"Get all those goodies you'd trade." He thumped the table with his hand. "I knew you didn't have a bigger crew."

Should he deny it? He was just so damn tired. Of everything. Mitch bit the inside of his cheek. "Really?"

"You don't get to be a leader of a group like this without knowing a thing or two about people."

He stabbed a finger at Mitch. "You're a loner. That you've survived this long means you're lucky or crafty or both. And frankly we need more of those people here. I'd hoped you'd come around eventually."

Mitch took another swig of his drink. Dixon didn't have to rub it in.

Dixon leaned in. "How'd you keep the Windfall hidden?"

It might have been the exhaustion or the whiskey, but Mitch didn't see any point in lying.

"We kept her moored a ways off the coast and rowed in, taking all the sails with us."

Dixon whistled. "Jesus. I'm surprised your kids didn't mutiny."

Mitch flicked a glanced at Eddie, then Dani, both sound asleep. He shrugged. "They're good kids."

"What about their mom?"

"She lived in Seattle. Anyway, they were visiting me when things . . . Well, you know the rest."

Dixon winced and nodded. "You've done well, for them and yourself."

Mitch grimaced. "We'll see."

"I won't lie and say I'm not thrilled you're here, however it came about. And with the Windfall, we're going to be able to do so much." Dixon caught himself. "With your permission of course."

"It's all right. Get it out of your system. The sooner you and your engineers figure out how she works and get to shipbuilding, the better."

Dixon chuckled. "The hell of it is, I never liked the open water."

"Too bad. With my contacts and your boats, this could become a big trading center."

"That's quite a proposition. You and your kids going to stick around long enough to make it happen?"

"I don't know. At least through the winter. Then we'll see."

Dixon gave him a hearty slap on his shoulder. "At least you're honest. We'll see what we can do to change your mind."

HOMER COOPERATIVE, SOUTH CENTRAL ALASKA.

MARCH 14, CHANGE YEAR 1/1999 AD.

The trebuchet launched a pile of stones to sea, the momentum rocketing the whole apparatus back on greased rails.

"See that?" Harrison grinned ear to ear, practically dancing. "The rails'll distribute the force and make sure the boats don't tip or get knocked off course."

Mitch quirked a brow. "Or split open the deck?"

The ex-high school physics teacher looked sheepish. "That too."

It was Harrison's idea. Dixon's chief engineer. He'd burst into a council session, clutching a book to his chest.

"Look at this: the Battle of Caishi in China. Trebuchets mounted to riverboats."

Since then, they had eagerly set about to put the plan in place with the Cooperative's slowly growing fleet of sailboats-only to find out the torque generated by the war machines could rip them from their mount on the ship deck. The damage to the Windfall, since fixed, had been almost a physical wound when Mitch first heard the whomping crack and then saw the deck planks torn apart. And no way to treat a loyal friend.

"Well, what do you think?" Harrison asked.

Mitch walked around the floating arm trebuchet. Rather than swing the counterweight around the axle like a traditional catapult, the axle rolled out of the way on rails so the counterweight could fall straight down. As it did, it pushed the arm away, then jerked it back with the full force of the weights dropping. The compact machine also packed quite a punch with a hundred-plus meter range.

For the last six months, the Homer Cooperative had prepared. A good percentage of folks already had hunting experience. Alaska was rife with elk, bear, moose. Everyone had mandatory bow practice twice a week, on top of some hand-to-hand basics taught by two black belts who used to run a karate studio downtown.

According to survivors' accounts, the Haida not only stole goods, tools, and weapons, but people too-primarily skilled workers and young children. Someone had a book on the First Nation peoples of British Columbia. With how Vancouver went up in flames like so many other major cities, the Haida, living on the islands to the west, must have dealt with refugees fleeing the more populated areas. Resource-strapped and desperate like everyone else, it seemed they'd fallen back on the teaching of their ancestors to survive.

That explained their impressive dugout canoes and weapons. But not their targets or the savageness of their attacks. Who was he to judge, though, wearing clothes he stripped off of a dead man? Anyone who'd lasted this long had done things they weren't proud of, himself included. But at a certain point, you had to let that go. You had to do better than just survive.

After much discussion with Dixon and his advisors, they settled on the need to protect what they'd already built in Homer, and to demonstrate to the Haida they were not to be trifled with.

Hence the war machines and the calluses on everyone's draw fingers.

