Bad Moon Rising

by David Bishop

  A week ago he had returned to her con-apt with a question - how would she like to get back at the alien who killed her husband? Conchita had been sceptical, fearing it was a Justice Department trap. But Stammers used his own lie detector to prove the offer was genuine. The R'qeen alien now lived in Robert Hatch Block. Stammers would supply an incendiary device to torch the building, something that couldn't easily be traced. He even suggested she organise the public meeting protesting about aliens in the sector as a way of creating an alibi for herself and other likely suspects. Conchita got Ramone and Dermot to plant the device while she was at the meeting.

  The plan had worked perfectly - until Stammers and his partner arrived outside Oswald Mosley with a hoverbus full of aliens. To maintain the pretence of not knowing Stammers, Conchita had been obliged to start the brawl, leading her fellow Citi-Def squad members against the one person who had helped avenge her husband's death. All her children were now missing and aliens were living in the home her family was meant to be shifting into any day. Where had it all gone wrong?

  Sick of pacing up and down inside her cramped con-apt, Conchita turned on the tri-D. At this time of the morning there would be nothing worth watching, but the programmes might bore her to sleep. She set the tri-D to scroll through the thousands of channels broadcast across the Big Meg. Hearing her daughter's name, Conchita stopped at Channel 27 and watched a report by Riff Maltin. The journalist was looking into the camera sternly, his face contorted in a parody of concern.

  "Tonight, a mother fears for her missing daughter. In a city of four hundred million people, what is one life more or less? To the Maguire family of Oswald Mosley Block here in Sector 87, it means the world. Little Kasey Maguire has been missing for hours and the Justice Department refuses to help. When the building's Citi-Def squad instituted a search for the missing girl, they were told to stand down.

  "But while the authorities stand idly by and leave a little girl to Grud knows what fate, I - Riff Maltin, roving reporter for Channel 27 - have found a vital clue to the whereabouts of this lost angel. Less than an hour ago I interviewed Kurt Sivell, a neighbour of the Maguire family on the seventy-second floor of Oswald Mosley. It seems he was the last person to see little Kasey alive, witnessing her getting into a turbolift. I asked him where that turbolift was going. Here, in a Channel 27 exclusive, is what he told me..."

  The tri-D screen hissed static for a moment before cutting to footage of the citizen frowning in the doorway of his con-apt. "It was the top, the one hundredth floor, where the aliens are. I hope those vultures on the top floor haven't got her. They eat human flesh you know!"

  The image cut back to Riff. "Just before Kasey went missing, the Judges moved six families of aliens into Oswald Mosley. Among those are several from R'qeen, an offworld species of carrion eaters, also known as vultures. The R'qeen kill their food, then let it rot before consuming it. After hearing what citizen Kurt Sivell had to say, I confronted the aliens, speaking to an R'qeen male. Here is what he had to say. Viewers not fluent in Allspeak or who do not wish to read subtitles should engage their auto-translators."

  After another burst of static, Nyon appeared on screen, his face a terrifying visage. "The humans claimed we had taken one of their young. They searched but could not find her because she is not here. They probably thought we planned to kill her and then eat her!"

  Riff reappeared, his face even more serious than before. "Chilling words there. This alien denies having any knowledge of little Kasey Maguire's location but is he telling the truth? I asked him what would happen if anyone tried to look for her on the top floor again..."

  Nyon was back on screen, his features savage and severe. "We have had enough. Not one more human shall be allowed to set foot on this floor. Those that try will learn exactly what R'qeen do to their enemies!"

  Channel 27 cut back to Riff for the last time. "After that I was forced to leave the top level of Oswald Mosley, the alien's threats still ringing in my ears. All of this leaves three vital questions to be answered: why have the Judges been so lax in investigating this case, a case that will horrify and frighten parents everywhere? Secondly, why are the aliens so unwilling to let anyone search their quarters on the top floor of Oswald Mosley - what do they have to hide? Thirdly, and most importantly, what has happened to little Kasey Maguire? Is she now in the possession of flesh-eating monsters from another world and who will save her? More on this story as we get it. This is Riff Maltin, handing you back to the studio!"

