by Neal Barrett
There were telescopes on the railing. You could put in a token and look out over the wasteland and bring everything up close. Hardly anyone did. And no one ever did it twice. There was always a chance that you’d see something more out there, something worse than the parched red earth. Something you didn’t want to see like a Krazy or a Cull. A Booter hopping on a single leather foot, or a Dusteater with skin the color of clay. Outcasters came up to the LA Wall all the time, especially at night. You weren’t supposed to feed them, but sometimes a guard would toss something off the Wall. Sometimes something would fall off a shuttle or a barge. A lot of the time, Fergie knew, an Outcaster came out of the wild just to look at the Wall, to see where he couldn’t be.
Fergie dreamed Maggie was beside him. He dreamed she touched his leg and slid her hand up his thigh. Fergie opened his eyes and saw the skinny con squatting over him, grinning with rotten teeth.
“You son of a bitch,” Fergie yelled, “get out of here!”
He knocked the man’s hand away, raised his foot and kicked him in the chest.
The con coughed, spat on the bare ground, and pulled himself up. He wiped a ragged sleeve across his face.
“You don’ have to get all heated up,” he said. “I wasn’t doin’ what you thought it was I did.”
“Yeah? What are you, then, the local massage parlor, or what? I’m going to get a free rub?”
The man smelled like he’d just won the hundred-meter cesspool event. Fergie wondered if he smelled as bad, and decided he didn’t want to know.
“I’m Dix,” the guy said. “Donnie Dix.”
“I’m not,” Fergie said. “Beat it, pal.”
“Listen, ol’ Donnie ain’t offended. I got a real thick skin. Don’t anything much bother me. Say whatever you want, it don’t mean anything to me.”
Fergie gave the con a curious look. “Nothing, huh?”
“Not a thing, friend.”
“If I was to maybe hit on something, you’d tell me, okay?”
Donnie grinned, showing jagged rows of green teeth. “I don’t just side up to anyone, mister. I been around the track once or twice an’ I can pick the right feller out ever’ time. I got an insight into people won’t quit.”
“And you picked me.”
“Right off. Minute I spotted you sittin’ over here.”
“What for?”
“What for what?”
“What did you pick me out for? What did I win, a free trip to Hell?”
Donnie looked puzzled, then his eyes lit up. “Well, say, I might’ve got you wrong, friend. It sure ain’t likely, but I won’t say I didn’t or I did. This is your first time goin’ up, ain’t it? I got to figure it is.”
“Yeah, first time up,” Fergie lied. “How can you tell?”
“Like I say, it’s a gift.” Donnie raised a dirty finger. “You got to look real good, is all. There’s a first-timer look and that’s what you got.”
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was close.
“You’ll learn about that once you get up there. I’m not supposed to say anything an’ I’d get in a whole lot of trouble if anybody found out I did.”
“Did what?”
“Told you about the ERP. That’s the Extra Ration Plan. Prisoners get extra rations on Sundays and holidays. The thing is, a new guy like you, a fish, the old cons, they’ll take away your ERP. Unless you join up with one of the guilds. You do that, you got protection, see? Nobody’s going to screw with you, you’re in a good guild. Am I coming through okay? You got any questions, you let me know.”
“No, I think it’s pretty clear.”
Fergie had figured the scam about the first two seconds the droog started talking, he just didn’t know the wrap-up, the end.
“So what do I do when I get to Aspen, I join one of the guilds, right?”
Donnie looked pained. “No, man, you get it up there, it’s going to cost you a mucking arm and a leg. What you want to do, you want to join before, you want to join now and save half of what you’d have to pay.”
“Half sounds good,” Fergie said.
“Sure it does. Now you’re talking, man.”
“No I’m not,” Fergie said. “I haven’t got any bucks and neither do you. Neither does anyone else in this hole because the Judges took everything away.”
“Don’t I know that? Don’t Donnie Dix know that?” Dix looked irritated. “The guild don’t expect you to have any cash. They know how it plays here, man. That’s why I’m authorized to take goods instead of dough.”
