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for Feric to bear. This Bogel obviously spoke out as a true patriot. His speech had cogency, his cause was just and more than worthy of support, he had momentarily captured the hearts of his audience, and yet now he had thrown away his moment by indulging in tortured self-pity instead of building to a roaring demand for concrete and ruthless action. Instead of cheers, he was drawing renewed hostility. The man was a good speaker as such, but a clear failure as a political agitator. Perhaps, though, the situation could be saved. ...
    Feric leaped to his feet and shouted in a bold, clear voice:

    "There are those of us here who are neither slaggards nor naive bumpkins!" This voicing of the crowd's own hostility insantly drew all attention to him; Bogel himself did not attempt to interfere, since Feric's words had revealed to his sharp mind the foul situation he had put himself in. All waited anxiously to hear Feric's next words—would he attack the speaker or speak in his defense?
    "There are those of us here to whom your words are a ringing challenge!" Feric continued, noting that Bogel's eyes had brightened, his thin lips creased in a smile.
    "There are those of us here who will not tolerate the impudence of mutants or the contamination of human soil 37
    by one instant of their unclean presence. There are those of us here who are ready to rip Doms apart with our bare hands when we see them. True men! Pure men! Men fanatically dedicated not merely to the preservation of the racial purity of the present High Republic of Heldon but to the extension of the absolute rule of true men to every humanly habitable spot on the surface of this sorry earth!
    In the heart of even the most slothful slaggard lives this hero willing to take up arms to preserve the pure human genotype! Our very genes cry out——exclude the mutant!
    Drive him before you! Slay the Dom wherever you find him!"
    The audience broke into hearty prolonged cheers. As the cheering went on, Feric observed that every pair of eyes in the tavern was upon him; lines of psychic energy seemed to connect the center of his being with the heart of every man in the room. It was as if the wills of the audience fed their full power into his own will, which in turn returned their fervor to them magnified tenfold, in an ever-building spiral of psychic power that flooded and enlarged his being, a massive racial force that was his to direct where he willed. A sudden inspiration struck him: he would give this energy a concrete outlet, a target.
    "And a Dom may be found not far from this very place," Feric continued when the cheering had lapsed.
    "Yes, there is a Dominator in your midst, and in the most monstrous place conceivable! This creature is within the reach of your fists at this very moment!"
    A silence descended upon the room into which Bogel spoke: "It's men like you that the Party needs, Trueman!
    Tell us, where is this hidden Dominator? I warrant there isn't a man here now not ready to rip him to pieces!"
    Feric was quite pleased that Bogel had caught the spirit of the moment. His cause had merit, it was the cause of true humanity; his efforts deserved reward.
    "Incredibly enough, a Dominator has secreted himself in the heart of the customs fortress on the Ulm bridge entrusted with protecting your genetic purity," Feric said.
    "He holds the entire garrison in a dominance pattern!"
    A horrified gasp issued from the men in the tavern.
    Instantly, Feric went on. "Think of the horror of it! This stinking monstrosity has secured certification and serves as a scribe to the genetic analyst empowered to grant certification to prospective citizens. From this citadel, he saps the will of the garrison and the analyst so that a veritable 38
    river of contaminated genes may gush into this area like the contents of a sewer to poison the posterity of your sons and daughters! Further, there is no one in the garrison not enmeshed in this pattern, no one able to dislodge the foul beast or