The Adventurer, Page 2

cross the line, Mom. Not this time.It was in school. They said our name was really Krasinsky. God-damnhim!" the boy shrieked. "They said his grandfather was named Krasinskyand he moved over the line and changed his name to Grayson! God-damnhim! Doing that to us!"

  "Now, darling," his mother said, caressing him. "Now, darling." Histrembling began to ebb. She said: "Let's get out the spools, Tommy. Youmustn't fall behind in school. You owe that to me, don't you, darling?"

  "Yes, Mom," he said. He threw his spindly arms around her and kissedher. "Get out the spools. We'll show him. I mean them."

  * * * * *

  President Folsom XXIV lay on his death-bed, feeling no pain, mostlybecause his personal physician had pumped him full of morphine. Dr.Barnes sat by the bed holding the presidential wrist and waiting,occasionally nodding off and recovering with a belligerent stare aroundthe room. The four wire-service men didn't care whether he fell asleepor not; they were worriedly discussing the nature and habits of thePresident's first-born, who would shortly succeed to the highest officein the Republic.

  "A firebrand, they tell me," the A.P. man said unhappily.

  "Firebrands I don't mind," the U.P. man said. "He can send out all theinflammatory notes he wants just as long as he isn't a fiend forexercise. I'm not as young as I once was. You boys wouldn't remember the_old_ President, Folsom XXII. He used to do point-to-point hiking. Heworshipped old F.D.R."

  The I.N.S. man said, lowering his voice: "Then he was worshipping thewrong Roosevelt. Teddy was the athlete."

  Dr. Barnes started, dropped the presidential wrist and held a mirror tothe mouth for a moment. "Gentlemen," he said, "the President is dead."

  "O.K.," the A.P. man said. "Let's go, boys. I'll send in the flash.U.P., you go cover the College of Electors. I.N.S., get onto thePresident Elect. Trib, collect some interviews and background--"

  The door opened abruptly; a colonel of infantry was standing there,breathing hard, with an automatic rifle at port. "Is he dead?" he asked.

  "Yes," the A.P. man said. "If you'll let me past--"

  "Nobody leaves the room," the colonel said grimly. "I represent GeneralSlocum, Acting President of the Republic. The College of Electors isacting now to ratify--"

  A burst of gunfire caught the colonel in the back; he spun and fell,with a single hoarse cry. More gunfire sounded through the White House.A Secret Serviceman ducked his head through the door: "President's dead?You boys stay put. We'll have this thing cleaned up in an hour--" Hevanished.

  The doctor sputtered his alarm and the newsmen ignored him withprofessional poise. The A.P. man asked: "Now who's Slocum? DefenseCommand?"

  I.N.S. said: "I remember him. Three stars. He headed up the TacticalAirborne Force out in Kansas four-five years ago. I think he was retiredsince then."

  A phosphorus grenade crashed through the window and exploded with aglobe of yellow flame the size of a basketball; dense clouds ofphosphorus pentoxide gushed from it and the sprinkler system switchedon, drenching the room.

  "Come on!" hacked the A.P. man, and they scrambled from the room andslammed the door. The doctor's coat was burning in two or three places,and he was retching feebly on the corridor floor. They tore his coat offand flung it back into the room.

  The U.P. man, swearing horribly, dug a sizzling bit of phosphorus fromthe back of his hand with a pen-knife and collapsed, sweating, when itwas out. The I.N.S. man passed him a flask and he gurgled down half apint of liquor. "Who flang that brick?" he asked faintly.

  "Nobody," the A.P. man said gloomily. "That's the hell of it. None ofthis is happening. Just the way Taft the Pretender never happened in'03. Just the way the Pentagon Mutiny never happened in '67."

  "'68," the U.P. man said faintly. "It didn't happen in '68, not '67."

  The A.P. man smashed a fist into the palm of his hand and swore."_God_-damn," he said. "Some day I'd like to--" He broke off and wasbitterly silent.

