Bad Moon Rising Read online

  "You have ten seconds to drop the weapon and step away from the citizen," the male Judge commanded. Both law enforcers raised their handguns and took aim at what little they could see of the futsie. "Ten. Nine."

  "All over the kitchen... Tasty little shreds... That showed him..." The crazed woman was pressing herself against Maltin's back, grinding her groin against his buttocks. On any other occasion he would have been flattered and all too willing to return her attentions. But the presence of the hot kitchen laser at his throat was hampering any sexual desires he might have felt.

  "Eight," the Judge continued. "Seven." He stepped sideways to get a better shooting angle and Riff was able to read the name badge: DREDD. The reporter would have felt reassured but his attention was taken by something happening behind the two Judges. "Six."

  A heavy vibration ran through the pedway, like an earth tremor. "Five." But it was followed by another, then another, each tremor greater in magnitude than the last. "Four." As the tremors grew closer, so did a thunderous sound, rockcrete protesting as tonnes of metal thudded into it. "Three."

  It was the female Judge who turned first to see what was causing the cacophony. "Dredd!" she hissed to her partner.

  "Not now, Miller. Two."

  "Dredd, you better see this!"

  "Stay where you are citizen," Dredd warned before glancing over his shoulder. One of the Heavy Metal Kid robots from the construction site was marching towards them, massive metal arms flailing in the night air as its mighty feet crunched into the pedway. In the glasseen dome the body of the controller was slumped forwards, either dead or unconscious. Either way, the construction droid was out of control. "Drokk!"

  "Exactly," Miller agreed. "You stay here - I'll stop this!"

  "No, wait-" Dredd began, but his partner was already running back to her Lawmaster. She gunned the engine into life and sent her motorcycle spinning round in a tight half-circle until it faced the rogue robot.

  "Bike cannon!" Miller unleashed a fusillade of firepower that ripped apart the metal just below one of the mechanoid's knee joints. The Judge shouted a new command to her motorcycle's voice responsive computer control system. "Laser cutter!" A beam of red light sliced through the air, searing across the section made vulnerable by the previous attack. As the Heavy Metal Kid lurched forwards at Miller, its crippled leg tore apart, sending the droid tumbling sideways, arms still flailing. It crashed through a multistorey hover pod car park, howling impotently at the air.

  Dredd turned back to the futsie and her captive. "One," the Judge announced and shot the distracted woman through the shoulder. Her arm went limp and the kitchen laser dropped to the pedway, turning itself off. Riff threw himself to safety, not wanting to be near the futsie for another moment. She staggered backwards and collapsed into a crumpled heap, still muttering strange phrases and threats. The Judge activated his helmet radio.

  "Dredd to Control - futsie is down, but Med-Wagon still required. Citizen is unhurt."

  "Control to Dredd - that's a roj."

  "Miller is dealing with a rogue construction droid..." Dredd paused to watch his partner in action. She had cracked open the control dome of the fallen robot and was deactivating its remaining systems. "But she seems to have that under control. Better send a clean-up squad down here."

  "Noted."

  "And get in touch with the boss at Summerbee Industries. It was their droid that ran amok. Tell them they'll have to answer to me."

  "Rog that. Control out."

  Miller had finished with the Heavy Metal Kid and was strolling back to join Dredd. "Our metal friend is out of action. Controller's still groggy but said the systems just went haywire. Lie detector backs him up."

  "Like I said - unreliable."

  Miller admired Dredd's handiwork with the futsie. "How'd you-?"

  "Waited until the rampaging robot distracted her," he explained.

  "Worked out well then." She smiled before addressing the citizen still cowering on the ground. "What's your name?"

  "Riff. Riff Maltin." The reporter stood up, trying to assume a more relaxed guise. "I'm a street journalist for Channel 27."

  "Not a very good one," Dredd commented, pointing at the silver globe floating nearby. "You haven't taken the lens cap off your hovercam."

  "Oh!" Riff checked his equipment and realised the lawman was right.

  Miller managed to suppress her laughter. "What were you doing here?"

