“Did I now?”
“You then planted Hendry’s memory of the murder—and that of Bret Barnet—into the minds of others using your own sleep machines. You paid protestors to disrupt your own rally, and endangered the lives of innocent citizens by having your floating platform crash into your supporters.”
Piper clasped her hands in front of her to stop them shaking. She needed to appear calm. She’d done it before, facing political opponents, journalists, and angry investors. She was a force of nature, everyone said it. Ask the board of SmartyBot, the robot brain manufacturer Jocelyn had bought out, not three weeks ago. She hadn’t done it under her own name, of course, not with her anti-robot platform gaining traction, but she’d needed a way to transmit a software patch to any mechanoid fitted with a SmartyBot brain, just a few lines of code that would urge the poor things to commit random acts of terror that would turn the voting public against robots.
“Do you have anything to say?”
Jocelyn’s smile widened. “What can I say? We all have our secrets, don’t we Lint?”
THE SHOT RANG out as Dredd and Morphy approached Piper’s office, Ruan a few steps ahead, her gun in hand.
“Drokk.”
Dredd broke into a run, ignoring the throb from his shoulder as he followed the Psi-Judge. They crashed through the door to find smoke curling from the barrel of Lint’s Lawgiver.
Jocelyn Piper was slumped in her chair, blood trickling from the ragged hole between her eyes.
“She reached under her desk,” Lint told them. “I thought she was going for a weapon.”
Dredd crossed to Piper, checking her desk drawers. There were no guns or knives, only papers, files and pens.
“Nothing here.”
“Guilt,” Ruan muttered, standing by the door.
“What’s that?” asked Morphy.
“As soon as I came in,” the Psi-Judge replied. “Guilt. Strong.”
Lint holstered his Lawgiver. “From Piper.”
Dredd shook his head. “Take off your helmet.”
Lint turned to face him.
“What?”
Dredd raised his lawgiver, aiming at Lint.
“Either you take off your helmet, or I will.”
Morphy stepped forward, stopping short of putting himself between Dredd and the Rookie. “What’s this about, Joe?”
“Ruan says she sensed guilt, but an empath can’t feel anything from the dead, only the living. Lint was the only other person in the room when she came in.”
“This is ridiculous.” Lint turned to Morphy. “Sir, Dredd is unstable.”
Morphy’s voice was quiet. “Take off your helmet, son.”
Dredd’s bead remained trained on Lint’s head.
Setting his jaw, the rookie raised his hands to his helmet. He lifted it slowly, revealing his cold blue eyes.
Without a word Ruan walked up behind Lint, removed her gloves and pressed her fingers against the rookie’s temples. Lint gritted his teeth, cords standing out on his neck.
“No point resisting,” Dredd told him. “It won’t do you any good.”
Lint’s face slackened as Ruan’s eyes went white.
“Blood,” she whispered. “Blood everywhere in the cube. On the floor, on the walls, on his boots.”
“Loreen Peston?” asked Dredd.
Ruan’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Taking the daystick. Ramming it down her throat.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Lint murmured, but Ruan didn’t stop.
“Please… don’t…” It was Peston, speaking through the psychic.
“The juve at the crash site,” Morphy remembered. “He said exactly the same thing. The words triggered something in you, Lint.”
The thread of drool hanging from the rookie’s bottom lip broke as he spoke, his words slurred. “New memories. New memories that weren’t mine. Must have been the sleep machine. Hendry was in the Sector House, repairing the snooze-tubes…”
“Killing Peston in her cube,” Ruan confirmed.
“Dressed as a Judge.”
Morphy turned to Dredd. “But why target Lint? He’s not a journo.”
“We all have our secrets...” Ruan said.
“No...” Lint whined. “You can’t.”
Ruan’s voice had shifted again, taking on a southern accent. Jocelyn Piper’s voice. “It’s amazing what you can find out when someone slides into a sleep machine. All the things they try to hide. I’ve compiled quite the little dossier on you and your Judge buddies. It was going to come in handy when I was Mayor, Lint—or should I say Judge Whistleblower?”
