by Neal Barrett
James Olmeyer, III
Chapter XIX: “The Way Back When”
2191
SIX
Hershey leaned into the wind, taking the skyway curve at a non-regulation twenty-two degrees, the hard surface inches from her head. The Lawmaster screamed but the broad tires held to the road. She didn’t dare look at her speed. A sensor would record all this somewhere; if she didn’t squash herself like a bug, a sergeant would eventually give her hell.
She was vaguely aware that Briscoe was still behind her, still in one piece. Maybe the Rookie would make a Street Judge after all, if she didn’t get him killed.
Mega-City rushed by in a blur of white light. A shuttle whined by overhead. Hershey wondered if Maintenance had checked the loose brake switch she’d red-lined the night before.
“Red Quad, Code Alpha-Two… Red Quad, Code Alpha Two…”
She flipped the signal off with a blink, slowed the Lawmaster for a second and a half, then squealed off the skyway onto Rampway Six. The rampway was for emergency traffic only. It circled down to the depths of the city, four thousand feet below. It was nearly pitch dark down there. Hershey punched on her brights. Code Alpha Two was Riot in Progress, and Red Quad was about as mean as you could get. The Rezzies who lived down there…
“Easy, Briscoe,” she spoke into her comm. “Keep your eyes open. There’s no one on the way yet but us.”
“I’m right with you, Judge!”
Hershey caught the excitement in his voice. “Don’t be so damn eager, Rookie. It’s real bad country down here.”
“I got you, Judge.”
“Good. Just so you do.” Hershey could hear the sound of automatic fire in the distance. She keyed the map on her dash. Red Quad. Left, then a minute and a half.
“We don’t have time for a recon,” she told Briscoe. “There are very likely people in danger right now. You take the street left, I’ll take it right.”
“I read you, Judge.”
“And Briscoe—watch yourself, okay?”
“Hey, don’t worry about me. Action is my middle—yawwwk!”
Yellow tracers stitched the street. Briscoe’s Lawmaster veered dangerously to the right, then straightened and roared ahead.
“Take cover!” Hershey shouted, “Combat One!”
She threw the machine into a skid, drew her Lawgiver and loosed a stream of fire into the tenement above. In a single motion, she was on her knees crouched in the protection of the heavily-armored machine. A glance to the left told her Briscoe was safe.
“Hang in there,” she said. “Keep cool.”
“I’m doing great, Judge!”
She couldn’t risk another look, but his voice said he still had that stupid Rookie grin on his face.
“What do you want me to do?” he said. “What are your orders, Judge?”
“Shut up,” she said, “I’m thinking.”
“Let’s go get the lousy droogs. I’ll lead off, you follow!”
“As you were!” Hershey ducked as a burst of fire slammed into her machine. “You see that? This is not an Academy simulation, Briscoe, this is real! We will stand down and wait for backup!”
“Judge—”
Briscoe’s words disappeared in a hail of fire that sent him reeling. When the acrid smoke cleared, a concrete gully a foot deep snaked across the street from one curb to the next. The line ran an inch from Briscoe’s knee.
“That is mucking heavy arms. These guys aren’t kidding!”
“What’d you expect,” Hershey said, “spitballs? Comm-Delta, Comm-Delta, this is Jaybird-Fiver, in position outside Heavenly Haven, Red Quad. Under fire, I repeat, we are under fire. Request backup, nearest Judge. Nearest—”
A fireball suddenly erupted behind her. Flames licked the side of the building and glass exploded from the windows. A woman shrieked as oily smoke blackened the street. A second blast geysered beside the first and a wall of heat struck Hershey like a fist.
“Request backup now, damn it,” Hershey shouted into her comm. “Now, or forget it!”
Briscoe raked the upper floors with his Lawgiver. A section of the wall collapsed and tumbled to the street.
“That is fire-ammo, Judge. Where’d they get their hands on that?”
“Where the hell do they get their hands on anything?” Hershey muttered. “They just do.”
Hershey tried to give the shooters a blast but the withering fire drove her down. The street was a wall of flame and there was no place to go. She glanced at Briscoe. She was glad the Rookie couldn’t see her face. It suddenly struck her that they’d stick a roach on her record for improper comm behavior. So what if they did? Who’s going to chew out a barbecued Judge?
