by David Bishop
"PSU to Control, Levene here. Have we been notified about anything unusual happening in the sky overhead tonight?"
"Just a fireworks display. Why?"
The PSU analyst was juxtaposing data from multiple sources. "I'm reading a massive build-up of energy several miles above the city. I think it's centred on an old satellite in orbit."
"Those things are always falling out of the sky, Levene. They burn up on re-entry, ninety-nine times out of a hundred."
"I know, but this one isn't falling out of orbit. It's perfectly stable. The-"
Suddenly all screens in PSU were overloaded simultaneously. Around the room analysts were tearing off their headsets to escape an ear-piercing squeal of static. The lighting system dimmed and then cut out completely before being replaced by emergency illumination. A babble of sound filled the air as everyone shouted to be heard, trying to discover what had happened.
A deep, booming voice cut through the noise, silencing the cacophony. "Quiet! There will be quiet!" Niles emerged from his office, scowling with fury. "I want to hear one voice and one voice only." He glared round the room, searching for answers. "Can anyone tell me what just happened?"
Wincing inwardly, Levene cleared her throat. "Excuse me, sir..."
"Yes?"
"Before the overload I was monitoring a massive build-up of energy on board an old satellite over the city. I could be wrong, but..." The analyst's words trailed off, not wanting to give voice to her suspicions.
"What is it, Levene? Spit it out!"
"I think someone fired an energy pulse weapon at us from orbit. If the beam was powerful enough to disable all our systems as a side effect, then it could destroy a city block in seconds."
"Sweet Jovus," Niles muttered. "Can you recall the precise location above which the satellite was orbiting?"
Levene closed her eyes and recited the longitude and latitude. Niles turned to the analyst standing closest to him, Judge Sharp. "Where is that?"
"Southside Sector 41," she replied instantly. "Joe Chill Block."
Dredd had only reached the doorway of the diner when the energy pulse hit Joe Chill. A beam of red light shot down from overhead and penetrated the roof of the city block. As it punched through floor after floor of the building, each storey exploded outwards in a shower of glasseen and rockcrete. In less than a second the pulse had reached the bottom floor, burrowing deep into the ground beneath Joe Chill before abruptly stopping.
Dredd was thrown backwards through the diner by the first shock wave, sliding along the counter and thudding into the wall beyond. Before he had collapsed to the floor, the eatery was hit by a second wave, this one made of flames and debris from the exploding city block. The Nothing Could Be Finer Diner was crushed by a blizzard of rockrete, the roof crumpled inwards like a paper bag. Billowing clouds of smoke and dust ensued, turning the air into an acrid smog within moments. As Dredd slid to the floor of the diner he felt blackness engulfing him. He pulled the respirator unit on his helmet down to cover his nose and mouth. That saved his life, as did the long counter keeping the roof from collapsing completely. But it was almost an hour before he regained consciousness.
In con-apts across the Big Meg, millions were settling down to watch their favourite Tri-D show, the Celebrity Humiliation And Nominal Career Enhancement Reality Show. Every week a fresh crop of Z-list has-beens were dropped into a hostile environment and filmed while trying to survive long enough to be rescued. Anyone who made it out of an episode alive was granted fifteen seconds of infamy.
Shot in locations around the world, CHANCERS had proved to be a runaway hit for Ruprecht Maxwell's phalanx of Tri-D stations. Coverage was split between twenty-two channels. Each of the twelve contestants was filmed twenty-four hours a day, the footage broadcast live to air on individual channels. The other ten shows were devoted to commentary, analysis and action replays. Last week's most popular choice had been Channel 27, featuring the twin talents of mega-chested, kind hearted softcore porn star Randy Mandy Candie, despite the fact she had been killed on the first day.
