JUDGE DREDD

KINGDOM OF THE BLIND

Inside the cube was a decapitated head, face down. It had been severed above the larynx, the neck neatly sliced through as though it were a joint of cooked meat. The lack of blood indicated the use of a laser blade, cauterising the wound as it cut. Dredd sniffed the air, recognising a familiar odour.

"Roasted flesh," one of the Med-Judges commented. "Probably from the wounds to the forehead. They must have used the tip of the laser to cut into the skin there, leaving that message for you."

Dredd reached into the package and turned the head round to see its face. Lifeless eyes stared up at him accusingly. Two words were visible on the forehead, each letter burnt into the skin: NICE TRY.

JUDGE DREDD

#1: DREDD VS DEATH

Gordon Rennie

#2: BAD MOON RISING

David Bishop

#3: BLACK ATLANTIC

Simon Jowett & Peter J Evans

#4: ECLIPSE

James Swallow

#5: KINGDOM OF THE BLIND

David Bishop

#6: THE FINAL CUT

Matthew Smith

#7: SWINE FEVER

Andrew Cartmel

#8: WHITEOUT

James Swallow

#9: PSYKOGEDDON

Dave Stone

MORE 2000 AD ACTION

JUDGE ANDERSON

#1: FEAR THE DARKNESS - Mitchel Scanlon

#2: RED SHADOWS - Mitchel Scanlon

#3: SINS OF THE FATHER - Mitchel Scanlon

THE ABC WARRIORS

#1: THE MEDUSA WAR - Pat Mills & Alan Mitchell

DURHAM RED

#1: THE UNQUIET GRAVE - Peter J Evans

ROGUE TROOPER

#1: CRUCIBLE - Gordon Rennie

STRONTIUM DOG

#1: BAD TIMING - Rebecca Levene

FIENDS OF THE EASTERN FRONT - David Bishop

#1: OPERATION VAMPYR

#2: THE BLOOD RED ARMY

#3: TWILIGHT OF THE DEAD

For Steve MacManus, the unsung hero of 2000 AD.

A 2000 AD PUBLICATION

www.abaddonbooks.com

www.2000adonline.com

First published in 2004 by BL Publishing, Games Workshop Ltd., Willow Road, Nottingham NG7 2WS, UK.

1098 7 65 4321

Cover illustration by Julian Gibson.

Copyright © 2004 Rebellion A/S. All rights reserved.

All 2000 AD characters and logos © and TM Rebellion A/S."Judge Dredd" is a registered trade mark in the United States and other jurisdictions."2000 AD" is a registered trade mark in certain jurisdictions. All rights reserved. Used under licence.

ISBN(.epub): 978-1-84997-056-3

ISBN(.mobi): 978-1-84997-097-6

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

JUDGE DREDD

KINGDOM OF THE BLIND

DAVID BISHOP

Judge Dredd and Judge Giant created by John Wagner & Carlos Ezquerra.

Chief Judge Hershey created by John Wagner & Brian Bolland.

Psi-Judge Karyn created by Alan Grant & Dean Ormston.

Mega-City One, 2126

PROLOGUE

In a metropolis not short of oddly shaped buildings, the Mega-City One Museum of the Twentieth Century still succeeded in bewildering most who saw it. Designed by architectural genius Foster St Normandy, the museum had been conceived as a fifty-storey replica of a handheld vacuum cleaner. Few people recognised the resemblance because even fewer still owned such a device, once eponymously known as a Dustbuster. In the year 2126 such objects were museum pieces, antiques from a bygone age before the advent of cheap domestic robots.

To Foster St Normandy, this was the point of his award-winning and controversial design. The building was to be filled with relics from the twentieth century, so why not have the building itself resemble one of those relics? To the citizens' committee that approved his design without ever seeing it, the end result was a fifty-storey embarrassment. The committee became a laughing stock and the building, inevitably, became known as the Dustbuster.

None of that mattered to Judge Dredd as he waited in the shadows of McGraw Alley opposite the museum. He had been inside the building once before, pursuing a perp through the displays of tea-towels, digital watches and real paper books. Now the lawman was planning to take another look - if Jesus Bludd ever arrived. The Judge activated his motorcycle helmet radio.

"Dredd to Control, am in position. Where's our target?"

"Control to Dredd, he's en route to you now. ETA - three minutes."

"That's a roj." Dredd cut short the transmission before turning to the nervous juve behind him. "Get ready. He's nearly here."

Blake Ryan nodded, teeth biting into his bottom lip. Seven days ago he had been just another twelfth year cadet, one of more than a hundred approaching the end of their training at the Academy of Law. Anyone wanting to become a Judge in Mega-City One was required to undergo thirteen years of intensive study and tuition, passing many stringent tests and checks before being empowered to dispense instant justice. Once they graduated, each new law enforcer would have the authority to act as judge, jury and - when necessary - executioner. For this responsibility they foreswore love and sex, devoting almost every waking moment to upholding the Law. They could be killed at any moment by a perp and had to be willing to kill just as quickly.

Ryan had been unsure what to expect when called to the Academy administration office a week earlier. His marks had been good, his report from the last Hotdog Run excellent, and nobody could fault his attention to duty or detail. But one doubt had niggled at him. A few hours before receiving the summons, Ryan had been among a group of cadets subjected to a random psi-scan. Such incidents were commonplace, designed to detect any mental aberrations that might indicate a cadet was unsuitable for the badge. Could he have failed without even realising it after twelve years of study?

The red-haired cadet had reported promptly to the administrator's office to find a senior street Judge waiting for him. But it was not just any Judge - it was Dredd! The man was a living legend, someone all the cadets aspired to emulate. He had saved the Big Meg on countless occasions over the years from threats like the alien superfiend Judge Death or agent provocateur Orlok the Assassin. Dredd had risked his life time and again for the city and its four hundred million residents, without asking for, or expecting any thanks. Even his books on judicial comportment were set texts at the Academy.

Meeting this mythic figure for the first time, Ryan was surprised by the Judge's appearance. Rather than being mighty or muscular, Dredd was trim and lean, his body all sinew and coiled energy. He might be pushing sixty but his back was still ramrod straight, posture upright and imposing.

From what Ryan could see beneath the helmet, Dredd's face was grizzled and gaunt, a line for every year on the streets etched into the impassive features. And that voice - a rasping growl of rockcrete and iron, heavy with authority and gravitas.

Ryan had begun stammering something but Dredd quickly interrupted, cutting straight to the point. "I had all the cadets from your year scanned earlier today. Out of them, you scored highest in the criteria sought," he growled. "Your thoughts are almost impenetrable to direct psi-probing."

Ryan had nodded. This unusual capacity had been noted years before. It was a useful gift but would be of limited application on the streets.

"Do you recognise the name Jesus Bludd?"

The seventeen year-old cadet did and said so. Part of his training included a study of the major figures in Mega-City One's criminal underworld. There had been a power vacuum following the demise of gang boss Nero Narcos five years earlier. Bludd was among those who emerged from the shadows to claim some of the territory Narcos involuntarily vacated. But unlike the others, Bludd kept his face out of the news media. Rather than trying to foster a cult of personality, he worked hard at remaining invisible, always staying one step removed from those who enforced his will. Bludd had never served time for any crime; he was untouchable. But the stain of his influence had been spreading.

Ryan related all of this before Dredd spoke again. "We have been trying to get an undercover operative close to Bludd for years. But he surrounds himself with psykers, powerful mindreaders able to detect any Wally Squad Judge trying to infiltrate Bludd's inner circle. No one sent in undercover has ever returned alive." Dredd uncrossed his arms and leaned forward to watch Ryan's face. "We have received word that Bludd is making a rare excursion from his penthouse to visit the Dustbuster. He has tickets to see the Evil Empire exhibit that's just opened in the 1980s section. We want you to make contact with him there. With luck, you might succeed where others have failed."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will receive a funeral with full judicial honours. Well?"

"How will I make contact?"

One week on and he was primed for meeting one of the Big Meg's most dangerous crime bosses. Tutors from Psi-Division had worked round the clock to enhance his mental defences, implanting the roots of his cover story deep into Ryan's psyche. Academy records were forged and the cadet summarily expelled for gross insubordination and violent misconduct. The best dunks in the cubes had been training Ryan in the art of picking pockets. Now all that remained was a close encounter with Jesus Bludd.

Dredd rested a hand on the cadet's shoulder. "There's still time to change your mind. Nobody will think any less of you. This assignment is voluntary. No demerits will be placed on your file if you back out, even now."

Ryan did not hesitate. He was proud to be chosen and ready to risk his life. Every day on the streets as a Judge would be dangerous, he told himself, so there was no point shying away from the life that came with the badge. If he completed this mission and returned alive, it would mean an instant upgrade to full eagle status and a commendation on his record. "I'm ready," he told Dredd.