  The U.P. man must have been a little dislocated with shock and quitedrunk to talk the way he did. "Me too," he said. "Like to tell thestory. Maybe it was '67 not '68. I'm not sure now. Can't write it downso the details get lost and then after a while it didn't happen at all.Revolution'd be good deal. But it takes people t' make revolution._People._ With eyes 'n ears. 'N memories. We make things not-happen an'we make people not-see an' not-hear...." He slumped back against thecorridor wall, nursing his burned hand. The others were watching him,very scared.

  Then the A.P. man caught sight of the Secretary of Defense striding downthe corridor, flanked by Secret Servicemen. "Mr. Steiner!" he called."What's the picture?"

  Steiner stopped, breathing heavily, and said: "Slocum's barricaded inthe Oval Study. They don't want to smash in. He's about the only oneleft. There were only fifty or so. The Acting President's taken chargeat the Study. You want to come along?"

  They did, and even hauled the U.P. man after them.

  The Acting President, who would be President Folsom XXV as soon as theElectoral College got around to it, had his father's face--the petulantlip, the soft jowl--on a hard young body. He also had an auto-rifleready to fire from the hip. Most of the Cabinet was present. When theSecretary of Defense arrived, he turned on him. "Steiner," he saidnastily, "can you explain why there should be a rebellion against theRepublic in your department?"

  "Mr. President," Steiner said, "Slocum was retired on my recommendationtwo years ago. It seems to me that my responsibility ended there andSecurity should have taken over."

  The President Elect's finger left the trigger of the auto-rifle and hislip drew in a little. "Quite so," he said curtly, and, turned to thedoor. "Slocum!" he shouted. "Come out of there. We can use gas if wewant."

  * * * * *

  The door opened unexpectedly and a tired-looking man with three stars oneach shoulder stood there, bare-handed. "All right," he said drearily."I was fool enough to think something could be done about the regime.But you fat-faced imbeciles are going to go on and on and--"

  The stutter of the auto-rifle cut him off. The President Elect'sknuckles were white as he clutched the piece's forearm and grip; thetorrent of slugs continued to hack and plow the general's body until themagazine was empty. "Burn that," he said curtly, turning his back on it."Dr. Barnes, come here. I want to know about my father's passing."

  The doctor, hoarse and red-eyed from the whiff of phosphorus smoke,spoke with him. The U.P. man had sagged drunkenly into a chair, but theother newsmen noted that Dr. Barnes glanced at them as he spoke, in aconfidential murmur.

  "Thank you, Doctor," the President Elect said at last, decisively. Hegestured to a Secret Serviceman. "Take those traitors away." They went,numbly.

  The Secretary of State cleared his throat. "Mr. President," he said, "Itake this opportunity to submit the resignations of myself and fellowCabinet members according to custom."

  "That's all right," the President Elect said. "You may as well stay on.I intend to run things myself anyway." He hefted the auto-rifle. "You,"he said to the Secretary of Public Opinion. "You have some work to do.Have the memory of my father's--artistic--preoccupations obliterated assoon as possible. I wish the Republic to assume a war-like posture--yes;what is it?"

  A trembling messenger said: "Mr. President, I have the honor to informyou that the College of Electors has elected you President of theRepublic--unanimously."

  * * * * *

  Cadet Fourth-Classman Thomas Grayson lay on his bunk and sobbed in anagony of loneliness. The letter from his mother was crumpled in hishand: "--prouder than words can tell of your appointment to the Academy.Darling, I hardly knew my grandfather but I know that you will serve asbrilliantly as he did, to the eternal credit of the Republic. You mustbe brave and strong for my sake--"

  He would have given everything he had or ever could hope to have to beback with her, and away from the bullying, sneering fellow-cadets of theCorps. He kissed the letter--and then hastily shoved it under hismattress as h
e heard footsteps.

  He popped to a brace, but it was only his roommate Ferguson. Fergusonwas from Earth, and rejoiced in the lighter Lunar gravity which waspunishment to Grayson's Io-bred muscles.

  "Rest, mister," Ferguson grinned.

  "Thought it was night inspection."

  "Any minute now. They're down the hall. Lemme tighten your bunk