Norman Spinrad - The Iron Dream

As the column advanced up the street toward Oak Park with ever-greater momentum, Feric’s car passed through a corridor of fire and smoke as the tenements and warrens of malodorous Borburg went up in purifying flame. The street was strewn with more than the usual offal, that is to say, with the broken bodies of Dominators and their Universalist lackeys. A furtive figure darted out of the doorway of a flaming building; instantly Best cut the Dom to pieces with his submachine gun.

Suddenly, one of the bodies over which Feric’s car was passing leaped up, caught hold of the body of the car, and thrust a long, gore-caked dagger at Feric’s throat, screaming: “Die human filth!” Unable to bring the Steel Commander into play, Peric caught the howling Dom by the throat with his left hand, and squeezed until the creature’s eyes rolled up white, then tossed the body back from whence it came.

Soon the column reached Lormer Street, which fronted on Oak Park itself. This was a wide expanse of ill-kempt lawn littered with all manner of muck and ordure; the putrid sour odor characteristic of Borburg prevailed in this open space as well, and the concrete pedestal of the public television receiver was thoroughly defaced by scrawled obscenities and vile political epithets. The entire park was crammed with the foulest of rabble, at least ten thousand of the sordid creatures, armed with clubs, knives, truncheons and firearms, and inflamed by their hidden masters with a thirst for blood.

Feric waved the Steel Commander thrice over his head, and at this signal, an intricate maneuver was carried out with the utmost precision and dash. The SS men poured from the cabin of the roadsteamer and became the spearheads of two great phalanxes of Knights, who advanced in either direction along Lormer Steret, driving the rabble before them and clearing the roadway of the enemy. More Knights poured up Torm Avenue into Lormer Street to join them, so that the entire length of Lormer Street facing Oak Park was soon entirely occupied by a massed Knight formation.

A momentary hush fell over the scene, broken only by the crackling of flame and the massed roar of the motorcycle engines, as the craven rabble in the park were placed in sudden confrontation with a veritable wall of heroes in brown leather. Their dismay was audible in a great collective groan. Then, at another signal from Feric, the center of the Knight formation parted, and the SS motorcyclists, all gleaming black and shining chrome, wheeled to the forefront of the skirmish line, forming a shield of steel motorcycles and iron resolve in front of the foot troopers.

Finally, Feric’s command car emerged to take the central position in this front line of heroes.

As for the motorized Knights and the other foot troops, Stag Stopa was at this moment leading them in a wide circle through the burning streets of Borburg to arrive at the rear of Oak Park and cut off any retreat.

Feric took one look at the confused rabble now jeering uncertainly and waving their weapons in a pitiful display of false bravado, then surveyed (he precise formations and uniformed elegance of his lusty Knights and fanatic SS elite, observing what a splendid contrast they made to the ragged filth they opposed. What a telling spectacle this would be on the public television receivers in public squares all over Heldon!

Feric stood erect on the floor of the command car cabin bracing himself against the back of Best’s seat with his left hand; with his right, he pointed the shining steel fist that was the headpiece of the Great Truncheon at the heavens. “Hail Heldon!” he shouted, his mighty voice piercing the din. “Death to the Dominators and their Universalist slaves!” He brought the Steel Commander down in a great arc, and with an earthshaking roar of “Hail Jaggar,” the forces of the Swastika swept forward.

The line of motorcycles smashed into the leading edge of the horde in the park to the accompaniment of massed fire from squads of SS gunners. With great screams of fear and dismay, hundreds of the wild-eyed scum went down choking on their own blood while cold steel split skulls and wheels crushed the limbs of the fallen. Through the interstices in the forward line of motorcycles the Knights then charged, swinging their truncheons and swirling their chains, cracking limbs and smashing heads, consolidating the opening that the motorized SS had given them. Feric’s driver took the command car straight into the forefront of the battle. As Best and Render cut broad swathes through the panicked rabble with their submachine guns, Feric swung the Steel Commander in great arcs of destruction, smashing dozens of heads, crushing scores of limbs, cutting the torsos of the enemy in twain, wreaking incredible havoc with every blow. What a dashing sight this was to viewers all over Heldon, and what an inspiration to his meni After a few minutes of this furious onslaught, the ranks of the Universalists were thrown into total chaos and complete blind panic. Those in the heat of the fray were so thoroughly terrified by the efficiency of the force being applied by the troops of the Swastika that not even the wills of the Doms in the crowd could maintain any semblance of order. Their only thought was to flee before their brains, such as they were, were dashed out, and in their panic to escape many of the Universalists fought with those behind them who were still inflamed into bloodlust by the Dominators. The result was that they slew as many of their own number as they did Swastika troops.

As the command car penetrated deeper into the park, it was suddenly set upon by perhaps two score of the enemy armed with clubs and long knives and apparently fired to self-sacrificing fanaticism by some nearby Dom. Half of them went down before the furious submachine guns of Render and Best; Feric dispatched five more with a single sweep of the Steel Commander. Then he spied a gray, crabbed creature with gleaming black rodential eyes hanging back at the rear of this attack force.

Holding onto the rim of the cabin with his left hand for purchase, Feric leaned far out over the fray, and brought the headball of his weapon straight down on the skull of this cowardly Dom, sending a fountain of gray brains into the air. Almost at once, the Universalist filth who a moment before had rushed fearlessly at the command car fled every which way screaming in fear and horror.

Seeing this, the SS fanatics concentrated their attack on what Doms they could spy, and soon the raggedness and speed of the rout was more than redoubled. The contest was never in doubt. Though the Universalists fought with animal ferocity in the vicinity of a Dom’s person, they lacked the will and discipline, not to mention the inspirational leadership, to maintain even a show of overall resistance. In hand-to-hand combat the individual Knight was worth at least ten of these soulless creatures, and as for the SS men, their superiority in will and fighting ability to the rabble could only be measured in astronomical figures.

It was not long before the rabble lost all hope of victory and even the Doms commanding the slave horde could think of nothing but escape. With a great rearward surge, the ranks of the Universalist filth broke and ran toward Ophal Street, the northern border of the park, and as far away from the fray as they could hope to get. All at once the Knights and the SS were pursuing a broken, formless, and terrified herd of stampeding human cattle northward through the park.

Feric’s command car rode at the very point of this triumphant pursuit, the guns of Remler and Best decimating the ranks of the rabble fleeing before the car, Feric’s noble truncheon dispatching any and all stragglers. The fear-driven stampede could not outrun the motorized vanguard of the Swastika storm troops, and the command car and the motorized SS soon tore into the rear ranks, piling up great heaps of bloody and broken corpses.