"Good," the Judge replied. "You better get inside."

Jesus Bludd sighed as his hoverpod flung itself through the sky above Mega-City One. It was too long since he had been out of the penthouse. Life atop Emil Jannings Block was luxurious, but Bludd was a child of the streets. He had grown up fighting for his life on City Bottom and still felt a wistful nostalgia for those days. It was nonsense, of course. Nobody wanted to scratch out such a meagre existence. But he could not deny the thrill that living on his wits had offered.

"Are they still watching us?"

"Yes," the woman beside him replied. She studied a holographic patchwork of tiny screens, her hands pulling different images forward to be studied before being cast aside. "PSU cameras have not let this vehicle out of their sight since we left Emil Jannings."

Bludd nodded, light gleaming off his coarse black hair, the locks slicked-back close to the scalp. His was an unremarkable face but for the implacable, intelligent eyes and cruel mouth. Bludd's tongue frequently darted out, like a serpent, to moisten his lips. His neck was almost as broad as his head, leading down into powerful, muscular shoulders. He had a heavyset body but the bulk was born of muscle, not fat. He dressed in a dark blue tunic and trousers, unadorned by the usual kneepads or accessories most ordinary citizens wore. "Such attention is only to be expected. We don't give them many chances to observe our movements so closely, do we my dear?"

Kara smiled, switching off the holo-screens. Like Bludd she was in her early thirties, her face unlined by age or injury. Her body was trim and taut, every sinew detailed by the skin-tight garment of black silk that clung to her. She was wearing a blonde wig cut into an asymmetrical bob, the fringe sloping from left to right across her forehead. Stark black and white make-up heightened the angularity of her features, a tear of mascara drawn on to one cheek. "No, we don't. Shall we go down now?"

Her lover smiled. "I was wondering when you would ask."

Several minutes later the hoverpod shuddered to a halt outside the museum, its robot chauffeur emerging to hold open the passenger door. Kara stepped out first, slyly wiping a trickle of moisture from the corner of her mouth. Bludd followed, his face wearing a broad smile as they strolled inside.

The museum's curator, Doctor Janet Swanson, was waiting for them. Clad from head to toe in tweed, her severe features did their best to look welcoming. "Mr Bludd, so wonderful of you to accept our invitation. It's not often we have the chance to thank one of our most generous benefactors-"

Bludd waved away her sycophancy. "Any other self-respecting businessman would have done the same," he responded. "The chance to see this unique exhibit of artefacts from the late twentieth century was irresistible."

Dr Swanson nodded enthusiastically. "Let me escort you directly to the 1980s. As you may know, we have divided the building into decades, with five floors devoted to each era. To reach the 1980s we will have to take the turbolift to the forty-second level..."

Ryan was already in the section devoted to 1982 when Bludd arrived. The cadet did his best to look fascinated at displays about an actress called Meryl Streep and her career, but let his eyes wander towards the new arrival. Bludd closely resembled the images previously captured by PSU cameras, despite those pictures being at least a year old. Ryan recognised the museum's curator from his briefings. The other woman must be Bludd's confidante and executioner, Kara. Her appearance was as intimidating as her reputation. The cadet could feel her mind reaching into his as she passed, expertly probing his psyche. Ryan concentrated on blocking her, letting just a hint of his recent experiences leak out as a tease.

The cadet waited until the trio were well past before hurrying after them. He did not know how long Bludd planned to stay at the museum, nor the purpose of the crime boss's visit. The dusty contents of this facility were not an obvious target for illegal activity. Bludd and his party strolled into a new exhibit entitled "EVIL EMPIRE: The Cold War and its Casualties". Perhaps this offered some clue? Ryan pushed the thought from his mind, concentrating instead on the task at hand. His job was simple; to pick the pocket of Jesus Bludd.

Getting close to the big man was surprisingly easy. In the Evil Empire display room, Kara and Dr Swanson stood to one side, deep in conversation. Ryan noticed the blonde-haired woman's hand lingering on the curator's arm, a gesture of physical familiarity. Bludd himself was standing before the main exhibit, a precise recreation of the United States of America's command and control centre for its many weapons of mass destruction. The centrepiece of the display was an android of a US president, his hand lingering above a red button on a black box. A mechanical voice explained the tableau's significance for anyone unfamiliar with the historical events being depicted.

"During the 1980s, long before atomic war ravaged North America, the country was ruled by a former actor, Ronald Reagan. He voiced hawkish rhetoric against the Soviet Union, an old ideological enemy and a forerunner of today's Sov Block citi-states. Reagan described the Soviets as the 'Evil Empire', a name we have adopted for this exhibition. But during Reagan's time in office it was the US President who sponsored the development of terrifying new weapons of mass destruction, many of them being sent into orbit above the Earth for deployment in case of a global calamity. Here you can see the president, his finger poised over the fateful button, ready to declare war on his enemies. Ultimately, Reagan never launched an overt worldwide conflict and the much-feared nuclear war did not eventuate until the era of Bad Bob Booth, nearly a hundred years later..."

Ryan sidled closer to Bludd as the mechanical voice continued. The cadet had seen what would happen next and knew his opportunity was fast approaching. The robotic Ronald Reagan reached forward and pressed the red button. The lights illuminating the chamber dipped suddenly and a holographic mushroom cloud appeared in front of Bludd, startling him. He staggered back in surprise, bumping into Ryan. As they collided, the juve slipped his hands into Bludd's pockets, fingers closing around the contents.

Dredd was watching all of this on his Lawmaster motorcycle's computer screen. The video feed from the museum's security cameras was being routed via the Public Surveillance Unit so Dredd and other Judges involved could see everything as it happened.

"Ryan's gone for his dunk," Dredd announced into his helmet radio. "All units, be ready to move if Bludd reacts. Otherwise stay back."

On screen the juve stepped away from his victim, clutching a black notebook. Bludd did not shift, all his attention focused on the display. A voice crackled in Dredd's ear. "What do we do? Our boy's moving away and the target doesn't seem to have noticed. Should we move in?"

"Stand fast!" Dredd ordered. "Watch and wait. Let the scenario play out." He kept watching the scenes transmitted from inside the museum. Ryan was now leaving the Evil Empire exhibition space, his theft apparently unnoticed. "Show me Bludd's enforcer." The image on screen shifted to Kara and Dr Swanson. The two women were engrossed in a private conversation on the far side of the room, oblivious to what was happening. Bludd's voice got Kara's attention.

"If you've quite finished," the crime boss sneered. His lover blushed and moved away from the curator, returning to Bludd's side. He nodded to Dr Swanson. "Thank you for the tour. Most instructive." Bludd swept out of the room, Kara close behind him. The curator hurried after them, leaving the exhibition unattended. A moment later, a Judge emerged from the shadows and looked up at the closed circuit cameras.

"Well, Dredd, what do you want us to do now?"

"Maintain visual contact with Bludd but don't let him see you, Giant," Dredd replied before switching radio frequencies. "Control, where's Ryan?"

"Should be coming out of the Dustbuster... now."

Dredd glared across the skedway at the museum entrance. The juve was hurrying out into the sunshine, still clutching the notebook he had picked from Bludd's pocket. Ahead of him the crime boss's hoverpod was waiting for its owner to reappear. As Ryan approached a passenger door opened towards him. The juve stopped, startled. After looking around he entered the vehicle and the door closed behind him. Less than a minute later Bludd and Kara returned to the hoverpod, Dr Swanson still trailing behind them.

"Dredd to Control - give me audio on what Bludd is saying to the curator."

"Roj that. Switching to ultra-sonics."

"Thank you once again for the generous donation," Dr Swanson simpered. "Without your support the good work of the museum would not be possible."

Bludd smiled thinly at the obsequious woman. "Yes, yes. Well, it's time I was going." He thrust his hands into his pockets, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. Bludd looked at Kara. "Since you seem so enamoured of Dr Swanson, perhaps you would like to stay and talk with her further."

Bludd's executioner blushed and shook her head. The crime boss stepped into his hoverpod, Kara following after him. She shot a final smile at Dr Swanson before the door snapped shut behind her. The vehicle hurtled into the sky, leaving the curator waving a feeble goodbye.

"Dredd to Control, are we getting any signal from Ryan?"

"Negative. Bludd's hoverpod must be heavily shielded. Nothing leaks out from inside and ultra-sonics can't penetrate the vehicle's exterior."

Dredd watched the hoverpod disappear into the distance. "All units, stand down. Bludd has taken the bait. If Ryan survives the day, we may have a new operative on the inside."

