Norman Spinrad - The Iron Dream

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.

The man that Best ushered into the office cut an extravagant if not quite comic figure. Waffing was tall, with regular features bespeaking the highest genetic purity, and had a bluff, hearty, manly look about him, but he had put on considerable weight since his flying days. He was dressed in a gray military-style tunic trimmed with plenty of gold braid and wore a bright blue cloak; this style on an ordinary man of Waffing’s considerable girth would have been ludicrous, but Waffing himself projected a sufficient aura of will and manhood to carry it off.

The two men marched in step to Feric’s desk, and to his delight and surprise, Waffing joined Best in the Party salute, and greeted him with a quite enthusiastic “Hail Jaggar!”

Beaming congenially, Feric returned the salute, ordered Best to depart, and bade Waffing be seated on the front bench next to Bogel. Something abut Waning appealed to Feric’s instincts, entirely apart from the uses to which a man of such position might be put.

“I can see you’re a fellow I can talk plainly to, Jaggar,” Waffing said in a deep, bluff voice. “A man much like myself. I like what you’re doing. As I’ve said many times myself, the only way to treat enemies of genetic purity is to smash their skulls, and I’m glad to see that there’s finally a party in Heldon dedicated to doing just that. I like the things you say, Jaggar; I’ve been saying most of them myself for years, but I don’t have your way with words, and besides I had no intention of soiling myself with involvement in the pettiness of electoral processes.

But you’ve clearly made the Sons of the Swastika an expression of racial will rather than a society for generating hot air, and I’m therefore pleased to offer you my services.”

Feric was deeply touched by this profession of loyalty from a man of such caliber. Waf&ng’s blunt honesty was quite convincing, expeciaUy since there wasn’t an ounce of false humility in it. Only a fine specimen of true humanity secure in the knowledge of his own heroic nature could make such an immediate declaration of faith in the cause while seeming neither arrogant nor suspiciously submissive.

“I welcome you to Party membership. Brigadier Waffing,” Feric said. “I’m sure you’ll serve the cause well.”

“I’m just as sure of that as you are!” Waning exclaimed with a hearty laugh. “From what I’ve been able to find out about your organization—which is considerable, since I have ready access to all Star Command intelligence reports—you lack proper military leadership. You, of course, possess the instincts for supreme command, Trueman Jaggar, but then your level of military leadership sinks all the way to the abyss of this ruffian Stopa.”

“Stopa does his job well enough,” Feric replied cautiously. “The cracked heads of hundreds of Universalist thugs are testimony to the efficiency and force of the Knights of the Swastika under his command.”

Waning smiled. “No doubt, no doubt,” he said. “I’m sure the man leads his little band well enough for now.

But you can’t seriously consider placing that sort at the head of a real army.”

Feric sensed some inner meaning to all this. “The Knights of the Swastika are merely a private security force,” he said blandly. “They are hardly an army.”

“I’ll speak bluntly” Waning said. “Much of the Star Command is sympathetic to the Sons of the Swastika, but out of a firm sense of preserving their own position, they won’t let the Knights grow much more powerful under the present leadership.”

“Under the present leadership?”

“You can hardly expect the Star Command to trust the friendly intentions of a powerful force led by such as Stopa. On the other hand, if your storm troops were led by a man whom the generals trusted, they would be more secure in their belief that the Knights of the Swastika represented an ally rather than a rival.”

Feric could not help chuckling aloud. “A man such as yourself?” he asked Waffing.

Waning put on a broad, mock-humble expression. “It’s true that I’m an experienced leader of men and that I have the confidence of the Star Command,” he said. “As for my personal qualifications, I would not presume to advise you in that regard, Commander Jaggar.”

“Have you been put up to this by the Star Command?”

Waffing’s reply was instant, forceful, and characterized by intense, indeed fanatic, sincerity. “My loyalty is to yourself and to the Sons of the Swastika, my Commander!” he shouted, his eyes flashing fire. “If you so direct, I will take up a post of latrine orderly so as to serve you and the Swastika! The Star Command knows nothing of this; I merely inform you of the attitude of the generals and suggest a solution.”

The situation was crystal clear. With Stopa in command, the army would not permit the Knights to grow to the point where they presented a potential threat, that is to say, to the point where they became a militarily useful force. With Waffing as his military commander, the Star Command would be less resentful; indeed they might be won over entirely, being for the most part good Helder patriots. On the other hand, the nucleus of the Knights was the ex-Avengers and the men they had recruited; these fellows had an awe of Stopa second only to their respect for his own person. To replace Stopa with an outsider like Waffing would surely stir trouble in the ranks.

A subtle solution was called for.

“I will appoint you Party Security Secretary,” Feric told Waffing. “I will create a new bodyguard to be called the Swastika Squad, a true elite, chosen for devotion, genetic purity, physical force, and high intelligence. You will directly command neither the Knights nor the Swastika Squad; however, in your capacity of Security Secretary, you will be the superior of the heads of both storm troops. This arrangement should mollify the Star Command.”

Waffing broke into a broad grin. “A stroke of genius!” he declared. “Better than I could’ve worked out myself.”

Once again, Waffing laughed heartily. “When you know me letter,” he said impishly, “you’ll know just how high a compliment such an admission is, coming from the lips of Lar Waffing!”

At this Bogel, and Feric himself, could not help but burst into comradely laughter.

At last Feric was able to call the first full meeting of the Swastika Circle, the thoroughly reorganized and renamed Party heirarchy, and could not be other than heartily pleased with the great changes he had wrought. Gone were the petty-fogging Party titles, replaced by honorifics of rigor and force, which, moreover, served to make the chain of command crystal clear. Gone were the idiosyncratic styles of personal garb with which the Party leaders had first greeted Feric’s eye; with the exception of Stopa in his brown Knight’s uniform, every man seated around the plain oaken table in the stark conference room was resplendent in the black leather of the Party elite.

Moreover, the makeup of the Swastika Circle fully reflected Feric’s will. Bogel was now High Commander of Public Will in charge of both formulating the aims of the Party and making those aims the desires of the Helder people, thus banishing the likes of Parmerob and Marker from high Party circles. Haulman was still Party Treasurer, but without the rank of High Commander; a distinction that made the relationship of economic necessity and Party policy abundantly clear. Waffing was High Commander of Security. Stopa had been given the ambiguous title of Commandant of the Knights of the Swastika, which ranked him below Waffing, although he was entitled to a place on the Swastika Circle. For the sake of symmetry, Bors Remler, Commandant of the new Swastika Squad, had also been admitted to the Swastika Circle. In order to emphasize the absolute supremacy of his position as Supreme Commander, Feric had appointed Best to the Swastika Circle with the full rank of High Commander, though the lad lacked even a single subordinate in the line of command. As for Bluth and Decker, they had been banished to the obscurity that such nonentities deserved. All in all, the Party’s house had been put firmly in order for the heroic struggle to come.