The Cold Light of Day (15 page)
“Damn it!” Chalk struggled, grabbing onto the doorframe for leverage. “Help me!”
“Figure you’ve got a few seconds before anything explodes.” From the north, Dredd could hear engines approaching.
“Help me, Grud-damn it, I’m
trapped
!” Chalk reached down and started to pull at his right leg with both hands.
Dredd moved closer to Chalk. He knew that this could be a trap—was
likely
to be a trap—but at the Academy, the cadets were taught a simple solution to this kind of situation. Dredd pulled back his fist and slammed it into Chalk’s jaw.
The man toppled to the side, and as he lay groaning and clutching his face, Dredd leaned in past him, peered into the Chameleon’s footwell and saw a small handgun taped to the underside of the dashboard.
He grabbed Chalk’s arm and hauled him out of the cab, dragged him ten metres across the plaza, away from the burning vehicle.
The roar of engines grew closer, and Dredd looked up to see an odd-looking machine approaching at speed, with a large wheel on each side and its rider suspended between them. Right behind it and gaining ground was a motorbike, its rider hunched over.
Then something cold and hard sliced deep into Dredd’s left leg, quickly cutting through the muscle until he felt it scrape across bone. As Dredd collapsed to the ground, he saw Chalk rolling to his feet, holding a large hunting knife, its blade dripping with Dredd’s blood.
Dredd’s Lawgiver had fallen from his grip. He made a dive for it, snatched it up—
But Chalk was already darting around to the rear of the Chameleon.
L
AST PUSH
, S
HOCK
thought. The finish-line was five hundred metres ahead, with nothing in the way but Napoleon Neapolitan.
Ahead, close to the line, a man was running from a downed Judge, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but the line.
The running man pulled open the rear of the crashed vehicle—it was only later that Shock realised it was the same craft that had blasted Travis Cannon—and removed a skysurf board.
Napoleon was three metres in the lead now.
Two metres.
The line was tantalisingly close, but—just like last year—Napoleon was still ahead.
The man clambered onto the skysurf board and hit its thruster just as the Judge fired at him.
D
REDD’S AIM WAS
true. His shot ripped into the back of Percival Chalk’s skysurf board. Chalk toppled back as the board shot forward.
Clearly an experienced surfer, Chalk had taken the extra couple of seconds to tether his ankle to the board. It was a safety precaution, lesson one for all skysurfers.
The board streaked across the plaza, dragging Chalk screaming behind it.
S
HOCK SAW THE
board coming, and instinctively hit the brakes. Napoleon saw it coming too, but his own instincts told him it was safe: the board would pass directly over him.
He turned back to grin at Shock. “You lose, Spacer. Again.”
Ten metres from the line, the skysurf board sailed over Napoleon Neapolitan’s bike... but the screaming man it was dragging behind it was a lot closer to the ground.
D
REDD SAW
P
ERCIVAL
Chalk strike the oversized wheel of the speeding bike face-first.
The bike flipped, out of control, spinning and tumbling at first, then shedding parts and limbs as it grated across the cracked rockcrete and came to a stop just over the finish-line.
The other biker was only seconds behind it, but there was no doubt which of them had crossed the line first.
Dredd pulled three medi-patches from a belt-pouch and slapped them onto the wound in his left calf, then tried to stand. He limped toward his Lawmaster, pain shooting through his entire body every time he put his left foot down.
Over the radio, Walton said, “Damn it, stay down, Dredd! The H-wagon’s coming back to you. You need urgent medical attention.”
“Not done yet,” Dredd said, his teeth clenched. He climbed onto the Lawmaster, and slowly rode it toward the tangled mess of metal-and-flesh that had once been a customised bike, its rider, and Percival Chalk.
Overhead, three H-wagons were coming in to land.
The other rider was still on his bike, its engine purring softly, looking down at the remains of his opponent. To Dredd, he said, “I won. You saw it, right? Sure, Napoleon crossed the line first, but he had to be dead by then. That was the
agreement
. The winner is the first one to cross the finish-line alive!”