Where’s the backup? What are you jerks doing out there!
“Judge, we could—I could lay down some fire. You could maybe get out of here, get us some help.”
“Forget it,” Hershey said, “no one’s going anywhere.”
Briscoe nodded. “Yes, Judge. I just thought…”
“I know what you thought. And thanks for the offer, all right? I won’t forget you made it.”
“Judge Hershey…”
“What, Briscoe?”
“If we don’t get out of this, if anything should—”
Hershey’s Lawmaster lifted into the air. Hershey screamed as the blast sent her rolling helplessly, head over heels along the street. Blood trickled from her ears. From the corner of her eye she could see the big machine against the sky. Time played tricks in her head and the Lawmaster seemed to float forever like a black steel balloon. It was spinning very slowly, directly overhead. Which meant, she decided, when it did come down it would flatten her into mush.
It didn’t seem important at the moment, the Lawmaster didn’t show any sign at all of coming down, and if it did, she would certainly have the sense to get out of the way, any droog could do that…
Briscoe scooped her up in his arms as Hershey’s Lawmaster struck the ground like a bomb. He leaped for the cover of his machine, gunfire chewing up the street at his boots. The Lawmaster exploded in a burst of white flame. Briscoe sprawled on the ground and covered Hershey’s head. He opened her visor and saw blood coming from her nose.
“Judge, you—you all right?”
Hershey blinked. “No, Briscoe, I’m not all right. Now get off of me.”
“Judge—” Briscoe’s eyes went wide. What if she thought that he… Oh, God, she couldn’t think that!
“These machines are supposed to serve as a protective barrier under any adverse circumstances a Judge might encounter in the line of duty,” Hershey said. “I repeat, any adverse circumstances.”
“I guess they don’t,” Briscoe said.
“If you can’t depend on your equipment, you are in deep shit, Rookie.”
“Judge. We can’t stay here. We’ve got to get out of the street.”
Hershey snapped her visor shut. “We can’t get out of here, we’re pinned down under overwhelming fire. Don’t you know that?”
Tracer bullets rained down on the street. Lead beat a steady tattoo on the armor of Briscoe’s machine.
“No, Judge, I don’t know that. I know if we don’t get out of here we’ll die and I definitely don’t want to do that.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“Who says I’m not?”
“I do, Rookie. When our back-up comes—”
“Our backup isn’t coming, Judge. Our backup is somewhere else, caught in another street fight.”
Hershey raised her visor again and gave him a chilling look. “You are wrong, Briscoe. Article Nineteen says a Judge in pursuit of his or her duty is never abandoned. When a Judge requires aid, aid will be rendered in sufficient force to remedy the situation in question. Have you read the Articles, Rookie?”
“Sure, but this time—”
“There is no ‘this time.’ The Articles apply to every time. Do you read me? Do you—”
Hershey jerked around as a deep roll of thunder rea
ched her ears. The thunder exploded and a black Lawmaster burst through the curtain of flame. The rider slammed a heavy boot on the brakes, spinning his machine in a circle, blasting the scent of rubber into the smoky air. Gunfire ringed the man in a cage of hot steel.
Briscoe stared. “Who the… Who the hell’s that? He’s a sitting duck out there!”
“Shut up and pay attention,” Hershey said, “you might learn something.”
Flames licked at the dark figure’s heels. He stalked through the fire, ignoring the chatter of weapons from overhead. Lifting the speaker-mike from his Lawmaster, he turned and let his visored gaze sweep the tall buildings on every side.
“Drop your weapons. Everybody. This block is under arrest.”
His voice filled the streets, echoing off the dark walls.
“Holy crud.” Briscoe raised up and blinked. “It’s him—it’s Dredd!”
High-pitched laughter rang from the tenement overhead. “You want us, come up and get us, Dreddy!”
“Yeah, c-come up and get us, okay?”
Gunfire dug up chunks of pavement at Judge Dredd’s feet.
“Judge Dredd, take cover!” Briscoe shouted.
Dredd ignored him. He walked over and looked down at Briscoe, then at Hershey.
“What are you doing down there, Judge Hershey?”
“Waiting for backup,” Hershey said.