“Goods.” Fergie looked at him. “Like, what kind of goods?”
Donnie tried not to let it show, but Fergie caught the look, caught the hunger and the need.
“You got stuff, man. Like boots, okay? You got real boots and good socks.”
Fergie didn’t blink. “You want my boots? I’m going to freezing-ass Aspen Prison, you want me to give you my boots?”
Donnie waved him off. “Don’t matter. You can get some more when you get there. They got boots, warm clothes, anything you want. I mean, Aspen isn’t no vacation spot, I’m not about to tell you that, but it’s not as bad as everyone thinks. You keep your cool, they’ll treat you okay.”
“Forget it,” Fergie said.
“What?”
“I said forget it. Get your sorry ass out of here. Now.”
A vein began to throb on the side of Donnie’s head. “You don’t want to mess with me, pal. You don’t want to mess with me at all. You screw around with me, word gets back to the guild, and they ain’t going to be happy at all.”
Donnie scooted in closer, and Fergie smelled the fury and the fear, saw the light of the wolf in Donnie’s eyes.
“I work for people up there you don’t want to piss off. Guys that can do stuff to you you don’t even want to think about.” Donnie paused to let that sink in. “You ever heard of Jimmy Eyes? You ever heard of him?”
“I heard of him,” Fergie said.
Donnie showed him a nasty grin. “Yeah, I thought you maybe did.”
“What I heard is he’s out, he’s not in. He got in off the shuttle a couple of days back.”
Donnie blinked. “Where the hell you hear that?”
“Dinner last night. Before the Judges picked me up. It was a setup is what it was, I wasn’t doing anything at all. All I was doing was coming out of Jimmy’s house.”
“You was—huh?”
“Coming out of Jimmy’s house.” Fergie grinned. “You don’t get it, do you? You stupid groon, I’m Jimmy’s brother. I’m Fergie Eyes.”
Donnie went white. “No, you ain’t either.”
“You want Fergie Eyes’ boots? You want his mucking socks?”
“Hey, forget it, okay?” Donnie shook his head and scuttled off like a crab who wasn’t wearing shoes or socks. “I don’t want nothing, man!”
“Right,” Fergie said. “Go straight to hell, man.”
FOURTEEN
“When the Judge Hunters came for you, Joseph. What did you say to them?”
“I think they probably told you what I said to them, sir.”
“I’m not asking them, Judge Dredd. I’m asking you.”
“I told them to go straight to hell, sir.”
“Joseph, Joseph…” Chief Justice Fargo ran a hand across his face, as if the gesture might relieve the great weight that seemed forever to drag him down.
The cell was scarcely large enough for one man. Dredd sat straight on the edge of the steel shelf that served prisoners for a bed. Manacles bound his hands behind his back, and another set held his legs.
The sight of this sent a jolt straight to Fargo’s heart. Even in his worst nightmares, he had never imagined something like this. Anyone else, perhaps—things could happen, things could go wrong—even among a body of men and women like the Judges. But not Dredd, not Joseph Dredd.
“I have to ask you this,” Fargo said. “I ask it as Chief Justice, not as a friend.”
“And I’ll be glad to
answer it, sir. I’m innocent. I have not committed any crime.”
Fargo looked at his hands. “I have to tell you this. The Council is said to have irrefutable proof against you. That’s the reason this is not merely an inquiry. This is a full Tribunal, Joseph. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”
“No, sir. I understand. And with all due respect, sir, you shouldn’t be here. You’re a member of the Court. The Articles—”
“Damn the Articles, Joseph! If I choose to come here as your friend, then I will!”
Dredd was startled by the fury, the sorrow in Fargo’s eyes. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t do that. He could not dishonor the man like that.
“I’m sorry,” Fargo said, “I had to ask. I don’t believe the evidence, whatever it is, but I had to face you myself.”
“Yes, sir. I know that. And I’m grateful to you, sir.”
“Is there… anything you need, Joseph? Anything I can do?”
