Judge Dredd (25 page)

The building had been closed for repairs, then forgotten. It was hard to guess how many years ago. Dredd walked through the empty hallways, following the scanner’s electric glow. A concrete stairway led to a cellar below. Water dripped from old ceramic pipes. Something squealed ahead, scuttled off into the dark.

Fergie stopped. “What’s that?”

“We’re down in the lower levels,” Dredd told him. “What’s the problem? You said you had friends down here.”

Fergie didn’t answer. He kept close to Dredd. He wondered what the creatures ate down here. Where would they find any food? He decided not to think about that, decided that he might not like it if he knew.

Dredd stopped. Ahead was a concrete wall. “The scanner says the source of the power surge is straight ahead.” He nodded at the solid wall. “Right there.”

“My Lawgiver might blast through it,” Hershey said. “But I doubt it. If it did, everyone in Red Quad would hear it.”

“Forget it. Got to be some other way.”

Fergie let out a breath. “People, just move aside, will you?” He shook his head at Dredd. “I’ll bet you locked yourself in the bathroom when you were a kid, right?”

Fergie pressed his palms against the wall in a dozen places, walked down the entire width, and started over again.

“It’s an old-fashioned pressure lock. Fifty, sixty years ago. The Hush-O-Door. Big rage back then. Known in the trade as ‘The Burglar’s Delight.’ Nobody’s been dumb enough to use one since.”

He bent down and touched the wall again. “Dealer sold you the software. You set the gimmick up, picked your own contact point. Most groons put it two, three inches above the floor. Like a good break-and-enter man would be too lazy to squat a little, right?”

Fergie pressed three fingers against the wall. Nothing. Moved a foot to the right. The third time, he moved down a foot and a half. Pressed against the cold concrete. A seam appeared, the width of a door. Fergie gave it a gentle shove. The slab of concrete hissed aside.

“Very impressive,” Hershey said.

“Not bad,” said Dredd.

“Thanks,” Fergie said, “I’m underwhelmed by your support.” The door slid shut behind him. “If anyone’s interested, that thing hasn’t been used in a hell of a long time. Whoever’s coming in and out of this Janus deal has another way than this.”

“Good,” Dredd said. “Maybe they won’t expect us.”

“I’ll drink to that. Soon as we find a bar.”

“Scanner?” said Hershey.

“That way,” said Dredd.

The passage went another hundred yards, twisting in every direction, the floor slanting steadily down. Dredd noticed the absence of rats and guessed the reason why. He didn’t need the scanner now. He could feel the deep tremor of power. The rats didn’t like that at all. Dredd didn’t blame them. He hefted the Remington and nodded at Hershey. Hershey raised the Lawgiver above her head, telling him she got the warning and understood.

“Air.” Fergie sniffed. “Fresher than where we’ve been. Processed air.”

Dredd nodded. The corridor took a sharp turn to the left up ahead. “Douse the light,” he said. “Stay near.”

He moved past the corner. Hershey followed.

“We’re close,” she said softly. “I can feel the electricity in my hair. We’d better—
DREDD!”

A blur of metal, cold and silver-bright. It whipped around Hershey’s waist, jerked her off her feet. The Lawgiver fell from her hands. Dredd brought his Remington up to fire, The robot was faster. An automatic weapon chattered in its free hand, stitching a deadly path. Fergie stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at the monster overhead.

“Down!”
Dredd yelled. He started toward Fergie, knew he was a millisecond late. Fergie cried out, grabbed his chest, spun around twice and slammed into the concrete wall.

Dredd didn’t stop, couldn’t risk a look back. He bent low and stalked toward the big robot, blasting with the Remington, racking one shell into the chamber after the next, knowing he wasn’t even denting the metal warrior’s hide, that he didn’t dare fire at the brute’s face or its steel and copper gut. He might put a hole in the son of a bitch’s vital parts, but he might hit Hershey instead.

A bullet plowed a shallow furrow through the flesh of Dredd’s upper arm. The pain rocked him on his heels. He sucked in a breath, fired again and again.

Useless . . . not hitting anything . . . not even making the bastard mad . . .

Hershey screamed, kicking out against the robot’s grip. The warrior took a step toward Dredd, its massive foot sending a minor tremor through the earth. The other foot creaked, whirred, came down hard. Gray dust showered from the ceiling. Dredd threw himself aside, saw a flash of metal struts, hydraulics and coils, winking red lights, tucked behind the foot’s steel plates.

