Norman Spinrad

This spurred the Zind Warriors on to even greater frenzies, but almost at once, Ludolf Best had leapt from his own motorcycle to fight at Feric's side. At this, a score of tall, blond, blue-eyed supermen in tight black uniforms spattered with blood as red as their swastika capes followed suit and formed a phalanx of SS heroes flanking their Supreme Commander, inspired by him to feats of valor that nearly matched his own. This squad of racial heroes rallied about the incarnation of the racial will hacked then-way through the onrushing Warriors with a force and fanaticism the sight of which spurred all the surrounding troops to fervent emulation.

Soon a whole great section of the Helder advance had crystallized into a superhuman brotherhood of racial heroes around the person of Feric Jaggar. Motorcyclists rammed their machines into slavering giants, leaping off them into the air to fly at more of the Warriors with their truncheons, moving with a speed and hysterical strength which made them seem invincible. Infantrymen dashed fearlessly into veritable forests of massive hairy legs, smashing furiously about with their truncheons to bring the Warriors down to their level, then crushing heads and stomachs with their truncheons, steel-soled boots, and fists. Tanks barreled forward at greater and greater speeds, grinding their way through solid walls of Zind protoplasm like armored bulldozers.

The incredible feats of heroism performed by tens of thousands of ordinary Helder soldiers inspired the SS elite guard around Feric to ever greater fanaticism and ferocity, which in turn spurred on the masses of the troops to redouble their already superhuman efforts, further inspiring the SS elite—an ever-increasing feedback of racial heroism which turned a whole section of the army into a juggernaut before which no power on earth could stand.

As for Feric, there were not Zind Warriors enough in the universe to adequately quench his thirst for blood.

The center of the Helder line became a bulge, then a great dagger ripping straight through the body of the great Zind horde, seeking out its vitals. This irresistible 220

racial juggernaut tore through the sea of drooling monstrosities with greater and greater force and speed, plunging deeper and deeper, opening the gap up wider and wider, as the inspiration to superhuman fighting frenzy spread among more and more Helder troops.

Feric himself was filled with an energy and exhilaration that transcended the flesh and filled the soul as he hacked his way through a score of Warriors with the smell of impending victory sweet in his nostrils and suddenly found himself standing on open ground. Before him were forty dull green Zind tanks in tight formation, and nothing else.

As Best made his way to his side, Feric realized the true import of the situation. "We've done it, Best!" he cried, clapping his great arm around the lad's shoulders. "We've cut the Zind horde in half!" Moreover, there was no doubt whatever that the formation of tanks, situated as it was in what minutes before had been the safest position on the battlefield, held the craven Doms controlling the entire horde.

Hundreds of tall blond SS heroes emerged through the rent in the Zind ranks, then a dozen Holder tanks, their cannon roaring. Ten of the Zind tanks exploded in great pillars of reddish-orange fire and billowing black smoke. A few of the remaining Zind tanks got off panicked shots.

Then a score more Helder tanks poured through the gap with thousands of motorcyclists in their van; three more quick massed fusillades cracked open the rest of the Zind tanks like so many walnuts. Feric waved the Great Truncheon wildly overhead, sending spatters of Warrior blood flying, then led Best and his SS elite guard forward as dozens of humanoid figures in gray uniforms scuttled from the wreckage. Behind came the entire Helder army.

Feric was the first to reach the smoking ruins, with Best hot on his heels. Two rodent-eyed Doms dashed out from behind the smoldering wreckage of a tank with submachine guns in their hands, slobbering in anger and dread and shrilling "Die human filth!" As Feric reached for his submachine gun, a hail of bullets whistled close by him and tore the loathsome Doms to pieces. Feric turned and saw Ludolf Best grinning at him, with his smoking submachine gun in his hands.

Three more Dominators scuttled amidst the rubble to Feric's left, seeking to escape; Feric cut them to ribbons with his submachine gun in a shower of blood and flesh, then grinned back at Best. Following this example, the SS

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made short work indeed of the remaining Doms, with a few short seconds of relentless submachine-gun fire.