oryou'll be in trouble--" Tightening the bunk he pulled out the letter andsaid, calvishly: "Ah-_hah_! Who is she?--" and opened it.
When the cadet officers reached the room they found Ferguson on thefloor being strangled black in the face by spidery little Grayson. Ittook all three of them to pull him off. Ferguson went to the infirmaryand Grayson went to the Commandant's office.
The Commandant glared at the cadet from under the most spectacular pairof eyebrows in the Service. "Cadet Grayson," he said, "explain whatoccurred."
"Sir, Cadet Ferguson began to read a letter from my mother without mypermission."
"That is not accepted by the Corps as grounds for mayhem. Do you haveanything further to say?"
"Sir, I lost my temper. All I thought of was that it was an act ofdisrespect to my mother and somehow to the Corps and the Republictoo--that Cadet Ferguson was dishonoring the Corps."
_Bushwah_, the Commandant thought. _A snow job and a crude one._ Hestudied the youngster. He had never seen such a brace from an Io-bredfourth-classman. It must be torture to muscles not yet toughened up toeven Lunar gravity. Five minutes more and the boy would have to giveway, and serve him right for showing off.
He studied Grayson's folder. It was too early to tell about academicwork, but the fourth-classman was a bear--or a fool--for extra duty. Hehad gone out for half a dozen teams and applied for membership in theexacting Math Club _and_ Writing Club. The Commandant glanced up;Grayson was still in his extreme brace. The Commandant suddenly had thequeer idea that Grayson could hold it until it killed him.
"One hundred hours of pack-drill," he barked, "to be completed beforequarter-term. Cadet Grayson, if you succeed in walking off your tours,remember that there is a tradition of fellowship in the Corps which itsmembers are expected to observe. Dismiss."
After Grayson's steel-sharp salute and exit the Commandant dug deeperinto the folder. Apparently there was something wrong with the boy'sleft arm, but it had been passed by the examining team that visited Io.Most unusual. Most irregular. But nothing could be done about it now.
* * * * *
The President, softer now in body than on his election day, andinfinitely more cautious, snapped: "It's all very well to create anincident. But where's the money to come from? Who wants the rest of Ioanyway? And what will happen if there's war?"
Treasury said: "The hoarders will supply the money, Mr. President. Asystem of percentage-bounties for persons who report currency-hoarders,and then enforced purchase of a bond issue."
Raw materials said: "We need that iron, Mr. President. We need itdesperately."
State said: "All our evaluations indicate that the Soviet Premier wouldconsider nothing less than armed invasion of his continental borders asoccasion for all-out war. The consumer-goods party in the Soviet hasgained immensely during the past five years and of course theirarmaments have suffered. Your shrewd directive to put the Republic in awar-like posture has borne fruit, Mr. President...."
President Folsom XXV studied them narrowly. To him the need for a borderincident culminating in a forced purchase of Soviet Io did not seem aspressing as they thought, but they were, after all, specialists. Andthere was no conceivable way they could benefit from it personally. Theonly alternative was that they were offering their professional adviceand that it would be best to heed it. Still, there was a vague, naggingsomething....
Nonsense, he decided. The spy dossiers on his Cabinet showed nothing butthe usual. One had been blackmailed by an actress after an affair andrailroaded her off the Earth. Another had a habit of taking bribes toadvance favorite sons in civil and military service. And so on. TheRepublic could not suffer at their hands; the Republic and the dynastywere impregnable. You simply spied on everybody--including thespies--and ordered summary executions often enough to show that youmeant it, and kept the public ignorant: deaf-dumb-blind ignorant. Thespy system was simplicity itself; you had only to let things get astangled and confused as possible until _nobody_ knew who was who. Theexecutions were literally no problem, for guilt or innocence made nomatter. And mind-control when there were four newspapers, six magazinesand three radio and television stations was a job for a handful ofclerks.
No; the Cabinet couldn't be getting away with anything. The system wasunbeatable.
President Folsom XXV said: "Very well. Have it done."
