by Neal Barrett
“It’s legal,” Dredd said.
“It’s suicide,” Fergie shouted. “It’s six floors down!”
“Case closed. Five years.”
“Wait a minute!”
“I’ve got a question,” Hershey said. “How did you do that?”
“How did I do what?”
“Work that food droid. That’s a highly complex electronic device. Only a trained, skilled professional could possibly do that.”
“Yeah? You’re kidding.” Fergie grinned. “What you do is you cross the yellow wire with the blue wire. Unless you got a Model E, then you gotta—uuuk!”
Dredd let go and Fergie dropped to the ground. “You have just made a confession, Citizen. Duly dated and recorded.” He nodded at a Street Judge standing in the hall. “Take this person away. Next shuttle back to Aspen Prison.”
The Street Judge walked up to Fergie. Snake-locks whipped around his wrists.
“I am telling you, I didn’t have any choice. I didn’t do anything!”
Fergie’s voice echoed down the hall. He dragged his heels, plowing two clean furrows on the floor.
“You think that’s good, the foodkart stuff?” he called out to Hershey. “You ought to see me with a Poker-droid!”
“Gambling devices are illegal,” Dredd said.
Hershey wiped her hands along the sides of her uniform. “The guy’s scared to death, you know? He might’ve been telling the truth. He’s just a scam artist. He’s not going to be hanging around with crazies, Dredd.”
Dredd shook his head. “I’ve heard every sad story in Mega-City, Hershey. What did you expect him to say? Lawbreakers are liars. Liars are criminals. Criminals must be punished to the full extent of the Law.”
Dredd gave Hershey a curious look. “These are all things you know as well as I do. Why do I get the feeling you do not clearly understand what I’m saying? You are familiar with the Articles. You know the Legal Code.”
“I am completely familiar with every aspect of my work, Judge Dredd.” She snapped down her visor to mask her eyes. “I do not need you or anyone else to tell me how to perform my duty!”
“I’m pleased to hear that, Judge Hershey. Thank you for clarifying the matter.”
“You’re welcome, Judge!”
Hershey stalked off, taking careful measured steps, keeping her back straight. She was determined not to betray her feelings in front of Dredd again. Damn the man, she thought, is there anything inside him, any soul, anything behind those armor-plated eyes?
There had to be. Every person had something in his heart—some small light of understanding, some connection to the rest of humanity. Even the filth who’d slaughtered those people in the street and murdered Briscoe. It was hard to imagine them as members of the human race, but they were. And Dredd, as far above their kind as the towers of Mega-City were above Heavenly Haven… Dredd was human, too.
Downstairs, Hershey stood in the night and looked out over the ruined neighborhood. The street was a combat zone. Broken glass littered the ground, and the tenement walls were blackened by fire. The bodies of the victims had been hastily removed, and maintenance trucks were spraying down the street. By first light, the place would probably look better than it had in years.
She could hear the wail of sirens in the night. There were fifty million people in Mega-City One. Fifty million packed into three hundred twenty square miles. A hundred and twenty years before, a city with another name had stood here. That city had held eight-million people, and in the same three hundred twenty square miles!
Crime had nearly overwhelmed the city then, and there had been no Judges to keep the vast and lawless population under control.
If we ever lost the upper hand here…
Hershey shuddered at the thought. Maybe she was wrong and Dredd was right. Maybe they couldn’t afford to understand… maybe there was no way to let their guard down. Article One, carved on the high wall at the entry to the Hall of Justice read:
FIRST THERE IS THE LAW.
It was something Dredd understood. That there was no other way. No other means to assure that civilization survived.
Maybe I’d better think about that instead of feeling sorry for some miserable little groon in a foodkart. Maybe I’d better think about how to stay alive…
She walked out into the street and studied the burned and twisted mass of metal that had been her Lawmaster half an hour before.
That’s another thing I’d better do. I’d better start thinking how I’m going to write this sucker up.