  "My news editor wanted some vox pops. You know, the voice of the-"

  "We know," Dredd growled. "Next time I suggest you choose your interview subjects more carefully."

  By now the Med-W?29

  agon had arrived and the wounded futsie was being strapped on to a hover-stretcher before being taken away for treatment. The two Judges turned and began walking back to their motorcycles. Riff scampered after them.

  "Err, your honours, I was wondering if-"

  Dredd and Miller stopped, exchanged a glance and then turned back to face Maltin. "You were wondering what?" Miller asked tersely.

  "If you'd be willing to help me recreate the incredible spectacle that just took place here. It would make for amazing tri-D viewing and I'm sure it wouldn't be too much trouble to just... to just..." The remorseless gaze of the law enforcers brought Riff's suggestion to a shuddering halt. "No, I guess not. How about an exclusive interview where you talk about what just happened?"

  Dredd and Miller resumed striding to their Lawmasters. "We better get back to the sector house," the female Judge said. "We're supposed to be escorting Deputy Temple to this public meeting."

  "Just a quick quote, perhaps?" Riff was jumping up and down, trying to pluck the lens cap off his hovercam. By the time he had finally succeeded, the Judges were already riding away into the distance. "I'll take that as a no, shall I?" Maltin's shoulders sagged.

  Not a great start to my quest for fame, Riff thought bleakly. Then he remembered the carnage caused by the collapsing mechanoid and hurried towards the smoking remains of the car park. "Still, not a completely wasted opportunity."

  21:00

  The Leni Riefenstahl Assembly Rooms were only a few minutes' walk from Sector House 87 but Temple insisted on travelling by H-Wagon, accompanied by Dredd and Miller.

  "How would it look if I arrived at a public meeting on foot? Hardly the image the Justice Department wishes to project to our citizens, is it?" he explained fussily. Dredd scowled a little more than usual while Miller kept her own counsel. She had no wish to antagonise a senior officer, even one so inept as Temple. He was a disgrace to the uniform of a Street Judge: prissy and pedantic with an over-developed sense of his own importance. A weak chin, flabby cheeks and beady, little eyes did not improve his appearance. It was a wonder Temple had survived this long, Miller thought to herself.

  They arrived just as the public meeting was starting. Rather than take an unobtrusive position at the back of the room, Temple insisted on striding up the centre aisle and sitting with the other dignitaries on the raised dais at the front. Dredd had been obliged to follow but whispered to Miller to stay out of sight. He pointed at the building's closed circuit security cameras. "Find out where those images go and route them through to the PSU for processing."

  It had been a simple task for Miller to follow the wiring to a control room near the building's main entrance and arrange for the signal to be shared with the Public Surveillance Unit. Located inside the towering Statue of Judgement, the PSU maintained the Justice Department's vast network of security cameras and alarm systems across the Big Meg; both overt and covert. Hundreds of operators monitored the output from these to identify crimes in progress and anticipate future lawbreaking. Coupled with the efforts of Psi-Division's precogs, the PSU's bleeding edge technology gave the Judges a powerful head start towards keeping the city and its citizens under control.

  Once the signal had been rerouted through PSU, Miller returned to the main assembly room to watch the public meeting for herself. It had been called by a self-ap
pointed committee of concerned busybodies, the Sector 87 Citizens for Collective Responsibility. The leader of the group was a middle-aged woman with blue-rinsed hair, Carolla O'Hare. She was addressing the meeting, peering over her horn-rimmed glasses at the gathered throng.

  "I have nothing personally against these extra-terrestrials being allowed to stay within Mega-City One, as long as they stay in their place. The Judges permitted them to have residences in the sector known as Alien Town; fine, so be it. But what I do object to is having these, these... creatures... living in the block next to my own. Property values in Sector 87 have dropped dramatically since Robert Hatch Block was given over to housing these creatures from outer space. What I want to know is when will these beings be leaving? Deputy Sector Chief Temple, perhaps you could answer that question for us?"

