by David Bishop
"And who is this over-achiever coming to join our humble ranks?"
"Dredd. Judge Joe Dredd."
That got Caine's attention. Why him? Of all the helmets they could send, why Dredd? "Really? Well, we are honoured. A living legend in our presence."
Temple nodded enthusiastically. "He's on his way here. Do you want to delay the start of roll call until he arrives?"
Caine snorted disdainfully. "If Dredd can't be bothered to report to a new assignment on time, I fail to see why we should wait for him. Call the graveyard shift together. Roll call begins on time at twenty hundred hours. Dismissed!"
Temple scuttled from the room, already tapping instructions into his palm unit for display on screens spread around each area of the sector house. Once he had gone, Caine went to the spotless bathroom adjacent to her office. Most Judges in the building had to share unisex accommodation and cleaning facilities. Being Sector Chief accorded few privileges but Caine felt having her own quarters was one of the most valuable.
She threw some cold water on her face before staring into a mirror. Caine wore the usual Judge's uniform but dispensed with the helmet unless she was going outside the sector house. Her hair was a close-cropped mass of black curls, framing a lean face with piercing, hazel eyes. As she gazed at her reflection, Caine's thoughts kept coming back to the same question - why send Dredd? Did Justice Central know something it wasn't telling her? Was there some detail of the prediction that had not been passed on?
A small speaker set into the wall of her bathroom crackled into life. Deputy Sector Chief Temple cleared his throat before beginning the announcement. "Roll call begins in one minute. Could all members of tonight's graveyard shift please report to roll call now? That is all."
Satisfied with her appearance, Caine pushed aside the doubts raised by Dredd's imminent arrival. She would make sure he was kept on his toes for the next twelve hours - living legend or not. The Sector Chief smiled.
"I'm going to enjoy this," she muttered to herself before striding away.
20:00
Judge Lynn Miller hurried into the briefing room just as Caine reached the podium. Dozens of other law enforcers were already gathered in the large chamber, formed into lines facing a raised platform. Miller slipped into position among the other Judges; there was a conspicuous gap to her left. Deputy Sector Chief Temple was still droning his way through calling the roll to see who was present and correct for the night's graveyard shift. The full complement of Judges for a sector house was three hundred, but only two thirds of them were assigned to street patrol. The rest were ancillary and support staff. Tek-Division looked after all equipment, such as Lawmaster motorcycles and H-Wagons. Med-Division kept the Judges alive and fit for duty, while also providing forensic back up for cracking cases. The Armourer and his staff were responsible for all judicial weaponry, from the standard issue Lawgiver handgun to stumm gas and riot foam. The sector house had its own computer department, Judge-Warders policed the holding cubes and senior staff oversaw each sub-division.
Sector 87 had been through an arduous few months, losing nearly a fifth of its Street Judges. A badge-killer had accounted for more than a dozen before dying in a hail of bullets. Terrorist attacks on the Bloomingmacy's Shoppera by anti-commerce activists had claimed several more lives. In the last hour, Miller's partner Shurlock had been fatally wounded in an antiques heist that had gone spectacularly awry. A dozen perps tried to steal a priceless collection of real paper books from the Jackie Collins Museum of Literature on the corner of Steiner and Waldron. When the heist went bad, the thieves tried to shoot their way out. Shurlock had died thirty minutes earlier in the med-bay. Miller had been changing her bloodstained uniform when the summons for roll call came.
She pushed her shock white hair out of her eyes and looked up at Caine on the podium. The Sector Chief asked Temple for the tally. "Seventy-seven present and correct, ma'am. Five more on life support. We just lost..." Temple paused to consult with his palm unit. "Shurluck."
"Shurlock," Miller muttered under her breath, "you simp."