Dredd regarded him for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re the winner. And when we examine the spycam footage of the race, we’ll be able to determine exactly
what
you’ve won. Reckon it’s safe to assume that a very long stretch in the cubes will be part of the package.”
The other rider laughed. “I don’t think so. You know who I am? I’m Shock O’Shaughnessy. I’m the winner of the Mega-City 5000! I’m the best biker in the world—and that’s
official
! So if you think you can out-ride me on your Lawmaster, I’m up for the challenge.” He began to rev the bike’s engine.
Dredd drew his gun and shot out its tyres.
Shock jumped back off the bike and stared at it.
“Run, and the next one punctures a lung,” Dredd said. “Face down on the ground, creep. Hands behind your head. Your racing days are over.”
Eighteen
“Y
OU SURE YOU
don’t want a wheelchair? Or a crutch, at least?” the med-Judge asked Dredd.
“It’s barely a scratch,” Dredd told her as he started to pull on a fresh uniform.
“A scratch. The perp damn near severed your leg, Dredd. After an injury like that, you shouldn’t even be
standing
, let along thinking about returning to duty.”
“Don’t need to stand if I’m on my bike, Doc.” He pulled on his boots, then strapped his kneepads into place. As he was transferring his badge to the new uniform, he asked, “Judge Ruiz... She still here?”
“Upstairs, room 200.” The med-Judge gave him a look of severe disapproval—Dredd figured that it probably worked on some of her patients—and again asked him to reconsider her suggestion that he take a few days to recover.
“Not interested.” Dredd pulled on his gloves and flexed his fists. “Thanks, Doc. Be seeing you.”
She nodded as he turned toward the door. “Yeah, I expect you will.”
Dredd tried not to limp as he strode through the corridors of the Justice Department Med Centre. A couple of older Judges nodded at him as he passed. He didn’t recognise them, but they seemed to know who he was. He wasn’t certain that he liked that. He’d done his job, that was all.
He found Ruiz’s room and pushed open the door without knocking. The Judge was sitting up in bed, watching TV. “You seen this?”
Dredd glanced at the screen, which showed shaky footage of him on his Lawmaster racing past some of the participants of the Mega-City 5000. “I saw it. Some people are saying that the Department ought to field its own team next year.”
Ruiz said, “TV off,” and the screen blanked. “There won’t
be
a Mega-City 5000 next year. Or any other year. The Chief Judge is going to announce it in a few months, when everything’s calmed down a little. Over a hundred dead, not counting the bikers. Thousands injured. Millions of credits of property damage.”
“Most of that wouldn’t have happened if not for Chalk,” Dredd said. He paused for a moment. “I heard that you were visited by the SJS.”
Ruiz nodded.
“Can’t have gone too bad,” Dredd said, nodding toward Ruiz’s helmet and uniform, which were resting on a chair close to the bed. “You’re still a Judge.”
“Yeah, pending investigation. They’re saying that I was negligent back in Eminence.”
“You were.”
Ruiz sighed and rolled her eyes. “Damn it, Joe! You don’t
say
stuff like that! Don’t you have
any
social skills?”
“Never saw the need for them.”
“You know, your brother’s a lot more empathic.”
Dredd shrugged. “If it means anything, I think you’re a good Judge. I doubt they’ll take you off the streets.”
The door opened behind Dredd and he turned to see an SJS Judge entering. She gave Dredd a thin-lipped smile, and said, “I was looking for you downstairs. I expected to see you still in recovery. Name’s Gillen.” She pulled off her helmet and nodded toward a chair. “Sit.”
“I’ll stand, if that’s not an order.”
The SJS Judge peered at Dredd for a moment, then slowly walked around him in a tight circle. “Interesting day, Dredd. Something of a crucible for you, I think. Senior Judges hampering your work, openly expressing negative opinions of your judgement.”
Judge Gillen stopped in front of him and took a step back. “Five years ago you had the option of shooting Percival Chalk. Given the situation, you would have been well within the law to do so. Yet you chose to use minimal force. A decision that led to today’s events.”