"Mitch?" Dixon prompted.

What Dixon was really asking was whether he and the kids would stay long enough to see this through. Mitch had held off getting his wrist branded with an "H." Dixon hadn't pressed him, but Mitch knew some of those in the Cooperative were getting impatient with them hanging around if they weren't ready to commit.

He gave the trebuchet one last look and nodded. He didn't like it, but was it really any crazier than the salvage operation he and the kids had run? Mitch glanced at Dixon and Harrison who still jittered beside him.

"The wind gods will have to be smiling down on us."

Dixon waved his hand impatiently. "Of course, but . . . ?"

Mitch nodded. "What do we have to lose?"

HOMER COOPERATIVE, SOUTH CENTRAL ALASKA.

APRIL 3, CHANGE YEAR 1/1999 AD.

Mitch kept his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket as he headed back from the harbor. Despite his foul mood, he registered the few curt nods he received from members of the Cooperative he passed on his way to the cabin Dixon had granted him use of until they came to a more "formal arrangement." Dixon's words, not his.

He slowed his approach at the sight of Dani speaking to a young man outside the cabin, a soft blush on her cheeks. Mitch came up behind them.

"Danielle, who's this?"

She jumped and turned, fluster intensifying her blush. "Dad, this is Charlie from school."

Once they got settled, Dani and Eddie started taking classes with the other Homer children, using books and textbooks that had been saved or salvaged. It had kept the kids busy during the winter months, but now it was just one more thing tying them here.

"I see."

In a few years, Charlie wouldn't have to look up to meet Mitch's gaze. Today, however, Mitch used his height to remind the young man just who he was talking to, and he was rewarded when Charlie swallowed.

The young man gave Mitch a deferential nod, mumbled something to Dani, then scurried off. Mitch watched him go, partly bemused, partly annoyed.

"Remember what we said about making connections here?"

Dani huffed. "He's just a friend, Dad. Anyway." She gestured vaguely toward the harbor. "How did it go?"

Mitch couldn't hold back his groan. "Bunch of landlubbers. Don't know how they're going to be ready in time."

One of the men he was training to crew the Windfall ended up in the water before they'd even gotten out of the harbor-and it had just gotten worse from there.

"There's an answer to that."

"No."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Dad, I mean it."

"We've been over this, Dani. I won't put you and your brother in any more danger if I can help it."

"Even if it gets you killed in the process?"

Mitch didn't answer, just entered the cabin. Eddie glanced up from where he was sitting cross-legged on a wide-plank floor in front of the woodstove, book in his lap.

"You two fighting again?"

Mitch shook his head. "No."

"Yes, we are."

"Dani, the matter is closed."

"The hell it is."

Mitch looked at her in surprise. "What-"

"You're always saying we need to think for ourselves, but as soon as we do, you say the matter's closed."

"Honey, that's not-"

"Dad, please. Listen for once."

Mitch glanced at Eddie. No help there. Mitch faced Dani and crossed his arms.

"We've done everything you've asked of us and more. Now, it's time you do something for us. Let me and Eddie crew for you when the time comes."

"Absolutely not."

"Name one person here who's better than us."

"That's not the point."

Dani arched her brow. A slightly smaller but scarier version of Kathy. "Do you even want the Cooperative to succeed?"

Mitch held up his hands. "Where'd that come from?"

They'd put off their departure a couple of months to see this through, hadn't they? Originally, he told the kids it was just for the winter. As soon as the snow melted, they'd take the Windfall and- "Because it seems like you'd rather fail than take us along."

"At least you two would be safe."

"But without you, where would we be?" Eddie piped in. He slowly got to his feet. "You're our dad. You're all we have."

His ears turned bright red, but he held Mitch's gaze.

Dani stepped toward him. "We're a family. Our place is with you."

"You don't know what you're saying."

Dani glanced at Eddie and nodded. "We do. We want to help."

"You don't owe these people anything."

"What do you mean? We have a chance to start over. A place to call home. Do you really want to go back to salvaging? What's going to happen when we run out of boats to loot? When we run out of luck?"

Mitch shrugged. "We'll figure it out like we always have. We're a team."

The corner of Dani's mouth lifted. He saw his mistake too late. She went in for the kill.

"That's right. And that's why you're going to let us crew for you."

Outmaneuvered by his own daughter. He didn't know if he should be proud or ashamed.