Ryan perched nervously inside the luxurious vehicle, its seats upholstered with real leather. Opposite him Bludd sat glowering, the big man's eyes studying the juve's face. Kara sat with her legs apart, one of Bludd's hands stroking her right thigh. She appeared amused by the juve's presence.

Ryan cleared his throat nervously. "Your robo-chauffeur said you wanted to talk with me. So... here I am."

Bludd reached an open hand towards the juve. "First things first, give back the notebook you took inside the museum."

"Notebook?"

"Don't try my patience," Bludd replied bluntly. "Kara here knows more about inflicting pain than any person I've ever met - including myself. It gives her a sexual thrill to see others suffer. Right baby?"

Kara smiled, letting her lover's hand slide up and down her legs.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He produced the notebook and handed it back to Bludd. "I was hoping to get your credits, maybe something I could sell at the City Bottom black market."

"You know who I am, don't you?"

"Jesus Bludd, crime boss. Your companies are collectively known as the Bludd Group."

"I prefer to think of myself as a businessman, but I'll let that pass. You did a very professional job. Most citizens would not have noticed the loss."

"But you did," Ryan said.

"Yes." Bludd pursed his lips. "Kara tells me you were recently expelled from the Academy of Law."

"How did you-"

Bludd silenced the juve with a gesture. "The Justice Department is not the only organisation that employs those with psi abilities to achieve its goals. You know my reputation, yet you have the audacity to pick my pocket. Either you are very brave or very foolish. Which is it?"

Ryan grimaced. "A little of both, I guess."

"You have certain skills I might usefully employ. Would you be interested in joining my organisation?" Bludd shifted forward in his seat, leaning closer to the juve. A bead of sweat ran down Ryan's face but he held the big man's gaze.

"What's in it for me?"

"The rewards are considerable," Bludd said. "But I demand absolute loyalty. If I discover you are working for anyone else, you shall suffer the most painful of deaths imaginable. Do I make myself clear?"

Ryan nodded hurriedly.

"Good." Bludd smiled broadly. "Welcome to the Bludd Group."

ONE

"Good morning! I'm Enigma Smith and you're watching Mega-City News, the best and brightest place to see all the news worth knowing! Today's bulletins are brought to you by Supposi-Thrills[tm], the excitement you insert, and New Improved Grot Pot®, now available in Snot and Lemon flavour!"

Tri-D screens across the Big Meg flickered into life as the first light of dawn touched the city's skyscrapers. Media mogul Ruprecht Maxwell had cut a deal with Tri-D manufacturers to ensure every new set automatically switched itself on for the early morning headlines on Mega-City News, a show broadcast on one of Maxwell's many thousands of channels. Enraged consumer groups and citizens' action committees had protested this blatant breach of the city's communications bylaws to no avail.

As a result, Enigma Smith's face was the first thing many citizens saw in the morning, making her the most recognised and reviled person in the Big Meg. Once just a humble announcer on the audio-only version of Mega-City News, Smith was now a massive celebrity. But the constant stream of death threats and attempted assassinations had transformed her fame into a curse.

She maintained a grim smile and maniacally perky persona on the air in the face of such troubles, her appealing features framed by an elaborate bouffant of blonde hair. Smith's facial expression was the result of the "Non-Stop Grinning" clause in her contract rather than any wish to make bad news seem less bleak. A thousand orphans could be gunned down at a birthday party but Maxwell demanded such news be served up to citizens with a smile on the lips and a song in the heart.

"Now, here are your headlines," Smith continued. "Representatives of justice departments from around the globe are gathering in Mega-City One for a historic summit. Our own Chief Judge Hershey wants to negotiate a worldwide extradition treaty, so that no citi-state can be a hiding place for fugitives from the Law. Here's what the top cop had to say about the summit earlier today."

The Tri-D image switched to Hershey standing on the Grand Hall of Justice's steps, her determined face underlining the importance of her announcement. "For too long, dangerous perps and those suspected of committing crimes have been able to shelter behind arcane treaties and procedures. Some governments have been willing to look the other way, offering a safe haven to fugitives in return for a slice of the profits from illegal activities. We want to stop that and have invited delegates from key citi-states to meet here and thrash out a compromise." Hershey leaned forwards, jabbing a finger at those watching. "Let this be a warning to all who would break the Law. Soon there will be nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Count on it, creeps!"

The familiar voice of Enigma Smith could be heard from off-screen, asking the Chief Judge a question. "Is it true the criminal underworld has threatened to stop these talks by any means necessary? And if so, how does the Justice Department intend to ward off these attacks?"

Hershey smiled for the cameras. "I have personally appointed one of our most dedicated and capable officers as head of security for the summit - Judge Dredd. He will greet the delegates as they arrive and ensure safety for the length of their stay. Spread the word; this treaty will happen. That is all!"

Smith reappeared on screen. "Mega-City News understands all the delegates should have settled in by noon today. Dredd has been meeting the representatives as they arrive, ushering them through the rigorous Customs and Immigration procedures."

"I say, this is most irregular!" Brit-Cit Judge Jago Warner was not impressed. He had arrived at midnight via the Black Atlantic Tunnel and spent the long hours since waiting to be allowed entry to the Big Meg. Forbidden to touch his luggage, he had been required to fill in an endless variety of forms and forced to stand in an interminable queue without access to toilet facilities, food or drink. The Brit-Cit delegate finally snapped, marched to the front of the queue and demanded to see Dredd.

"I understood he was to be here personally," Warner explained to the sour-faced Judge at the front of the line, "to ensure I would be ushered through Customs and Immigration on some sort of fast track."

"This is fast track," Giant replied.

"But I've been waiting for seven hours!" the Brit snapped, his blue hair quivering with suppressed rage. "What precisely is taking so long?"

"Safety procedures," a deep, resonant voice boomed from down the corridor. Warner turned to see another lawman approaching, the name DREDD emblazoned on his badge. "Extra precautions are necessary, due to the sensitive nature of this summit. I'm sure you understand." Dredd had reached the front of the queue and now loomed over Warner, a scowl warning the visiting Judge against pressing his complaints any further.

"Well, of course," Warner stammered. "If you believe such extreme measures are necessary then-"

"I do," Dredd growled. He pulled a small metal device from one of the pouches on his utility belt and used it to scan the Brit's body. A steady crackle flared into a high-pitched wail as it approached Warner's crotch. "I'm picking up a suspicious object in your u-fronts. You got something you want to tell me?"

The visiting Judge was affronted by the mere suggestion and said so. "Quite frankly, the contents of a man's u-fronts are his own affair!"

"Not on my watch," Dredd snarled back. "Drop 'em."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said drop 'em, or else I'll drop you." Dredd leaned into Warner's face. "You get what I'm saying, creep?"

"I really must protest! You can't honestly expect me to disrobe in front of all these people, can you?" Warner spluttered, indicating the long queue of weary travellers still waiting to be processed. "For goodness sake, man, I am a duly appointed representative of the-"

"Spare me the pompous protests, punk. Now strip, or else!" Dredd removed his daystick from its place on his utility belt and began thwacking the shaft against the leathereen palm of his left gauntlet.

"But I-"

"I said strip!" Dredd reached out a hand and tore the tunic away from Warner's torso, exposing pale, freckled skin and a flabby stomach. Another tug and the Brit was standing in just his u-fronts and boots, shaking hands clasped across his crotch. Dredd replaced his daystick and pulled on a pair of latex gloves from another pouch. "Now touch your toes!"

"Please, just a little privacy," Warner pleaded. "I'll be perfectly happy to-"

"I said touch your toes! And keep your legs apart!"

With a whimper Warner bent forward, struggling to reach his ankles. Dredd tore down the u-fronts and began a full cavity search. After finding nothing of interest he pointed at something dangling between Warner's legs. "What do you call that?"

"My willy, if you must know!" By now Warner was close to tears, his shame and humiliation almost complete. He straightened up and looked at Dredd, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

"No, I mean that!" His face curled with disdain, Dredd pointed at a metal stud protruding through the visiting Judge's penis.

"Oh, that! It's a Prince Albert. Several centuries ago our ruler's consort popularised this kind of body piercing and it now bears his name. All senior Judges in Brit-Cit are required to have one if they are to gain promotion." Warner crossed his hands back over his crotch. "Are you satisfied now?"

Dredd nodded grudgingly before turning to Giant. "Alright, you can let the rest go through now." The Judge began waving the rest of the queue past his station while Warner dressed. The Brit watched in amazement as the others were ushered past within minutes.

"You mean you made us wait all that time for nothing?" he demanded.

Dredd almost smiled. "Heard you Brits were fond of forming a queue. Just thought we'd see how long it took you to demand action." He slapped a gauntlet-clad hand heartily against Warner's back. "Remember that when you go into the negotiating room. You've got to stand up for your rights, otherwise some of the other cities will try to walk all over you. Got that?"

