As the sun peered up over the hills, a titanic, climactic, ecstatic cheer went up from the multitide. For at this moment it seemed only appropriate mat the sun itself should end the parade by passing in review and thereby displaying its own undying loyalty to the sacred cause of the Swastika.
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It was with a sense of deep satisfaction and keen anticipation that Feric called his High Commanders together for a private strategy session in his quarters one month after the fall of Kolchak, for the fanatic determination and heroic self-sacrifice of the Helder people had not slackened for an instant during what every true human recognized as the temporary peace.
There was not the slightest doubt that Remler, Waning, and Bogel were fully entitled to the sense of pride that they radiated as they sat sipping beer in Feric's chambers waiting to give their situation reports. As for the loyal Best, he had made himself indispensable in a thousand small ways.
"Well, Remler," Peric said, laying aside his mug of beer, and getting down to business, "suppose we start with you. What is the situation in the Classification Camps of the new territories?"
"The inmates will all be completely processed within the next two weeks, my Commander," Remler said crisply.
"After that we can close down the Camps and concentrate our resources on more positive eugenic projects."
"I hope you aren't wasting sound genetic material in your haste to speed the processing, Remler," Feric said.
"Every true human gleaned from the dung heaps of the former mongrel states is a potential soldier of Heldon."
Remler's thin features showed a certain hurt, almost indignation. "My Commander," he said rather primly, "it's my honor to report that we've sifted nearly a hundred thousand true humans from the genetic rubbish heaps! In fact, we've actually unearthed a few dozen SS candidates, as unlikely as that may seem!"
"Well done!" Feric exclaimed, impressed by the figures and wanting to make amends for his earlier skepticism.
"You've certainly worked wonders with this processing, Remler."
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"My Commander, the processing is a minor detail compared to what SS genetic scientists have recently accomplished. We've drawn up a complete set of genetic criteria for the SS supermen of the future. These marvelous specimens will be a full seven feet tall, with fair skin, golden hair, and the physiques of gods, and an average intelligence surpassing that of present-day geniuses. By regulating the breeding of the present generation of SS
with the utmost rigor, such a master race may be produced in as few as three generations."
At this, the jaws of the High Commanders all but fell open. "Fantastic!" Feric exclaimed. "Why once we have a sufficient stock of such genetic purebreds, we'll be able to upgrade the entire Helder people to their godlike level in a single generation simply by making the SS the sole sires of the next crop of Helder offspring."
Remler could hardly contain himself. "Exactly, my Commander!" he cried. "But our more visionary scientists believe they are well on the way to developing something even better: the technique of cloning. A tissue sample from SS of the highest pedigree is taken. In nutrient vats, a new SS man is grown from this somatic tissue, genetically identical to the donor. Thus, the vagaries of sexual reproduction are entirely bypassed. Further, one donor can produce hundreds, even thousands, of genetically identical clones. Thus the master race may be achieved within a single generation! The research, however, is presently in an early stage."
Throughout this exchange, Waffing had been fidgeting in his chair, drinking deeply of his beer, obviously anxious to match Remler's tale of achievement with one of his own.
"I can see that you're bursting with more than beer, Waffing," Feric said with a grin. "Give us your report before you explode."
"The army hasn't exactly been sitting on its hands while the SS worked wonders," Waffing said. "We're getting production out of the workers that even I find hard to believe, and our scientists are rediscovering the martial arts of the ancients by leaps and bounds. Our latest tanks are equipped with devices capable of throwing great tongues of flame against the enemy as well as the usual cannon and machine guns. Soon our new jet fighter-bombers will be operational; these dreadnaughts will be capable of speeds greater than that of sound! As for 190
production, we've now got over a thousand tanks and as many aerial dreadnaughts, modern weapons enough for a million-man army, as well as mountains of ammunition.
Once we get our hands on the oil fields of southwestern Zind, our logistical problems will be solved for all time."