She kicked a piece of blackened chrome and sent it clanging along the street.
“It better be one hell of a report,” she said aloud. “Some jerko at the Hall has a real bad day, I’ll be buying this wreck for the rest of my natural life…”
If the Hall of Justice is the heart of Mega-City, the Chamber of the High Council of Judges is its soul. It has been said that if a priest (formerly, a religious practitioner) from the fourteenth century were suddenly transported to this great chamber, he would be struck by the majesty, the size, the stark and unworldly beauty of the place. He would gaze in disbelief at the vaulted ceiling sweeping nearly four hundred feet overhead, its graceful span of arches broken only by shimmering planes of cobalt-blue, lit by artificial suns.
This priest would likely fall to his knees and clasp his hands in prayer, certain that here was the Cathedral of Heaven, that he was, indeed, in the presence of his mythical Creator. He would soon learn he was wrong. He would find neither “love” nor “forgiveness,” or the debilitating emotions of compassion and understanding, so often associated with the “tragedy of the misguided lawbreaker.” He would learn that these false values which weakened society for centuries have been cast aside in favor of the more practical and realistic standards of our time. He would learn that our world has its own definition of Judgement Day. That we have given new meaning to the ancient concept of “the quick and the dead.” He would learn that the god worshipped here is named Law…
—History of the Mega-Cities
James Olmeyer, III
Chapter VII: “The Chamber”
2191
EIGHT
The room was small.
The walls were painted a rich shade of blue. There were three comfortable chairs, an antique glass table and a video screen mounted on the wall. The room was just off the hallway leading to the Chamber of the Council of Judges. It was used as a waiting room for those occasions when the Council allowed officials, high administrators, and prominent Citizens to bring their business before them.
This was not such an occasion. The session that was about to begin was closed to all but the Council members themselves. And, though no one would admit where they’d heard such information, it was said that this meeting was an emergency session of the gravest order. Even those who had no reliable source in high places had reason to believe this was so. There was only one topic of note in Mega-City at the moment, the only subject covered on the video news: Terror was loose in the streets, and the city was caught in a web of fear.
“This is Vardis Hammond, and I’m standing in front of the ruins of Heavenly Haven Block. As you can see behind me, city workers are still busy sifting through the burned and twisted debris from the savage battle that took place earlier this evening. Fifty-three Citizens have been hospitalized… five of them children. The death count is nineteen so far, and many victims are still on the critical list. The perpetrators themselves are among the dead. They have tentatively been identified as ‘crazed squatters’ who were allegedly killed in Summary Execution by Judge Dredd himself. The number of squatters involved has yet to be determined, due to the difficulty in separating the individual bodies…”
Judge Dredd looked at the video screen, but paid little attention to what he saw. He stood in the center of the room, his helmet under his arm. He did not consider sitting in one of the chairs. It made him uncomfortable to place his body in a position where precious seconds might be lost if he were called upon to act
quickly. This was how Judges lost their lives, by letting their guards down for that one single instant when they should have been fully alert. This was why Rookie Briscoe was dead. He had taken his mind off his business for the blink of an eye. It seldom took longer than that.
Dredd turned as the door to the hallway slid aside. He came to attention and nodded his head in respect as Chief Justice Fargo walked into the room.
“Joseph, Joseph, no formalities, please.” He smiled warmly at Dredd. “You make me feel like an old man. Which is precisely what I am, by the way.”
“If we had a hundred men like you, sir, we could clean up Mega-City by morning.”
Fargo shook his head. “I’d call that blatant flattery if it came from any other man. Coming from you, I take it as a sincere compliment. A great exaggeration, but a compliment all the same.”
The Chief Justice sighed and lowered himself into a chair. “Sit down, Joseph, please. I appreciate you coming.” He glanced at his watch. “This won’t take long. I have to be in session in a few minutes.”