Caine nodded to her deputy before addressing those assembled. "Seventy-seven Street Judges present from the standard graveyard shift complement of a hundred. Not ideal but there's not much we can do about that now. I personally put in a request to Justice Central for replacements and they are sending us one helmet. When he deigns to show his face, I will introduce him. In the meantime, I don't want to hear any grumbling about having to pull extra shifts to cover for the shortfall. Suck it up, people! You're all here to do a job, so that's what you'll do. Anybody wants to whine about it, they can see me after roll call. But they may find it difficult to ride a Lawmaster with my boot knife up their ass - is that clear?"
Misch was bored. Nyon had gone out to a meeting of the block residents' action group and her broodmother had still not returned. The alien shoppera was two sectors away and it was a convoluted journey just to buy the simplest of ingredients from offworld.
The R'qeen child wiped her blue hand across the con-apt's single window, clearing away the condensation long enough to look down at the busy skedway below. The walls inside Robert Hatch were permanently damp since the air conditioning had given way. The alien girl knew her brood were luckier than most because they lived on the third floor. Her cousins Coya, Aldre and Selmak were stuck up on the twenty-seventh floor, where residents had been forced to smash most of the windows to provide ventilation.
Across the skedway Misch could see two humans skulking in a darkened doorway; they were looking up at her building. Sector 87 was among the city's more affluent areas but vandals had broken many of the streetlights around Robert Hatch; just another symptom of the humans' hatred for the alien residents. A pair of Judges rode past and the humans shrank back into the shadows, one of them clutching a carryall close to itself. What have they got in there, the R'qeen girl wondered? She concentrated hard and reached out with her mind, trying to focus on their thoughts. Misch had found she could sometimes sense what humans were thinking, as if she had a window to see what they felt and imagined. If she did it too often, her head hurt. But it was a useful talent and one that had kept her out of trouble on more than one occasion. She bit her bottom lip and pushed.
Drokking freakshow central!
'Sright. Creeps shouldn't be here!
We'll show them. See how they like a taste of this.
Yeah. Where're we putting that sweet baby?
Downstairs. Near the foundations.
When that goes - these freakin' scum gonna fry.
Hot fat on a stick, man.
You said it.
Let's go!
Misch staggered backwards. There was a searing pain behind her eyes. She tripped over one of her toys and fell to the floor, temporarily blinded by the intensity of the emotions she had experienced. Hatred, raw and vicious, coupled with a hunger for inflicting misery. Something else too - a yearning to see flames burning, red and yellow and white, hot and alive. The alien girl cried out, overwhelmed by these sensations. She knew something terrible was going to happen but she couldn't hold back the blackness any longer. She let it wash over her, chilling her to the bone.
Tek-Division Judge Terry Brady owed his life to Dredd. Ten years earlier the mechanic had been a juve thief for hire, specialising in boosting high performance motorcycles and hover-cars. It was Dredd who caught Brady hot-wiring a Justice Department H-Wagon to get initiated into Sector 87's leading street gang, the Doug McClure Runners. By rights Brady should still be serving a thirty year stretch in the iso-cubes, but Dredd had offered him a second chance: to join Tek-Division. The department needed new blood and fresh ideas.
At first Brady's rebellious streak almost persuaded him to turn down the offer, until he remembered his time in the juve cubes and decided to get smart. After a lengthy probationary period he emerged as the star pupil of his training class, able to invent unique solutions to problems thanks to a supposedly wasted youth of petty crime. Graduating with honours, T
erry had been given the uniform of a Tek-Judge and offered his chance of placement. It only took him moments to ask for a posting back to Sector 87. That was five years ago and he was rapidly rising through the ranks. But he never forgot the man who had given him a second chance. The Tek-Judge hoped to repay that debt one day.
Brady was just starting the graveyard shift in the sector house's cavernous garage when he heard the familiar roar of an approaching Lawmaster. The motorcycle tore inside the building, tyres protesting as the brakes were slammed on, a thick black skid mark smearing across the floor. Terry ran towards the new arrival who was already dismounting.
