With a minimum of ceremony, Bogel and Dugel got down from the car and joined the other Party functionaries by the speaker's platform. For his part, Feric waited in the car until the press of the mob had reached the picket circle of motorcycles.
He then slowly stepped out of the car. The moment his foot touched the soil, every Party functionary and Knight shot out his right arm in the Party salute, and the hearty massed roar of "Hail Jaggar!" filled the air.
The salutes were held until Feric had reached the speaker's platform, and the car had been driven behind the great swastika bonfire, where it would not spoil the spectacle. Instead of mounting the platform, Feric turned to face the great multitude of Helder who choked the hillside; an audience of sufficient size to suit his purpose.
He paused for dramatic effect, as if inspecting the people massed below him and finding them fit. Then he himself gave the Party salute.
Instantly, there was another massed shout of "Hail Jaggar!" a click of heels, and then the arms of Knights and Party functionaries alike were returned smartly to their sides.
Feric stood by the speaker's platform with his right hand resting lightly on the hilt of the Steel Commander, gazing resolutely at the great throng while Bogel mounted the platform and made a short introductory speech.
"I do not speak to you tonight as leader of the Human Renaissance Party, for that party is no more. Like the legendary phoenix, there now arises from its ashes something grander and far more glorious, the true and ultimate expression of the racial will of Heldon, a new party, a new crusade, a new cause—the Sons of the Swastika! And to lead this mighty new force, a new leader, a new man, a hero in the finest sense of the word, I give you the Commander of the Sons of the Swastika, Feric Jaggar!"
Bogel finished his introduction with a click of his heels and a Party salute. At once, every Knight and Party official responded in kind, and shouted "Hail Jaggar!"
Moreover, the scores of Party members scattered strategi-cally throughout the great crowd did likewise, initiating a certain number of spontaneous salutes and salutations 91
among the good folk of the audience, quite a lively response, in fact.
While the cheering went on, Bogel left the speaker's platform; after a proper interval, Feric gave a hand signal, and a sudden blare of trumpets cut through the hubbub. With this, Feric himself mounted the platform; a swastika of flame twenty feet high stood out in glory against the night sky behind him, bathing him in heroic red firelight, flashing highlights off the brightwork of his gleaming black leather uniform, setting his powerful eyes ablaze.
He could feel the uncanny silence in the air over the great throng as a physical force; thousands of people standing shoulder to shoulder as far as his eyes could see, every fiber of each soul focused on his being and his being alone, waiting for him to speak. He felt the irresistible power of destiny flow through his body, merging seamless-ly with the energy of his own mighty will. He was the fleshly incarnation of the race's greatest cause, the embodiment of the racial will, and he sensed that the multitude before him knew it. He was the will of Heldon; he could not and would not fail.
Spontaneously, the words sprang to his lips. "It has been more than a thousand years since the Time of Fire and still mutants prowl the earth contaminating true humanity with their foul and twisted genes. Who can deny that Heldon is a bastion of racial purity in a worldwide sea of pestilence? To the south is Borgravia, a state rich in genetic potential and therefore a rightful part of the Helder domain, but ruled at present by vile mutants and mongrels who seek by racial mingling to eradicate all traces of the pure human genotype from their territory.
To the west are Vetonia and Husak, dunghills of genetic filth not one whit less foul, where the true human genotype is persecuted and reviled. Beyond these political obscenities are the genetic cesspits of Cressia, Arbona, Karmath and their ilk, where the gene pools are fit only for total extermination, and beyond that, naught but radioactive wastelands. All of these mutants and mongrels are our implacable racial foes—and that is not the worst of it!"
Feric paused for dramatic effect, and in that moment was nearly overwhelmed by the great wave of psychic power and rapt approval that washed over him from the ten thousand pairs of eyes that blazed up at him like 92
gleaming coals in the darkness. He could all but taste their bottomless hunger for more of the same: the Helder people had a racial longing for the plain unvarnished truth which had been too long unappeased. They were totally with him.
"No, that is not nearly the worst of it!" Feric roared.
