02.Bad Moon Rising Page 6

  "It's not displaying your feelings that's illegal," Dredd replied, pulling a small laser-cutter from one of the pouches on his utility belt. "It's the rest of you."

  The angry crowd began shouting and screaming at the protesters, demanding that their perfectly formed features and immaculate bone structure be banished from the building. Miller took off her helmet and held it in front of Carla's flawless face, to shield it from the audience's gaze. "Say another word and I'll add inciting a riot to your list of crimes," Miller shouted at Carla, struggling to be heard above the howls of the audience.

  "These contests demean women everywhere," Carla cried out. "We shouldn't be forced to conform to ugly stereotypes, and to debase ourselves for the benefit of companies like Sump Industries."

  "And stripping naked in front of all these people isn't debasing yourself?" Dredd asked while slicing through the protesters' handcuffs.

  "This is a legitimate act of outrage. All those who condone pro-ugly attitudes must be confronted by the truth!" one of Carla's fellow activists yelled.

  A squad of back-up Judges arrived to haul away the protesters from PPOTUS. Dredd jerked a thumb at the exit. "Get 'em out of here! I've seen enough of their truths for one night!"

  Carla was still shouting at the contestants as she was dragged away. "Don't be stooges of the ugly industry! Embrace your inner beauty. Don't be defined by your pimples and imperfections!"

  Miller shook her head as the last protester was removed. "You'd think they'd learn to cope with being beautiful. Why inflict their troubles on others?"

  Dredd shrugged. "Misery loves company." The helmet radios of both Judges crackled into life. "Speaking of which..."

  "Control to Dredd and Miller. You finished with the Ugly Pageant?"

  "That's a roj."

  "You better get back to Robert Hatch. Things are getting out of hand."

  Dredd scowled. "Aren't there Judges already on site?"

  "Stammers and Riley," Control replied. "They need back-up. Control out."

  Miller sighed. "I'm not surprised. Those two."

  "Tell me on the way," Dredd said, already striding towards the exit.

  Riff decided to stay close to the burnt-out shell of Robert Hatch. The fire might have been extinguished but he was hopeful of catching some good footage of charred remains being pulled from the building. His decision proved critical in what followed. Most of the bystanders had dispersed and gone back to their own blocks. With Weather Control offline, Sector 87 was sweltering in an unusual humidity. The ambient temperature had dropped since dusk but was still well above the norm for this time of year. All in all, it was a hot and sticky night.

  As the crowd thinned out, Riff sidled across to Riley and Stammers. The two Judges were still maintaining a cordon but their attention was on the huddled survivors being treated at the scene. "Wasting good resources on offworlders again," Stammers sneered to his partner. "They should send them all back to where they came from, and get them out from under our feet."

  Riley nodded his agreement. "My brother told me the vultures used to keep the dead in charnel pits before eating them. Now those freaks are living here, taking up homes that decent humans could be using." He spat on the ground. "Peace treaty or no peace treaty, they shouldn't be here. Danny'd still be alive..."

  Riff introduced himself to the two Judges. "How'd the fire start?"

  Riley shrugged. "We're still waiting on forensics from the Tek-Judges."

  Stammers laughed. "It was arson and you know it! Somebody went in there and did a little fire starting. Know what I mean?"

  "We don't have proof of that-"

  "Give it time. Then they'll want us to find whoever started the fire and arrest them. If you ask me, I think we oughta give whoever did this a medal!"

  "Well, that's definitely one point of view," Riff said noncommittally.

  Riley pointed at the blackened front entrance to Robert Hatch. "Come on, Stammers. Let's see if the Tek-Judges are finished inside."

  His partner followed Riley away from the cordon, still grumbling. "These freaks can bring out their own dead, that's what I say."

  Riff waited until the two Judges had gone inside before slipping under the barricade. The reporter edged towards the survivors, his hovercam floating behind him. Riff was not fluent in Allspeak but knew enough to make himself understood. "Excuse me, I'm a reporter for Channel 27. Is there anyone here who can speak English?"

