by David Bishop
"That corroborates what I could glean from the holes in the curator's memory," Karyn said. "Kara has stolen everything anyone needs to know to make that command and control system active again."
"Sweet Jovus," Dredd said quietly. He activated his helmet radio and called Control. "I need everything you can give me about late twentieth century weapons systems controlled by the United States Government."
"That isn't going to be easy," Control replied. "All the central records were destroyed during the Atomic Wars of 2070. Anything from before that period is considered arcane knowledge these days. You could try the Museum of the Twentieth Century. The Dustbuster's staff probably know more than we do."
"I'm at the Dustbuster!" Dredd snarled back. "Contact the Chief Judge. Tell Hershey I have to speak with her immediately, if not sooner!"
"We'll pass the message on, Dredd, but she's been busy at the treaty negotiations all day. Don't know if-"
"I couldn't give a drokk what you know or don't know, Control. All I do know is that this city is in grave and imminent danger. Now do what I ask or I'll have your badge for breakfast! Dredd out."
Karyn had observed all of this at close quarters and it scared her. She had never seen Dredd so anxious nor so angry. The Psi-Judge was trying to think how she could help when a weak voice spoke behind her.
"You're right to be afraid," Dr Swanson said. She had opened the door to her office and was watching the two Judges. "In the late twentieth century, different nations launched thousands of satellites into orbit, laden with all manner of doomsday weapons. Mutually assured destruction, it was called. They believed nobody would dare risk a global conflict using these weapons of mass destruction, for fear of being destroyed themselves. They all believed that having the power to destroy their enemy made them safe. But how many different ways do you need to wipe humanity off the face of the earth?" Swanson smiled, her face briefly brought alive again by bitter irony. "Of course, we know different now, don't we? Thanks to Bad Bob Booth." The curator sagged sideways, leaning against the doorframe for support. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry," she whispered sadly.
Dredd moved closer to Swanson, acknowledging a look of warning from Karyn. "What sort of weapons did the US Government send into orbit, Dr Swanson?"
She shrugged. "There was a lot of talk about a laser defence system. But many suspected the satellites were used to store atomic, biological and even chemical weapons. Little time bombs from the past, gently orbiting the planet, just waiting for the chance to explode, nearly one hundred and fifty years later." The curator frowned. "I used to know a lot about such things but I can't recall any of the details now for the life of me. I don't know why..." She wandered back into her office, standing over the desk like a puppet whose strings have been cut, just waiting to fall over. Karyn watched Swanson with concern.
"She's coming apart," the Psi-Judge whispered to Dredd. "Whatever Kara did to her, it's getting worse, like a ricochet bullet, bouncing around in Dr Swanson's mind, causing more and more damage. We need to-" Karyn was interrupted by Dredd getting a call from Control.
"Putting the Chief Judge through to you now."
Karyn listened as Dredd explained the gravity of the situation. The Psi-Judge was not able to hear Hershey's side of the conversation, but it did not require much imagination. In the past Bludd had been considered a minor but growing threat to the Law. But in a single, bold stroke the crime boss had apparently acquired a means of destroying entire cities. Karyn was so intent on Dredd, she didn't notice what Dr Swanson was doing.
Janet could feel her thoughts coming apart, her mind splintering into broken shards, all shapes edges, and pain. She tried to picture Kay's beautiful face but couldn't see it anymore, just a grinning mask of hatred where once her lover had been. Worst of all, she knew the love they had shared was a sham, a ruse, and somehow that was the cruellest trick of all.
I don't want to have these memories anymore, Janet thought. She turned away from the desk towards her office windows. Outside, the city was slowly being enshrouded by night, the sun setting beyond the West Wall in the distance. To the east, lights were beginning to appear in a few buildings. It would be dusk soon, the end of another day. I thought I was unhappy this morning, Janet realised. I didn't know what unhappiness was.
She took two steps back, then ran forwards, launching herself at the office windows.
