Eclipse

by James Swallow

Dredd finished his drink and strode over, recovering his case as he passed it. The thief was out cold. Dredd scanned the area to see if he could locate his partner, in time to see a figure in a helmet and a red rad-cape come from out of nowhere and drop-kick the second perp. The other thief took the hit hard, but didn't go down. Instead, he produced a wicked-looking knife from a wrist holster and made a savage swipe at his attacker. Spacers liked to fight with blades and melee weapons; there was no chance of a blow-out with a knife, a sword or a tonfa. The caped figure dodged the blade and stepped into the perp, planting a hard left cross to his cheek. The thief thrust the knife forward in a stab, but the other person drew the blade into the folds of the cape and twisted it, disarming him in one single action. Good technique, Dredd noted.

  The caped figure gave the thief no pause and brought up a knee to strike him squarely in the crotch. Winded, the second perp dropped to the floor in a whimpering heap. Dredd took a handful of his thief's jacket and dragged him back to the victim, returning her bag. The caped figure did the same and only when they were closer did he recognise the outfit. The red and black cape was fastened securely at the throat with a bronze shield that bore a cluster of Cyrillic letters and the face beneath the bullet-shaped helmet reflected Dredd's own impassive gaze. It was probably the first time in Dredd's career he could ever recall sharing an arrest with a Sov-Judge.

  The East-Meg officer gave him a nod - acknowledging a moment of shared purpose beyond national boundaries - and Dredd returned it, turning the criminals over to a brace of Securi-Bots that had belatedly arrived on the scene. He noted the small symbol of a stylised rocket on the Sov-Judge's uniform, the sigil of the Kosmonaut Directorate.

  "Kontarsky?"

  "Judge Nikita Kontarsky," she began, removing her helmet. "It is an honour to meet you, Judge Dredd." Her bright green eyes gave him a challenging look from a face framed with ice-blonde hair.

  Dredd returned her appraising gaze. Justice Central's files had only had the vaguest details about the officer who would serve as his deputy on the task force, thanks to the typical East-Meg penchant for utter secrecy. Kontarsky was a high-flier in the Sov's space program and an expert in interplanetary law. But what the file had failed to mention was how young she was. The Sovs had sent a rookie. Looks like they're not serious about assisting Tex, he thought.

  "I was approaching you when I noticed the crime unfolding," she continued smoothly. "I considered you would excuse a delay in our meeting in order for me to deal with it."

  "Where's our third man, Rodriguez?"

  Kontarsky pointed to the far side of the terminal plaza, where a dingy bar was situated. "There. He arrived just before you did." She paused. "May I speak freely, Judge Dredd?"

  "There's little point in you being part of my team if you don't," Dredd answered as they walked.

  "I believe that Judge Rodriguez may be unsuitable for this taskforce."

  "Oh?" Dredd said. "What is the reasoning behind your assessment, Kontarsky?"

  "His attitude is not... I feel he may not be a dedicated enough officer."

  Dredd gave a cynical snort. "'Dedicated' is not a word you'll often hear applied to a SouthAm Judge."

  Kontarsky chewed her lip as they entered the bar. Dredd spotted the Judge from the Pan-Andes Conurb at once, in close conversation with a female in a spacer's jumpsuit.

  "Real big shot, chica, you understand?" he drawled, unaware of Dredd's approach. "It's a tough job, but when my brother cops on Luna called me, I had to come to their aid, you see? I, Judge Miguel Juan Olivera Montoya Rodriguez, am in charge of a special Judge squad and we're going to-"

  "Do what?" Dredd grated.

  Rodriguez turned a casual smile on the Mega-City Judge. "Hey, Dredd. Amigo. What a pleasant surprise." He held out a hand. "I heard a lot about you, man. It's a pleasure to be working with you."

  Dredd ignored the offered handshake and eyed the glass on the bar. "Don't tell me you're drinking on duty, Rodriguez."

  "What, we barely say hola and already you're busting my cojones? Don't forget, this is a Freeport, man. I don't have to follow your Mega-City rules."

  Dredd nudged the half-full glass toward him. "Drink up, then. Go ahead, give me a reason to send you back down the well."