Dredd knew better than anyone else how serious the situation was becoming in the streets. He had been there and seen it, and he had an idea what this session was all about. Even if he hadn’t been aware of the meeting, he could not have missed the lines of fatigue around Fargo’s eyes, the deep sense of concern that seemed to slow his steps and weigh him down.
For the first time in a lifelong association with Fargo, Dredd saw past his image of a man who was indestructable, as strong and enduring as Mega-City itself. Now he saw a man who seemed even older than his seventy years, a man dragged down by the hounds of adversity that forever snapped at his heels.
Dredd had trained himself to bury those feelings that might intrude upon the task he had set himself to do. He did not want to experience love or hate. He did not wish to want or need anyone or anything. Yet, when he saw what was happening to Fargo, how the man was disintegrating before his eyes, Dredd felt a mix of sorrow, rage, and despair that he couldn’t cast aside.
“I think you know I have always taken a special interest in your career, Joseph. I also know there are certain others who—very much resent the fact. I do not regret my actions, and I do not apologize. I have always tried to do what is best for the cause that I serve.”
Dredd sat on the edge of the chair, his back straight. “I know what you’ve done for me, and I greatly appreciate it, sir.”
Fargo looked intently at Dredd. His body might be aging, but his eyes still mirrored the strength and power that had inspired two generations of Judges.
“Tell me, Joseph. The… Summary Executions at Heavenly Haven. Were they… absolutely necessary?”
“Unavoidable, sir.”
“Unavoidable…” Fargo glanced away, lost in thought for a moment. “We make our own reality, don’t we Joseph? The severity of those executions. Were they unavoidable, too?”
Dredd felt the color rise to his face. “With all due respect, sir, a Rookie Judge died out there today, too. Times have changed in the city. Life doesn’t mean much to some people anymore. You’d be able to see that if you weren’t—”
Fargo raised an eyebrow. “If I weren’t what, Joseph?”
“Always at the—Academy, sir.”
Fargo allowed the beginning of a smile to crease his features. “Don’t you mean at the Academy wiping Cadets’ asses? That’s what they say in the squad room, isn’t it?”
Dredd cleared his throat. “That’s irrelevant, sir. You set the standards, Chief Justice Fargo.”
“No, that’s not true.” Fargo wet his lips. “Now, you do… to the young Cadets you’re a legend.”
“I don’t feel much like a legend, sir.”
“We don’t decide what we are. They do… Do you remember your time at the Academy, Joseph?”
“I remember what you taught me, sir.”
Fargo studied the ceiling. “And I remember a Cadet who embraced Justice. The ideals as well as the lessons. My finest student—out of all the thousands I have been privileged to congratulate as a newly-appointed Judge… you are the best, Judge Dredd.”
“Thank you, sir. The compliment is undeserved, but I am grateful for your words.”
“Fine, fine.” Fargo pulled himself erect and glanced at his watch. He seemed to have regained his powers, called upon a new reserve of strength.
“I’m going to give you a chance to pay some of your debts to the Academy that made you what you are. I have found the experience most satisfying, and I’m sure you will as well.” He rested a hand on Dredd’s shoulder. “I have drawn a new assignment for you. Starting tomorrow morning, you’ll be spending two days a week at the Academy.”
“I would be honored, sir. Unarmed combat or marksmanship?”
Fargo grinned. “Ethics, Joseph. The moral code of the Judges, Article Twenty-two. I’ll drop by and see how you’re doing.”
Fargo placed his helmet on his head and lowered the visor. “Tradition has its purpose, Joseph. There are some of those old buzzards in the Council I cannot stand to look at anymore. And I’m certain many of them feel the same about me.”
Dredd didn’t move for several minutes after Chief Justice Fargo left the room. He had known and revered the man all his life. He thought he knew him as well as any man could know another who was much older in years, and held such an exalted position in the profession they had both chosen for themselves.
Yet, he had no idea why Fargo had given him Academy duties—especially at this time, when every experienced Judge was needed on the streets.
