02.Bad Moon Rising Read online

  Nyon was first out, leading his family into the block lobby. Lleccas had fashioned a sling for his shattered arm. Misch clung on to her broodmother's arm, not wanting to be separated. She had grown to know their old home but this one was new and strange. The R'qeen girl could feel a seething resentment all around them, as if the building itself was willing them to go. The others slowly emerged from the hoverbus and joined them inside the block. In all there were half a dozen families: four R'qeen, one from Wolfren and Gruchar. Keno and her brood were one of the other R'qeen families.

  The Judges reappeared down the staircase. "Turbolifts are stuck on the seventy-second floor. Residents have jammed them." It was the human with the moustache again. He seemed grimly satisfied with the situation. "You'll have to go up the stairs."

  "How far?" Nyon asked.

  "You're on the top. A hundred storeys up."

  "But some here have injuries from the fire. Others are still suffering the effects of your gas. You can't expect them to climb a hundred flights of stairs."

  The Judge leaned close to Nyon's face. "I don't care if it takes you all night, vulture. Get moving!"

  Misch could feel her broodfather struggling to control his anger, a great mass of red and black boiling inside him. Eventually he walked past the human towards the stairs.

  "Wait!" the Judge commanded. "Riley, you better take the lead. We've dealt with the worst of the troublemakers but they might still be planning another protest. I'll cover the flank. Okay, let's move!"

  On the ground Miller's hand hovered over her Lawmaster's on-board computer while she watched Dredd and the hundred cultists plunging towards her. "For the love of Grud, you're running out of time!" she shouted into her helmet radio. "When do you want me to engage the countermeasures?"

  "They're all under arrest," Dredd responded. "Engage now!"

  Miller slammed her fist down on the computer screen. Wall panels two storeys up from the ground slid backwards into the building and several giant nets spat outwards, forming themselves into huge hammocks on all four sides of the block. Less than a second later Sharona and the other cult members plunged into the suicide nets, their fall slowed and halted within moments. Dredd was last to hit the netting, landing astride the nearly naked woman, his crotch jamming into her face.

  The deployment of the building's safety measures brought a groan of collective disappointment from the bystanders but they soon began applauding Dredd's daring manoeuvre. Underneath him the scantily clad woman was struggling to make herself heard. "I can't breathe," she gasped. Dredd uncuffed himself from her wrist and clambered off her face.

  "My apologies, citizen."

  "Are you all right?" Miller shouted up to her partner.

  Dredd gave her the thumbs up before swinging himself over the side of the net and dropping to the ground below. "Dredd to Control. We need catch wagons outside Maurice Waldron to collect a hundred religious kooks; twelve months each in the psycho cubes."

  "What about me?" the nearly naked woman asked from atop the pile of cult members.

  "Correction, Control," Dredd said. "Ninety-nine kooks at twelve months each and one simp who wants an extra six months."

  In the nets Sharona overheard the request. "You can't do that! You've denied us our religious right to worship as we see fit."

  Miller jerked a thumb at the bystanders who were now drifting away. "Religious tolerance stops when you endanger the lives of others."

  Gunther was squeezed next to his leader in the nets. "You know, the signs and portents may have been right about the date of the apocalypse. We may have simply interpreted the wrong year from the prophecies."

  Sharona smiled at him. "You mean the end of the world might be happening at midnight between June twelfth and thirteenth next year?"

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe," Sharona agreed before calling down to Dredd. "Excuse me, Judge. How long did you say our sentence was?"

  "Twelve months for everybody except the woman who was cuffed to me - eighteen months for her. Why?"

  "It's just we might have miscounted the date for the apocalypse. Same time next year, what do you say?"

  Conchita Maguire had been one of the lucky ones during the brawl outside Oswald Mosley. Her sons had pulled her away from the worst of the stumm gas and bundled her inside before the Judges laid into the others with daysticks. Conchita wanted to fight alongside her fellow squad members but Ramone and Dermot would not let her. "We'll get our chance," Ramone said. "But you choose the time and the place, not them."