Round the clock coverage of her body beginning to decompose while being eaten by wild animals attracted a hardcore audience of necrophiliacs and nature enthusiasts, tapping two previously unserved segments of the marketplace. At least, that was the defence offered by Maxwell's lawyers when ordered to cease broadcasts of the footage by the Justice Department. The Judges were unable to stop CHANCERS completely, as the show's makers were careful to film only in non-extradition territories. Even if a global extradition treaty was successfully negotiated, the production crew had a replacement ready, OFFWORLD CHANCERS. It just needed the market research team to create a credible acronym from the word OFFWORLD.
The latest edition of the show was expected to be the most popular yet, with survivors from previous locations returning for a second dose of death and dismemberment. By popular demand, Randy Mandy Candie's corpse had been exhumed and added to the cast list. She wasn't a serious contender for the top prize, having already died, but the ratings from her channel were tracking a phenomenal interest in what the corpse did next.
CHANCERS' title sequence was just finishing when a news flash appeared on screen, interrupting the broadcast signal on every Maxwell-owned channel in Mega-City One. After a caption announced "Breaking News", Enigma Smith appeared, still adjusting her chair. Realising she was on the air, the seasoned presenter beamed one of her dazzling smiles.
"Good evening! I'm Enigma Smith and you're watching a Mega-City News Flash! Reports are coming in of a tragedy in Southside Sector 41. An entire city block has been destroyed in a massive explosion, the cause of which remains unknown. It is not known if there are any survivors or how many died in the catastrophe. No statement has yet been issued by the Judges, fuelling speculation this was a terrorist incident. Since we've been on the air, three groups have claimed responsibility: the Mutant Liberation Front, the Mutant Liberation Army and the Popular Front of the Mutant Liberation League. More on this incident as we get it. For more information, switch over to Mega-City News and see the story unfold. Now, we return you to your regular scheduled shows!"
At Psi-Division, all Judges and cadets are tutored how best to screen out the thoughts of those around them. Telepathy might be a rare talent but it could also be a great burden for the untrained mind. A constant cacophony of other people's thoughts could quickly drive anyone insane. Extreme emotions were just as bad, like daggers thrust into the mind of a psi. In times of war it was not uncommon for Psi-Division to issue mild sedatives to its Judges, to help numb the waves of feeling that leaked from the terrified psyches of ordinary people.
When the energy pulse destroyed Joe Chill Block, thirty-three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-two people were inside. At the moment of their death, each one's mind screamed out in terror. Any Psi-Judge could cope with up to a hundred people dying suddenly nearby, or ten times that number if given warning. The simultaneous, unanticipated annihilation of almost thirty-four thousand people was beyond any psyker's ability to screen out.
The effect was akin to a chisel being punched through the head of every Psi-Judge in Mega-City One. At the school where latent psi-cadets were trained, children woke screaming in their beds, blood streaming from their eyes, ears and nostrils. Tutors staggered from dorm to dorm, trying to reassure the weeping cadets, while themselves debilitated by the incident.
In Sector Houses across the Big Meg, Psi-Judges collapsed where they stood, unable to cope with the mental overload from the attack on Joe Chill. Those unfortunate enough to have been riding their Lawmasters drove off the road, crashing into whatever stood in their way. Dozens died from the shock or resulting trauma. The rest were left with debilitating migraine headaches, unable to focus their psi talents or even think.
The head of Psi-Division, Judge Shenker, crawled into his office and succeeded in putting a call through to Hershey. The Tri-D screen blurred before him but Shenker closed his eyes, concentrating all his energy on staving off t
he darkness overcoming him. "Chief Judge," he whispered, "this is Shenker..."
"Sweet Jovus! What happened to you?" she demanded.
"Massive psi overload... thousands dead... in the city... no warning..." Shenker felt himself sliding sideways but was unable to stop the decline. "Psi-Division... out of action... Sorry..." Then the blackness took him.
"Shenker? Shenker!" But Hershey got no reply.
Several miles above Mega-City One, Justice Seven was limping across the sky. The orbital platform was tasked with providing a constant flow of surveillance data to the PSU, while also acting as a relay station for Control's signals to Judges across the Big Meg. When the energy pulse was fired down into the city, a massive wave of electromagnetic interference radiated outwards from the beam's source. The wave engulfed the orbiting platform, debilitating its computer-controlled propulsion and scrambling every other system on board.
