by David Bishop
"Four months," the juve replied, a knot of fear tightening in his gut.
"To the day, I believe."
"Yes, sir."
"You were expelled from the Academy of Law after failing your final Hotdog Run assessment in the Cursed Earth."
Ryan nodded, unsure where Bludd was going with all of this.
"So you completed twelve years of training to become a Judge before being cast aside. How did that make you feel?"
"Angry. Frustrated. Counsellors from Psi-Division are assigned to give each failed cadet what the department calls 'attitude adjustment' so you can reintegrate with other citizens after expulsion."
"They brainwash the failures, rendering them less dangerous."
"Yes, sir."
"But this 'attitude adjustment' didn't work on you."
"No, sir. I am naturally resistant to direct psi-probing or persuasion. Not only is my mind difficult to read, it is almost impossible to implant unwanted suggestions into my thoughts. That turned me into a problem case when the decision was made to expel me. There was talk of corrective surgery, neutralising the aggression centres in my brain."
"And that's when you ran away from the Academy, joined the unwanted, the unloved, the untouchables of City Bottom."
"Yes, sir."
Bludd nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Would it surprise you to know Kara has been trying to infiltrate your mind these past four months?"
"No, sir. In fact I expected it. You are unlikely to trust anyone whose thoughts you cannot know."
"Exactly. But your natural resistance has proved beyond even the talents of my delightful companion. In the past one hundred and twenty days you have been an able, willing and delightfully vicious operative on my behalf. But until we overcome the issue of trust, you will never advance in the Bludd Group. To make that happen, I must ask you to do me a favour, Ryan."
"Name it, sir."
Bludd reached into a pocket and removed a small black pill. "This is an experimental drug being developed by my biochemists. It will temporarily undo your natural psychic defences, enabling Kara to read what is beyond them. Whatever secrets you may be hiding, she will reveal them." The crime boss offered the pill to Ryan. "Will you take it? Will you let yourself succumb and prove above all doubt I can trust you?"
The juve rested one hand on the balustrade, all too conscious of the three hundred metre drop to the ground below. "I'll do it." He took the pill and slid it into his mouth, dry swallowing the black tablet with some difficulty. Ryan opened his mouth to let Bludd see the tablet had gone.
"Very good. Come back inside and have a drink. The pill requires a few minutes for its active agents to pass into your bloodstream. Once that has happened, Kara will have her wicked way with you."
Bludd clapped a fleshy hand on the juve's back and led him back into the penthouse. "It will be a most pleasurable experience, of that you can be certain."
"G'day, mate! How's it hangin?"
Giant regarded the burly figure approaching him with suspicion. "How is what hanging?" he asked the newly arrived Judge from Oz, the Sydney-Melbourne Conurbation, fresh off the shuttle.
"Your bobby dazzler! I reckon it'll be hanging to the ground from the look of ya! Me name's Bruce, Judge Bruce, but you can just call me Brucie. In fact, most Judges are called Bruce where I come from. Makes telling us apart a bit confusing, but it saves on name badges, eh?" The Oz lawman offered his hand for Giant to shake. Bruce's scalp was covered with a rash of bleached yellow hair, his skin was tanned deep bronze and a bushy lemon moustache adorned his top lip. After a few seconds of silence, the new arrival sheepishly withdrew his hand and dropped his luggage on the Customs Hall floor.
"I heard you lot in the Big Meg could be as snotty as a pom in a pickle. Guess that was about right! What's ya name, sport?"
Giant was only catching about half of what Bruce was saying, so dense was the variety of vernacular being spouted by the visitor. But he didn't need a degree in Allspeak to interpret the last question. The Mega-City One Judge tapped his daystick against the metal badge on his chest. "It's right here."
"Giant, eh? It's a big name, fella. Hope you live up to it. Now, where do I dump my gear? I'm looking to paint the town red and I don't want to wait around while you lot rattle your dags!"
"Rattle our dags?" Giant asked, bewilderment getting the better of him.
"Fair dinkum, mate!"
