Feric somewhat dubiously watched the Finance Minister delivering a tedious economic report on the official noon news broadcast. The point of all this still eluded him; the public television broadcasts were controlled entirely by the present decadent regime. There was no doubt that television broadcasts were a propaganda tool of immense potential, reaching as they did public television receivers in every public square in Heldon. But since the government had absolute control of this means of commu-nication, it seemed impossible that the Party would ever be able to use this latest wonder of Helder science for its own patriotic ends.
Suddenly Feric's eyes widened in amazement as he perceived his own image, framed against a burning swastika, on the television screen. Over the speaker came not Feric's voice, but that of the official commentator: "... this third mass rally of the Sons of the Swastika in as many weeks was to end in the tragedy of violence...."
The screen now showed the Emerald Promenade choked from walkway to walkway with citizens, all wearing swastika armbands, many waving torches aloft. Scores of red swastika flags were visible, borne triumphantly aloft over the mass procession.
"The stupidity of the Libertarian regime astounds me, Bogel!" Peric exclaimed. "It appears that we have only to hand these cretins shovels and they will gladly dig their own mass grave."
"From their point of view, they're educating the people against a menace to the state," Bogel said wryly. "Certainly, they're doing their best to make all Heldon aware of our existence!"
Now the screen showed a tight formation of Knights leading the people through the streets on their colorful motorcycles, clad in their trim brown uniforms and flaming scarlet capes.
97
" ... proceeded peacefully until the demonstrators reached Graytown, where they were met by flying squads of Universalist hooligans...."
The sordid environs of Graytown were visible now as the Sons of the Swastika surged through the filthy streets.
Suddenly, a squad of men, all poorly dressed and thoroughly begrimed and armed with an assortment of clubs and knives, erupted from a side street and tore into the press of unarmed citizens. Instantly, a dozen or more Knights whirled their machines around and set after these cowardly wretches with their long steel truncheons. Those few Universalist thugs who were not felled in a minute or so of smart action fled howling from the scene with gashed heads bleeding.
Although the government commentator went prattling on about Swastika gangs and Universalist hooligans settling their differences in the streets to the detriment of the body politic, Feric knew full well that the good Helder watching the spectacle in public squares throughout all Heldon would pay more heed to their own eyes than to the ravings of some government jackanapes, and what they saw was the Swastika triumphant. So far had putrescence set in in the brainpans of the racial traitors that they were broadcasting Swastika propaganda without even knowing it, since the sight of massed men behind the ensign of the Swastika, and these gloriously triumphant, spoke to the heart, while the best that the stale condemnation of the prim announcer could arouse was a certain biliousness in the viewers' stomachs.
"There must be some way to dupe these morons into granting the Party some access to the public airwaves,"
Feric said. "If we could broadcast our own propaganda to every square in Heldon, we could sweep the degenerates out of power and into the sewage heap where they belong in a month or two."
"As it is, we still have ways of at least getting our spectacles shown," Bogel pointed out.
Feric grinned and nodded. "A few dead Universalists in the gutter after a rally, and television coverage is virtually assuredl"
As Bogel turned off the television receiver, Ludolf Best, a slim, intense, blond young specimen of true humanity,"
quite dashing in his trim black Party leathers and scarlet cloak, entered the office, walked smartly up to Feric, 98
clicked his heels, gave the salutation, saluted, and stood at rigid attention.
"What is it. Best?"
"My Commander, Brigadier Lar Waffing is here and requests an immediate audience."
"What do you know of this Waffing, Bogel?" Feric inquired.
"An important figure," Bogel replied. "A commander of aerial dreadnaughts during the war, quite a young hero.
Although his family has considerable wealth, he successfully pursued a military career after the war, before finally resigning his brigadier's position as a protest against the weak-kneed policies of the present regime."
This Waffing seemed a true patriot and a man of considerable spirit, Feric thought, and more to the point, he no doubt retains powerful influence in military as well as economic circles.
"Show him in. Best," Feric ordered, rising, crossing the room, and seating himself behind his desk for the sake of dignity.