Ruiz began, “That’s—”
Still looking at Dredd, Gillen held up her hand to silence Ruiz. “I’m still speaking. And today, you had that same chance. I’ve seen the spycam footage. Chalk attacked you, ran for his skyboard, and you drew your weapon and shot the board.” Gillen stared at him. “The
board
. Chalk was a much bigger target, much easier to hit. He was a known murderer. And you shot the board.” She spread her arms. “Haven’t you learned
anything
from today’s events?”
“Sir?”
“Damn it, Dredd, it’s not a hard concept to grasp! You let the bad guy live, the bad guy gets out and commits more crimes. You kill him in the first place, that won’t happen.”
“Chalk wouldn’t have lived,” Dredd said. “I’d sentenced him to execution.”
“Right,” Gillen said. “And there you were, in the perfect position to carry out that execution, and you chose not to do it. You deliberately went for the harder shot. Yes, Chalk died when he collided with that bike, but that wasn’t your intention.”
Dredd considered everything she’d said. Then he nodded. “Correct.”
“Explain yourself!”
“I’m not an executioner. I’m a Judge. In my judgement letting Chalk live was the correct option.”
“Don’t tell me that all human life is precious, because if you do, I’ll have you dishonourably discharged within the hour.”
Dredd regarded Judge Gillen for a moment, then said, “Judges make the law. We uphold the law. We
are
the law. But beyond the law, there’s something else. Justice. If you don’t understand that, Gillen, then you are not fit to be a Judge.”
She stared up at him, eyes wide. After a moment, she reached up and tapped her badge. “You see that? SJS. Special Judicial Squad. Don’t you grasp what that
means
?”
“I do. You’re the proof that our system is not yet perfect. We shouldn’t need you. Judges should be above corruption, above error. But we’re not. We’re human. The Judges exist to guide and protect the citizens, and SJS exists to ensure that the Judges perform their duties to the best of their abilities.”
Gillen didn’t reply. She hesitated for a moment, then again walked around Dredd in a slow circle. “You’re Fargo’s clone. We’ve been watching you from the moment you left the Academy. Every action you’ve taken, every judgement you’ve passed, has been logged and analysed. You’re idealistic, Dredd. Stubborn almost to the point of arrogance. You’re intelligent, highly skilled, not especially imaginative, almost completely devoid of ego...” She stopped in front of him. “And you’re
right
.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t come here to chastise you, or Judge Ruiz. I’m here to offer you a job. Consider it, Dredd. You are
ideal
SJS material. You want to improve the Justice Department, to weed out corruption and increase efficiency? Well here’s where you get to do that.” She extended her hand.
Dredd ignored it. “Not interested.”
“Dredd, I’m offering you the opportunity to—”
“Don’t waste your time trying to persuade me,” Dredd said. “It’s not going to happen. My job is out there, on the streets. That’s what I trained for. It’s what I believe in.”
“No one has
ever
declined a position in the SJS! Dredd, we are the pinnacle of justice in this city. It doesn’t
get
higher than us!”
Dredd moved toward the door. “Wrong.”
Gillen frowned at him. “
What
?”
“You’re wrong. The Judges serve the citizens, Gillen. We don’t rule them. Just as the SJS doesn’t rule the Judges... Like I said, you’re here to keep us in line. We don’t work for you:
you
work for
us
.”
“No... Wait! Dredd...!”
Dredd opened the door, and paused long enough to nod to his former mentor. “See you on the streets, Ruiz.”
He pulled the door closed behind him.
His leg was still aching, and it was a long walk back through the med-centre to his Lawmaster parked outside.
Judge Dredd didn’t complain.
The End
About the Author
Irish Author
Michael Carroll
is a former chairperson of the Irish Science Fiction Association and has previously worked as a postman and a computer programmer/systems analyst. A reader of
2000 AD
right from the very beginning, Michael is the creator of the acclaimed
Quantum Prophecy/Super Human
series of superhero novels for the Young Adult market.
His current comic work includes
Judge Dredd
for
2000 AD
and
Judge Dredd Megazine
(Rebellion), and
Jennifer Blood
(Dynamite Entertainment).
Judge Dredd Year One: The Cold Light of Day
is his first book for Abaddon Books.