Karyn felt the psi-flash of Dr Swanson's terror a moment before the curator crashed through the glasseen, but it was too late to do anything. The Psi-Judge twisted round to see the broken woman plunging out of the window, blood trailing from the wounds sliced by the shattered fragments of glasseen. Karyn braced herself for the moment of death as Dr Swanson fell forty-two storeys to the ground below, screaming with terror all the way down.
Then it was over with just a horrible, numb emptiness left behind.
No matter how many times Karyn had experienced the death of a mind, it never got any easier, any less painful. She felt drawn into the death, a tiny piece of herself dying too. The Psi-Judge did not fear her own death. It was an ending, nothing more. When you worked the streets of Mega-City One, death could come at any moment. But the horror of feeling another person die, that lingered in the mind like a cancer, eating away at you.
Karyn turned away from the window to see Dredd watching her, still talking with the Chief Judge on his helmet radio. "Sorry to interrupt you, but Dr Swanson has just committed suicide." He paused for Hershey's response. "We'll keep interviewing the other staff, but it seems the curator was the key to the theft. I doubt the others will be able to add much." Another pause. "Yes, ma'am. We'll just have to see what move Bludd makes next. Dredd out."
Karyn apologised for failing to stop Dr Swanson. "She was out the window before I realised what was in her mind. Kara left such a mess, I couldn't anticipate what the curator was going to do."
Dredd waved away the apology. "I doubt there was much more we could have gotten from her anyway." He slammed a fist against the nearest wall, leaving a dent in the surface. "Drokk it! This creep has been playing us for fools all day. He let Ryan tell us about the supposed attack on the treaty talks, knowing it would expose the security shortcomings here. If Swanson was right, Bludd now has the power to hold Mega-City One to ransom and there's nothing we can do about it!"
Karyn volunteered to interrogate the rest of the museum staff. "With my empath abilities and a handheld lie-detector, I'll soon find out if any of them was involved with all of this," she said. Dredd was about to respond when he got another call on his helmet radio. As Karyn walked away, she heard his response to the incoming message.
"Max Normal? Alright, patch him through."
"Hey, Joe! Where you going with that Lawgiver in your hand?" Max smiled at the ginger dwarf. Angry Sanderson was threatening him with a handgun. The two men were standing by a vidphone booth on a deserted skedway.
"I'm busy, Normal. State your business."
"Always to the point, Dredd. That's what I like about you Law dudes. Just the facts, Max, just the facts."
"I thought you retired. Why are you calling?"
The pinstripe freak leaned closer to the vidphone, its screen empty but for the words AUDIO ONLY SELECTED. "Well, a mutual acquaintance of ours wanted me to pass on a message."
"Who?" Dredd asked. Before Normal could reply, the Judge added another question. "Max, are you being threatened?"
"You could say that, daddio, but I couldn't possibly comment."
"That's a yes. What's the message?"
"You're to be at the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner, corner of Campion and Cribb in Southside Sector 41, within thirty minutes. Come alone: no homing devices, no weapons, no surveillance equipment and no tricks. Our mutual acquaintance says you'll be thoroughly scanned on arrival, so don't bother trying to hide anything."
"Max, can you tell me the name of this acquaintance?"
Normal turned away from the dwarf before whispering his reply. "Let's just say I've never believed i
n any messiahs besides myself, you dig?"
"Jesus Bludd?"
"I knew you'd be hip to my jive, Joe!" Normal glanced back over his shoulder nervously. Sanderson had disappeared. Max swivelled round but could not see the dwarf anywhere. "Dredd, he's gone!"
"Who? Max, are you there?"
Normal relaxed again, mopping his brow with a white linen handkerchief. "I'm here, daddio. The runt that had a gun on me has gone."
"Was there any more to the message?"
"No, that was all Bludd said. Listen Joe, I know I put plenty of patois in my patter but these cats are serious - deadly serious. You catch my groove?"
"Loud and clear. Dredd out."
Cosmo Zimmer's feet were cold, as usual. They had been cold since he started work as a security guard at the Mega-City One Spaceport three months earlier. In the past, such jobs had been entrusted only to robots but the Second Robot War launched by Nero Narcos back in 2121 resulted in sweeping changes to the city's security systems. High risk areas such as the spaceport were now required to employ one human for every five droids.