Warner just glared at Dredd. "May I go now?"

"Be my guest."

The Brit-Cit delegate stamped away, muttering darkly to himself. Giant stood beside Dredd and the two men watched Warner depart. "Remind me never to apply for a transfer to Brit-Cit," Giant remarked. "I'm not sure their promotion prerequisites are what I'm after."

Dredd nodded his agreement. "Who's due in next?"

Giant consulted a palm unit. "Judge Ivan Smirnoff from East-Meg Two. Fond of a drink, apparently. Too fond. Grud only knows what state he'll be in."

Dredd grimaced. "Just so long as it doesn't involve examining penis piercings."

Ryan could not help admiring the view from inside the glasseen turbolift as it ascended the outside of Emil Jannings Block. From here you could see all the way to the Big Meg's East Wall and beyond to the Black Atlantic. The ocean might be a poisonous, polluted sludge of foul water but the rising sun could still render it beautiful. A handful of early morning skysurfers were already taking advantage of the warm air drifting in over the city, gracefully riding the updrafts and zephyrs. Ryan forgot his quiet terror for a few moments and appreciated the splendour spread out before him. But the turbolift needed only ten seconds to climb a hundred levels to the city block's penthouse. The vista vanished from view as the circular tube reached its destination. The former cadet swivelled round to the turbolift doors, mentally erecting the psychic barriers that had kept him alive these past four months. He would need them more than ever to survive this meeting.

The doors slid silently open and the gentle scent of sandalwood and cinnamon welcomed the new arrival. Ryan stepped into the lobby of the penthouse, his footfalls echoing round the marble walls and floor. Overhead was a stunning glasseen ceiling, the last stars still disappearing from the sky as day replaced night. Behind Ryan the turbolift doors glided shut and he could hear it drop away. He was alone and utterly defenceless, with just his wits, training and nerve to keep him alive. Ryan prayed they would be enough.

Ahead of him walls shimmered aside to reveal the penthouse interior: a vast open plan area filled with plush furnishings and an impressive collection of artwork, a selection of doors leading off the main chamber. Sculptures nestled among potted plants while paintings hung in mid-air, suspended by anti-grav mountings. One particular canvas caught the eye, a large image that seemed to depict an antique food container. Ryan wondered who Campbell was and why anyone would wish to immortalise his soup in a painting. The juve walked towards the picture, intrigued.

"It's a Warhol." The voice was rich and deep, unmistakably that of Jesus Bludd. The powerfully built figure emerged from a doorway, closing it gently behind himself. "I acquired it from a debtor, a private collector who gambled beyond her means. She was forced to liquidate her assets to repay those debts. There is a lesson in her plight; never gamble more than you can afford to lose, lest the consequences be too ruinous to contemplate."

Ryan smiled, uncertain of how to react to this homily. "Yes, Mr Bludd."

"You were admiring the view from the turbolift on your way up?"

The juve was startled by this remark, but chided himself for not realising Bludd would monitor all those who took the turbolift to this level. Ryan's employer had not become one of the Big Meg's most successful crime bosses without learning to be careful. "Yes, I was. You have a remarkably unobstructed view to the east, out over the Black Atlantic."

Bludd smiled. "It did not come cheap. Persuading building developers to keep their high rise projects elsewhere is an expensive luxury. Come, let me show you what I mean." He moved across the room with surprising speed and grace, drawing aside plush red curtains to reveal glasseen doors leading out on to a balcony. "Open," Bludd commanded and the doors slid aside.

Ryan followed his employer on to the balcony. Underfoot was a carpet of fine white sand, curved patterns raked into its surface. Two supple young trees grew out of the sand and white stones surrounded the base of each trunk. A pathway of pale slates led to the edge of the balcony, a metallic balustrade the only apparent barrier to stop the unwary tumbling over. Bludd waited until the juve had joined him at the edge before speaking.

"This is my Zen garden. Whenever I am troubled or uncertain, I come out here and rake the sand, finding meanings in the patterns created. I find it a very calming place, away from the cut-throat nature of daily life in this city."

Ryan asked how the sand remained undisturbed, bringing a smile to Bludd's lips. "A sensible question, one that some lack the wit or imagination to ask." Bludd reached a hand out over the balustrade. Blue light sparkled about his fingers, crackling with unseen energy. "A simple force field protects my solitude here, screening out any unwanted intrusion, keeping my business private. Too many would like to know what I am saying or thinking. That is why Kara always stays so close to my side." Bludd snapped his fingers and the force field disappeared, now just the metal barrier at waist height keeping both men from the sheer drop beyond the balcony. "How long have you been in my employ now Ryan?"

"Four months," the juve replied, a knot of fear tightening in his gut.

"To the day, I believe."

"Yes, sir."

"You were expelled from the Academy of Law after failing your final Hotdog Run assessment in the Cursed Earth."

Ryan nodded, unsure where Bludd was going with all of this.

"So you completed twelve years of training to become a Judge before being cast aside. How did that make you feel?"

"Angry. Frustrated. Counsellors from Psi-Division are assigned to give each failed cadet what the department calls 'attitude adjustment' so you can reintegrate with other citizens after expulsion."

"They brainwash the failures, rendering them less dangerous."

"Yes, sir."

"But this 'attitude adjustment' didn't work on you."

"No, sir. I am naturally resistant to direct psi-probing or persuasion. Not only is my mind difficult to read, it is almost impossible to implant unwanted suggestions into my thoughts. That turned me into a problem case when the decision was made to expel me. There was talk of corrective surgery, neutralising the aggression centres in my brain."

"And that's when you ran away from the Academy, joined the unwanted, the unloved, the untouchables of City Bottom."

"Yes, sir."

Bludd nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Would it surprise you to know Kara has been trying to infiltrate your mind these past four months?"

"No, sir. In fact I expected it. You are unlikely to trust anyone whose thoughts you cannot know."

"Exactly. But your natural resistance has proved beyond even the talents of my delightful companion. In the past one hundred and twenty days you have been an able, willing and delightfully vicious operative on my behalf. But until we overcome the issue of trust, you will never advance in the Bludd Group. To make that happen, I must ask you to do me a favour, Ryan."

"Name it, sir."

Bludd reached into a pocket and removed a small black pill. "This is an experimental drug being developed by my biochemists. It will temporarily undo your natural psychic defences, enabling Kara to read what is beyond them. Whatever secrets you may be hiding, she will reveal them." The crime boss offered the pill to Ryan. "Will you take it? Will you let yourself succumb and prove above all doubt I can trust you?"

The juve rested one hand on the balustrade, all too conscious of the three hundred metre drop to the ground below. "I'll do it." He took the pill and slid it into his mouth, dry swallowing the black tablet with some difficulty. Ryan opened his mouth to let Bludd see the tablet had gone.

"Very good. Come back inside and have a drink. The pill requires a few minutes for its active agents to pass into your bloodstream. Once that has happened, Kara will have her wicked way with you."

Bludd clapped a fleshy hand on the juve's back and led him back into the penthouse. "It will be a most pleasurable experience, of that you can be certain."

"G'day, mate! How's it hangin?"

Giant regarded the burly figure approaching him with suspicion. "How is what hanging?" he asked the newly arrived Judge from Oz, the Sydney-Melbourne Conurbation, fresh off the shuttle.

"Your bobby dazzler! I reckon it'll be hanging to the ground from the look of ya! Me name's Bruce, Judge Bruce, but you can just call me Brucie. In fact, most Judges are called Bruce where I come from. Makes telling us apart a bit confusing, but it saves on name badges, eh?" The Oz lawman offered his hand for Giant to shake. Bruce's scalp was covered with a rash of bleached yellow hair, his skin was tanned deep bronze and a bushy lemon moustache adorned his top lip. After a few seconds of silence, the new arrival sheepishly withdrew his hand and dropped his luggage on the Customs Hall floor.

"I heard you lot in the Big Meg could be as snotty as a pom in a pickle. Guess that was about right! What's ya name, sport?"

Giant was only catching about half of what Bruce was saying, so dense was the variety of vernacular being spouted by the visitor. But he didn't need a degree in Allspeak to interpret the last question. The Mega-City One Judge tapped his daystick against the metal badge on his chest. "It's right here."

"Giant, eh? It's a big name, fella. Hope you live up to it. Now, where do I dump my gear? I'm looking to paint the town red and I don't want to wait around while you lot rattle your dags!"

"Rattle our dags?" Giant asked, bewilderment getting the better of him.

"Fair dinkum, mate!"

Giant looked across at Dredd, who had been silently observing all of this from one side. The senior Judge jerked a thumb at the exit, so Giant sent Bruce through to the waiting hoverpod. Once the delegate had passed out of hearing, Dredd joined his colleague at the Customs desk.