  Conchita sank back into her seat, stunned at what she had just witnessed. Had her daughter fallen into the clutches of those monsters?

  Then doorbell rang.

  Choking back tears of rage, Conchita ran to the door and pulled it open. "Kasey? Is that you?"

  Standing outside was Riff, his hovercam filming them both from just behind the reporter's right shoulder. "Conchita Maguire? My name is Riff Maltin from Channel 27. I was wondering if you could spare me a few words."

  04:00

  Caine was waiting on the landing pad when the H-Wagon arrived at Sector House 87. She helped Miller climb out of the vehicle before it flew back into the night sky. "How are you?" the Sector Chief asked, shouting to be heard over the H-Wagon's engines as it ascended.

  "I've been better," Miller replied. "You heard what happened?"

  Caine nodded as they entered the sector house. "I've always had my suspicions about Stammers, but Riley as well? This incident is not going to be good for 87's reputation. Where's Dredd?"

  "Gone to interview a suspect, Werner Summerbee."

  The Sector Chief reacted with surprise. "Of Summerbee Industries?"

  "Before he died Riley suggested Summerbee had some peripheral involvement with the fire at Robert Hatch. Dredd's gone to follow that lead." Miller staggered, exhaustion from the night's events catching up with her. Caine grabbed the Street Judge's arm to stop her collapsing.

  "You'd better get to Med-Bay, have them check you over. I've already lost two Judges tonight," Caine said. "I don't want you joining them." Miller started towards the turbolift. Her Sector Chief had a final remark for her: "The SJS will be here soon. They'll want to interview you and Dredd about what's happened."

  Dredd stopped his Lawmaster outside the entrance to Ridley Estate. This ultra-secure enclosed community was home to the richest of the rich in the Big Meg. The waiting list to buy a home here was decades-long, with prospective purchasers required to pay a deposit of several million credits just to be considered for inclusion. Outside the estate, a city of four hundred millions citizens struggled to survive, crowded into towering citi-blocks and eking out a meagre existence on welfare handouts. For the precious few who could afford it, living on the Ridley Estate was like having your own private utopia, far from the madding crowd. The residents were almost untouchable - almost.

  The Judge approached the perimeter, where five fearsome security droids blocked the entrance. "State your business," the lead robot grated.

  "Judge Dredd, here to see Werner Summerbee."

  "Do you have an appointment?"

  "At four in the morning? Of course not!"

  "Unless you have an appointment, I must ask you to leave - now." The droids began charging their weapons systems.

  "Unless you let me in I'll have to disarm you. Permanently."

  The droid was not giving in that easily. "You have ten seconds to comply with our request or there will be... trouble."

  Dredd sighed wearily. "Have it your own way. Dredd to Control!"

  "Beginning countdown to pre-emptive action," the robot said. "Ten."

  "Control to Dredd, go ahead."

  "Nine."

  "Am outside Ridley Estate. Some tin-pot guard droid refuses to let me in."

  "Eight."

  "Is that it counting down in the background?"

  "Seven."

  "That's a roj. Request security override for Ridley Estate."

  "Six."

  "Could take a few seconds, Dredd."


  "Five."

  "The sooner the better, Control."

  "Four."

  "Just coming..."

  "Three." The droids began moving into attack positions around Dredd.

  "Running out of time, Control!"

  "Two." The robots obtained target lock on the lone motorcyclist.

  "Here it comes..."

  "One." The lead droid raised its weapon to fire. "Please accept our sincere apologies for your imminent death. All units, open fi... " At that the robot fell silent, its silver limbs frozen in place. The other mechanoids were also still, the hum of their systems slowly dying away.

  Dredd relaxed, letting his breath out again. "Thanks, Control. Try not to cut it so fine in future."