Giant looked across at Dredd, who had been silently observing all of this from one side. The senior Judge jerked a thumb at the exit, so Giant sent Bruce through to the waiting hoverpod. Once the delegate had passed out of hearing, Dredd joined his colleague at the Customs desk.
"You've been to Oz, haven't you Dredd? Do they all talk like that?"
"I suspect he was laying it on thicker than usual to leave you guessing. Keep an eye on that one. People from the Sydney-Melbourne Conurb aren't as stupid as they look."
"I doubt anyone could be as stupid as he looks," Giant muttered.
"Never trust a man with facial hair," Dredd added. "They always have something to hide."
Giant nodded his agreement. He had read that advice while studying the many volumes of Dredd's Comportment at the Academy. What seemed an irrational statement at first had proven to have some truth behind it in Giant's experience. He had been a Judge on the streets for a decade. Of all the set texts that crossed his path at the Academy, it was Dredd's Comportment he had come back to most frequently. More often than not the old man was right - that was why he was the best Judge in Mega-City One. Whenever Giant was uncertain how to react in a situation, he found a four word mantra usually provided the answer: What would Dredd do?
Giant was snapped back to attention by a woman clearing her throat. She was a slim Asiatic, clad in the yellow and red garb of a Sino-Cit law enforcer. Her helmet was held in the crook of her left arm, while her right hand offered a selection of papers.
"If you please, Representative Chang reporting." She arched an eyebrow at Giant, as if challenging him. Her olive skin was flawless except for a small red dragon tattooed on her left cheek. Dark brown eyes twinkled beneath jet black hair that was pulled back from her features in a severe ponytail.
"I'll deal with this one," Dredd growled to his colleague, taking Chang's papers and rifling through them. "What's the purpose of your visit?"
"We are attending the gathering of delegates, as requested by your leader. Were you not informed of our arrival?"
"I'll ask the questions," Dredd snarled.
"As you wish," Chang replied and fell silent.
Dredd waited a few seconds before snapping. "Well?"
"We wish to gain entry to your city for attendance at this summit."
"Who's we?" Dredd looked past Chang but nobody was standing behind her. "I only see one person in the queue and that's you."
"Forgive me. Our translation machine is not yet attuned to the subtleties of your language. It is most regrettable."
Dredd leaned over the desk to press his face close to Chang. "You can play the inscrutable card all you like, Lotus-Flower, but it won't wash with me. I'll be watching you like a hawk, mark my words."
"You intend to observe us while flying through the sky?" Chang inclined her head towards Dredd in a slight bow. "As you wish."
Dredd pointed at the doors. "Shuttle's through there. It'll take you to the assigned quarters."
"You have been most kind. Thank you for this hospitality and I hope you have a pleasant day."
"I said move it!"
The Sino-Cit delegate smiled and moved on. Once she had passed through the doors Giant gave a low whistle. "She's a cool customer. Didn't rise to your bait once."
"Who said I was baiting her?" Dredd replied. "How many of these creeps are we still waiting on?"
Giant consulted his palm unit. "Just two left: Smirnoff and the delegate from Cuidad Barranquilla, Judge Ramirez Belgrano. Both of them were due in an hour ago." He was interrupted by a drunken chorus from the far end of the corr
idor. Two men were staggering towards the Customs desk, each doing their best to hold the other upright. "This could be them now."
"Terrif," Dredd muttered darkly.
Ryan opened his eyes and found himself lying on a vast bed, naked but for a black silk sheet draped over his lower body. Over the bed was a mirrored ceiling, reflecting the juve's image back down at him. He didn't remember losing consciousness but must have done so. Last thing he could recall was swallowing a pill, a pill given to him by - Jesus Bludd! Ryan tried to sit up and found he couldn't, his limbs like lead, his body too heavy to lift. Whatever was in that pill had paralysed him, at least temporarily. He was trapped, unable to move. There could be no escape.
That's right, a silky female voice said. Ryan did not hear the voice through his ears. The words were being spoken directly into his thoughts. One of telepathy's virtues, the voice continued. It removes the need for talking out loud. Instead we can communicate without anything in the way - no barriers, no word games, no concealment. Just pure emotion and meaning.