Dredd shook his head. “How could this happen, Judge? Something like this. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know. I’ve thought of nothing else since they informed me. I’ll use every resource at my command to find out, and get to the truth of this. You know I’ll do that. I will fight for you, Joseph.”
“I know that, sir.”
Chief Justice Fargo stepped to Dredd’s side and squeezed his shoulder.. “We’ll see this through. We’ll get it over and done.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll do that, sir.”
Dredd stood when Fargo left the cell. He looked at the bare, white walls. Something was growing at the edge of his mind and he couldn’t say what it might be. It was something different, something he had never felt before. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it at all. He didn’t want it in his head anymore.
When it finally broke through, it came in upon him like a rush of cold, dark water. He closed his eyes and a cry stuck in his throat. He saw the unfamiliar feeling for what it was. He was alone. He had experienced that terrible emotion once before, when he had to weigh friendship against his vow to uphold the Law. He had tried to sweep that from his mind, to put it aside as best he could. And now it was happening once more. Now he knew the awful feeling of loneliness again.
The screen flickered, brightened. The video suddenly focused on a hallway, a closed door. Digital numbers raced across the bottom of the image, blinking the time and the day. For a few seconds there was nothing. Then, a dark figure appeared, a figure in the unmistakable black armor of a Judge. The Judge drew his Lawgiver and pressed the button inset in the door. The door opened. Light from the room flooded the hall.
“What is it? What do you—”
Vardis Hammond’s face was stricken with fear.
“Dredd! No, please—!”
A quick flare of light in the Judge’s hand, a nearly-imperceptible sound. Hammond doubled over and fell. The Judge stepped over his body, walked into the room and closed the door behind him.
Judge Hershey drew in a breath and held it. Beside her, Dredd stared at the screen, unable to believe what he was seeing.
A low murmur swept through the Council Chamber. A full Tribunal was a rare occasion, and seating had been brought in to accommodate the crowd. Every off-duty Judge in Mega-City was on hand, and every Cadet from the Academy. Members of the media, who were seldom allowed in the Hall of Justice itself, let alone this chamber, had been alloted a special section today.
Judge Dredd stood on a raised dias before the table of Judges. Chief Justice Fargo sat in the center chair. Beside him were Judges Esposito, Silver, and Griffin. Judge McGruder, acting as Prosecutor, stood to Dredd’s left. Judge Hershey stood to his right. Fargo had expressed his concern when Dredd announced that he had chosen a Street Judge as his Counsel for Defense.
“I trust her,” Dredd had said simply, and that was that.
“Before we continue, I would like to make a personal statement,” McGruder said. “I have observed your career from the outset, Judge Dredd, and I have the highest regard for you. Nevertheless, you understand that it is my duty to prosecute this case to the best of my ability.”
“I would expect no less, sir,” Dredd said.
Fargo leaned forward. “The Court shares Judge McGruder’s sentiments. Proceed, please.”
McGruder nodded and faced the table of Judges. “The video you have just seen is prima facie evidence that the Defendant is guilty as charged. Mark it People’s Exhibit number—”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Hershey boldly stepped forward. “The video we have just seen is inadmissable as evidence. I ask that it be rejected as People’s Evidence.”
McGruder stared. “What? It is perfectly clear that—”
“If I may be allowed to explain, Your Honor?”
Judge Fargo nodded. “Please do, Counselor.”
Hershey gave Dredd a furtive glance. She had known McGruder had strong evidence, but she hadn’t seen the video before. The sight of that dark figure gunning Hammond down in cold blood, then watching a Judge walk into the apartment to murder Hammond’s wife… She hoped her emotions wouldn’t betray her, that none of the Judges had been watching her at that particular moment.
Taking a deep breath, she brought all her will to bear to keep from shaking as she drew a document from the thin case she held at her side.
“Your Honor, I have here an affidavit from Cadet Olmeyer, who is currently attending the Academy.”
From the muttering behind her, she guessed that everyone in the room was craning their necks to find one Cadet Olmeyer. Olmeyer would love that. He had an ego that was bigger than his over-educated head.