Dredd’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“Leaking Justice Department secrets to the press for money. Who’s a naughty boy? Now, the question is whether you’re going to arrest me, or let me escape? If it’s money you want, I’ve got money. Mountains of the stuff. All you need do is look the other wa—”
Ruan’s fingers came away from Lint’s head, the colour swimming back into her eyes. “That’s when he killed her.”
Dredd looked at Morphy. “You decided on Lint’s assessment, Morph?”
Morphy was still glaring at Lint as he spoke. “I’ll leave that honour to you, Joe.”
Dredd let his weapon drop. “News just in, rookie: you failed, on every level. But don’t worry, you’ll spend the rest of your days with Judges just like you. You’re hereby sentenced to Titan: life imprisonment.”
Lint sank to his knees as Dredd holstered his Lawgiver.
“Make sure you say hi to my brother. What did you call him? A humourless freak? Or was that just me?”
JOE DREDD SAT at the back of the med-wagon, trying not to wince as Med-Judge Cooke dug the slug out of his shoulder. It could’ve waited until they got back to the Sector House, but Morphy had insisted. His old mentor, still looking out for him.
Cooke’s work done, the medic offered Dredd painkillers.
“No, thanks,” he said, standing up to recover his tunic. Pulling the zip up to his neck, Dredd turned to find Ruan standing in front of him.
“I’m to report back to Psi-Division.”
He nodded. “It was pleasant working with you, Ruan.”
She smiled. “Lying to a fellow Judge? Isn’t that a felony?”
He had nothing else to say. With a nod, he turned to walk to his Lawmaster.
Ruan called after him. “Dredd. I’m sorry.”
He paused, but didn’t look back. “No need to apologise. You did your duty.”
“I crossed the line. I should never have done that to you without your consent.”
Still he kept his back to her.
“You wanted me to understand. You’re a powerful telepath, Ruan. Not many psykers can do that to a double-zero.”
“And you’re a good man. I checked on Harborville. It’s a mission for mutants who’ve been mistreated. You needn’t have sent them there.”
“Guess I was doing my duty, too.”
Adjusting his badge, Dredd left Ruan by the med-wagon. As soon as they saw him, the throng of journalists gathered in front of Piper Palace rushed forward to barrage him with questions.
“Judge Dredd, is it true that Jocelyn Piper was behind the Deadliner murders—?”
“What does this mean for the mayoral election—?”
“Is there any truth in the rumours that Chief Judge Goodman has banned the use of sleep machines by citizens—?”
“—seized Somnus Industries’ assets?”
“—Judge Dredd?”
Dredd swung his leg over the Lawmaster and gunned the engine. Before he roared away, he turned to face the expectant cameras.
“No comment.”
About the Author
UK number-one bestselling author Cavan Scott is currently trying to work on everything he loved when he was ten. He has written for Star Wars, Doctor Who, Warhammer 40,000, Vikings, Blake’s 7, Highlander, Danger Mouse and the Beano. His new Sherlock Holmes novel, Cry of the Innocents, is out now from Titan Books. He li
ves in Bristol with his wife, daughters and an inflatable Dalek called Desmond.
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
2033 A.D.
In a time of widespread poverty, inequality and political unrest, Eustace Fargo’s controversial new justice laws have come into effect.
Protests and violence meet the first Judges as they hit the street to enforce the Law; the cure, it’s clear, is far worse than the disease.
Is this a sign of things to come?
Read on for a sample of the explosive first novella, Michael Carroll’s The Avalanche...
Monday, 3 January
8:47pm
THE UNIFORMED OFFICER was busy transcribing a hand-written statement and didn’t look up from his keyboard. “With you in a second.”