"You've been to Oz, haven't you Dredd? Do they all talk like that?"

"I suspect he was laying it on thicker than usual to leave you guessing. Keep an eye on that one. People from the Sydney-Melbourne Conurb aren't as stupid as they look."

"I doubt anyone could be as stupid as he looks," Giant muttered.

"Never trust a man with facial hair," Dredd added. "They always have something to hide."

Giant nodded his agreement. He had read that advice while studying the many volumes of Dredd's Comportment at the Academy. What seemed an irrational statement at first had proven to have some truth behind it in Giant's experience. He had been a Judge on the streets for a decade. Of all the set texts that crossed his path at the Academy, it was Dredd's Comportment he had come back to most frequently. More often than not the old man was right - that was why he was the best Judge in Mega-City One. Whenever Giant was uncertain how to react in a situation, he found a four word mantra usually provided the answer: What would Dredd do?

Giant was snapped back to attention by a woman clearing her throat. She was a slim Asiatic, clad in the yellow and red garb of a Sino-Cit law enforcer. Her helmet was held in the crook of her left arm, while her right hand offered a selection of papers.

"If you please, Representative Chang reporting." She arched an eyebrow at Giant, as if challenging him. Her olive skin was flawless except for a small red dragon tattooed on her left cheek. Dark brown eyes twinkled beneath jet black hair that was pulled back from her features in a severe ponytail.

"I'll deal with this one," Dredd growled to his colleague, taking Chang's papers and rifling through them. "What's the purpose of your visit?"

"We are attending the gathering of delegates, as requested by your leader. Were you not informed of our arrival?"

"I'll ask the questions," Dredd snarled.

"As you wish," Chang replied and fell silent.

Dredd waited a few seconds before snapping. "Well?"

"We wish to gain entry to your city for attendance at this summit."

"Who's we?" Dredd looked past Chang but nobody was standing behind her. "I only see one person in the queue and that's you."

"Forgive me. Our translation machine is not yet attuned to the subtleties of your language. It is most regrettable."

Dredd leaned over the desk to press his face close to Chang. "You can play the inscrutable card all you like, Lotus-Flower, but it won't wash with me. I'll be watching you like a hawk, mark my words."

"You intend to observe us while flying through the sky?" Chang inclined her head towards Dredd in a slight bow. "As you wish."

Dredd pointed at the doors. "Shuttle's through there. It'll take you to the assigned quarters."

"You have been most kind. Thank you for this hospitality and I hope you have a pleasant day."

"I said move it!"

The Sino-Cit delegate smiled and moved on. Once she had passed through the doors Giant gave a low whistle. "She's a cool customer. Didn't rise to your bait once."

"Who said I was baiting her?" Dredd replied. "How many of these creeps are we still waiting on?"

Giant consulted his palm unit. "Just two left: Smirnoff and the delegate from Cuidad Barranquilla, Judge Ramirez Belgrano. Both of them were due in an hour ago." He was interrupted by a drunken chorus from the far end of the corridor. Two men were staggering towards the Customs desk, each doing their best to hold the other upright. "This could be them now."

"Terrif," Dredd muttered darkly.

Ryan opened his eyes and found himself lying on a vast bed, naked but for a black silk sheet draped over his lower body. Over the bed was a mirrored ceiling, reflecting the juve's image back down at him. He didn't remember losing consciousness but must have done so. Last thing he could recall was swallowing a pill, a pill given to him by - Jesus Bludd! Ryan tried to sit up and found he couldn't, his limbs like lead, his body too heavy to lift. Whatever was in that pill had paralysed him, at least temporarily. He was trapped, unable to move. There could be no escape.

That's right, a silky female voice said. Ryan did not hear the voice through his ears. The words were being spoken directly into his thoughts. One of telepathy's virtues, the voice continued. It removes the need for talking out loud. Instead we can communicate without anything in the way - no barriers, no word games, no concealment. Just pure emotion and meaning.

Ryan heard footsteps moving towards him and strained his head forwards, raising it off the bed high enough to look around the room. It was a symphony of black and red, stark and not a little intimidating. Mirrors lined two of the walls, reflecting each other's image to create a dizzying effect of the room expanding sideways out towards infinity. Kara was striding towards him, her proud body encased in black latex, its figure-hugging surface brightly polished and gleaming. She jumped onto the bed and knelt down across his chest before resting her weight against his crotch. How's that? Comfortable?

"Yes," Ryan replied, his voice slurred and unfamiliar.

Kara reached up and pulled off her blonde wig, revealing a perfectly smooth, lightly tanned scalp beneath. That's better. I do my best work naked.

"Really?" Ryan felt disconnected, afloat in his own body. Must be the drug. I wonder if there are any side effects?

Let's just say they heighten your sexual responsiveness. Kara began shifting her weight from side to side atop the silk sheet, letting the gleaming black latex slide across the juve's crotch. The subject becomes aroused beyond anything they have ever known, the slightest touch being magnified a thousand-fold in its effect.

Ryan could feel his body responding hungrily to the stimulus, despite his mind screaming at it to stop.

Don't fight it, just enjoy.

"But I can't, you're-"

Whatever Bludd wants me to be. Whatever he wants me to do, I do. He's probably watching us right now, I think it gives him a dirty little thrill. That mirror over your head? It's two-way, there's a camera filming everything we do.

"Oh grud-" Ryan gasped, trying to get away from her but unable to move. Kara rested a finger gently against his lips, silencing him.

You know the best part of this heightened arousal? It never quite comes to an end, if you grasp my meaning. I can keep you on the edge of ecstasy for hours - taunting and teasing, have you begging for relief.

Kara increased the pressure against her subject, now moving herself forwards and backwards against him, her breathing coming in little gasps. And the more aroused you get, the less resistant your mind becomes.

"Please, no," Ryan begged.

Already I can feel your psychic barriers crumbling. Soon I'll be able to penetrate the deepest corners of your mind. Every thought, every secret, every hidden crevice will be mine. Kara licked her lips and smiled at Ryan. Get ready. Here I come...

Judge Ivan Smirnoff never knew Dredd had a twin. He had been briefed about the legendary lawman, described by some as the Great Satan for having nuked East-Meg One out of existence more than twenty years ago. Smirnoff couldn't care less what had happened to the Sov-Block's capital, nor about who was responsible for blowing it off the face of the planet. Good riddance to them, that was his attitude. They had been elitist, uptight snobs, always looking down their noses at lowly East-Meg Two and sneering about inferior productivity levels. Bulgarin's bones, there was more to life than productivity!

So when the Apocalypse War led to the annihilation of East-Meg One, Smirnoff had danced a private little jig of joy. He knew it was wrong, it was bad to rejoice in the demise of so many of his countrymen. But Smirnoff shed no tears for them. Instead he had raised a toast to the man believed to be responsible - Joe Dredd. Twenty-two years later, the delegate from East-Meg Two was surprised to find himself confronted by not one but two Dredds at the Customs and Immigration desk.

Smirnoff nudged his new best friend in the ribs. "Comrade Ramirez, can you see? They were so happy to welcome us they sent twins!"

Smirnoff and Belgrano had arrived at the shuttle-port an hour earlier, their flights touching down within minutes of each other. The man from East-Meg Two was dismayed by a large sign warning that anyone caught trying to smuggle illegal stimulants, alcohol or dozens of other banned substances would face harsh punishment.

As his own silent protest, Smirnoff immediately sat down and began consuming a five-litre flagon of synthi-vodka from his hand baggage. He offered to share the contents with anyone who passed but only one man had accepted - the bellicose Belgrano. They finished off the synthi-vodka in record time and had spent the past thirty-seven minutes staggering and weaving their way along the terminal's corridors in search of an exit.

Smirnoff tried to focus on the face of his new comrade but Belgrano seemed to have grown a second head, a most disconcerting turn of events. "Are you alright, tovarisch? You don't look so good."

Belgrano's two heads turned towards Smirnoff. "You crazy Russian, I feel fine! You're the one with six eyes, not me."

"Oh!" The East-Meg Two delegate shrugged and smiled. "Good. They will come in handy for spying on these decadent Westerners!"

Bludd was waiting for Kara when she emerged from the bedchamber. "Well? How did Ryan respond?"

She zipped up the front of her latex bodysuit and smiled. "He thinks he's just had the best sex of his life and I never had to touch him once. Auto-erotic suggestion is a wonderfully powerful tool. Those little black pills of yours would make a fortune on the open market."

"Yes, yes, I know that. What did you discover about our newest recruit?"

Kara sighed. "It's always business before pleasure with you, Jesus."

"Don't change the subject."