"Hey! You shouldn't treat your ride like that! Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? Look after your motorcycle and it'll-"
The Judge turned round and let Brady see the five letter name emblazoned on his badge. "D-Dredd? Judge Dredd?" The abashed mechanic stopped, unprepared for the encounter.
"Roll call. Where do I find it?"
Brady pointed to the nearest turbolift. "One floor up, in the briefing room."
Dredd was already moving. "Thanks!" he shouted over his shoulder.
"You're welcome." The Tek-Judge remembered hearing an earlier announcement. "But roll call started ten minutes ago..."
Caine almost smiled when she heard someone striding briskly towards the briefing room. Good. She would make an example of this latecomer.
"As you may have heard, Psi-Division precogs are predicting trouble for this sector tonight. Frankly, that doesn't require any psychic abilities. There's a full moon tonight and we all know how that brings out the crazies. Coupled with that is the fact we are fast approaching-"
Dredd strode into the room and stopped, ready to report for duty. A few of the other Street Judges acknowledged his presence but the Sector Chief chose to ignore him and carry on with her address.
"We are fast approaching Friday the Thirteenth. According to the superstition, this is a day bedevilled by bad luck. While Justice Department may officially give no credence to such antiquated notions, the reality is that many of our citizens do. As a result, we can expect all manner of madness and stupidity across the sector tonight. The lunatic fringe will be out in force. Case in point: the Mega-City Anti-Superstition Society, also known as M-CASS, is planning a demonstration to prove there is no such thing as bad luck. We've already received reports of thirteen black cats having been stolen from a reserve for endangered domestic animal species. We don't know if these psycho-cube candidates are planning one of their stunts for our sector but, since the society's founder lives here, it seems likely."
Caine stopped and turned to look at Dredd. "Well, it seems our reinforcement has finally arrived. So kind of you to join us."
Dredd saluted crisply. "Excuse my lateness, I was-"
The Sector Chief held up a hand to silence the newcomer. "Spare us the explanations. If you can't make it to roll call on time, at least don't hold us up any further with some weak excuse." Caine stepped down from the podium and strolled towards Dredd, continuing to address the other Judges already assembled. "If there's one thing I cannot tolerate, it is lateness. This indicates a lack of respect not just for my authority, but more importantly a lack of respect for your fellow Judges. I understand some within the department look up to this man as a symbol of justice. Indeed, his volumes on comportment are set texts at the Academy of Law. But that is no excuse for being tardy." She stopped in front of Dredd and sneered at him. "I don't care whether you're a legend or not. While you are assigned to my sector house, you answer to me. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Dredd snapped back.
"Very well. Report to me after roll call and we will discuss the nature of your reprimand. You may now join the ranks of your fellow Judges - that's if you don't consider yourself too good for them."
"No, ma'am!" Dredd moved to fill the empty space beside Miller. Caine walked between the ranks inspecting the Street Judges while continuing with her briefing.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, the M-CASS. Well, as I was saying before I was interrupted, that is just one of the problems you will face tonight. Sump Industries is hosting the regional finals of its Miss MC-1 Ugly Pageant at the Sid Harmor Hippodrome. So we can expect trouble from anti-ugly activists intent on disrupting the festivities. To add to your fun, Weather Control over this sector has collapsed again. Tek-Division says we can expect temperatures to approach a hundred degrees with humidity in excess of ninety per cent. So, expect a sultry night's work."
The Sector Chief returned to the podium. "Last, but definitely not least, there are reports of more trouble centred on the alien ghetto in Robert Hatch Block - in-fighting between the various species housed there and threats against the offworlders from xenophobic elements in surrounding blocks. Human residents have called a public meeting to voice their disapproval at having to live next door to families of R'qeen and other offworld species."
"Don't blame them," one of the Street Judges muttered under his breath. "Drokkin' freaks oughta be shipped back into space where they belong--"
"Who said that?!" Caine demanded loudly.
