The balance of power was life and death at the Stronghold. One played the game well or stayed out of it. Harry tried to stay out of it, enjoy his utility without getting involved in local politics. This time he’d had to play. Had he seriously offended Christopher? And did he give a damn? It was strange, how Harry’s macho instincts had kicked in after Hammerfall.
“We put him on the road,” George Christopher was saying. “Him and that Jerry Owen, on my orders. Hell, even the Shire threw them out, and those scummy jerks tried to live by stealing off the rest of us, and Owen tried teaching communism to my ranch-hands! Beck comes back in over my dead body.”
There was a chuckle from the back of the room, from either Leonilla Malik or Pieter Jakov. No one paid any attention. There was nothing humorous in the situation, and Harry wondered if he’d gone too far. “While you’re discussing Hugo Beck, Dr. Forrester is about dead on his feet,” Harry said. “Can you do something for him, or does it depend on getting Beck settled first?”
Al Hardy didn’t look away from the center of the room, where Christopher was glaring at Beck. “Eileen,” he called. “Take Dr. Forrester out to the kitchen and take care of him.”
“Right.” Eileen came in; she must have been standing in the hall. She led Dan Forrester out. The astrophysicist followed woodenly, clearly about to pass out from exhaustion.
Hugo Beck licked his thick lips. “I’ll settle for a meal,” Hugo said, sweating. “H-hell, I’d settle for a stale soda cracker. I just want to know you’re still here.”
That earned him puzzled looks. “We’re here,” said Al Hardy. “Have you got information or not? I haven’t wakened the Senator yet, and he wants to talk to Harry.”
Hugo gulped. “I’ve been with the bandits. The New Brotherhood Army.”
“Son of a bitch,” Deke Wilson said.
“How long?” Al Hardy demanded. He was suddenly alert. “Did you learn anything?”
“Or,” Christopher asked, “did you just run the first chance you got?”
“I learned enough to want my damn brain wiped clean,” Hugo said, and Harry nodded; it was the strict truth.
“Maybe you’d better tell us,” Hardy said. He turned toward the kitchen. “Alice, get us a glass of water.”
He’s got their attention, Harry thought. Now, goddammit, talk like a man!
“There are over a thousand of them,” Hugo said. He watched Deke Wilson flinch at that. “Maybe ten percent are women, maybe more. It doesn’t matter much. Most of the women are armed. I couldn’t tell who was really in charge. It seems to be a committee. Other than that, they’re pretty well organized, but God, they’re madder than hatters” This crazy preacher is one of the leaders—”
Deke Wilson broke in. “Preacher? Did they give up cannibalism, then?”
Hugo swallowed and shook his head. “No. The Angels of the Lord have not given up cannibalism.”
“I’d better get the Senator.” Al Hardy left the room. Alice Cox came in with a glass of water, and looked around uncertainly.
“Just put it down on the table,” George Christopher said. “Hugo, you may as well wait to tell your story.”
Hugo said, “I told you why I left the Shire. My own land. Mine, dammit! They were giving me twice the work of anyone else. After Hammerfall they said their claim on the land was as good as anybody’s, right? All of us equals, just the way I set it up. Well, every damned one of them had to prove he was my equal some way, now they all had the chance.”
Nobody answered.
“All I want is work and a place to sleep,” Hugo said. He looked around the room. What he saw was not good: Christopher’s contempt for a man who couldn’t handle his own hands; Deke Wilson afraid to listen, afraid not to; Eileen standing at the door, the spacewoman in her chair, both taking it all in and giving nothing back; Harry looking sour and wondering if he should have brought Hugo after all; Mayor Seitz…
The Mayor stood up suddenly and swung a chair into place. Hugo dropped into it, hard. “Thanks,” he whispered. The Mayor silently handed Hugo the glass of water and went back to his own place.
Leonilla spoke softly to Pieter. The room was still and everyone heard the fluid syllables. They looked at her, and she translated. “A meeting of the Presidium,” she said. “At least it is as I imagine such meetings must have been. Excuse me.”
George Christopher frowned, then took a chair. They waited a few moments longer, and Al Hardy came in leading the Senator. He stopped in the doorway and spoke down the hall. “Alice, could you ride up for Randall? And Mr. Hamner, I think. Better take horses for them.”
Senator Jellison wore carpet slippers and a dressing gown over slacks and white shirt, his gray-white hair only partially combed. He came into the room and nodded to everyone, then looked at Harry. “Welcome back,” he said. “We were getting worried about you. Al, why hasn’t anyone brought Harry a cup of tea?”
“I’ll see to it,” Hardy said.
“Thank you.” Jellison went to his high-backed chair and sat. “Sorry to keep you waiting. They like me to take a nap in the afternoon. Mr. Beck, has anyone made you any promises?”
“Just Harry.” The gift of a chair had restored some of Hugo’s composure. “I get to leave here alive. That’s all.”
“All right. Tell your story.”
Hugo nodded. “You put Jerry Owen and me on the road, remember? Jerry was mad enough to kill. He talked about… well, revenge, about the seeds of rebellion he’d planted in your men, Mr. Christopher.”
George smiled broadly. “They damn near kicked him to death.”
“Right, Jerry couldn’t move very fast, and I didn’t want to go on alone. It was spooky out there. Somebody shot at us once, no warning, just zing! and we ran like hell. We went south because that’s the way the road faced, and Jerry wasn’t in shape to climb up into the Sierra. Neither was I. We walked all day and most of the night, and I don’t know how far we got because all we had was an old Union Oil map and everything’s changed now. Jerry found some grain growing by the side of the road. It looked like weeds, but he said we could eat it, and the next day we managed a fire and cooked it. It’s good.”
“Okay, we don’t need the story of every meal you scrounged,” Christopher growled.
“Sorry. The next part’s important, though. Jerry was telling me weird things. Did you know he was wanted by the FBI and everyone else too? He was a general — in the” — Hugo paused — “New Brotherhood Liberation Army.” Hugo paused to let it sink in.
“New Brotherhood,” Al Hardy mused. “I guess that does fit.”
“I think so,” Hugo said. “Anyway, he was using the Shire as a hideout. He kept his mouth shut and we never knew, until after Hammerfall. We were probably in Mr. Wilson’s territory, and I was thinking about ditching Jerry. Being slowed down didn’t bother me, but how was I going to join Mr. Wilson’s crew if Jerry wanted to start a people’s revolution? If I’d seen so much as a lighted window I’d have been gone, and Jerry’d never have known where.
“But we didn’t see anything much. A truck once, but it didn’t stop. And barricaded farmhouses, where they set the dogs on us if we tried to get close. So we kept going south and getting hungrier, and about the third or fourth day we saw this scraggly-looking bunch of people. Every one of them looked like he’d lost his last chance, but there were at least fifty of them, and they didn’t look like they were starving.
“I was thinking about running, but Jerry walked right up to them. He called to me to come on with him, but they didn’t look like any outfit I wanted to join. I thought it might be the cannibals Harry told us about, but they didn’t look dangerous, they just looked finished.”