“Backup’s here.” He slapped the side of his Lawgiver. “Let’s go. Keep it simple. Standard relay. Single file. I’m point.”
Hershey nodded. Briscoe straightened eagerly, snapping to attention in front of Dredd. “Judge, I would consider it an honor if you allowed me to—”
“You…” Dredd raised a gloved hand and pointed past Hershey. “Back there. You’re tail-end Charlie. Go.”
Dredd turned away. He looked at his weapon and spoke.
“Grenade!”
The door exploded and slammed against the far wall. Dredd stepped inside. He looked at the trash and the darkened elevator shaft
“Upstairs. The perpetrators’ fire comes from Six.”
He kicked the door to the stairwell aside and started up. It was nearly pitch-dark and he didn’t use a light. He kept up a hard and steady pace and didn’t stop until they reached Six. Hershey was grateful she hadn’t slacked off on her ASJEX routine—the Advanced Street Judge Exercise program. Briscoe was breathing hard behind her. She hoped Dredd didn’t hear that.
Dredd paused in the stairwell, peered around the corner, then stepped into the hall, sweeping his weapon from left to right.
“Clear. Let’s go.”
Dredd started off, then abruptly raised his arm and stopped. The foodkart rounded the corner. It was moving slowly now, dragging a trail of garbage in its wheels. “… delicious and healthful rationpaks, piping hot and ready to eat…”
Dredd glanced at the robot and shook his head. Bending at the knees, he made his way swiftly down the hallway, listening to the walls. At 666, he stopped and raised his hand. Motioned Hershey to the left, Briscoe to the right.
“Lawful entry,” Dredd said aloud. “Suspicion of felons with illegal weapons inside.” He drew back a lever on his Lawgiver and blew the door apart.
Metal Jacket and Needle Teeth turned from the window and stared.
“D-Dredd!” Metal Jacket went white and swept his automatic weapon toward the door.
“Armed. Resisting Arrest.” The Lawgiver jerked in Dredd’s hands. Metal Jacket and Needle Teeth splattered against the wall and exploded in flames. Smoking flesh slid to the floor.
“This room is pacified,” said Dredd. “Hershey, stay with me. Briscoe, check the hall.”
“Yes, sir, you got it, Judge!”
“I have told you people not to use a gender address for a Judge,” Hershey said. “Don’t you ever listen, Roo—Briscoe, look out!”
Hershey saw the figure appear in the doorway. Briscoe was looking at Dredd. Purple Ears grinned, raised his pistol in a blur and shot Briscoe in the head. Hershey turned on the man but Judge Dredd was already there. He swept the Lawgiver in an arc and rammed the butt hard in Purple Ears’ gut.
Purple Ears dropped his weapon, gagged, and grabbed his belly. Dredd hit him again on the jaw. Hershey went to Briscoe at once. She raised his visor, saw what was there and shut her eyes.
Dredd looked at Briscoe for a full ten seconds. Then he stepped over to the man on the floor and poked him with his boot.
“You have obscenities written all over your head. Are you aware that’s a violation of the Law?”
Purple Ears looked up at Dredd. He spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and laughed.
“Hey. Are yous kiddin’ me or whats? You goin’ ’rest me or something, then do it, man!”
“Mega-City Municipal Code Three-Three-Four-Dash-Eight,” Dredd said. “Willful destruction of property. Two years.”
“Listen, pal—”
“Code Eleven-Dash-Fiver. Illegal possession of weapons. Five years. Code Thirty-Four-Dash-A. Resisting arrest. Twenty years…”
“All right!” Purple Ears raised his hands. “I gives up. You bes takin’ me in!”
“Niner-Eight-Zero-Four. Assault on a Judge with a deadly weapon…”
Purple Ears forced a weak grin through bloody teeth. “Don’t tell me. Life, right?”
“No,” Dredd said. “Death.”
He squeezed the trigger of his weapon. Squeezed it and didn’t stop. Purple Ears began to sizzle like bacon in a pan. Putrid steam rose up to the ceiling and the floor turned black.
Hershey swallowed hard but she wouldn’t look away. A Street Judge didn’t betray her feelings. She didn’t throw up. She maintained her cool at all times.
Dredd released the trigger.
“Court is adjourned,” he said.
