.”
“But they — ” Whatever Al Hardy had been about to say, he cut himself off at a wave from Senator Jellison. “Yes, sir,” Hardy asked. “Do you want to come up here, Senator?”
“No.” Jellison stood. “Let’s cut this short,” he said. His voice was thick with either drunkenness or exhaustion, and everyone knew he hadn’t been drinking. “We are agreed, are we not? The Brotherhood is not strong enough to harm us here in our valley. But their leaders are still alive, and they have enough strength to destroy the power plant. It is not that they are strong, but that the plant is fragile.”
Hamner jumped on that. He was interrupting the Senator, but he didn’t care. He knew he should speak carefully, weighing every word, but he was too tired, the sense of urgency was too strong. “Yes! We’re fragile. Like that whale!” He pointed to the glass case. “Like the last piece of Stueben crystal in the world. If the power stops for one day—”
“Beautiful and fragile,” Al Hardy’s voice cut in. “Senator, did you have something else to say?”
The massive head shook. “Only this. Think carefully. This may be the most important decision we have made since… that day.” He sat, heavily. “Go on, please,” he said.
Hardy looked worriedly at the Senator, then motioned to one of the women near him. He spoke to her, too low for Harvey to hear what he said, and the woman left. Then he stood at the lectern again. “Fragile and beautiful,” he said. “But not much use to a farming community—”
“No use?” Tim exploded. “Power! Clean clothes! Light—”
“Luxuries,” Al Hardy said. “Are they worth our lives? We’re a farm community. The balance is delicate. Not many weeks ago we did not know if we would live through the winter Now we know we can. A few days ago we did not know whether we could resist the cannibals. We did. We are safe, and we have work to do, and we cannot afford more people for a needless war.” He looked to George Christopher. “You agree, George? Neither of us runs from a fight — but do we have to run to one?”
“Not me,” Christopher said. “We won our war.”
There were murmurs of agreement. Harvey stepped forward, intending to join in. Not another war. Not another afternoon with the crossbow…
He felt Maureen beside him. She looked up at him, pleading in her eyes. “Don’t let them do this,” she said. “Make them understand!” She dropped her hand from Harvey’s arm and bent over the Senator. “Dad. Tell them. We have to… to fight. To save that power plant.”
“Why?” Jellison asked. “Haven’t we had enough war? It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t order it. They wouldn’t go.”
“They would. If you told them, they would.”
He didn’t answer. She turned back to Harvey.
Randall stared at her without comprehension. “Listen,” he said. “Listen to Al.”
“Reinforcements wouldn’t be enough, Tim,” Al Hardy was saying. “Chief Hartman and the Senator and the Mayor and I, we looked at the problem this afternoon. We hadn’t forgotten you! And the cost is too high. You said it yourself, the plant is fragile. It’s not enough to put a garrison in there, to keep it filled with troops. You have to keep the Brotherhood from dropping one mortar shell in the right place. Tell me, if that plant worker hadn’t turned off the steam valve, wouldn’t that have done it?”
“Yes,” Tim snarled. “That would have finished us. So a twenty-year-old kid parboiled himself to save the plant. And General Baker made his decision.”
“Tim, Tim,” Hardy pleaded. “You don’t understand. It wouldn’t do any good just to send reinforcements. Look, I’ll send volunteers. As many as want to go, and with plenty of food and ammunition…”
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?”