  The SouthAm Judge's bluster faded as he realised Dredd meant every word and he gave a sheepish shrug. "Hey, well, it's just an eye-opener, you know? Those stratoflights, they really take it out of you. Look, Dredd, no need to kick me out before we even get Moonside, eh?" He gave the spacer girl a look, but she had clearly lost interest in him and stepped away. "Hey, chica, where you going?"

  "You see my point now, Judge Dredd?" Kontarsky said.

  Rodriguez sized up the female Judge with a leer. "Oh, hey. Maybe I can forget all about her and talk to you instead, eh? You look a little young for that uniform, though."

  Kontarsky's eyes narrowed. "I am a fully qualified law officer of the glorious East-Meg State and a graduate of the Soviet Kosmonaut Academy," she growled, "and my age has no bearing on that fact!"

  "Right," Rodriguez smiled. "So how many times you been into space, then?"

  She bit out a reply. "This is my first assignment off-world."

  Dredd frowned. Terrif. A wet behind-the ears Sov and a Banana City chancer. This team was shaping up to be a real set of aces. "I don't have time for this. Both of you, listen to me carefully, because it's the one and only time I'm going to say it. I'm in charge of this task force and I expect everyone in it to behave like a professional. If I see anything that looks like inexperience or disregard for protocol, you're on the next shuttle home. Am I clear?"

  "Si, amigo. It's no skin off my churro."

  "Da."

  "Then let's get to work. We have a transport to catch."

  The spy kept watch on the bar until the trio of Judges had left, then he tracked them with care to the lunar departure terminal. He was very careful not to draw attention to himself, giving out the impression of a bored tourist wandering around as he waited for a connecting shuttle flight. Someone would have had to stand extremely close to him to have noticed the small holo-camera clipped to his air-cooled fan-hat; they would have to have looked very carefully to see the micro-miniature imaging lens as it recorded the movements and conversation of the two men and the young woman. Of course, if someone had been unlucky enough to have witnessed and understood what the spy was doing, soon afterward they would have suffered from some sort of terrible and unexpected misfortune. One that left absolutely no doubt they had died completely by accident.

  He went as far as he could go, up to the gates to the terminal and watched Dredd, Kontarsky and Rodriguez disappear into the airlock. Then, still mindful to make his passage as insignificant and unnoticeable as possible, the spy stepped into a nearby vu-phone booth and dialled a number in Antarctic City. An automated relay in a vacant apartment there scrambled his call and bounced it off two hundred other randomly selected relays before finally broadcasting it to a target receiver a few hundred thousand kilometres away.

  "Yes?" The voice at the other end of the line was indistinct, electronically masked into mechanical flatness.

  "He's on his way. The girl and the South American too. Maiden Galactic, flight six-six."

  "I will inform the rest of the cabal. Do you have the holo-scan?"

  The spy connected a thin optic cable from the camera to the vu-phone's data port. "Transmitting now."

  "Excellent. Dredd will never see his precious Mega-City One again. The Moon will be his grave."

  Much to Dredd's irritation, Rodriguez seemed intent on talking all the way to Luna-1 and as their shuttle's countdown edged closer to zero, he continued to bait the young Sov-Judge.

  "So you must be pretty special, chica, if you got shipped up here to help out with us big dogs, eh?"

  "I was top of my class in space law and colonial legal statutes, Rodriguez. I am more than qualified to be part of this task force." She gave him a hard stare that all but rolled off the casual
Judge's manner. "Tell me, why are you here?"

  "Why are any of us here?" he replied airily. "The universe, she is a mysterious thing. I merely go where she tells me."

  Dredd gave him a sideways look. "Kontarsky's got a point. Your file was real short on explanations about that."

  After a moment of awkward silence, Rodriguez made a face. "Look, you wanna know why I got sent on this assignment? It's not some big secret, Dredd. I grew up in Luna-1's Puerto Luminia enclave, so the Moon, I know her pretty well." He paused. "That and also I was suspended for, uh, a liaison with another Judge."

  Kontarsky gave a derisive snort. "As I understand it, those sorts of 'liaisons' are commonplace among the undisciplined law officers of the Pan-Andes. They are tolerated and ignored. Why would yours be any different?"

