"For to the east, lurking behind political jokes like Wolack and Malax, is the unimaginable vastness and unparalleled putrescence of the slave pits of Zind! Half the mutant population of the world under the control of a handful of Dominators! Vast resources and a gigantic population at the command of foul Doms whose grandest desire is to exterminate the last vestiges of true humanity from the face of the earth and rule a worldwide soulless slave rabble for all time! And that is not the worst of it!"
Once again Feric paused, and, as he did, the intake of breath among the multitude before him was actually audible. He was awakening their dormant instincts of racial will and righteous indignation. He was setting their spirits aflame by daring to utter the simple truth. He was forming a juggernaut of racial power.
"The worst of it is right here in Heldon!" he continued.
"Here we have a government of cowards and weaklings who lick the boots of the feckless rabble by hinting at the breeding of brainless slaveys and relaxing the rigor of the genetic purity laws. Thus do they hope to preserve their own worthless hides against the day of reckoning that must surely come. In Heldon, the last hope of the true human genotype, we have a government of imbeciles who flirt with the stinking Universalists while knowing full well that Universalism is the cynical •concoction of the Dominators of Zind. In Heldon, the fatherland of human purity, we are infested with an unknown number of secret Doms dedicated with inhuman fanaticism to our total destruction!"
This time when Feric paused there was not silence but rather a great commotion of angry voices. A forest of fists waved in the air, and there was great shouting of both indignation and approval. The deepest racial instincts of the crowd were now fully aroused from the lethargy into which they had been cozened. There was power in the air and a thirst for Dominator blood.
"What is needed now is a new fanatic determination to preserve the racial purity of Heldon! What is needed now is a government with the iron will to purge all Heldon of 93
the last Dom and the last contaminated gene with steel and fire! What is needed now is an external policy ruthlessly dedicated to the total and final conquest of the last inch of habitable soil on the face of the earth by the forces of true humanity. What is needed now is a new party of heroic force and fanatic zeal to fling the present rabble from power and onto the dung heap of history!
What is needed now is leadership willing and able to lead the Helder people to crushing and final victory over all the Doms and mutants and mongrels who oppose us! What Heldon now needs is the utter fanatic support of all true men for the Sons of the Swastika!"
An overwhelming shout of approval went up from the crowd. Ten thousand and more arms shot up again and again in repeated spontaneous saluting. Feric let this hearty demonstration go on for quite some time while he stood gazing out over the wildly cheering multitude, a figure of utter resolution haloed in the fiery orange glow of the giant swastika which dominated the sky behind him.
Then, with a dramatic flourish, he drew the Great Truncheon of Held, and held the lightning-etched silvery weapon before him in the Party salute. Murmurs and gasps went through the crowd as recognition of the legendary Steel Commander passed among them; in a minute or two, there was utter silence.
The gleaming headball of Feric's shaft caught the glow of the firelight and blazed like a minature sun as he raised the weapon high over his head, straining his voice to the utmost as he addressed the people in a truly heroic voice.
"I hold in my hand the Great Truncheon of Held, and thus do I claim sole rightful rule of all Heldon and what lies beyond not merely for myself, but in the name of the Swastika! I dedicate myself, the Sons of the Swastika, and this sacred weapon to the repurification of all Heldon with blood and iron, and to-the extension of the dominion of true humanity over the face of the entire earth! Never will we rest until the last mutant gene is swept from the face of the planet!"
Miraculously, as with one great voice, and with uncanny precision, the huge throng shot every right arm into the air and chanted: "Hail Jaggarl Hail Jaggar! HAIL JAGGAR!" The sound seemed fit to split the heavens asunder and cow the very gods.
Beaming, Fefic sheathed the Great Truncheon, and returned the salute. Incredibly, the sound of chanting was 94