“By way of credentials, Cadet Olmeyer is acknowledged by all of his instructors to be an expert in the field of still and video graphics. He has been at the top of his class five years running in Computer Programming and Manipulation. He helped create and develop Central’s video analysis system. His affidavit states that the surveillance video in question is of such low definition that even after all known enhancements have been utilized, no possible identification can be made of the alleged killer shown in this presentation. Cadet Olmeyer, who is also experienced in micro-analysis of—”
“Prosecution will accept the Cadet’s credentials,” McGruder said wearily. “With the qualification that we are talking about a Cadet, here, a student, and not an experienced professional in the field.”
“Thank you,” Hershey said. She let her gaze touch each of the Judges in turn.
“Since the uniform of a Judge could easily be counterfeited, since the badge and every other accessory can be duplicated, and since neither video nor audio in Prosecution’s clip can identify positively the accused in any way—or anyone else, for that matter—I repeat my objection to this video being entered as evidence in this case!”
She turned to McGruder, then to the table of Judges. “I am asking for a ruling, Your Honor!”
No one in the great Chamber moved. Behind the Judges’ table, Judge Esposito leaned to his left to whisper to Judge Silver. Silver looked thoughtful, then shook his head. Judge Griffin looked right at Dredd, his eyes unwavering, as if he might somehow draw Dredd’s thoughts from his head.
Chief Justice Fargo folded his hands on the table before him. He looked at himself in the dark, polished surface of the wood. It was a ritual he had practiced from the first day he had presided over the Council. The answer was always there. It was always the truth, it was always the Law, for the two were one and the same. Sometimes, the answer didn’t match his deep, personal feelings, the wisdom and insight he had gained from a lifetime of serving the Citizens of Mega-City. Still, it was the right decision, and he took great comfort in that. It was the one thing he could count on, the one thing he could trust in a dangerous and rapidly changing world.
Fargo slowly raised his head. He looked past the defendant and Hershey, past Judge McGruder and the media and the black-clad Judges. His gaze came to rest on the Cadets, the young men and women who held the future of the city in their
hands. The Truth, the Law, his decision, was for them.
“Objection… sustained. I find the Prosecution’s video evidence inadmissable in this Tribunal.”
For a moment, the crowd seemed to hold its collective breath. Then the Chamber exploded in a burst of sound. Fargo’s gavel struck again and again, but no one seemed to hear. The cheers went on unabated, and the most raucous yells of all came from the Cadets.
Hershey leaned close to Dredd so he could hear her above the sound.
“Go ahead, tell me. I don’t mind.”
“Tell you what?”
“Admit it. You’re impressed.”
“Thanks. I’m impressed,” Dredd said.
“Hey. Unbound enthusiasm. I can hardly stand it, Dredd.”
Dredd looked straight ahead. “You think he’s through? You think that’s it?”
“No, I don’t think he’s through, I didn’t say that. Nevertheless—”
“Thanks, Hershey.”
“You already said that.”
“Now I’ve said it again.”
“What for?”
“In case you do something else.”
Hershey gave him a curious look. Did he mean that? Was he serious? Of course he is, she told herself, he’s Judge Dredd. Either that, or Dredd had made a joke. That, of course, was unthinkable, and she dismissed it from her mind at once.
FIFTEEN
Judge Dredd was right. The Prosecution wasn’t finished. McGruder was just getting started.
Chief Justice Fargo called a brief recess, and McGruder quickly went into a huddle with her staff. Hershey watched from the dias. She didn’t have any aids; there was no one to talk to but Dredd, and Dredd was stiff as a statue, looking straight ahead. She wondered what he was thinking. There had to be something going on in his head…
The sound of Fargo’s gavel echoed through the Chamber. The room went silent at once. McGruder stepped back up on the dias. She glanced calmly at Hershey, then faced the Judges’ table.
“Your Honor, in light of your ruling regarding evidence presented in this Tribunal, I am forced to move to technical evidence which I believe is of a most critical nature. I will need the Court’s permission to access documentation marked ‘Judge Secret’ from the Central Computer.”