* * * * *
Mrs. Grayson, widow, of New Pittsburgh, Io, disappeared one night. Itwas in all the papers and on all the broadcasts. Some time later she wasfound dragging herself back across the line between Nizhni-Magnitogorskand New Pittsburgh in sorry shape. She had a terrible tale to tellabout what she had suffered at the hands and so forth of theNizhni-Magnitogorskniks. A diplomatic note from the Republic to theSoviet was answered by another note which was answered by the dispatchof the Republic's First Fleet to Io which was answered by the dispatchof the Soviet's First and Fifth Fleets to Io.
The Republic's First Fleet blew up the customary deserted target hulk,fulminated over a sneak sabotage attack and moved in its destroyers.Battle was joined.
Ensign Thomas Grayson took over the command of his destroyer when itscaptain was killed on his bridge. An electrified crew saw the strange,brooding youngster perform prodigies of skill and courage, and respondedto them. In one week of desultory action the battered destroyer hadaccounted for seven Soviet destroyers and a cruiser.
As soon as this penetrated to the flagship, Grayson was decorated andgiven a flotilla. His weird magnetism extended to every officer and manaboard the seven craft. They struck like phantoms, cutting out cruisersand battlewagons in wild unorthodox actions that couldn't have succeededbut did--every time. Grayson was badly wounded twice, but his drivingnervous energy carried him through.
He was decorated again and given the battlewagon of an ailingfour-striper.
Without orders he touched down on the Soviet side of Io, led out alanding party of marines and bluejackets, cut through two regiments ofSoviet infantry, and returned to his battlewagon with prisoners: the topcivil and military administrators of Soviet Io.
They discussed him nervously aboard the flagship.
"He has a mystical quality, Admiral. His men would follow him into anatomic furnace. And--and I almost believe he could bring them throughsafely if he wanted to." The laugh was nervous.
"He doesn't look like much. But when he turns on the charm--watch out!"
"He's--he's a _winner_. Now I wonder what I mean by that?"
"I know what you mean. They turn up every so often. People who can't bestopped. People who have everything. Napoleons. Alexanders. Stalins. Upfrom nowhere."
"Suleiman. Hitler. Folsom I. Jenghis Khan."
"Well, let's get it over with."
They tugged at their gold-braided jackets and signalled the honor guard.
Grayson was piped aboard, received another decoration and anotherspeech. This time he made a speech in return.
* * * * *
President Folsom XXV, not knowing what else to do, had summoned hiscabinet. "Well?" he rasped at the Secretary of Defense.
Steiner said with a faint shrug: "Mr. President, there is nothing to bedone. He has the fleet, he has the broadcasting facilities, he has thepeople."
"People!" snarled the President. His finger stabbed at a button and thewall panels snapped down to show the Secret Servicemen standing in theirniches. The finger shot tremulously out at Steiner. "Kill that traitor!"he raved.
The chief of the detail said uneasily: "Mr. President, we were listeningto Grayson before we came on duty. He says he's de facto Presidentnow--"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
The chief went doggedly on: "--and we liked what he had to say about theRepublic and he said citizens of the Republic shouldn't take orders fromyou and he'd relieve you--"
The President fell back.
Grayson walked in, wearing his plain ensign's uniform and smilingfaintly. Admirals and four-stripers
flanked him.
The chief of the detail said: "Mr. Grayson! Are you taking over?"
The man in the ensign's uniform said gravely: "Yes. And just call me'Grayson,' please. The titles come later. You can go now."
The chief gave a pleased grin and collected his detail. The ratherslight, youngish man who had something wrong with one arm was incharge--_complete_ charge.
Grayson said: "Mr. Folsom, you are relieved of the presidency. Captain,take him out and--" He finished with a whimsical shrug. A portlyfour-striper took Folsom by one arm. Like a drugged man the deposedpresident let himself be led out.
Grayson looked around the table. "Who are you gentlemen?"
They felt his magnetism, like the hum when you pass a power station.
Steiner was