Even if he could make a wild guess at the Chief Justice’s reasons, Dredd knew he’d probably be wrong. Fargo’s mind was like one of those antique boxes. The secret in the first box was another box. And within that box…
Dredd thrust the thought aside. It was a waste of time to try to get one step ahead of Fargo. His friends and enemies—within and without the Judges—had tried it for years. Most of them were dead or defeated. And the Chief Justice himself was still there.
Dredd was aware that Vardis Hammond was still on the video behind him, still doing his best to look grave, intense, intelligent, and informed in the ruined street before Heavenly Haven:
“… Some say that working these mean streets day after day is bound to have a dehumanizing effect on the Judges. But is it the streets or the Judges themselves that have created this atmosphere of savagery.
“As my special undercover report continues tomorrow night, I’ll take you behind the walls of the Hall of Justice for a disturbing probe into these recent riots and block wars. Coincidence or deliberate provocation? That’s tomorrow with Vardis Hammond…”
Dredd glared at the screen. “What the hell do you know?” he said aloud. “You want to see a disturbing probe? Give me a call, I’ll show you a disturbing probe, pal!”
NINE
THE SETTING:
With a scarcely-perceptible sigh, a massive stone eagle and shield rise up from the floor of the Council Chamber. This symbol of Mega-City Justice was carved from a single slab of black marble thirty-seven meters high and twenty-eight meters wide. Its weight and dimensions were calculated to a fine tolerance by the architects to achieve the perfect spatial ratio of the Chamber itself.
Seconds after the great stone is in place, a table of carved ebony, a wood now worth its weight in gold, rises up before the high symbol. There are five chairs behind the table. On the high, ornate backrest of each chair is a carved replica of the eagle and shield, and below each emblem is the name of the High Judge who is privileged to sit on the Council.
On the wall opposite the Judges, a large holo flickers into life. The holo is a map of New North America.
There are three pulsing blue stars on the map: Mega-City One, which rests on the twentieth century foundations of New York City; Mega-City Two, a massive extension of the old city of Los Angeles, and Mega-City Three, Tex-City, which was once called Houston. All else on this map is a dull and coppery hue, the color of the sun-baked ground, th
e color of the land of Cursed Earth, the no-color of Death.
Finally, the members of the High Council file into the Chamber and take their places. Their uniforms are black, with scarcely any hint of their rank. They do not wear the traditional helmet of the Judges when the High Council is in session. Here, their heads are bare, their faces open to one another.
[Judge Griffin rises slowly from his chair. He is a man of sixty years, with silver hair and eyes the color of Arctic ice. Still, he is a solid, broad-shouldered man with the strength and passions of a man half his age. When he stands, he presses strong fingers against the black surface of the table and addresses his fellow Judges…]
JUDGE GRIFFIN
My fellow Judges, can it be true that we have forgotten the lessons of History? Can we not see that establishing a system of Justice is not enough—that we must constantly maintain that system with whatever action, whatever force becomes necessary?
It is quite clear that these block wars that erupt across the city are becoming an epidemic—an epidemic that must be dealt with immediately. The measures we are taking now can only contain this sickness that threatens our Society. Containment is not the answer. The only solution to our problem is a tougher Criminal Code—a code designed to show this filth they cannot run amok in Mega-City!
JUDGE SILVER
[Stands, and enthusiastically pounds the table.]
The situation gets worse every day—seventy-three Citizen riots in two months in, what? Sixteen different sectors.
JUDGE McGRUDER
Violent crime is rising fifteen percent every quarter. If we don’t increase our resources they will be inadequate in under three years.
JUDGE ESPOSITO
Three years? They are totally inadequate now!
[The Council is in an uproar. A gavel strikes the table, a sound that echoes like thunder off the high Chamber walls. Chief Justice Fargo rises from his chair. While Judge Griffin never fails to stir the Council, it is Fargo, with his dignity and iron will who brings instant silence to the room.]
