* * * * *
Mrs. Grayson, widow, of New Pittsburgh, Io, disappeared one night. It
was in all the papers and on all the broadcasts. Some time later she was
found dragging herself back across the line between Nizhni-Magnitogorsk
and New Pittsburgh in sorry shape. She had a terrible tale to tell
about what she had suffered at the hands and so forth of the
Nizhni-Magnitogorskniks. A diplomatic note from the Republic to the
Soviet was answered by another note which was answered by the dispatch
of the Republic's First Fleet to Io which was answered by the dispatch
of 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 its
captain was killed on his bridge. An electrified crew saw the strange,
brooding youngster perform prodigies of skill and courage, and responded
to them. In one week of desultory action the battered destroyer had
accounted for seven Soviet destroyers and a cruiser.
As soon as this penetrated to the flagship, Grayson was decorated and
given a flotilla. His weird magnetism extended to every officer and man
aboard the seven craft. They struck like phantoms, cutting out cruisers
and battlewagons in wild unorthodox actions that couldn't have succeeded
but did--every time. Grayson was badly wounded twice, but his driving
nervous energy carried him through.
He was decorated again and given the battlewagon of an ailing
four-striper.
Without orders he touched down on the Soviet side of Io, led out a
landing party of marines and bluejackets, cut through two regiments of
Soviet infantry, and returned to his battlewagon with prisoners: the top
civil 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 an
atomic furnace. And--and I almost believe he could bring them through
safely 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 be
stopped. People who have everything. Napoleons. Alexanders. Stalins. Up
from 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 another
speech. This time he made a speech in return.
* * * * *
President Folsom XXV, not knowing what else to do, had summoned his
cabinet. "Well?" he rasped at the Secretary of Defense.
Steiner said with a faint shrug: "Mr. President, there is nothing to be
done. He has the fleet, he has the broadcasting facilities, he has the
people."
"People!" snarled the President. His finger stabbed at a button and the
wall panels snapped down to show the Secret Servicemen standing in their
niches. The finger shot tremulously out at Steiner. "Kill that traitor!"
he raved.
The chief of the detail said uneasily: "Mr. President, we were listening
to Grayson before we came on duty. He says he's de facto President
now--"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
The chief went doggedly on: "--and we liked what he had to say about the
Republic and he said citizens of the Republic shouldn't take orders from
you and he'd relieve you--"
The President fell back.
Grayson walked in, wearing his plain ensign's uniform and smiling
faintly. Admirals and four-stripers flanked him.