Norman Spinrad - The Iron Dream

As the column sped through the filthy streets past the unkempt gardens and grimy dwellings, Feric vowed to save as many of these poor wretches as he could from their Dom masters and Yetum them to their true Helder inheritance. As for those too deeply enmeshed to be extracted from the dominance patterns short of death, to slay them would be a mercy, when one considered their present state.

As the last rays of the sun fired the western hills with purple and orange and the lights of the city came on, Feric’s command car led the motorized column up the broad avenue which entered Brammer Park from the south. Here, on the flat crest of a gently rolling hill in the southern end of the park, Feric would address the first mass rally of the Sons of the Swastika.

Up the avenue, this hillside was clearly visible now, and Feric could see the blazing twenty-foot swastika of faggots that crowned the crest like a proud beacon. Cupping this breathtaking Party ensign was a great semicircle of ten-foot torches; as the command car approached within a few blocks of the Park, Ferie could make out the low speaker’s platform flanked by giant scarlet swastika flags immediately in front of the swastika bonfire, the massed Party officials in black leather to the right of the platform, and the hired military band in Knight’s uniforms to the left. All seemed in readiness.

Looking behind, Feric saw the twin columns of motorcycles, scarlet swastika flags and cloaks snapping in the wind like a great red forest fire; the earth-shattering roar of the engines set the very molecules of the air to dancing.

Far down the avenue behind this storm troop, he could make out a vast commotion of roadsteamers, gas cars, steamtrucks and bicycles blocking the roadbed from walkway to walkway, and behind these vehicles a multitude of Helder scurrying along in the wake of the spectacle on foot. Truly the stage was set for a turning point in history!

As Feric’s car approached the base of the hill, the Knights of the Swastika executed a smart maneuver: the two columns of motorcycles sped up while Feric’s driver slackened his pace somewhat, so that the command car was now flanked on either side by a precise line of motorized storm troops. When the procession reached the very base of the hill where the giant fiery swastika and the line of torches stood out in bold relief against the blackening sky, another drill was performed. The two flag-bearing motorcyclists at the head of the column fell backward and inward, so that they became a color guard directly in front of the gleaming black command car. At once the flanking columns of motorcycles dashed ahead of the car and color guard, straight off the avenue, and up the slope of the hHl toward the fire at its peak. As they roared up the grassy slope, (hey spaced themselves out evenly. When the two lead motorcycles had reached a spot about ten yards from the speaker’s platform, they came to a smart halt; the others instantly stopped in their tracks so that the two columns of idling motorcycles formed an aisle of honor from the base of the hill to its summit.

At the bottom of this corridor, the color guard and command car waited at idle for the great press of people boiling up the avenue to arrive on the scene. From this vantage, Ferio could clearly make out Bluth, Haulman, Decker, and Parmerob standing together to the right of the speaker’s platform in a tight press, resplendent in their black-and-chrome Party uniforms. Stopa stood out clearly in his brown Knight’s uniform, separated from this group by several yards of open space.

It was not very long before the entire avenue behind Feric’s car was a scene of good-natured pandemonium, as first the motor vehicles arrived and disgorged their passengers, then the bicyclists pulled up and dismounted, and finally a great crowd of pedestrians, ten thousand at the very least, pressed forward, filling every inch of standing space. All were shouting and speculating to each other, raising a great hubbub, but no one dared set foot on the empty hillside where the aisle of motorized Knights stood gunning their engines now and then, a metallic sound that cut through the human tumult like a knife.

When he deemed that the psychologically appropriate moment had arrived, Feric tapped Bogel on the shoulder.

Bogel, in turn, tapped the Knight beside the driver of the black car, who raised his arm in the Party salute.

Instantly, the band on the hilltop struck up a heady martial tune, and the two color-guard motorcycles started up the hill through the aisle of honor, bearing the two swastika flags before the command car. As Feric’s car followed the color guard up the slope toward the crescent of fire, each pair of Knights gave the Party salute as the car passed, then fell in behind it, so that by the time the color guard had reached the summit, wheeled, and halted facing the command car, the original twin column of mounted Knights had reformed behind it, with two more Party flags bringing wp the rear. As Feric’s car halted before the color guard, the two columns divided and formed a semicircle of motorcycles twenty yards down the slope from the crescent of torches, a wall of safety between the speaker’s area and the great mob of citizens that had now begun to roil up the hill.

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 strategically throughout the great crowd did likewise, initiating a certain number of spontaneous salutes and salutations 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.