Charlotte-Jane Leandros looked around the open-plan office. Aside from the now-limp Christmas tree in the corner, the top half of a paper Santa Claus pinned to the wall, and an Elf-on-a-Shelf that had what was very clearly a bullet-hole in the middle of its forehead, the police station of St. Christopher, Connecticut, didn’t appear to have changed in the two years since she’d last visited. The officer behind the desk, however, had changed quite a lot. He’d put on weight, and his hair was now very grey, as was the thick moustache he sported.
She reached across the officer’s desk and poked a pencil at his Schnauzer-a-day calendar. “So... Happy birthday, Benny.”
His typing paused for the briefest moment as he said, “Knew it was you, CJ.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He still hadn’t looked up from the screen, but he was suppressing a smile. “Sure I did. You’re still wearing the same deodorant, and you cleared your throat on the way in. You think I don’t know my own baby sister’s voice, even if she’s just clearing her throat? I’m a cop. I’ve been trained to notice stuff like that.” Benny Leandros finally stopped typing and glanced up at his sister. “So, does Mom know you’re back or is this a surprise vis—”
He jumped to his feet, and his chair skidded back across the room. “CJ, what are you wearing?”
CJ Leandros placed her dark-visored helmet onto her brother’s desk and took a step back, giving him a better view of her uniform. Matt-black Kevlar-and-titanium-fibre tunic and pants, dark grey gloves and boots, reinforced grey pads protecting her shoulders, elbows and knees. She turned in a slow circle, ignoring the officers who had been staring at her from the moment she’d entered the station. “So what do you think?”
Benny walked around to the front of his desk, stopped in front of his sister and stared down at her. “I think Mom’s gonna have an aneurysm. You... You told us you’d quit the police academy, not that you’d signed up to be a Judge! What was all that about working in a hardware store?”
“Cover story. We’re not encouraged to talk about it, even with family.” She shrugged. “Lot of people are still very hostile to the idea of Judges.”
“Can you blame them?” He shook his head slowly as he looked her up and down. “Body-armour. It’s a bad sign when cops need body armour. And you don’t have a body-camera!”
“What would I need one for? I don’t answer to anyone. Look, Benny, more than everyone else—even more than Dad—you were always telling me that I should go into law-enforcement.”
“Yeah, but I meant be a cop. That was before there were Judges! I mean, Judges like you. I thought you and me and Stav could be like a team, working the same beat, watch each other’s backs. That’s what Dad always wanted for us. Not… this.” He took a step back and again looked her up and down. “Not this, CJ. He’d have hated Fargo’s Footsoldiers and everything they represent.”
A voice behind CJ said, “He’s not alone in that.”
She’d known that he was there. Unlike Benny, Charlotte-Jane actually had been trained to be aware of what was around her at all times, and she was good at it. It was one of the reasons Judge Deacon had selected her for his team.
Her oldest brother, Sergeant Stavros Leandros, had entered the room right after Benny had walked around to the front of his desk. Stav had been watching her from the doorway, and CJ had in turn been watching his reflection in her helmet’s visor. On her way into the police station, she’d seen his car parked in the lot outside, and as sergeant he would have already been informed that a Judge had been seen riding through town.
He shook his head slowly. “If I’d known you were going to do this, I’d have stopped it.”
“How? It’s my life, my decision.”
Stavros nodded toward his office. “Let’s talk. Right now.” To Benny he said, “Not you. Get that report done and go home. You’re back on at oh-nine-hundred.”
As Stavros stomped away Benny said, “Better do what he says, CJ. You know what he’s like when he’s under pressure. Until yesterday we had half the town without power because the Settlers knocked out the grid again, and we’ve got like ten guys down with the flu. So...” Benny shrugged. “I figure the last thing he needs is a bunch of Judges showing up and throwing their weight around.”
He paused in the middle of dragging his chair back to his desk. “That’s not what’s happening, is it? Tell me that you’re here on your own and you just came back ’cos it’s my birthday and you wanted to surprise me.”
“I came early because it’s your birthday. There are six of us, working under Senior Judge Francesco Deacon. The others will be arriving tomorrow.”
Benny dropped into his chair. “Oh, Stav is not going to like that. And the captain is gonna have a fit.”