In theory, finding people to take the job should have been simple. The Big Meg's unemployment problem was endemic with fewer than one in eight citizens having paid work of any description. The rise of mechanisation had driven most of the population on to welfare support. While most coveted the prestige of having a job and the extra income it brought, that didn't mean people were rushing to do demeaning work.
Being a live mannequin at one of the sprawling shopperas, that was high visibility, Cosmo thought. Prowling around empty hangars in the cold, well, there was nothing glamorous about that. He lived in a world of private fantasy, always imagining some extravagant scenario that would change his life forever. Anything was better than dreary reality. The spaceport jutted out into the Black Atlantic, built on land reclaimed from the toxic ocean. Once the sun started setting in the west, cold air began sweeping in off the water. Cosmo felt like each breeze was cutting him to the bone, slicing through his flimsy uniform.
The worst aspect of the mandatory orange and black uniform was the boots. Thin-soled and flimsy, they leeched the warmth from Cosmo's feet, chilling the toes and numbing the bones. He had tried putting on extra socks or fitting electric foot warmer insoles in his boots, but nothing seemed to hold back the creeping cold. Everytime he stamped his feet to get some warmth into them, the insoles shorted out in protest. Cosmo had promised his wife Helga he would stay in the job for three months. The ninety days were up tonight. At the end of this shift he was quitting. Nothing was worth this; certainly not the pitiful handful of credits the spaceport authority deigned to pay its human staff.
Having reached the furthest extent of his nightly route, Cosmo began the long circle back to the main terminal. He paused to blow hot breath between his frozen fingers, rubbing the palms together briskly, when the sound of metal striking metal caught his attention. It was coming from one of the hangars he had just passed. Cosmo circled back and saw a glimmer of light beneath the main doors. Strange, this hanger had been out of use for weeks. What was someone doing inside it now?
The night watchman decided against calling in his discovery just yet. It was probably just an engineer, pulling some extra overtime. Of course, it could be perps, trying to rob the spaceport. What if I could catch them in the act, Cosmo wondered. Would there be a reward? Perhaps a promotion too? If I showed up those drokking security droids, it'd make me look even better. His mind filled with notions of glory, Cosmo crept round to a side entrance and peered through a crack in the door.
Inside, two women were shoving a heavy metal crate into the cargo hold of a private shuttle. The crate had become wedged, defying the pair's efforts to shift it. The larger woman cursed loudly, her face livid with rage. Cosmo was startled by the array of tattoos illustrating her body; he had never seen so much ink on one person. The other woman was smaller and slighter. She was standing side-on to Cosmo, but what he could see of her face was strikingly beautiful. They didn't seem like perps to him, just two women in need of a man's help. Perhaps if he stepped in and offered his assistance, they would reward him. Two handsome women, one strong man... Cosmo's face twitched into a smile as he imagined the possibilities. Adjusting his uniform, he strode into the hangar and boldly presented himself.
"Ladies, you look like you could use my help!" Cosmo announced. He was dismayed to see the more beautiful woman was hideously scarred on one side of her face. He was more dismayed to see she was pointing a small handgun at him. "Hey, what's going on here? I didn't-"
Di shot the security guard five times before returning to the crate. "Come on, Sue, we haven't got all night. The security droids will eventually notice that simp is missing and come looking for him."
Cosmo moved a weak hand round his comms unit but the fingers kept slipping off, unable to grasp it. Tilting his head to one side, he could see the reason why; his hand was covered in blood. A large pool of it was forming underneath him too. That can't be good, Cosmo thought. Still, I'm sure there's some new surgical procedure that can save my life. You never know, I might become a famous case, mentioned in medical journals...
Dredd stopped his motorcycle a block short of the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner. The eatery was visible in the distance, an outpost of light and warmth on the corner of Campion and Cribb. Southside Sector 41 had long been one of the Big Meg's most dangerous areas, home to vicious turf wars between street gangs. Few citizens walked the pedways after dark. It was a wonder the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner still had any windows, let alone any customers.