Ryan heard footsteps moving towards him and strained his head forwards, raising it off the bed high enough to look around the room. It was a symphony of black and red, stark and not a little intimidating. Mirrors lined two of the walls, reflecting each other's image to create a dizzying effect of the room expanding sideways out towards infinity. Kara was striding towards him, her proud body encased in black latex, its figure-hugging surface brightly polished and gleaming. She jumped onto the bed and knelt down across his chest before resting her weight against his crotch. How's that? Comfortable?
"Yes," Ryan replied, his voice slurred and unfamiliar.
Kara reached up and pulled off her blonde wig, revealing a perfectly smooth, lightly tanned scalp beneath. That's better. I do my best work naked.
"Really?" Ryan felt disconnected, afloat in his own body. Must be the drug. I wonder if there are any side effects?
Let's just say they heighten your sexual responsiveness. Kara began shifting her weight from side to side atop the silk sheet, letting the gleaming black latex slide across the juve's crotch. The subject becomes aroused beyond anything they have ever known, the slightest touch being magnified a thousand-fold in its effect.
Ryan could feel his body responding hungrily to the stimulus, despite his mind screaming at it to stop.
Don't fight it, just enjoy.
"But I can't, you're-"
Whatever Bludd wants me to be. Whatever he wants me to do, I do. He's probably watching us right now, I think it gives him a dirty little thrill. That mirror over your head? It's two-way, there's a camera filming everything we do.
"Oh grud-" Ryan gasped, trying to get away from her but unable to move. Kara rested a finger gently against his lips, silencing him.
You know the best part of this heightened arousal? It never quite comes to an end, if you grasp my meaning. I can keep you on the edge of ecstasy for hours - taunting and teasing, have you begging for relief.
Kara increased the pressure against her subject, now moving herself forwards and backwards against him, her breathing coming in little gasps. And the more aroused you get, the less resistant your mind becomes.
"Please, no," Ryan begged.
Already I can feel your psychic barriers crumbling. Soon I'll be able to penetrate the deepest corners of your mind. Every thought, every secret, every hidden crevice will be mine. Kara licked her lips and smiled at Ryan. Get ready. Here I come...
Judge Ivan Smirnoff never knew Dredd had a twin. He had been briefed about the legendary lawman, described by some as the Great Satan for having nuked East-Meg One out of existence more than twenty years ago. Smirnoff couldn't care less what had happened to the Sov-Block's capital, nor about who was responsible for blowing it off the face of the planet. Good riddance to them, that was his attitude. They had been elitist, uptight snobs, always looking down their noses at lowly East-Meg Two and sneering about inferior productivity levels. Bulgarin's bones, there was more to life than productivity!
So when the Apocalypse War led to the annihilation of East-Meg One, Smirnoff had danced a private little jig of joy. He knew it was wrong, it was bad to rejoice in the demise of so many of his countrymen. But Smirnoff shed no tears for them. Instead he had raised a toast to the man believed to be responsible - Joe Dredd. Twenty-two years later, the delegate from East-Meg Two was surprised to find himself confronted by not one but two Dredds at the Customs and Immigration desk.
Smirnoff nudged his new best friend in the ribs. "Comrade Ramirez, can you see? They were so happy to welcome us they sent twins!"
Smirnoff and Belgrano had arrived at the shuttle-port an hour earlier, their flights touching down within minutes of each other. The man from East-Meg Two was dismayed by a large sign warning that anyone caught trying to smuggle illegal stimulants, alcohol or dozens of other banned substances would face harsh punishment.
As his own silent protest, Smirnoff immediately sat down and began consuming a five-litre flagon of synthi-vodka from his hand baggage. He offered to share the contents with anyone who passed but only one man had accepted - the bellicose Belgrano. They finished off the synthi-vodka in record time and had spent the past thirty-seven minutes staggering and weaving their way along the terminal's corridors in search of an exit.
Smirnoff tried to focus on the face of his new comrade but Belgrano seemed to have grown a second head, a most disconcerting turn of events. "Are you alright, tovarisch? You don't look so good."