Justice Seven's commander, Judge Samantha Scattergood, was first to react when the lights went out. "Damage report!" she called, shouting to be heard above the hubbub of worried voices in the control centre. A veteran of Necropolis and the Zombie War known as Judgement Day, Scattergood had seen enough to know that panic and survival never made good partners. She had lost a limb in every major conflict of the past twenty-five years, each one replaced with a robotic prosthetic. No longer able to function effectively on the streets, Scattergood had volunteered for Justice Seven where her lack of mobility was not a factor. She had proven an able commander since taking control of the facility seven months earlier. "I want to know what happened, why it happened and how it affects our status, now!"
"Somebody fired an energy weapon at the Big Meg," Responded Judge Grissom, one of the PSU analysts on station. "The resultant surge took out our guidance, propulsion and manoeuvring, along with almost everything else."
"How long to repair them?" Scattergood demanded.
"I'm not sure we can," Grissom replied feebly.
The veteran rose from her chair, the servo-joints in her robotic arms and legs whirring noisily in the unusual silence. "What did you say?"
The PSU analyst gestured at the blank, black computer screens around the control chamber. "Auto-repair systems are gone too, along with access to all our repair guidelines. Without those, we're helpless. It's impossible."
Scattergood stopped in front of Grissom, the commander's grizzled face made even more menacing by the flickering red emergency lighting. "There is no such word as can't. Grissom, you're relieved of duty. Return to your quarters." The commander swung round, glaring at the rest of her staff. "Anyone else here think we're helpless?" Nobody replied. "Good. We've got less than an hour before Justice Seven drops out of orbit and burns up on re-entry, so that's your deadline. Then we have to find and destroy whatever just fired on our city. Any questions? No? Good. Now get to work!"
The crew of Justice Seven hurried to assess the damage and find ways of restarting the platform's systems. Scattergood realised Grissom was still standing beside her. "I thought I told you to leave."
"Please, ma'am, I want another chance. I was panicked by the situation and I didn't think before I spoke. Give me a chance and I'll prove myself to you!"
Scattergood leaned so close to Grissom the analyst could feel her breath on his face. "One chance and one chance only. Get to it!" she snarled.
EIGHT
Dredd, can you hear me? Dredd, wake up! It was the nagging sound of Kara's voice shouting in his mind that dragged the Judge back to consciousness. Dredd opened his eyes to find himself lying on a hover-stretcher. Overhead, he could see the night sky through gaps in billowing black smoke. "Where am I?"
"Lucky to be alive," a familiar voice responded. Dredd turned to see the Chief Judge standing beside him, her face etched with concern. "Thought we'd lost you in the explosion, Joe. They dug you out of what was left of that diner."
Dredd sat up on the hover-stretcher, wincing in pain. A succession of rapi-heal pads were wrapped around much of his body. "What happened?"
Hershey gestured at the smoking crater across the skedway where Joe Chill Block used to be. "Looks like Bludd is making good use of his latest acquisition. Energy beam from an orbiting satellite took out that building with a single burst. Death toll's thirty thousand and rising. The trauma from so many people dying at once has crippled Psi-Division and PSU is still getting back online." She placed a hand on Dredd's arm, "What can you remember? We lost radio contact with you after Bludd left the eatery. Less than a minute later the beam hit ground zero across the skedway."
Don't tell her anything, Kara warned telepathically. No codes, no secret gestures - we're watching you, remember? Just act dumb for now.
Dredd shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, it's still a blur. Delayed concussion from the blast, maybe..."
"Of course. I'll let the Meds take care of you. Justice Seven should be back online within an hour; it'll take out that rogue satellite. You just concentrate on getting better, okay?"
"Sure." Dredd watched her turn away. "Hershey-"
Careful, Joe. Remember what I said.
"Yes?"
"How did the negotiations go?" Dredd asked.
