Parmerob grew even more indignant. "I formulated the name and the Party platform myself," he declared. "We stand for the purity of the true human genotype, the rigorous enforcement of the genetic purity laws, the complete annihilation of the anti-human Dominators, the exclusion of all mutants for all time from the sacred soil of 80
Heldon, and the extension of Helder dominion over new areas and the purification of their gene pools wherever possible. This is the formula for a renaissance of true humanity—thus the name Human Renaissance Party."
Feric rose slowly and placed his right hand casually on the handle of the Great Truncheon of Held; all eyes were instantly upon him. Would they now actually witness the wielding of the Steel Commander? There was a moment of silence in which only the whispered roar of the bonfire in the great stone fireplace could be heard.
Feric's voice broke this stillness: "Is there any nuance of what you have said not implicit in the symbol of the swastika?"
Abruptly, Parmerob's face creased in a smile. "You are right of course," he said. "Your name for the Party is infinitely superior to mine. Sons of the Swastika we are indeed."
Feric reseated himself without hefting the Great Truncheon, though he kept his hand upon it. "Very well,"
he said, "that's decided. I've designed a Party flag, armband, and various emblems around the swastika motif.
I've also designed a uniform for the Knights of the Swastika, our storm-troop arm. The men you see here are the nucleus of that force; presently the Knights of the Swastika number two score, but I have plans for a troop of at least five thousand."
"The generals of the Star Command would not look with favor or indifference on such a private army," Dugel pointed out.
Feric smiled. "I don't doubt for a moment the fanatic patriotism of the professional officer corps," he said. "We share a common cause with the army, and ways shall be found to convince the Star Command of that fact. No doubt your own experience and expertise in these areas will prove invaluable in this regard."
Dugel's concern seemed somewhat eased, though a certain hint of skepticism still lingered on his countenance. As for the others, Haulman had not revealed himself at all while the two Party orators, Bluth and Decker, radiated a certain aura of hostility; Parmerob and Marker seemed keen and enthusiastic, Bogel was of course his original champion, and Stopa was dedicated to his person with a childlike fervor. As things stood now, he could easily dispose of any hostile elements within the Party if he so 81
chose; it would be better, however, to win the unquestioned loyalty of all at the outset.
"It but remains to organize our first mass demonstration," Feric continued slowly.
But at this point, Heermark Bluth interrupted loudly and somewhat belligerently. "What about the question of leadership?" he demanded. "We haven't voted on that.
Bogel is at present our Secretary-General and titular head; you, Trueman Jaggar, have no title at all."
"I'm perfectly willing to resign the Secretary-Generalship in favor of Feric," Bogel suggested. "I would content myself with the title of Executive Chairman under his leadership."
"We haven't elected Jaggar our leader as yet," Bluth insisted. "I demand a vote."
Feric pondered the situation. Bogel, Parmerob, and Marker would undoubtedly vote in his favor; Bluth and Decker would probably vote against him; the positions of Haulman and Dugel were unknown, though in a pinch he could probably rely on the retired brigadier. Moreover, he could rightfully claim a voice for himself, and, for that matter, for Stopa. He could not lose a vote.
Nevertheless, he would lose a certain measure of absolute authority if he allowed the Party officials to vote him the leadership, and to permit any such vote to be less than unanimous would be disastrous. He must lead by unassail-able right, not by leave of some council of notables.
"You will retain the title of Secretary-General, Bogel,"
he said. "It suits your style better than mine. For my part, I am content to be known simply as Commander."
The challenge was clear: Feric was claiming the title of Commander of the Sons of the Swastika and all that it implied by right, not by vote. Bluth grew greatly agitated, and Decker also seemed almost ready to foam at the mouth. Bogel, Marker, Parmerob, and Stopa obviously understood and agreed, while Haulman still did not reveal himself, and Sigmark Dugel seemed to approve of the martial ring of the new title of absolute leadership.
Decker finally asked the question that Feric had hoped would be put: "By what right do you claim the leadership of the Party without benefit of a vote?"
Once again Peric rose deliberately to his feet, his right hand still resting lightly upon the Great Truncheon of Held. A gust of^wind blew into the room from the open doors behind Feric, setting the torches around the ceiling 82