  "Roj that. Opening gates for you - now."

  The entrance to Ridley Estate swung open and the Judge rode his Lawmaster in, swerving between the statuesque security robots. Once past the perimeter it was easy to see why this was the Big Meg's most exclusive address. A long driveway curled through acres of real grass and trees, not the usual synthetic plants. Ahead, a series of palatial bungalows sprawled across the grounds, each with its own private hoverpad. In a city where each cubic millimetre of room came at a premium, devoting so much to gardens and open spaces was evidence of vast, almost incalculable wealth.

  Dredd rode on towards the luxurious lodgings, intent on locating number fifteen. No doubt the security droid had sent an alarm to Summerbee before the override took hold, warning about the arrival of a Judge. It would be interesting to see how the wealthy industrialist reacted.

  Riff had to hand it to his interview subject, she could take up crying for the Mega-Olympic team. Conchita had been sobbing her heart out ever since the hovercam entered her con-apt. Yes, she had seen the report on Channel 27, just a few minutes before. No, she had not given her daughter permission to go out or to visit any friends. Conchita had forbidden Kasey from having any contact with the aliens, especially after the incident earlier.

  "What incident was this?" Riff asked, looking back over his shoulder to smile at the hovercam. A winking red light on the side of the silver globe told him the interview was being broadcast direct to air. After this Channel 27 could not help but give him a permanent job.

  "I staged a peaceful protest, here on the seventy-second floor, when the Judges were escorting the aliens up to the top of the building. While I was distracted one of those creatures lured my daughter away and was... doing things... to her."

  Riff did his best to be soothing. "I know this is difficult and painful. But could you tell us what... things... this alien was doing to your little girl?"

  Conchita's face contorted with disgust. "It was... touching her."

  "And what did you do when you discovered this?"

  "I dragged my daughter away. I thought I'd saved her. But now..."

  Riff stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Which of the alien species was it that you saw with your daughter?"

  "R'qeen," Conchita snarled. "One of those filthy vultures!" She collapsed into hysterics again, tears flooding down her face. "It was a vulture that killed my husband, that murdered Kasey's father!"

  "This is shocking, Ms Maguire, absolutely shocking!" It's also great tri-D, Riff thought, but kept that to himself. The woman looked at him, a new horror of realisation creeping across her face.

  "You don't think when the freak... touched Kasey earlier, that it put some sort of influence on her? I've heard some of these R'qeen have mental powers, like Psi-Judges, only much stronger."

  "It's possible, I suppose," Riff agreed. "That might explain how the R'qeen were able to lure your daughter to the top floor - if that is what has happened to her. Right now, the details remain uncertain."

  "They've got her, haven't they?" Conchita cried out. "Those offworld freaks have taken my daughter, put her under their spell. Kasey may already be dead and rotting in one of their charnel pits, just waiting to be eaten..." She was falling apart now, her words panted out between sobs. "Kasey, my poor, sweet, innocent Kasey. What are they doing to you? Those drokkers, those devious, murderous, alien drokkers."

  Riff decided Conchita could take no more of this. He turned round to the camera and delivered a few closing remarks. "There you have it - the terrible torment of a mother who knows not where her child is. Has Kasey been abducted by carrion-eating creatures now living in the luxurious new con-apts atop this terrified block? Is this beloved child already dead and being subjected to some unknown horrors? Why have the Judges refused to step in and relieve the suffering of this poor woman? Only one thing is certain - the battle lines are being drawn between human and alien, and it seems nothing can stop this situation from descending into bloody and brutal conflict. This is Riff Maltin for Channel 27, handing you back to the studio with this final thought: do you know where your children are right now? Goodnight."

  The red light on the hovercam blinked off, the transmission at an end.

  "Is that it?" Conchita said between sobs.

  "Yes, it's over now. Thank you so much, you were so brave," Riff said.

  "Save the stomm for your viewers," she replied, wiping the tears from her face. All trace of hysteria was gone, hatred and grim determination the only emotions remaining. "I've got a fighting force to mobilise."