  The matronly speaker invited Temple to take his turn at the microphone. While he went through an elaborate ritual of being coaxed forward, Miller scanned the gathered crowd. Most wore the usual assortment of synthetic clothing, a few of the more affluent flaunting their wealth with designer kneepads from outlets like Tommi Illfinger and the Gyp. But most noticeable was the high proportion of citizens wearing camouflage and Citi-Def insignia. Each citi-block had its own defence unit, a volunteer reserve called in to support the Judges against only the most dangerous threats, such as an invasion.

  Citi-Def squads could be a useful resource at times, but in Miller's experience they tended to attract gun nuts and those with extremist tendencies. Getting such a militia force to stand down had often proved problematic and many questioned the wisdom of retaining this throwback to the days of global conflicts like the Apocalypse War. Others felt it was a useful diversion that kept the more right-wing elements within each citi-block occupied.

  Miller surveyed the crowd more closely. Two particular Citi-Def squads were heavily represented; they were from Oswald Mosley and Enoch Powell Blocks. Both had caused trouble in the past with their xenophobic tendencies, mostly due to a personality clash between their respective leaders. It now seemed Oswald Mosley and Enoch Powell had found a common enemy - the residents of the alien ghetto at Robert Hatch. Miller's attention returned to the dais as Temple began to address the gathering.

  "My fellow citizens," he began to murmurings of dissent. "First let me thank you for the invitation to speak here today. I offer apologies from Sector Chief Caine, who would have attended herself but for more urgent matters." Temple smiled weakly and continued. "I would like to reassure you that the problems surrounding Robert Hatch Block are among our highest priorities. The rebuilding of Alien Town continues apace and we are hopeful its residents will soon be returned to their own sector."

  "When?" a woman shouted from the crowd.

  "The exact timing of this remains uncertain. However-"

  "When? When are you getting these bug-eyed monsters out of our sector?" The heckler stood up and pointed accusingly at the Sector Chief. She was a small woman with swarthy skin, thick black hair and fierce features. The insignia of Oswald Mosley Citi-Def was displayed proudly on her shoulder. "You've been giving us promises and false hope for years, Temple, but you never deliver. We want to know when you will!" Those around her nodded in agreement, and murmured their approval.

  "Perhaps you could identify yourself?" Temple asked.

  "You know me. You all do! My name is Conchita Maguire and my husband died fighting aliens to protect this city. Now those same scum live alongside us and you say we should all try to get along!"

  Temple nodded at her. "Ahh, Ms Maguire, I should have recognised your voice. Your husband died after picking a fight with an alien who was legally visiting his family in this sector."

  "He was protecting this city!" she screamed back at him. "Anyone who says otherwise is a liar!"

  "Be that as it may, the residents of Robert Hatch have as much right-"

  "Rights? Don't talk to us about rights, Temple!" Maguire snarled back. "You Judges are all too willing to step forward and protect these creatures' rights. What about ours? The right for our children to play freely without fear of being molested or worse by these freaks? The right to breathe air that hasn't already been breathed by these monsters? The right to live out our lives without continually fearing that these things will murder us all in our beds and claim this sector, this city, as their own?"

  By now those around Maguire were up on their feet too, cheering her on. Temple did his best to calm them down but was unsuccessful. "Please, please, if you'll just listen to me," he pleaded in vain.

  "We've listened enough," Maguire cried out. She picked up a small girl from the chair beside her and held the child in the air. The girl had an ugly bruise around her left eye. "This is my daughter, Kasey. She got this black eye when she fell over, running away after being scared by one of those freaks at the shoppera. Should our children be put in danger like this?"

  Miller's helmet radio crackled into life. "Dredd to Miller, you hear me?"

  "Loud and clear. You going to step in?"

  "Only if Temple can't get them back under control."

  "I'm standing ready to back you up."

  "Roj that - Dredd out."

  Nyon returned home from his action group meeting to find Lleccas and Misch waiting for him. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, concerned by the look in their eyes. Lleccas told him about their broodling having metema. Nyon gave his daughter a hug, delighted for her. But he could sense something was still troubling Misch. "You should be happy - some of the greatest among the R'qeen have possessed this gift."

  She nodded as tears welled in her sad, little eyes. Misch explained about what she had sensed in the minds of the two humans earlier. "They wanted to hurt us all," she said.