After an awkward silence one of the Street Judges stepped forward; his skull was shaved cleaned while a luxurious brown moustache adorned his top lip. The Sector Chief sighed. "Stammers, I might have known. You've been given one formal warning for inciting xenophobic behaviour. That little remark just earned you another. I will not tolerate bigots in my sector house!"
Stammers stepped back into line, his face flushed red with anger.
"All of you listen up!" Caine snarled. "These creatures may not be human but they have just as much right to live in Mega-City One as anyone else. Until the rebuilding of Alien Town is complete, they will continue to live in this sector and so they deserve our protection just as much as any other citizen. Do I make myself clear?" She turned to her deputy, who was still hovering to one side of the podium. "Temple, I have decided that you will address the public meeting as my representative. Take two Judges along as your escort, in case things get out of hand." Carter glanced back at her troops. "Miller - step forward!"
Judge Miller moved out of line. "Yes, ma'am?"
"You were Shurlock's partner?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then you'll need a new one. You can have Dredd, show him the ropes. Once he's settled in, the pair of you will be Deputy Sector Chief Temple's escort for the public meeting."
Miller saluted briskly before stepping back into position. Meanwhile Caine handed the briefing over to Temple. "Hand out the rest of the assignments and fall them out," she said before striding from the room.
Once they had been dismissed, Miller turned to her new partner, offering to shake his hand. "Lynn Miller - we've ridden together before. Ten years back, hotdog run into the Cursed Earth."
The pair began filing out of the briefing room with the other Judges. Dredd stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Been on a few of those... Miller? I once recommended someone called Miller as potential Sector Chief material."
The female Judge nodded. "That was me. Didn't get it. 'Too young' was the official reason."
"And the unofficial reason?"
Miller grimaced. "An incident from my time at the Academy came back to haunt me." Her gaze wandered temporarily to Stammers and his partner before returning to Dredd. "Don't worry about Caine, her bark is worse than her bite. She's just putting you in your place." Miller noticed Dredd regarding her bloodstained uniform. "Look, I need to get changed before we go out."
Dredd nodded. "I'll meet you at the garage in ten."
A heavy fist knocked on the Sector Chief's office door.
"Enter!"
Dredd walked briskly into the room, closing the door behind him before standing to attention in front of Caine's desk. The Sector Chief was reading through reports on a screen in front of her, and ignored Dredd for the moment. Eventually he cleared his throat to get her attention. Caine held up a hand, finishing what she was studying before looking up.
"Yes?"
Dredd grimaced. "You ordered me to report here after roll call, so we could discuss the nature of my reprimand."
Caine smiled. "Of course I did. Just wanted to make sure we both knew where we stood."
"Permission to speak candidly, ma'am."
The Sector Chief arched an eyebrow. "Permission granted."
"I was assigned to your sector house only nine minutes before the beginning of roll call. At that time I was half an hour away by Lawmaster. It was physically impossible for me to-"
"Excuse me for interrupting," Caine said, "but perhaps you didn't hear me earlier. I have no interest in your excuses. And since we're speaking candidly, there's something else you should know. I don't want you here, Dredd."
"Is that a fact?"
"Yes, it is." The Sector Chief stood up and began to stroll around her office. "I put in a request to Justice Central for at least a dozen replacement Judges. Instead they send me one: you. What I am supposed to make of that, hmm?"
"Resources are stretched to the limit. Few Judges can be spared for reinforcing individual sector houses," Dredd replied. By now Caine was standing behind him.
"You may well be right. But I sense the hand of our Chief Judge at work here," she said. "Of all the Judges who could have been sent, why you?"
"I was available and-"
"At least a dozen other Judges were available. Why you?"
"I don't know," Dredd admitted.
"Really? I can't tell if you're being disingenuous or genuinely ignorant. Either way, it does you no credit." Caine returned to her seat. "I've just been looking through your personnel file. Some very interesting reading, particularly in the sealed section about you and ex-Judge Galen DeMarco."