  He was smart, that boy, Conchita had to admit. She decided on a tactical retreat, leading her sons and those squad members that had escaped the gas up to the seventy-second floor. Once there they disabled all the turbolifts, knowing the Judges would have to bring the aliens up the stairs. Conchita returned to the family con-apt to get changed, her squad uniform splashed with blood from the melee.

  Inside 729 she found Kasey snivelling by the bedroom door, a red cloth wrapped round her left foot. "Please don't be angry," the girl said.

  "What have you done now?" Conchita demanded.

  "I didn't mean to," Kasey stammered. "It just happened. You were gone so long and I got thirsty..."

  Conchita went to the icebox. Broken glasseen was splintered across the floor. Bloody footprints led away from an orange stain of Gloomy-D synthi-juice. "You cut yourself?"

  Kirsty nodded, heavy tears brimming in her frightened eyes. "I didn't mean to get blood on the floor..."

  A fist hammered against the con-apt's front door. "Conchita! Paul called from twenty-two: they're on their way up now!"

  "Get everyone gathered by the stairs. I'll be right there."

  "Gotcha!"

  Conchita glared at her daughter, the anger rising inside once more. "Why can't you be more like Ramone or Dermot? They're ready to defend this block from the aliens and all you can do is make another mess."

  Kirsty's bottom lip began to wobble. "But I didn't-"

  Conchita advanced on her daughter, one hand clenching into a fist. "You have to be punished. I warned you before - learn to clean up your own messes or suffer the consequences."

  Kirsty closed her eyes, whimpering in terror.

  Miller pushed the last of the cult members into the back of a catch wagon. Dredd shut the door, then banged his fist on it. "Okay, take 'em back to the sector house for processing." The vehicle rolled away from Maurice Waldron Block, leaving the two Judges behind.

  "Want me to catch the paperwork on that lot?" Miller offered. "You look like you could do with that sleep machine session about now."

  "You might be right," Dredd replied. "It's-"

  Their helmet radios crackled into life. "Control to all units, east side of Sector 87. Garbled reports of a confront between Judges and the Oswald Mosley Citi-Def. Can anyone respond?"

  Dredd was about to climb on his Lawmaster but Miller stopped him. "That's the other side of the sector. By the time we get there it will all be over. We're not the only ones on this graveyard shift, you know." Within seconds several Judges much nearer were responding to the incident. Sector Chief Caine called Control to announce she would lead the back-up team. "See what I mean? Come on, let's get back to the sector house."

  "All right," Dredd reluctantly agreed. "But you go on ahead. I've got to put in a call to an old friend - in private."

  His partner smiled. "Got a guilty secret you're trying to hide?"

  "I don't have any guilty secrets," Dredd responded humourlessly. "The less you know about what I'm going to do, the better your future in Sector 87."

  "I can take a hint," Miller said, climbing on to her Lawmaster and gunning its powerful engine into life. "See you back at the sector house."

  Once she was gone Dredd activated his helmet radio. "Control, put me through to Chief Judge Hershey's office. I need to speak with her - Urgently!"

  At first, Riley thought the chanting must be from a resident's tri-D set, the noise drifting down the emergency stairwell in Oswald Mosley
Block. That would be a code violation, section 56b of the noise pollution regs: minimum sentence of three months, with a month added for each decibel of noise above the legal limit. Judging by the cacophony, the perp responsible was facing three years in the cubes, maybe more. Street Judges had discretion when it came to sentencing, but mandatory minimums set the bench mark.

  Riley enjoyed being a Judge, the feeling of making a difference. The lives of every human being in this sector were a little better because Riley was on the job. He didn't count offworlders as citizens. To him they were a mistake. Justice Central should never have granted these things the right to stay in the Big Meg. It was our city, not theirs. Good men and woman had died to defeat alien species like the R'qeen; now vultures could become citizens! Well, they might be legal aliens, but they would always be scum to Riley.