  An insouciant smile crossed Rodriguez's face. "Mine just happened to be with the lover of the sector chief." He glanced at the Mega-City Judge. "So what about you, Dredd? This your first time up on la Luna?"

  "Not quite."

  "He was Judge-Marshal here for six months from 2099 to 2100," Kontarsky began, as if she were giving a lecture. "During his tenure, Judge Dredd cleaned up a lot of the criminal elements inside Luna-1 and the surrounding Badlands. Among these, he was responsible for the arrest and prosecution of CW Moonie, the exploitative capitalist crimelord who persecuted the hard-working lunar colonists."

  "No kidding?" said Rodriguez. "I remember Moonie from when I was boy. My papa worked for him."

  "Almost everyone worked for Moonie back then," Dredd noted. "He had his fingers in every part of the Luna-1 economy."

  "Exactly," Kontarsky said. "He was a parasite feasting on the lifeblood of the workers."

  "Something like that," added Dredd.

  A two-tone signal sounded from the shuttle's public address system. "Your attention please. Trans-lunar injection will commence in two minutes. Please ensure your seat backs and tray tables are in an upright, locked position and please keep all hands, pseudopodia and tentacles out of the aisles until we have switched off the seatbelt sign. Thank you!"

  "How come you know so much about Dredd?" Rodriguez pressed. "You a fan or something?"

  "East-Meg Two's Judicial Directorate has very detailed files. It was deemed important to retain information on a man who was responsible for the total destruction of a Sov city."

  "That was war," Dredd grated. "I took no pleasure in it. And let's not forget, it was East-Meg One that fired the first shots in that conflict. I did what was necessary to ensure the survival of my city."

  "I do not disagree, Judge Dredd," Kontarsky said levelly. "Had the circumstances been reversed, I would have made the same choice. Just as you did once more during the madman Sabbat's assault."

  "Madre de dios," said Rodriguez. "Now that was a dark day..."

  "But the so-called Apocalypse War was not your first engagement with Sov forces, was it?" Kontarsky gave Dredd a piercing look. "You also fought them on the Moon, did you not?"

  Dredd's jaw hardened. "Do you have a point, Kontarsky, or are you just going to keep listing my greatest hits? Yeah, I took part in a limited war. We used the old team-based system instead of all-out conflict. We won there, as well!"

  A rumble began to build in the rear of the shuttle as the engines throttled up to full power and Dredd's voice rose along with it. "What else do you have to say? Come on, let's hear it."

  "I was merely answering Judge Rodriguez's question," she snapped, her icy manner starting to slip. "I believe you returned to Luna-1 in 2118, where you were involved in a murder investigation. You were accused of a series of cannibalistic attacks, if my memory serves correctly."

  "Did... did you say cannibal?" Rodriguez paled, edging away from Dredd as far as he could.

  Dredd made an off-hand gesture. "I wasn't the perp. The killer was a zombie version of my future self from a parallel alternate timeline."

  "Oh," said Rodriguez, in the same tone someone might use if they were speaking to an escaped lunatic. "Well, that explains everything."

  "And now you're going back," Kontarsky noted, the roar of the rocket motors drowning out her voice. "I wonder, what history will you make this time?"

  Dredd said nothing and let the G-force press him into his seat, as the shuttle powered away towards the grey disc of the Moon.

  There were four men in the Silent Room. Two of them were subordinates, lackeys of the other pair, whose job it was to expedite the wishes of their masters. These servant men had servants and agents of their own and a degree of limited autonomy and command, but in all truth, theirs was a short leash. Neither man could move more than a little without the orders of his superior and although both of them were as different as two men could be, their polar opposite beliefs had come together for this one endeavour, in service for their masters.

  The two men in charge faced one another across a table cut from black lunar basalt. The surface was so smooth, so finely polished, that it acted like a mirror, reflecting the sullen, watchful cast of their faces and the shimmering holographic display tank that filled the far corner of the room.