CJ Leandros smiled and shrugged at the same time. “Happy birthday, Benny. I’ll see you tomorrow back at Mom’s, yeah? And don’t tell her I’m here—I want to surprise her.”
“I won’t say a word... You know, I can’t decide whether she’s gonna be madder that you became a Judge or that you cut your hair. You always had great hair. Everyone said so.”
She was already backing away from his desk. “Judges can’t have long hair. Regs.”
She recognised some of the other officers and staff—there were a few she’d known her entire life—but right now they were pulling off that awkward trick of staring at her without looking her in the eye.
From the day she’d been hand-picked from the police academy, she’d known that this was going to happen. Ordinary cops didn’t like the new Department of Justice, and not just because it signalled the end of their careers.
As she passed the open doorway to Stavros’s office, he yelled, “CJ! Get in here!”
She stopped, and looked in through the doorway to see her brother standing next to Captain Virginia Witcombe, a cold-looking fifty-year-old woman with grey hair so tightly pulled back that CJ was surprised she could still blink.
“So,” Captain Witcombe said. “Welcome home, Charlotte-Jane.” CJ had the impression the Captain was just barely keeping a lid on her emotions.
“Thank you, Captain. It’s nice to be back. I honestly never expected to be posted here.”
Stavros said, “Yeah, about that. So out of the blue this afternoon we get an official e-mail telling us six Judges have been assigned to St. Christopher. We’ve got forty-three beat cops to manage twenty-eight thousand people, and now we’re babysitting half a dozen Judges too? And my own sister turns out to be one of them? Hell with that.”
“Yeah... I don’t like this either,” Captain Witcombe said. “Not one bit. You people want to make a difference, you should set up station in one of those towns in the Midwest that’re being overrun by gangs. Not here. It’s bad enough that I’ve got to put up with Judges at home in Colton, but I’ve worked too long and too damn hard to get where I am to throw it all away now. St. Christopher might not be the picture-postcard small town, but it’s a damn sight better than most, and I’m not going to stand by and watch while you Judges clear the path for the handcart this country is going to Hell in. You get what I’m saying?”
“You think that the Judges are a symptom of the problems, not the cure. I understand that, Captain, but I don’t agree.”
>
Stavros nodded. “Well, I agree with the captain. You remember what Dad always said, CJ. I remember Pappous saying it too, before you were even born. The single most important right any American citizen has is due process. The right to unbiased judgement when accused. You Judges have taken that right and flushed it down the crapper.” Stavros looked away from her, shaking his head. “It’s unconstitutional.”
Captain Witcombe said, “No, it’s not, Sergeant Leandros. Not since Eustace Fargo got the constitution changed.”
CJ said, “Captain, when you spoke at my dad’s funeral, you said that we need tougher laws to clamp down on drunk-drivers so that sort of thing would never happen again. Afterwards, at the reception, I found you crying in the corridor, and your husband... Harvey, right? He was trying to console you. But you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be consoled, and you were furious with him because you said he was trying to pretend it had never happened. Then you saw me, and you took my hands and told me that it wasn’t fair, that my dad was a great man, and to have his life snatched away by some drunken loser was the worst possible crime. You remember that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. And that’s not all I remember.” The captain stepped closer to CJ, arms folded. “I remember an incident about a year earlier. You were fifteen years old, and I caught you and Tenna LeFevour stealing beer from the One-Stop.”
Stavros said, “What?” but both CJ and Witcombe ignored him.
The captain continued, “And now you’re a Judge. I heard you all had to be squeaky-clean. Can’t see how that’s possible if you were a shoplifter.”
“I wasn’t charged,” CJ said. “Remember? Dad asked you to take care of it.”
Witcombe pursed her lips. “Hmm. So if I hadn’t done that, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”
“Possibly not. But you broke the law when you persuaded the store’s owner to drop the charges. That’s a bad mark on your record sheet, Captain, not mine.”
Judge Dredd: Year Two Page 34