  Besides being able to help people, there was another aspect of the job Riley found even more satisfying - administering the firm spank of authority. He liked the power, liked knowing he could take charge of almost any situation, that he could determine the fate of other people's lives, even whether they lived or died. It was a trip and no mistake. But you had to be careful. All that power could be intoxicating. Riley had seen what happened to Judges who got addicted to the buzz, and got caught. Not me, he vowed.

  When he reached the sixty-ninth floor, Riley realised the noise was not coming from one of the con-apts. Looking up he could see dozens of residents three storeys above, chanting the same phrases over and over. "One, two, three, four, kick the aliens out the door! Five, six, seven, eight, keep the scum from our top floor!" Riley drew his Lawgiver and called down to his partner via helmet radio.

  "Stammers, we've got a problem up here. I think the residents are planning another protest against the aliens."

  "Keep going. Control says back-up is on its way."

  "You sure?"

  "Do it, Riley! If the residents want another taste of my daystick, I'm more than happy to administer it to them. Stammers out!"

  Riley looked back at the aliens climbing the stairs below him. They looked exhausted, easy meat for any citizens carrying a grudge. Riley almost felt sorry for them, until he remembered what had happened to Danny. "Drokk 'em," he whispered and resumed his progress up the stairs.

  Conchita Maguire and her sons were blocking the seventy-second floor landing, along with dozens of other residents. Dermot and Ramone had gone from door to door, rousing their neighbours and spreading news of the aliens taking up residence in the penthouse con-apts. It didn't take much provocation to draw citizens out of their beds.

  Conchita stepped in front of Riley when the Judge reached the landing. The aliens were still climbing the stairs behind him. "They're not going any further," she said. "Send 'em back where they belong. Not here with decent citizens."

  "Step aside or I'll arrest all of you for disturbing the peace," Riley warned.

  "We're making a legitimate protest," Dermot replied. "Try to arrest one of us and you'll have a riot on your hands. Is that what you want?"

  "I've been cracking skulls since before you were born, juve. You want a piece of me? Bring it on," Riley said.

  Dermot began towards the Judge but Conchita stopped him. "No, that's exactly what he wants. Don't give him an excuse."

  "What's the problem?" Stammers bellowed up the stairwell from the floor below. "What's happening?"

  Riley was about to answer when he heard a familiar noise from beyond the crowd of residents. "Residents won't let us past. Looks like we've got a stand-off, but that's about to change."

  Conchita smiled. "Why? You backing down?"

  "No, you are!" a woman shouted from behind the residents. They swivelled round to see a dozen Judges emerging from the turbolifts, all heavily armed. Standing at the front of them was Sector Chief Caine, a small electronic key held in her left hand. "Judicial override. Nice work jamming the circuits but Tek-Judges soon found a way to bypass your efforts." Caine drew her Lawgiver and aimed it at the residents gathered on the landing. "Now, you've all got five seconds to stand aside or else we take you down. Permanently."

  "What do we do?" Ramone asked his mother. The other residents were all looking to her for guidance, unsure how to react.

  "Stand aside," she hissed, her voice shaking with anger.

  "But we can't-"

  "Stand aside!" Conchita screamed at her eldest son, shoving him against a wall. She glared at the other citizens. "You heard me!" They all moved away from the stairwell, creating a gap for the aliens.

  Caine told Riley and Stammers to transport the newcomers the rest of the way up Oswald Mosley in turbolifts. "I think they've been through enough for one night, don't you?" The rest of the Judges began ushering residents back to their own con-apts, the confrontation defused for now.

  The Sector Chief was about to talk with the protest ringleaders when her helmet radio crackled into life. "Control to Caine. Message for you from the Chief Judge's office."

  "At this time of night?" she wondered outloud, before responding to the call. Caine listened intently, her face becoming a scowl. Once the call was finished she resumed her conversation with Control. "Where is Judge Dredd now?"

  "En route to your position at Oswald Mosley. Should be outside soon."

  Caine nodded grimly. "Good. Tell him to wait for me in the lobby. I'll see him once I've dealt with the situation here."