  An R'qeen male stepped forward, replying in halting words of English. "I can, a little. My name is Nyon. What do you want of us?"

  Maltin was taken aback by how tall and imposing the R'qeen was; Nyon towered over him. He had seen the species on tri-D before but never in the flesh. "I just need to ask you some questions, if that's all right?"

  "Ask your questions, human."

  "I've been told this fire was deliberately started, probably by some anti-alien faction here in Sector 87. How do you feel about that?"

  Nyon's three-fingered hands began clenching into fists and unclenching again, his head leaning forward to hiss at Riff. "We will not stand by and see our kind butchered by those who would cast us out!"

  "Are you saying you will retaliate?"

  "We will lay our dead to rest - then we shall see."

  Riff nodded. He could sense the alien's anger bubbling below the surface. It would be dangerous to provoke this creature further, but it might also make good viewing. "I've just recorded some comments by one of the Judges responsible for investigating this terrible fire. Perhaps I could show them to you, see if you have anything to add?"

  Nyon agreed, so Riff grabbed his hovercam and scrolled backwards through its most recent recordings. After carefully selecting what to replay, the journalist turned the silver globe so Nyon could see the monitor screen.

  "It was arson and you know it!" Stammers announced to the camera. "Somebody went in there and did a little fire starting, know what I mean?" Riff then pushed the sequence forward a few seconds to another comment by Stammers. "If you ask me, I think we oughta give whoever did this a medal!"

  The other survivors had crowded forward to watch the playback. They reacted with horror and anger towards the Judge's comments. Nyon pushed the hovercam aside and grabbed Riff by the throat, lifting the reporter into the air. "Where are they? Where are the ones who said this?"

  Riff shook his head weakly, gasping out an answer. "Inside... The Judges went inside."

  Nyon threw the reporter aside and stormed towards the entrance of the block, followed by the other aliens. Riley and Stammers were just emerging from the smoke-stained lobby, brushing themselves down.

  "Forget it," Stammers announced. "I ain't touching them. Hell, the vultures will probably want to eat what's left of their families anyway..." His voice trailed off as he registered the crowd of angry aliens surrounding the entrance.

  Riley was first to call for back-up. Stammers had already drawn his daystick and was pointing it at the survivors. "Just move away and nobody needs to get hurt," he commanded.

  Nyon stepped forward to confront the Judge. "Many of our kind died inside that inferno," the R'qeen spat back. "Is that not enough hurt for you?"

  "Now look, I didn't mean anything by it," Stammers began.

  "Perhaps you were busy thinking about the medal you are going to award to whoever is responsible for this fire?"

  "What medal? What are you talking about?"

  Nyon pointed at Riff, who was still recovering on the ground nearby. "He showed us what you said. You want to see us all dead, don't you?"

  "Now I never said that..." Stammers protested.

  "How do we know you didn't start the fire?" Nyon demanded, sniffing at the law enforcer. "I can smell your fear, human. What are you afraid of?"

  Stammers glanced back at his partner. "Where the hell is that back-up?"

  Dredd and Miller were speeding from the ugly pageant back towards Robert Hatch, but a traffic jam on the Arthur Hayes Underpass forced them into a detour. Dredd used his
helmet radio to quiz his new partner about Stammers and Riley. "You weren't surprised they were in trouble. Why not?"

  Miller didn't reply straight away.

  "Well?"

  "Riley and I were at the Academy together," she said. "He was Roll of Honor material but had a blind spot when it came to offworlders. His older brother died in the colony wars on R'qeen when we were out on our first hotdog run. Riley and his brother had been very close, so when he got news of what had happened..."

  "He blames all aliens for what happened to his brother?"

  "Especially the R'qeen. As for Stammers..." Her voice trailed off, but Dredd would not let the matter lie.

  "I'm not SJS, Miller; I'm not conducting any covert investigations despite what Caine might believe. I'm just here for a graveyard shift."

  She nodded. "I know, but talking about another Judge like this, it makes me uncomfortable."

  "Then get over it. We're partners. What you tell me goes no further."