It had taken Dredd twenty minutes to drive across the city from the Dustbuster. He had talked with Hershey en route, discussing tactics for the meet. The Chief Judge was unhappy about one of her Judges walking into the diner unarmed and without back-up, but Dredd dismissed such concerns.
"If Bludd wanted me dead, he could easily have me killed at any time," the Judge had reasoned. "He wants to talk, so I'll hear him out. And Hershey, don't send anybody along to keep watch from a distance. Bludd will be expecting that. Don't get another Judge killed trying to protect me."
Dredd switched off his Lawmaster's engine and dismounted. He began methodically removing all his weapons: the Lawgiver handgun, the bootknife, the utility belt and its pouches laden with equipment. The Judge opened the panniers mounted over his motorcycle's rear wheel and locked the weapons inside. After glancing around to check he wasn't being followed, Dredd began striding towards the diner. He recognised the city block standing diagonally opposite the eatery. Joe Chill Block had been the scene of more murders than any other residential building in the Big Meg, its hallways and stairwells a notorious killing ground. Few residents survived more than a year inside those walls, either dying in pain and terror or opting for a Displaced Persons Camp as the safer, happier lifestyle option.
As Dredd got closer to the diner, two men of contrasting heights emerged from the shadows. The taller of the pair, pasty-faced with mirrored eyeballs, began scanning the Judge's body with an electronic sensor wand while his dwarf colleague watched, a handgun trained on the scene. "You're Fincher," Dredd announced to the man searching him. "Wanted in three other cities for multiple murders and mutilations."
"Shame you ain't got an extradition agreement with those cities, isn't it?" Fincher replied with a smirk. The wand crackled with alarm as it passed over Dredd's name badge. Fincher examined the heavy metallic badge but could find nothing untoward about it. Satisfied Dredd was unarmed, the perp snapped the microphone off from the Judge's helmet radio. "Don't want anybody ear-wigging your conversation now, do we?"
Dredd ignored Fincher, glaring at the ginger dwarf guarding them. "And you must be Angry Sanderson. According to our files, your real name is Audley. I can see why you'd change it. Other punks don't take you seriously now. Imagine what they'd say if they knew your name was Audley?"
Sanderson's face curled with disdain. He pointed into the diner. "You're wanted inside. Get your ass in there."
/> "Whatever you say... Audley." Dredd began walking towards the eatery. He smirked at the dwarf and was rewarded by the sight of Fincher having to restrain the furious Sanderson from attacking the lawman.
The Nothing Could Be Finer Diner was a throwback to a bygone era, a perfect replica of the roadside cafes that spread across North America nearly two hundred years earlier. Outside it was all gleaming chrome and glass, a long, rectangular masterpiece of art deco lines and curves. Inside was even more stunning, with a serving counter dividing the interior in two halves. The area beyond the counter was the kitchen, all stainless steel and polished precision.
The other half was for customers. A row of fixed stools with circular seats ran down the length of the counter. The rest of the black and white checked floor was given over to booths, each made up of two bench seats facing each other across a table. Every seat was upholstered in red with real leather, none displaying the usual graffiti or razor slashes.
As Dredd closed the diner door behind him, a small bell above it rang. A beautiful but stern-faced woman appeared from the kitchen clad in a pristine pale green uniform, a white cotton apron fastened around her waist. A towering beehive of strawberry-blonde hair was perched atop her head, while a bored expression was fixed on her face. She chewed gum and regarded the newcomer with undisguised disinterest. "Can I help you?"
Dredd approached the counter. "I'm here for a meeting."
"Really?" the waitress replied, sarcasm dripping from her nasal voice. "Well, take a seat and have a look at the menu. Once your partner in crime turns up, I'll come over and tell you both about today's specials. Alright?"
The Judge tilted his head to one side, staring at the waitress's profile. "Have we met somewhere before, Miss...?"
The waitress tapped one of her long, scarlet fingernails against a plastic name badge attached to her uniform just above the left breast. "The name's Karrie-Ann, buster. Now go sit down and look at the menu, okay?"