  In actuality, the Silent Room wasn't silent at all, with the often heated discussions that had taken place between the two men in charge. It had the name only because it would appear silent from the outside. Millions of credits had been spent on just this one space, in order to render it utterly inert to any form of eavesdropping. Sensor baffles that could block radar, lidar, maser scans and tunnelling neutrino beams were embedded in the walls. Sound dampening panels in the structure meant that a nuclear bomb could be detonated inside it and the only thing a listener outside would hear would be the sound of their own breathing. The Silent Room had even been proofed against the more ethereal, less tangible forms of spying, blocking the probing psi-senses of telepaths with an array of cloned human brain tissue that broadcast the mental equivalent of white noise.

  It was the ultimate sanctum from which to plot and scheme, an unbreachable preserve for these men, this cabal, to meet and to conspire against the Moon.

  "I have the Justice Department report from the Kepler Dome uprising," said the thin man, the subordinate of the man who sat in the hoverchair. "Copies are on your panels, if you'd like to look at them."

  The tall man, the opposite number to the man who sat in the hoverchair, smiled coldly. "I see your network of corruption still operates."

  The man in the hoverchair gave a husky laugh. He was quite old and somewhat frail, but still potent enough to be dangerous. "There's always someone who wants a little more. Like you, my friend."

  The tall man let the gibe pass unremarked, scanning the document. "This bodes well for us. The cause and effect still elude them and they are no closer to determining where the weapons came from. Perfect. We will soon be entering the endgame."

  "You see?" the frail man said, sipping at a squeeze-bulb of water. "You had your concerns about mounting a full-scale test, but you understand now why I insisted on it. Kepler Dome was our last dry run. We're ready to begin."

  The tall man's balding assistant smirked. "A 'dry run'? That's an interesting choice of words considering that the streets in Kepler ran with blood. I must admit I have my concerns that we may ignite a powder keg we won't be able to contain."

  The tall man gave his servant a derisive look. "That is why you fail to move up in rank while I remain your superior. You lack the killer instinct."

  "And killer instinct is what you need to survive in a place where nature herself is trying to murder you!" The frail man spat the words with vehemence.

  The thin man interrupted with a polite cough. "At any rate, the process has proven itself to be a success. The only detail to be decided now is the date."

  "If I may be so bold," the tall man said, "I have the very day in mind." When he told them, there was a chorus of grim laughter around the black stone table.

  "Very theatrical," said the old man in the hoverchair. "That amuses me. Yes, yes, we'll proceed as you suggest. As the day dawn
s, we'll take the Moon for ourselves."

  "There is another matter," said the bald man. "The secondary objective has been brought into play."

  "Dredd." The old man spoke the name like a curse.

  "Judge Dredd, yes. As we predicted, Judge-Marshal Tex requested his assignment and he will arrive within a day. Our operative on Union Station secured these images of Dredd and two of the task force sent to assist him." The bald man touched a control on his chair and the shimmering holo-projector began playing a loop of footage from the spy's camera.

  "Who are these others?" said the thin man. "A woman and a Hispanic male?"

  "They are known to us," replied the tall man. "They are of no concern. Plans have already been drawn to deal with them. Dredd is where our energies should be focussed."

  The tall man shook his head. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. Why not simply use the contingency we set up for the Judge-Marshal and use it to deal with Dredd?"

  "Oh, do shut up!" the old man growled. "I'll do everything in my power to ensure that Judge Joseph Dredd dies slowly and painfully. All of this," he waved a crooked hand at the holograms and the panels on the table, "none of it will be enough until I see Dredd on his knees, begging me for his life!"

  "You'll have what you want, my friend," said the tall man. "We both will." He gave a nod to the bald man. "Let us extend a warm welcome to our guests from Earth. Send some of our associates to meet Dredd's party. I'm sure it will amuse us all to test their mettle."

  4. THE EAGLE HAS LANDED

  Kontarsky did her best not to show her excitement as she trailed Dredd and Rodriguez out of the shuttle gate and into the tunnel that led toward the starport. Outwardly, she was all business, her jaw thrust forward, helmet down over her face, the very model of a cool and composed East-Meg citizen; inside, she was bubbling with sensation, thrilling at her circumstances in a manner more befitting a child. Nikita tried to smother the butterflies in her stomach and failed - to be honest, some part of her actually liked the feeling. She was here, in space. At last.