"Yes, and it's also occurred to Austin. The obvious answer is that sheer size hasn't counted since the invention of firearms. My guess is when they see our returning health and prosperity, they'll be only too glad to join us."
Hackett gazed down toward the field. The girls, apple-cheeked and hair in disarray, had teamed against the muscular boys in a softball game. It had been a long time since he had seen such spirit and laughter. Heavily he asked:
"What d'ya want from me?"
Justin chose his words carefully:
"When Austin admits the Space failure, there will be a great wave of despondency. Then, when all hope seems lost, I am to go before Congress with this—new hope. Now I'd be damned naive to think Austin's strong enough to push it through by himself. But Congress would do it for you, and McPhail in Chicago and Harvey out on the Coast, and the rest of your crowd."
Mentally he ticked them off: Blake in Atlanta and Lipsky up in Alaska and Cabot in Boston ... the all-powerful clique of Strip City Bosses who actually ran the country.
"Of course," he pressed, "you'd have to reelect Austin as the only man who has the nerve to see the thing through."
Hackett grunted.
"That's just the trouble," he said.