"Yes, in an attempt to breed fertile men back into the race." Sally turned to the assembled clan. A heavy explosion, room-shaking in its violence, all but threw them to the floor. Half a dozen of the younger warriors scurried to the windows, guns at the ready. In the distance, from the outside, there was the chatter of a machine gun, then individual pistol shots. "The corral," Jean the scout said, her lips going back over her teeth. Vivian came sauntering back into the assembly hall, patting the stock of her new tommy gun appreciately. "Works like a charm," she said. "That dynamite we captured was fresh too. Blew 'em to smithereens. Only had to finish off half a dozen." Alan said, agonizingly, "Vivian! You didn't ... the prisoners?" She grinned at him. "Alan, you're as cute as a button, but you don't know anything about women's affairs. Now you be a honey and go back to taking care of the children."