She folded her arms and looked back at Ryan asleep on the bed, the juve's face beaming with contentment. "He's definitely undergone conditioning by Psi-Division, but that's to be expected in an expelled cadet. I was able to overcome their mind-blocks in minutes. To destroy the natural psi barriers in his brain - that would take weeks and leave him a useless, hollowed out husk. But I saw enough to believe he's genuine."

Bludd smiled, one hand reaching out to caress Kara's waist. "Good. Then he can go with you on the mission tomorrow." The crime boss pulled her closer, letting his fingers slide upwards across the latex. "Now, how shall I reward you for doing such a good job?"

A brief search of Smirnoff's bags revealed he was bringing nothing more dangerous into the Big Meg than a record-breaking blood alcohol level. Giant poured the Sov delegate into an H-wagon and sent him away to sober up. Dredd concentrated his efforts on Belgrano, a corpulent figure with greasy black hair and a greasier moustache. The drunken visitor was escorted to a private interview room, along with his bags.

"Cuidad Barranquilla is a hiding place for the scum of the earth," Dredd observed as he began opening Belgrano's luggage. "The Judges are lazy, corrupt and worse than most of the criminals. If Hershey does manage to negotiate this treaty, it'll be my pleasure to come down and oversee the extradition process personally."

Belgrano belched loudly at Dredd but made no other reply before Giant joined the interrogation. "He said anything useful yet?"

Dredd shook his head. "Not unless you consider breaking wind meaningful. Knowing the boys from Banana City, that'll probably be his finest contribution to the summit meeting." Dredd pointed at one of Belgrano's bags. "You check that one. Belching boy here is just stupid enough to try and bring in a few samples of illicit merchandise."

Giant cracked open the case and reeled back from the smell it released. "Sweet Jovus! Don't they have laundry facilities that far south?"

"Put your respirator on. Smugglers often defecate in their own luggage to dissuade detailed examination."

Giant pulled down the respirator unit from atop his helmet and clamped it firmly over his mouth and nostrils. Able to breathe freely again, he began sifting through the contents of the case. "Fouled u-fronts account for the odour - a dozen pairs of them! Also got a selection of soiled shorts, socks and shirts. All of them probably violate health regs and air pollution laws."

"Bag 'em for burning, then keep looking," Dredd commanded. He had finished with the other bags and was now trying to slap some life back into the boozy Belgrano's face. "Wake up, wetback! No dozing in here!"

The South American Judge opened his eyes and winced. "Where am I?"

"Mega-City One, stomm for brains. You got anything you want to tell us before we finish searching your bags?"

Belgrano shook his head. "I have nothing to declare, except my," he paused to belch again loudly, this time accompanied by the sound of wind breaking from his trousers, "except my genius."

Dredd pulled his own respirator unit down to escape the odours being exuded. "If that's genius, the Big Smelly must be the smartest river in the world, creep."

"Yo!" Giant called to his colleague. "We got a white powder in this bottle. Care to explain that?"

Belgrano snorted derisively. "That is talcum powder, you fool!"

Giant ran his palm-unit over the disputed substance. "Then why does my scanner analysis call it sugar - eighty-nine per cent pure, to be exact?"

"I have no idea how that got into my luggage."

Dredd joined Giant at the suspect case. He ran his hands around the lining and discovered a series of cylindrical ridges down one side. "And what do we have here, I wonder?"

"That is nothing!" Belgrano shouted. "You have no right to-"

Dredd tore away the lining to reveal dozens of cigarettes sewn into the case. "Tobacco smuggling as well, are we? Quite the entrepreneur, aren't you?"

"Those are for personal use," Belgrano said belligerently.

"There's no smoking in the Big Meg - except in authorised Smokatoria - and the importation of tobacco is strictly forbidden," Giant replied sternly. He plucked open a canister labelled aftershave and a drizzle of brown granules tumbled out. "I suppose you'll be telling this is gravy powder next?"

The new arrival just shrugged, smiling weakly.

Dredd picked up one of the granules and slipped it on to his tongue. "Coffee." He spat the granule back out. "Columbian roast." Dredd rounded on Belgrano, jabbing a finger in the drunken man's face. "We've got enough contraband here to put you in the iso-cubes for twenty years, creep. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't lock you up and throw away the key!"

"Diplomatic immunity," Belgrano replied, his breath heavy with the odour of synthi-vodka. "Chief Judge Hershey promised all the delegates full diplomatic immunity while inside your city. I figured it was worth trying to bring in a little something extra for the trip. You can't arrest me for anything."

"Maybe. But all these illegal substances will be confiscated and destroyed. And if I catch you breaking the Law in my city, you can be certain I'll break you too, diplomatic immunity or not!" Dredd turned to Giant. "Get this scum out of my sight!"

Belgrano gave a friendly wave as he staggered out of the interview room, accompanied by Giant. Dredd removed his respirator and activated his helmet radio.

"Dredd to Control, request an urgent meeting with Hershey."

The radio crackled back with a reply. "The Chief Judge is busy meeting and greeting the foreign delegates at their private quarters. Her staff say she won't be free for at least an hour."

"Fine. Tell her staff I'll see her in sixty minutes. Dredd out!" He switched off the radio, not even waiting for an acknowledgement. Giant returned to the interview room, shaking his head with exasperation.

"I got the king of the smugglers into an H-wagon. How long are we supposed to be baby-sitting these trouble makers?"

"Until they leave. Forty-eight hours, if the talks go well tomorrow," Dredd replied, impatience evident in his voice.

"And if they don't?"

"That's Hershey's problem. Ours is keeping these punks under control."

TWO

Ryan awoke to find Bludd standing over him. The crime boss was smiling broadly. "Congratulations! Kara tells me you passed the test. I believe you're ready to take part in a vital mission on behalf of the Bludd Group. Get dressed and join the others in the briefing room."

The juve smiled his agreement. Once Bludd had left the bedchamber, Ryan hastily pulled on his discarded clothes before bustling into the main area of the penthouse. The door to another room stood ajar nearby, Kara just inside it. Ryan hurried to the entrance and knocked on the door. "Is this the briefing room?"

Kara nodded and motioned for him to enter. Once inside he glanced about the room. It was dark, just the green light from a three-dimensional holographic projector providing any illumination. Six hard-backed chairs were positioned around the projector, all but one occupied. Kara pointed at the newcomer while addressing those already gathered.

"Everyone, this is Blake Ryan, our newest recruit. He was expelled from the Academy of Law and will help us anticipate the judicial response to tomorrow's operation. Ryan, these are the other members of the Bludd Group's elite strike force." Kara began walking in a slow circle around the chairs, pausing behind each one to introduce the person sat there. First was a slab-faced woman riven with tattoos, every visible area of her skin adorned with a pattern or motif.

"This is Tattoo Sue, our muscle. She was thrown off the Mega-Olympics men's wrestling team for steroid abuse."

"The men's team?" Ryan asked despite himself.

Tattoo Sue grinned and made a gesture with her fingers like scissors cutting. "I've always been a woman trapped in a man's body. After the scandal I had nothing to lose, so I had the chop."

Ryan smiled back at her weakly. "Really? How... interesting."

Kara had moved on to the next team member, a male dwarf with flaming red hair. "This is Angry Sanderson. He can break into and out of anywhere, thanks to his nimble fingers and tiny body."

"Nice to meet you," Ryan offered by way of a greeting. Sanderson replied with a scowl and an obscene finger gesture. Kara patted the shoulder of the next person, a gangling black man with oversized hands.

"Skyhook is our driver and pilot, perfect for any getaway. His biggest problem is finding a vehicle with enough leg room."

"Ain't that the truth!" Skyhook said, vigorously nodding his agreement. "Just 'cause I'm tall, don't mean I ain't got feelings!"

"Quite." Kara pointed at the fourth person in the circle, a beautiful woman missing half her face. Scar tissue was all that remained of the left side. "That's Di. Used to be a bomb disposal expert for Tek-Division, until a sloppy defusing job got half her face blown off. She turned down a teaching job at the Academy of Law and went freelance. Now she sets the most delicious bombs imaginable, don't you Di?"

The disfigured woman winked at Ryan with her remaining eye. "That's right, sweetie. Just don't get on my bad side."

"Last but not least is Fincher," Kara continued. "He likes to mutilate."

Ryan realised a laser blade was being held close to his throat. He turned to find a pasty-faced man standing behind him, mirrored sockets where eyes should be. "Nice to meet you," the juve ventured. Fincher just hissed before returning to his seat. Ryan took the empty chair between Skyhook and Di. Once he was settled into place, Kara punched a code into the projector.

"This is our target. It needs little introduction," she said.

Green light began forming itself into a three-dimensional shape above the projector. Ryan watched as the image solidified in the air, his eyes widening as he recognised the familiar building. They couldn't be planning to take on that, could they? The most heavily fortified, best protected structure in all of Mega-City One - this was to be their target?