Belgrano's two heads turned towards Smirnoff. "You crazy Russian, I feel fine! You're the one with six eyes, not me."
"Oh!" The East-Meg Two delegate shrugged and smiled. "Good. They will come in handy for spying on these decadent Westerners!"
Bludd was waiting for Kara when she emerged from the bedchamber. "Well? How did Ryan respond?"
She zipped up the front of her latex bodysuit and smiled. "He thinks he's just had the best sex of his life and I never had to touch him once. Auto-erotic suggestion is a wonderfully powerful tool. Those little black pills of yours would make a fortune on the open market."
"Yes, yes, I know that. What did you discover about our newest recruit?"
Kara sighed. "It's always business before pleasure with you, Jesus."
"Don't change the subject."
She folded her arms and looked back at Ryan asleep on the bed, the juve's face beaming with contentment. "He's definitely undergone conditioning by Psi-Division, but that's to be expected in an expelled cadet. I was able to overcome their mind-blocks in minutes. To destroy the natural psi barriers in his brain - that would take weeks and leave him a useless, hollowed out husk. But I saw enough to believe he's genuine."
Bludd smiled, one hand reaching out to caress Kara's waist. "Good. Then he can go with you on the mission tomorrow." The crime boss pulled her closer, letting his fingers slide upwards across the latex. "Now, how shall I reward you for doing such a good job?"
A brief search of Smirnoff's bags revealed he was bringing nothing more dangerous into the Big Meg than a record-breaking blood alcohol level. Giant poured the Sov delegate into an H-wagon and sent him away to sober up. Dredd concentrated his efforts on Belgrano, a corpulent figure with greasy black hair and a greasier moustache. The drunken visitor was escorted to a private interview room, along with his bags.
"Cuidad Barranquilla is a hiding place for the scum of the earth," Dredd observed as he began opening Belgrano's luggage. "The Judges are lazy, corrupt and worse than most of the criminals. If Hershey does manage to negotiate this treaty, it'll be my pleasure to come down and oversee the extradition process personally."
Belgrano belched loudly at Dredd but made no other reply before Giant joined the interrogation. "He said anything useful yet?"
Dredd shook his head. "Not unless you consider breaking wind meaningful. Knowing the boys from Banana City, that'll probably be his finest contribution to the summit meeting." Dredd pointed at one of Belgrano's bags. "You check that one. Belching boy here is ju
st stupid enough to try and bring in a few samples of illicit merchandise."
Giant cracked open the case and reeled back from the smell it released. "Sweet Jovus! Don't they have laundry facilities that far south?"
"Put your respirator on. Smugglers often defecate in their own luggage to dissuade detailed examination."
Giant pulled down the respirator unit from atop his helmet and clamped it firmly over his mouth and nostrils. Able to breathe freely again, he began sifting through the contents of the case. "Fouled u-fronts account for the odour - a dozen pairs of them! Also got a selection of soiled shorts, socks and shirts. All of them probably violate health regs and air pollution laws."
"Bag 'em for burning, then keep looking," Dredd commanded. He had finished with the other bags and was now trying to slap some life back into the boozy Belgrano's face. "Wake up, wetback! No dozing in here!"
The South American Judge opened his eyes and winced. "Where am I?"
"Mega-City One, stomm for brains. You got anything you want to tell us before we finish searching your bags?"
Belgrano shook his head. "I have nothing to declare, except my," he paused to belch again loudly, this time accompanied by the sound of wind breaking from his trousers, "except my genius."
Dredd pulled his own respirator unit down to escape the odours being exuded. "If that's genius, the Big Smelly must be the smartest river in the world, creep."
"Yo!" Giant called to his colleague. "We got a white powder in this bottle. Care to explain that?"
Belgrano snorted derisively. "That is talcum powder, you fool!"
Giant ran his palm-unit over the disputed substance. "Then why does my scanner analysis call it sugar - eighty-nine per cent pure, to be exact?"
"I have no idea how that got into my luggage."
Dredd joined Giant at the suspect case. He ran his hands around the lining and discovered a series of cylindrical ridges down one side. "And what do we have here, I wonder?"