  "But you were... you were..." Riff stammered.

  "Falling apart before your eyes? Weeping my little heart out?"

  "Well, yes-"

  Conchita held open her hands to reveal two halves of a synthi-onion inside. "Rub these into your eyes and you'll weep your heart out too."

  "Sweet Jovus! Then all of that was just an act," Riff realised.

  "I want those scum out of Oswald Mosley, one way or another. Once everyone else sees that performance, they'll be ready to burn or butcher each and every one of those freaks on the top floor. And I'll be there to lead the mob!"

  Deputy Sector Chief Temple was sorting reports on screen when Caine strolled into his office. "Ahh, Patrick. Glad to find you still here," she said.

  "The sector never sleeps," Temple replied.

  "Yes, I often feel the same." Caine leaned on the edge of her deputy's desk. "Look, I know we've had our differences in the past. You were probably expecting to be promoted to my position before I arrived and that didn't help matters. But if there's anything that's troubling you, I'm always available. You know that, don't you?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Of course, ma'am."

  "Good, good. Well, that was all I wanted to say. You've seemed a bit preoccupied lately, so I just thought..."

  Temple smiled at her. "Everything's fine. There have been a lot of rumours flying around about the future of this sector house and its senior staff, but I've always had total confidence in you, ma'am. If there's ever anything I can do for you, just ask."

  "Excellent! Well, I must be getting on," Caine said cheerfully, making her way out of the office.

  She paused at the doorway. "I've just remembered, there was something else. Psi-Division precogs foresee more difficulties at Oswald Mosley. That place is like a magnet for trouble tonight. Perhaps you could take a few helmets down there and sort things out, once and for all?"

  "Of course, ma'am. That shouldn't be a problem," Temple replied.

  "Good, good. Well, carry on!"

  With that she was gone, leaving her deputy trembling with fear at his desk. It was years since he'd seen active duty. He was now being volunteered to quell a potential riot! Temple held back the vomit just long enough to reach the nearest bathroom cubicle.

  Miller emerged from the Med-Bay to find three SJS Judges waiting for her. She recognised their leader, a fearsome black woman called Jefferson. "Let me guess - the Special Judicial Squad wants to congratulate me on killing two dirty helmets and sparing your blushes for not having caught them in the act?"

  "We need to see you," Jefferson replied, her face utterly emotionless. "Interrogation Room Eight, now!"

  "Why do we need to go to an interrogation room? Are you three shy?" Miller's jo
ke got no response from the trio. She looked down at the remains of her uniform. "Could I at least get changed first?"

  "Interrogation Room Eight. Now."

  "What can I say? You're really sweeping me off my feet. Tell you what, let's all go to Interrogation Room Eight and you can impress me further with this witty banter of yours." Miller began strolling towards the turbolift, the SJS trio following close behind her.

  Werner Summerbee was an ugly man, both physically and emotionally. His face was pitted and scarred from a childhood infection of the deadly hybrid disease Rubellaria, his body left utterly hairless by the wasting illness. Few survived the contagion and Summerbee had spent long years quarantined until every trace of the disease was eradicated from his body. In that time he had only robots and books for company. His parents were mildly wealthy and were able to afford the exorbitant treatments necessary to save their son's life, but they believed lavishing presents upon him avoided the need of loving Werner.

  By the age of ten he was recognised as having the intellect of a genius. What the tests did not quantify were his character flaws. Love and friendship meant nothing to him. He just wanted more. By twenty-five he had seized control of his parents' business in a hostile takeover. By thirty-five he diversified into a dozen different areas such as terraforming planets for colonisation, developing new technology for the Justice Department and helping revitalise derelict sectors of the Big Meg. Summerbee Construction became Summerbee Industries, one of the world's richest companies. Soon its leader's wealth was such that he had to live in tax exile on the Moon; accountants only let him visit Mega-City One for thirty-seven hours a year.