SEVEN
Black-clad Judges, Mediks and Tekkies crowded the sixth-floor hallway of Heavenly Haven. Helmet spots bobbed in the grim surroundings, bringing more light to the murky walls and trashed-out floors than they’d seen in fifty years.
Briscoe’s body was the first one into the hall. The Mediks had scraped the remains of the three lawbreakers into one plastic bag, but Briscoe was one of their own. As the stretcher passed Hershey and Dredd, a gloved hand dropped from the blanket and swung limply above the floor. Hershey wanted to look away, but she forced herself to watch.
“He was a Rookie,” she said. “He was my Rookie. I was supposed to watch out for him, damn it!”
Judge Dredd shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. He made the mistake, not you. His reactions were slow, judgement faulty. Didn’t concentrate on his work.”
Hershey turned on him and glared. “Well, that’s just great. I feel a lot better now. My God, Dredd, is that all you have to say? He got his face blown off his first week on the job!”
“He beat the odds, then. Mort-stats say five-point-seven days. If a Rookie gets past that, he’s got a four-in-seven chance of making it through the month. If he makes it past that—”
Dredd stopped. He raised a warning hand and cocked his head. Hershey followed his glance and saw a blur of motion down the hallway to their right. A quick snap of her chin brought the helmet spot to full, filling the corridor with harsh white light.
Hershey touched the butt of her weapon, then relaxed. The battered foodkart was rolling toward them again, wobbling drunkenly on its broken wheel.
“…ummm, ummmm, yumm! Healthful and nutritious rationpaks, ready to eat…”
“Somebody ought to turn that thing off,” Hershey said, “before it drives everyb—”
Dredd suddenly pushed her aside, stepped in the robot’s path, gripped his Lawgiver in both hands, and aimed it at the robot’s shiny dome.
“Halt! You have ten seconds to surrender. Ten… nine…”
“Dredd, take it easy,” Hershey said, “it’s a servo-droid.”
“… Make your selection, please. Insert your card in the slot…”
Dredd took one step forward and shoved the barrel
of his weapon half a foot into the slot.
“… Make your select—oh, shit!”
The front of the robot came totally unhinged. Boxy foodpaks in drab shades of gray, brown, and mildew-green spilled onto the floor. Half a second later, Fergie tumbled out of the back. He blinked in the unfamiliar light, staring at Hershey and Dredd like an animal caught in the woods.
“Listen,” he said, “I know what you guys are thinking, but that’s the way it looks… I mean, that’s the way it is but it’s not the way it looks—”
Dredd grabbed Fergie by the collar, lifted him straight off the floor and slammed him hard against the wall.
“Wuuuuh, listen a minute, okay?” Fergie’s teeth rattled. He kicked his feet and grabbed at empty air.
“Mega-City Municipal Code One-Deuce-Niner-Six. Willful sabotage of a public droid. That’s six months, Citizen. Let’s see your card.”
“Come on, give me a break, Judge—Judge—” Fergie stared at the eagle and shield an inch before his eyes. “Judge—Dredd? Oh, my God…”
Fergie’s card fluttered out of his hand. Hershey snatched it out of the air. Snapping a scanner off of her weapons belt, she slipped Fergie’s card through the narrow slot once. A holo cube blossomed into life. Magenta words crawled across its face:
FERGUSON, HERMAN D.
MEGA-CITY 2, L.A.
SENTENCE: ASPEN PRISON
TIME SERVED: SIX MONTHS, THREE DAYS
PRISONER NUMBER: ASP-900764
CHARGES: TAMPERING OF CITY DROIDS…
COMPUTERS… CASH MACHINES… ROBO-TAXIS
RELEASED: MEGA-CITY 1, SENTENCE COMPLETED
Dredd scanned the rest of the message, and shook his head in disgust. “You got off of the shuttle this afternoon. You haven’t been out of jail five hours, Ferguson.” He turned to Hershey. “He’s a habitual. Automatic five-year sentence.”
“What!” Fergie turned white. “Five years? No, no way. Look, I didn’t have any choice. Those droogs were in my room. They hit me on the head. Come on, look at my head. Will you look at my head, just look at it, okay? What was I supposed to do, jump out the damn window!”