The Chief Judge shrugged. "Hard to say. Brit-Cit and East-Meg Two are on board but Chang from Sino-Cit is impossible to read. When all this happened I sent the delegates back to their private quarters. Giant is in charge of their security for tonight."
"He's a good law enforcer."
"Yes." Hershey frowned. "Was there something else you wanted to say?"
One more word and our next target is the Academy of Law!
Dredd shook his head. Hershey smiled. "I'll let you get some rest. Don't worry, Joe. The Big Meg can survive for one night without you." As the Chief Judge departed, Kara's mocking laughter echoed in Dredd's mind.
I wouldn't count on that if I were you, Joe!
"I'm Enigma Smith and you're watching Mega-City News. Now, here are the headlines for this hour." The ever-grinning face of the newsreader was replaced by a graphic image showing a smoking crater. "Judges estimate more than thirty thousand citizens died when Joe Chill Block in Southside Sector 41 was destroyed earlier this evening. The Justice Department dismissed earlier reports that the explosion was the result of a terrorist incident. An unnamed spokesperson said the damage was the result of shoddy workmanship tragically combining with a gas leak. Thus far thirty-four fringe groups have claimed responsibility for the carnage."
The programme switched back to Enigma's happy face. "In other news, the Mega-City Museum of the Twentieth-Century says its most popular attraction of recent months, the Evil Empire exhibition, was stolen this afternoon from the Dustbuster. The museum's curator, Dr Janet Swanson, apparently committed suicide after discovering the theft. Despite the loss, the museum is going ahead with its sponsored fireworks display at midnight to celebrate the exhibit's success. The Judges have yet to make a comment on the theft, beyond saying they were pursuing several promising leads."
The newsreader's features were replaced with a graphic depicting the face of a mustachioed man straining to achieve some unseen goal. "Now on to sports, where Big Meg superstar Hank 'Pee-Wee' Potts came from behind to win the Men's Individual section in the World Sex Championships currently being staged at the Vatican City. Potts was lying third after the compulsories yesterday, but proved a master blaster in the freestyle event despite having the smallest equipment among any of the competitors. The sky's the limit when our Hank does his thing, literally! So let's all give our onanist a big hand..."
Dredd was being loaded into a med-wagon when Kara's voice switched back to his helmet radio. "Listen up, Joe, because I don't enjoy repeating myself. The time is just after nine. For the next three hours you will be my plaything, doing exactly what I want, or else... Well, you've seen the consequences when you don't follow orders. Unless you want more people to die needlessly, you will comply with everything I say. Signal your understanding by asking the Med-Judges where they are taking you."
> Dredd did as ordered by the enforcer's voice. A friendly Med-Judge called Callaghan responded. "St Peter Root Hospital, it's the nearest," she said. "Right now our own facilities are overloaded with Psi-Judges bleeding out of every orifice. Not very pleasant, let me tell you. I was almost happy when we got called out to this bombsite."
"Good," Kara said via the helmet radio. "Once the med-wagon gets into the air, I want you to seize control of the vehicle. You'll need to disable the crew: kill or wound them, I don't care which. Once that's done I'll give you further instructions. If you try to warn the crew, tens of thousands will die as retribution. If you understand, clear your throat now."
Dredd signalled his compliance.
"That's good. You're doing better, Dredd. You might live long enough to see midnight. Then... well, let's burn that bridge when we get to it, yes?"
The engines of the med-wagon roared into life and the vehicle rose into the air, ascending through the clouds of acrid smoke still rising from the gnarled wreckage of Joe Chill. Dredd began undoing the restraints on his hover-stretcher while the crew were distracted by the view outside. He dealt with Callaghan first. She was folding away a dummy used to train cadets in resuscitation when Dredd tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing up? Those rapi-heal pads need time to-" The Med-Judge's words were abruptly cut off by Dredd smashing her face against a bulkhead. Callaghan slumped to the floor, unconscious and bleeding. Dredd paused to check her vital signs, ensuring she was still breathing before moving on.