Kara looked around the circle. "Tomorrow at noon we will attack and destroy the Grand Hall of Justice." She paused briefly. "Any questions?"

Dredd had been waiting for two hours when Hershey finally emerged from meeting and greeting the last of the foreign delegates. Each was staying in a Justice Department safe house, partly for their own protection and partly to keep them from getting together and causing any trouble before the summit began in twenty-four hours. The Chief Judge bid a less than fond farewell to Smirnoff and walked out into the Big Meg's fresh air.

"Grud on a greenie," Hershey gasped to Dredd. "Does that man breathe synthi-vodka?"

"Close enough."

The Chief Judge strolled on towards her personal hoverpod. "You requested a meeting, Dredd. I'm extremely busy, so we'll have to walk and talk. What did you want to see me about?"

The street Judge fell into step beside Hershey. "Diplomatic immunity. I've already confiscated enough contraband to merit a life sentence in the cubes. Grud only knows what tricks the rest of these-"

"Distinguished guests," Hershey interjected.

"These distinguished guests," Dredd continued, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "will pull in the next two days. Granting them immunity has tied my hands, made it near to impossible for us to maintain any sort of discipline."

The Chief Judge stopped outside her hoverpod. "Let's cut to the chase. You think I've made a mistake allowing these delegates to enter the city, let alone open negotiations with them."

"Permission to speak candidly?"

Hershey sighed in exasperation. "Granted."

"None of these creeps can be trusted to abide by our Customs and Immigrations rules. How can you expect them to abide by the terms of any treaty you might persuade them to sign?"

"We have to make a start somewhere, Dredd."

"Maybe, but-"

"Enough!" The Chief Judge held up a hand to silence him. "Joe, you were my mentor when I went offworld for my first assignment out of the Academy, helping you find the Judge Child. I didn't always agree with your decisions but I learned to respect your reasoning. That was nearly a quarter of a century ago. Give me some credit for having learnt a little about the ways of the world in the intervening years, will you?"

Dredd pursed his lips but said nothing. Hershey softened her voice before speaking again.

"You and I both know Chief Judges rarely last longer than five years in the job. That's almost exactly how long I've had the big chair. The responsibility of trying to keep this city from descending into anarchy, well, it eats away at you, one piece at a time. When I'm gone, I want to leave something behind, something tangible to show my time at the top wasn't just about maintaining the status quo. I've spent my entire career trying to drag the Justice Department a bit further into the twenty-second century. If I can broker a deal for a global extradition treaty, that would be a significant achievement. You know what the benefits will be just as well as I do, if not better."

Dredd nodded.

"I know the diplomatic immunity is going to create more problems than it solves," Hershey continued, "but it was the only way to get some of these citi-states to send delegates here at all. You and the others will have to turn a blind eye to some law breaking. That will stick in your guts, but you'll get over it. Right now securing any sort of compromise from the likes of Sino-Cit and Cuidad Barranquilla is more important than a few petty crimes."

"As long as that's all it is," Dredd replied.

"Agreed." The Chief Judge smiled. "Can I go now?"

Dredd stepped back and let Hershey climb into her hoverpod. Once she was seated inside, the Chief Judge opened the window to add something more. "Trust me when I say I will protect this city and its people by any and all means necessary. If I have to send a thousand Judges to their deaths to achieve that, I will - even you. No single person is more important than this city. You taught me that." Hershey gave her pilot a hand signal to leave before offering a final comment, shouting to make herself heard over the hoverpod's engines. "See you on the streets, Joe!"

Dredd moved away as the vehicle took to the midday sky. Only after the hoverpod was out of earshot could Dredd hear the voice calling via his helmet radio.

"This is Giant! Dredd, can you hear me?"

"Dredd responding. What's the problem?"

"Medical emergency signal from the safe house where our Brit-Cit delegate is staying, corner of Beaker and Honeydew."

Dredd was already running towards his Lawmaster. "On my way!"

Kara outlined the plan of attack and what role each member of the strike team would take. Ryan did his best to keep all the details in his head, knowing he must find a way to communicate them to the Justice Department.

Kara deactivated the holographic projector. The briefing room light automatically brightened in response. "I will be leading this mission personally," she said. "There is no guarantee all or indeed any of us will make it back alive. Should you die, an exceedingly generous compensation payment shall be made to whomever you have chosen. But our attack must be successful. Disrupting the extradition treaty negotiations is vital to ensuring the medium and long-term health of the Bludd Group's operations around the globe. One surgical strike against the summit and Hershey's campaign will be put back years, even decades." She looked around the faces of those present, fixing them in her gaze one by one. "If anybody wants out, well, forget it. You all know too much. If one word of this plan should leak out, the consequences would be extremely prejudicial. Do I make myself clear?"

The strike team members gave a murmur of assent, Ryan joining in.

Kara smiled, apparently satisfied. "You know what you have to do. Begin preparations for tomorrow. Leave nothing to chance. We have less than twenty-four hours before starting our attack. During that time nobody is allowed to leave the building, for obvious reasons. That's it. Dismissed. We reassemble at dawn tomorrow."

She stood aside to let the team members file out. Tattoo Sue left hand in hand with Di, the two women stroking each other's faces affectionately. Fincher was next to go, followed by Angry Sanderson and Skyhook. Ryan remained behind, hoping to talk with Kara. He approached her nervously, biting one side of his bottom lip. "Look, about what happened between us earlier..."

"Put it out of your mind," she replied coldly. "I already have."

"Right. Yes, of course." The juve smiled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Well, I guess I'll start on my prep work. To get those passcodes you want, I'll need to access a Justice Department terminal or comms line."

Kara nodded her agreement. "There's a scrambled link in the next room, you can hook in from there. But don't stay online more than a minute. PSU traces are getting more sophisticated all the time."

"Got it," Ryan replied with a smile. "Well, I'll... get to it."

Giant was first through the door into Warner's private quarters. The two Judges assigned to stand guard outside the safe house, Eaglestone and Jenkins, reported that nobody had entered or left since the Brit-Cit delegate was installed several hours earlier. Warner had accepted delivery of a small metal suitcase but nothing else out of the ordinary had happened. The first they knew about the medical emergency was when Control relayed news of the alarm button being triggered from within the safe house. The pair had stormed their way inside the building but Warner refused to let them enter his private quarters.

"He claimed to have hit the medical emergency button by mistake," Jenkins explained. "We told him procedures required us to confirm this but he wouldn't come out. That's when we called for back-up."

"You did the right thing," Giant said. He approached the doorway to Warner's private quarters. Normally the closed circuit cameras inside would tell their own story but these had been switched off by the visitor when he arrived. Giant rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Delegate Warner, this is Judge Giant. We met earlier at Customs."

"I remember," Warner replied in a pained voice.

"Can you open the door so I can enter?"

"I made a mistake. There's no medical emergency here. I'm sure I'll be ready in plenty of time for the first session tomorrow."

"Nevertheless, we are duty-bound to protect you from befalling any harm while a guest of Mega-City One. I must insist upon gaining entry."

"No! You can't come in here. I'm not... umm... not ready for you. Maybe later?" Warner suggested hopefully.

Giant took off his helmet and rested his left ear against the door. He could hear someone hobbling about the room inside and a faint whirring noise. "I'm sorry but unless you open this door, I will be forced to break it down."

"You can't do that!" Warner cried out, his voice filled with desperation. "If you do that I will leave this city immediately and never return. Without Brit-Cit's aid your Chief Judge would never have been able to instigate this summit. If I should withdraw, you can be certain the extradition negotiations will collapse!"

Giant stepped back from the door. "Delegate Warner, I'm going to send the other Judges outside so it will be just you and me. Would that be better?"

"It's a start," the Brit-Cit Judge replied after a long silence.

Giant loudly ordered Eaglestone and Jenkins from the building, waiting until they were well outside before returning to the door. "They've left the safe house. It's just the two of us now. How about you open up so I can see that you are alright? If there is no medical emergency, I'll cancel the alarm signal and you can be left in peace. How does that sound?"

"I'm not sure," Warner muttered. "Let me think about it a minute..."

Giant pulled a chair to beside the door and sat down. "There's no rush. I'll be waiting here while you decide what to do."

"Thank you. You're being most understanding."

"You're welcome, sir." Giant stopped to listen. He could hear a motorcycle rapidly approaching. It screeched to a halt outside the safe house. Raised voices exchanged a few words and then hurried footfalls grew louder. Seconds later Dredd burst in, his mouth set in grim determination.

"Stand aside, Giant! You've tried the diplomatic approach, now it's my turn!" Dredd strode to the door and kicked it down. A high-pitched squeal of terror emitted from inside. Dredd stomped into Warner's private quarters, followed by Giant close behind. They both stopped abruptly when confronted by the scene within. The Brit-Cit Judge whimpered at them.