The robot turned, its gleaming arms whirring as it fired a volley at Dredd. Dredd felt flecks of stone slice his cheek. He rolled, came to his feet, held the Remington at his waist and blasted at the narrow slit in the robot’s metal joint.

A blue electric flash, a wisp of black smoke. Dredd fired again, saw the bright sizzle, heard the high-pitched whine as steel tendons snapped. A silver tube whipped free, writhed like a snake, and pumped dark and foul-smelling lubricants into the air.

The robot shuddered. Its brain said
FORWARD MODE
. One foot made it off the ground. The other didn’t budge. The robot roared like a prehistoric beast, teetered, then hit the floor like a quake,
FORWARD MODE
was still intact. The robot pounded its good foot against the ground, a jackhammer gone berserk.

Hershey was still in the robot’s grip. Dredd ran to her. Maybe he could find a handy tool somewhere, use the Remington to pry her free . . .

He heard the sigh of air, turned, saw the door slide open behind him. Rico. Rico and a woman. Both held weapons in their hands. He recognized the woman at once. Ilsa Hayden from Rico’s trial. What was
she
doing here?

“That’ll be enough,” Rico said. “Just put the weapon down.”

“No way. I shot this thing. I’m going to eat it.”

“That’s amusing, I’m sure.” Rico turned to the robot. “Fido, you clumsy bastard, if you don’t mind
functioning
a while, break Judge Hershey’s neck, please, on the count of three. One . . . two . . .”

“Hershey? You all right?”

“I’m—yes, I’m all right, Dredd.”

Dredd let the Remington fall from his hand.

Rico laughed. “How human of you. You’ve become a romantic,
brother.
” He motioned with his weapon. “Inside now. Fido, if the lady moves, crush her.”

Ilsa walked past Dredd. She glanced down at Fergie, rolled him over with her foot, shrugged, and turned away. When she bent to pick up Dredd’s weapon, she looked directly into Fergie’s eyes.

“Nice. A bit crude, but nice.”

“Watch her,” Rico said. “She’s a real tease, Dredd.”

“Where’s your boss?” Dredd said. “He let you out of your cage for the day?”

Rico shook his finger at Dredd. “If you’re trying to get on my good side, it won’t do you any good. I don’t
have
one.”

“Where’s Griffin?”

“Chief Justice Griffin has retired, so to speak. In his absence, I have assumed his responsibilities.”

“You mean you’ve killed him.”

Rico looked pained. “Me? Of course not. He had an accident with Fido. Doggie is not entirely housebroken, I’m afraid.”

Ilsa raised her weapon, closed one eye, and let the muzzle drop to the level of Dredd’s chest. “Rico said for you to move, dear. I think you should do what he says.”

Dredd didn’t answer. He walked toward the door where Rico and Ilsa had entered.

“He looks like you,” Ilsa said.

“He is a
lot
like me. Naturally.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Dredd said.

Rico turned on him. “Wrong, brother.” His eyes were slugs of lead. “The only difference between us is that you destroyed your life to embrace the Law. I destroyed the Law to embrace life.” He grinned at Ilsa. “That’s rather good, don’t you think? I need to write that down.”

He swept out his palm in a graceful motion, bowing slightly to Dredd. “After you, please. Step into the future, brother. This is how tomorrow looks. This is the way Rico’s world is going to be!”

Dredd stepped inside. Rico spread his arms wide. Half a million razor-points of light burned in the darkness overhead. Dredd felt the tingle of static in the air, the deep hum of energy below. He drew in a breath. A hundred columns of luminescent brightness rose up from the floor, glittering capsules, pods of azure blue, shimmering tubes of life. They stood erect in the clear blue fluid, clones, mutants, beings unborn and already alive. Dredd stared at a watery face—sharp planes, rigid neck. It opened its silver eyes and looked back.

Rico laughed. “This is the
nursery,
brother. Don’t you recognize it? This is where you were born.” He caught Dredd’s expression. “Don’t look at him with such distaste, Joseph. That isn’t just me in there. It’s
you.”

Dredd felt the agony, the pain, and knew it wouldn’t go away. Rico had guessed his thought, seen the revulsion, the horror there. And Dredd knew he was right. It was true. Looking at the clone was like looking in a mirror at himself.

R
ico walked away from Dredd, turned, the shimmering pods at his back.