  Nyon brushed the tears from his broodling's face. "They are afraid of us, because we are different. Beings of all kinds fear that which they do not know nor understand. Before I came to this world I feared humans. But there are many among them that are kind and generous. They may not understand our ways but they are willing to learn."

  "But what about all I saw in their minds? They wanted to burn us!"

  "Many beings have hate in their hearts. Some may even think about hurting us and those like us. But very few ever act upon such impulses," Nyon whispered soothingly. "You're safe here with your broodmother and me. We will always look after you. You believe that, don't you?"

  Misch managed a weak smile and Nyon hugged her again, the proudest of broodfathers. "Everything will be all right," he said, rocking her gently.

  But Nyon was wrong. Lleccas had walked to the doorway of their con-apt, sniffing at the air. "I smell something strange," she said quietly.

  "Probably Kehclow boiling a Joshua cactus again," Nyon replied. "You know how he likes to inhale the fumes."

  "No, it's something else," Lleccas said urgently. "It's smoke. Acrid, burning... I smell fire!"

  Temple was still ineffectually trying to bring the meeting at the Leni Riefenstahl Assembly Rooms to order. "Please, you must understand that my hands are tied in this matter. The alien ghetto, sorry, the alien settlers in Robert Hatch Block are perfectly entitled to-"

  The deputy Sector Chief's nasal, whining voice was cut short by a kneepad slapping against the side of his head. "Who threw that?" Temple demanded to know but mocking laughter was the surly crowd's only response. He blushed crimson with rage and embarrassment before storming off the dais. "I've never been so insulted in all my days as a Judge!"

  Maguire was leading a chant, aided by her brothers in arms from the Oswald Mosley Citi-Def. She had taken to standing on her chair and shaking her fists in the air, exhorting those around her to join in. "Alien scum out, human beings in! Alien scum out, human beings in!"

  A single gunshot echoed round the room, sending nearly everyone present diving for the floor. Dredd was standing on the dais. A wisp of smoke curled from the end of his Lawgiver. "You've all had your say - now it's my turn."

  "Hey, who gives you the right to-" Maguire began to prote
st, climbing back to her feet. Dredd silenced her with a glare. The rest of the audience stayed silent as the lawman surveyed them.

  "That's better," he said eventually. "First of all, you should know that we've been transmitting closed circuit camera footage of this meeting to PSU. Facial recognition software says forty of you have outstanding warrants against your names. There's an H-Wagon waiting outside. Turn yourselves in quietly or suffer the consequences. That includes the individual who threw the kneepad at Deputy Sector Chief Temple. Secondly, we know the identity of each and every person present here. If any one of you gets involved in anti-alien violence or related crime, you will be severely punished. Thirdly, you will disperse quietly and return to your homes. Otherwise I will not hesitate to fill this room with riot foam and leave you all here overnight to cool down. Do I make myself clear?"

  There were some murmurings and a shuffling of feet, but none of the citizens dared to contradict Dredd. At the back of the chamber Miller smiled despite herself. He might be getting on in years but Dredd possessed a real presence, a gravitas the likes of which Temple could never hope to have.

  Just as Dredd was bringing the meeting to a close a juve ran past Miller and into the assembly room. "Fire!" the kid shouted. "There's a fire at Robert Hatch! The aliens are burning!"

  The blaze had started in the basement, just as Misch had foreseen. It quickly spread, smoke and flames escaping into the ventilation shafts running the height of the building. Within minutes the fumes were choking the corridors on most floors, while tongues of fire licked at the walls and danced across ceilings. The defunct turbolift shaft was a breathing tube for the inferno, drawing air in from above to feed itself.

  All citi-blocks were required to have smoke alarms and thermostat warning systems to alert residents to danger. All citi-blocks were required to have more than sufficient fire escapes so everyone inside could get out in time. All citi-blocks were required to have sprinkler systems and flame retarding sprays to keep signs of fire in check. Robert Hatch Block had all of these - but almost none of them were working. Years of neglect and anti-alien prejudice finally found their target.