  Dredd had despaired of getting a reply from the Chief Judge's office, so he decided to confront Caine instead. When he arrived at Oswald Mosley Block a clean-up squad and half a dozen Med-Judges were dealing with the aftermath from the earlier brawl. Dredd saw Maltin slumped against a pillar nursing a head wound, his hovercam dutifully shooting every moment of Riff's agony. "You were outside Robert Hatch," Dredd recalled. "I warned you to stay out of trouble."

  The reporter shrugged. "Can I help it if trouble follows me around?" A Med-Judge began examining Riff's skull, pushing aside hair matted with blood to examine the wound. "Hey, careful!"

  "Stop your griping, citizen," the physician retorted. After a cursory study of the contusion he handed Riff a rapi-heal patch. "Stick this on it. Should be good as new by morning." The Med-Judge was already moving to the next injury.

  "What about the pain? Give me something for the pain," Riff pleaded.

  "Get over it," the physician replied. "Feel better now?"

  "Oh yeah. Just terrif!"

  Dredd nudged Maltin with his boot. "What happened here?"

  "Difficult to say," Riff admitted. "Residents tried to stop two Judges taking the aliens inside. Thirty seconds later the place was awash with stumm gas and one of your colleagues was trying to reshape my head with his daystick."

  "Who was it?"

  "I don't know, I was too busy bleeding to get a look at his badge. But he had a big moustache and a way with a beating, know what I mean?"

  Dredd's helmet radio demanded his attention. "Control to Dredd. Sector Chief Caine requests that you wait for her in the lobby of Oswald Mosley. She should be with you presently."

  "Roj that. Dredd out." He looked at Riff thoughtfully. "Stick around. I've got more questions for you."

  01:00

  Misch had only known about her gift for a few hours, but she was already beginning to think metema was as much a curse as a blessing. Being able to read the thoughts and feelings of others whenever you wanted was a good thing. But the emotions around her now were so strong, so overwhelming, it was all she could do to keep them out of her head. The woman who had been stopping them from going any further was the worst. Her anger and hatred was so palpable she appeared as a red blur on Misch's thoughts. Some of the others were almost as angry, but none with such power or conviction. Being the target of such hostility left the R'qeen child quivering with fear.

  The Judges had begun moving the Robert Hatch Block survivors into the turbolifts, but there wasn't enough room for everyone to travel to the top floor at the same time. Nyon volunteered his family to stay behind and wait for t
he next turbolift. Misch wished her broodfather hadn't been so generous, but it was typical of him to put others first. That was his way and she loved him for that.

  Misch had been holding on tightly to her broodmother's hand, not wanting to be left behind when their turn came. Then a fresh mind caught her attention. There was a girl nearby, not far from her in age. She was so sad, sadder than anyone Misch had ever met before. The R'qeen child let go of her broodmother's hand to look for this girl. Perhaps she could make her happy.

  "Don't go far," Lleccas said. "The turbolift will be back for us soon."

  Misch nodded dutifully to her broodmother before wandering away. She knew the sad girl was close by, but where? Misch closed her eyes and let the emotions draw her near. The unhappiness called to her, clearer than any voice. She felt her way round a corner and reached out with her mind.

  Can you hear me?

  The other girl was frightened by the thoughts suddenly appearing in her head. Who are you? What do you want?

  Misch tried to think a smile of reassurance. I don't want to hurt you, she thought. I just want to know why you are so unhappy.

  I-I can't-

  The R'qeen child received a mental flash of a clenched fist. Somebody hurts you? Hits you?

  How do you know that? Can you see that in my head?

  Misch had stopped at a doorway. She was very close to the girl now. I can sense what others think and feel. Don't be afraid. My name is Misch.

  The door opened a fraction and a small, frightened voice spoke from inside. "I'm Kasey," the girl said.

  Misch opened her eyes. Through the gap in the doorway she could see a little of Kasey's face. It was mottled with black, purple and yellow, but Misch knew those were not the usual markings of a human child. "Hello Kasey." The R'qeen broodling was startled to realise she was speaking the human's language, despite never having learned it. This must be another aspect of metema. She would have to ask her broodmother about it later.