  "All right," Miller said. "Stammers is bad news. Not corrupt as such, but extreme in his views and prone to using excessive force, especially where offworlders are involved. If you're on his side, there's nothing in the world he wouldn't do to protect you. If you're not, watch your back."

  Dredd considered this. "And Stammers has taken Riley under his wing?"

  Miller nodded. "Caine put them together, the worst possible combination. Riley's becoming more and more like his partner. Sometimes I still see traces of the friend I knew at the Academy, but..." The duo was back on a direct route to the alien ghetto. Miller switched frequencies on her helmet radio and called Control. "Dredd and I will be back at Robert Hatch within sixty seconds."

  "Roj that - the sooner, the better!"

  Miller acknowledged the message and activated her motorcycle's siren. The device was not often used but was a good way of driving off minor lawbreakers who preferred to avoid the Judges. Dredd followed her example and the duo rode down an off-ramp towards the smoking remains of the alien ghetto.

  Who struck the first blow was never clear. Nyon had been looming over Stammers, intimidating the lawman with his superior height. But the Street Judge would not back down, his daystick drawn and ready for action. Riley had tried to persuade his partner to avoid the confrontation but Stammers refused to budge. "No bug-eyed monster is pushing me around," he hissed.

  "What did you call me?" Nyon demanded, one arm ready to lash out.

  "You're a no-good, blue-skinned, stomm-eating son of a Grud-alone-knows-what. The sooner you drokkers get off my planet the better!"

  Within seconds the pair were sprawled on the ground. Stammers was clubbing the R'qeen repeatedly with his daystick. The alien tried to defend himself, pushing his long fingers inside the Judge's helmet, gouging at Stammers's eyes. Riley tried to pull the combatants apart but Nyon caught him a glancing blow with an elbow. Riley lashed out with the butt of his Lawgiver, pounding it against the side of the R'qeen's head. The rest of the aliens gathered round the brawl in a circle, urging their leader on against the two humans.

  Riff skirted around the edges of the melee, content to send his hovercam in to capture footage. The reporter transmitted a running commentary of the scrap. "Live and exclusive here on Channel 27, a grudge match between the aliens burnt out of their home at Robert Hatch Block and two Judges trying to bring peace to this troubled area of Sector 87. The leader of the aliens has accused the lawmen of starting the fire that gutted this once noble building, causing the deaths of hundreds of residents. The two Judges were outraged and now the conflict has escalated into this: a knockdown brawl in front of the still smoking structure!"

  The sound of approaching sirens cut through the air. The alien spectators parted to reveal the combatants, so that all three fighters were clearly visible in the headlights of the two Lawmasters. Nyon and Stammers were too intent on throttling each other to notice the new arrivals. Riley hammered at the R'qeen's head with his Lawgiver.

  "What the drokk is going on here?" Dredd demanded. The Judge climbed off his bike and strode through the gap in the spectators, followed by Miller.

  Riley looked up and quickly holstered his handgun. "Dredd!" He stepped back from the tangle of limbs and anger on the ground. "This vulture accused us of starting the fire. When we tried to arrest him for slander, he resisted and we were forced to subdue him."

  "Is that right?" Dredd snarled. Stammers and Nyon were still grappling with each other. "Miller, will you do the honours?"

  She drew her Lawgiver and fired once into the air. The alien spectators drew further away, and the shot finally got the attention of Stammers and Nyon. They stopped fighting and rolled away from each other before getting to their feet. When questioned, Stammers repeated the same story as Riley. Nyon told a very different tale, recounting how the reporter from Channel 27 had shown him Stammers's xenophobic comments.

  It was Miller who saw Riff trying to creep away. "Maltin!" she shouted, stopping the reporter in his tracks. "I might have known you'd be where there was trouble. Is your hovercam working now?"

  Dredd and Miller reviewed the footage from Riff's camera before discussing what to do. "I'll deal with this," Dredd told his partner. "I'm only here for one night. You have to work alongside these two for months or even years to come. If they want to blame someone, better they blame me."

  Miller reluctantly agreed. The pair returned to the main gathering. Stammers and Riley were sporting bruises and scrapes but Nyon looked much worse. The skin across his left cheek was split, the pupil of one eye appeared bloody and he was nursing his right arm. An R'qeen female and child helped tend his wounds as best they could.