“Look at them, Joseph, your brothers. In a few hours they’ll be born. An endless supply of perfection. Now we have a choice: to create a race of robots like Fido out there or a race of free-thinking people and call them
humans.”

“You’re diseased,” Dredd said. “You couldn’t control yourself; what makes you think you can control them?”

Rico studied him a long moment, then looked away, up toward the swarm of glittering lights overhead.

“Why did you do it, Joseph? I’ve thought about it all these years. Why? Why did you judge me?”

“I didn’t have a choice. You killed innocent people.”

“Only as a means to an end, brother. You’re forgetting that.”

“That’s a lie you tell yourself. It was a massacre. Murder. You can’t call it anything else. You betrayed the Law.”

Rico laughed. “I was your
blood,
your
brother.
The only family you ever had. You sent me to my death and you talk to
me
about betrayal?” He jabbed his finger at Dredd. “You are the traitor, brother, not me! Do you want to be a slave all your life, do what you’re
told
to do, Joseph? You have the choice now. Them . . . or me!”

“You haven’t given me any choice. I have to stop you, Rico. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to kill me.”

Rico looked sad, then let his expression slide into a grin. “Well, I can certainly accomodate you, brother. But there’s no hurry, is there? Fido . . .” Rico looked past Dredd, through the great door of the Janus lab. “Bring Judge Hershey in here, then tear the bitch’s arms and legs off.”

Dredd didn’t move. “Don’t do it, Rico.”

“Or you’ll what, Joseph? Arrest me?” Rico’s eyes blazed. “Take this one too, Fido. Crush them. Let’s make some Judge soup!”

“Rico . . .” Ilsa stepped toward him.

“Stay away from me. Do as I say, Ilsa.”

Rico’s voice was calm, almost a gentle whisper. It scared the hell out of Ilsa.

The giant robot clanged through the doorway, scraping its metal hide. It dragged its bad foot. One red eye looked off a good twenty degrees.

Dredd saw Hershey in its grip. Hershey looked down. He tried to read her eyes. Something . . . not the way it ought to be.

“Take him,” Rico said. “Do it now.”

The robot stopped, whirred. Its blunt head swiveled on its hydraulic neck. A heavy foot stomped against the floor. It turned, then, dropped Hershey from its grasp, raised its hand and slammed Rico in the chest.

Rico cried out in surprise, staggered back, and fell. Ilsa ran to him. The robot moved in a blur, plucked her off the floor and threw her to the ground.

The robot turned on one heel, its broad back to Dredd. Dredd stared. Fergie was hanging on the monster’s metal back, his hands buried in an open slot. Dredd caught a glimpse of the controls—blinking lights, tangled coils of wire.

“Dredd, over here!”

Hershey tossed him the Remington. Dredd racked a shell in the chamber, turned and fired at Rico.

The weapon’s blast echoed through the domed room. Rico darted for cover, grabbed his Lawgiver and squeezed off half a dozen shots at Dredd on the run. Dredd went to his knees, aimed at Rico and fired. Rico disappeared in the maze of blue pods.

From the corner of his eye, Dredd saw the robot lurch, run headlong into a solid wall.

“Fergie, what the hell are you doing!”

“I’m not doing—anything,” Fergie cried out. “This—damn—thing—wants to drive by itself!”

The robot staggered, beat on the wall with its head. It stumbled, clattered dizzily across the room, reached up to slap the tormenter off its back.

“No way, you tin-headed freak!”

Fergie thrust his whole arm into the robot’s back, jerked out a tangle of flashing wires. The robot went berserk. It’s head turned completely around. Blue fire sparked from its eyes and ears. It bashed itself against the wall, ripping Fergie loose. Fergie yelled and hit the ground hard. The robot took two jerky steps and toppled on its face. Smoke billowed from its chest.

“Watch it, Dredd!” Hershey called from the shadows by the big door. “The woman’s off to the right, by the wall somewhere. Rico’s back there.”

Dredd saw her, bent low near the tall accelerator. She nodded toward the forest of blue fluorescent pods.

Hiding with your brothers . .
.
yours, not mine.

Dredd kept low, moving quickly behind the fallen robot. Fergie was on his back. He looked up and offered Dredd a weary smile.

“You okay, Ferguson? Take it easy, now.”

“I’m—I don’t think I’m too good . . .”

“You’re going to be fine, all right?” Dredd looked at his face, at the blood soaking the front of his shirt. Ferguson was right: he wasn’t too good at all.

“You—never got to say it, Dredd.”

“Never got to say what?”