  "I've reviewed this incident and there is clear evidence of provocation by Judge Stammers," Dredd announced. "I will be recommending a reprimand be placed on this officer's permanent record. In view of the circumstances, I will let this R'qeen male go with a verbal warning. But if I see him fighting again, I will consider initiating deportation proceedings." Stammers was outraged. And the aliens were less than impressed; they abused Dredd in their native tongues.

  "Last but not least, Riff Maltin." The reporter had been enjoying the show, but his face fell as he was included in Dredd's judgement. "I suspect you provoked this conflict just to create news for your broadcast. If I find you using similar tactics in future, you will be spending the next year in the cubes. Do I make myself clear?" Riff nodded hurriedly before making himself scarce, relieved to have escaped incarceration.

  "You've got no authority to put a reprimand on our records," Stammers sneered. "I know Caine - she'll never let it stand. You're wasting your time."

  "Maybe," Dredd agreed. "I can only recommend you get a reprimand. But I want that on record, even if Caine does choose to protect the likes of you."

  "It sounds like I've arrived at just the right moment," a woman's voice interjected. The four Judges turned to see Sector Chief Caine walking towards them. "I heard someone called for back-up and decided to visit the scene for myself. Now, who is protecting whom, exactly?"

  Conchita Maguire switched off the tri-D in her cramped con-apt. Channel 27 had been broadcasting coverage of events at Robert Hatch, thanks to the presence of Riff Maltin and his hovercam. But after Dredd's intervention the channel switched its focus to the finale of the ugly pageant. Conchita felt no need to see some sow-faced juve showered with gifts and adulation.

  After the public meeting at the Leni Riefenstahl Assembly Rooms had broken up, Conchita had brought her daughter home to Oswald Mosley Block. The single mother's heart sank every time she walked into this con-apt. How was a family of four meant to live in just three tiny rooms? Conchita was forced to share a bedroom with her eight-year-old daughter Kasey, while her two sons slept in the largest room, which also served as kitchen and dining area. The smallest room was the bathroom, a space barely large enough for the toilet and the tiniest of shower cubicles. If you wanted to dry yourself, you had to step outside into the hallway.

  On the rare occasions C
onchita lured a colleague from the Oswald Mosley Citi-Def back to her bed, she always turned the lights off so they couldn't see the dismal limitations of the con-apt for themselves. In the morning, the faces of her lovers reminded the single mother of how just shabby and hopeless her existence appeared to others. The Maguire family home was a dump, the taint of sweat and despair stained every surface.

  Trapped on welfare and starved of adult company, Conchita had devoted herself to the block's Citi-Def squad. Membership was usually an all-male affair, but Conchita had proved herself the equal of any man in shooting, fighting and her utter hatred of all outsiders. She despised their rivals in Enoch Powell with a passion that frightened others. If you believed the rumours - and Conchita did little to dispel them - she had killed two men from Norman Tebbitt during the madness of Block Mania more than twenty years ago.

  But her greatest hatred was for offworlders. They represented everything that was wrong with this city. How could the Big Meg provide a home for alien scum when decent citizens like her had to get by in this hovel? How could the Judges betray the valiant struggle of warriors like herself during the Apocalypse War, defending the city from Sov-Block invaders, only to allow freaks like the R'qeen and their kin to settle in Sector 87? Conchita hated aliens with a passion that made her blood boil. She would happily die in a nuclear holocaust if she could take all the aliens with her to hell; it'd be worth it. Sometimes she seriously considered taking a machine gun from the Citi-Def armoury and running amok in Alien Town, taking out as many of the offworlders as possible before the Judges gunned her down.

  There was one ray of hope that kept her sane. For the past month decorating droids had been refurbishing the top floor of Oswald Mosley Block. Half a dozen spacious new con-apts were being created and the Maguire family was at the top of the list for relocation. Moving day was coming soon and then everything would be different, Conchita promised herself. Maybe then she could learn to stop hating so much.