"I take it you're not sitting comfortably," Dredd said.

Ryan walked into the communications room of Bludd's penthouse. It was a small, dark chamber with cables climbing the walls and snaking across the floor. Like many wishing to keep their actions secure, the crime boss had obviously learned to avoid wireless technology. The Justice Department's Public Surveillance Unit had enjoyed great success intercepting signals from wireless systems, breaking down even the most complex of encryption locks.

The juve soon located the scrambled terminal and opened an interface with the judicial comms network, hacking his way in through a portal that had been deliberately weakened. When Ryan first agreed to go undercover with the Bludd Group, he suggested creating this access route as a way of proving loyalty to his new employer. Only low level security information could be reached via the portal but it would prove his value. As a last resort the former cadet could use it to call for extraction or to pass on urgent data. But Ryan had been warned against this, the risk of detection being too great.

"Make no mistake," Dredd had said, "this is for life and death circumstances only. While you are undercover you stay there: no contact with department personnel, no secret messages, nothing. The only time you call for help is when you want out. Got that?"

Ryan took a deep breath and began typing: BLUDD GROUP PLANS ATTACK ON GRAND HALL OF JUSTICE, NOON TOMORROW. AM STAYING UNDERCOVER TO DISRUPT OPERATION - BR. He looked around the room, his index finger poised above the ENTER button. The juve was conscious of the damp patches around his armpits, trickles of sweat dribbling down his back and legs. Once he sent this message, there was no going back. Within twenty-four hours either he or the strike team would be dead. Ryan tapped the button once and then terminated the connection.

The sound of running feet approaching the comms room became audible. Oh grud, they must have been watching him! Ryan staggered back from the terminal, looking around for a weapon, any weapon. But there was nothing. He was on his own, about to die in a room full of wires and machines, nobody else aware his life was being snuffed out.

The door swung inwards to reveal Skyhook. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you! Are you coming or not?"

"Coming where?"

"Mr Bludd is putting on a feast for us. It's a strike team tradition. We call it the last meal of the condemned."

"Oh, right." Ryan let out a sigh of relief. "Sounds great. Lead the way." Skyhook turned away and the juve snuck a final glance at the terminal. By now his message should have reached the PSU officer assigned to the case. It was out of Ryan's hands. He left the comms room and hurried after Skyhook, spurred on by the delicious smell of cooking food. Ryan was suddenly ravenous. Nothing like flirting with death to give you a hearty appetite.

Jago Warner was naked and ashamed. His face was flushed red with embarrassment, a bold contrast to the artificial blue colouring of his hair. The delegate from Brit-Cit was half standing and half sitting on the double bed in his private quarters. Beneath him a mechanical man was squirming about on the mattress, apparently trying to prise itself free. Only a cloth draped over Warner's crotch maintained any shred of dignity.

Giant suppressed a smile. "Now I see why you weren't eager for us to come in," he said.

"This also explains the suitcase."

"Suitcase?" Dredd asked.

"Jenkins and Eaglestone reported its delivery when I arrived." Giant carefully walked around the unusual living sculpture atop the bed and picked up a discarded silver suitcase. It was empty but for a thin booklet. The Judge began reading aloud from the printed instructions. "Thank you for buying the Big Meg Self-Assembling Pleasure Mech. We trust it will offer you a lifetime of trouble-free enjoyment and stimulation. Whatever your preference, the Big Meg is the man for the job. We guarantee you'll always come back for more with the Big Meg!"

Dredd stroked his chin thoughtfully before speaking. "Did you want to ask for a refund personally? Or would you rather it went through official channels?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Warner snapped. "Just get me off of this thing!"

"Wait, there's more!" Giant announced, still reading the booklet. "Most of this is in Japanese, but as far as I can tell, using this device in the way he's doing is against the terms of its warranty."

Dredd shrugged. "Guess that rules out your refund."

"Please, I'm begging you! Give me a hand to get free," Warner pleaded.

Dredd turned to his colleague. "Looks like a job for Med-Division if you ask me. What do you think, Giant?"

"Med-Division, definitely. Maybe some Tek-Judges too. They'll probably have to cut that thing off. Who knows how long it'll take?"

"Hours, maybe three or four."

"At least!"

"For the love of grud, just do something!" Warner screamed before breaking down in tears. "I can't keep myself up like this much longer."

Dredd and Giant exchanged a look. Finally Giant burst out laughing, no longer able to contain his mirth. "I'll call in Med-Division," he said between guffaws on his way out of the room.

Dredd waited until Giant was out of earshot before leaning closer to the delegate from Brit-Cit. "Word about what's happened here is going to spread pretty quick unless I stamp on it. You know my reputation. I can have all mention of this quashed. Your superiors in Brit-Cit need never know about your little... mishap. But you've got to do something for me."

"I'm a little stuck right now-"

"Stay where you are, pervert! I meant when you get into the negotiating room tomorrow. This treaty means a lot to my Chief Judge and you're going to help her secure an agreement. Is that clear?"

"I don't know, I..." Warner maintained his defiance briefly, until Dredd ripped away the cloth covering the visitor's crotch. "Alright, alright! I'll do it! Just leave me with some dignity. Damn you Dredd!"

"My pleasure," he replied, handing the cloth back to Warner. "I'll be waiting outside. Remember what we agreed, because I won't forget what I've seen here, unfortunately."

Med-Judges arrived as Dredd was leaving. He jerked a thumb back at the unfortunate delegate from Brit-Cit. "He's all yours. Don't feel obliged to go gently on my account."

Shortly afterwards, residents in neighbouring city blocks reported hearing a scream of agony and relief from the building surrounded by judicial vehicles.

Hershey reread the text of Ryan's message before passing it to the next member of the Council of Five. For nearly fifty years this handful of Judges had passed the Laws by which Mega-City One was controlled. Each member represented a sub-division of the Justice Department, each offered a fresh perspective on the challenges facing the Big Meg. Together with the Chief Judge they formed a collective entity, a gestalt mind focussed on preserving law and order.

Once all the councillors had seen the message, Hershey called the emergency meeting to order. "Unfortunately, that is all the intelligence we have. Noon tomorrow is when the first session of the global extradition treaty negotiations is due to start, here in the Grand Hall of Justice. It cannot be mere coincidence these two events are planned to occur simultaneously. I believe it is safe to assume the Bludd Group and its leader plan to disrupt the session, if possible, to destroy all hopes of a treaty being agreed."

The Chief Judge glanced around the rest of the council. Nobody dissented from what she had suggested, the conclusion was both logical and inescapable. "Jesus Bludd is not alone in wanting to see the treaty halted in its tracks," Hershey continued. "Most of the crime bosses in Mega-City One are against it for obvious reasons, as are underworld elements in other citi-states. But it required someone of Bludd's daring and guile to attack the negotiations directly. We must take this threat seriously."

The head of Tek-Division, Judge McTighe, cleared his throat. He had risen through the ranks thanks to a combination of genius-level intelligence and predator-like ambition. But outside his specialised area McTighe lacked the street smarts and experience most senior law enforcers felt were required to become Chief Judge. Not for the first time, McTighe revealed an ignorance of matters outside his own field. "Who is this Jesus Bludd? I've heard of him in passing, but never knew he was such a threat."

Hershey gestured to the head of PSU. "I've asked Judge Niles to give us a background briefing on the leader of the Bludd Group..."

Niles nodded to the Chief Judge before activating a Tri-D screen on one wall of the council chamber. All those present swivelled round in their seats to get a better view. A blurry image of Bludd appeared first, grim-faced and determined. "This picture was snatched a few hours ago, our most recent sighting. The crime boss was taking the morning air on the balcony of his penthouse atop Emil Jannings Block. Next picture please."

The voice-activated computer replaced the image of Bludd as a grown man with a picture of him as a child. The boy's face was smudged by dirt and dried blood, clean lines cut through the mess by the tracks of his tears. "And this is Jesus Bludd twenty-five years ago, aged seven. That was when he first came to our attention, not long after Cal was deposed." In 2101, Mega-City One was thrown into anarchy when an insane Judge called Caligula usurped control of the Justice Department. In the aftermath of his reign street gangs had claimed sovereignty in some parts of the Big Meg.

"What happened?" McTighe asked.

"Bludd was an only child in a single parent family. His father disappeared soon after the boy was born in 2094. Bludd's mother was on welfare, scraping by in Southside Sector 41. After Cal was deposed, a gang called the Cosmic Punks set themselves up as Judges in that sector and declared the surrounding streets a no-go area. Bludd's mother was raped and murdered in front of the boy as a lesson for other citizens. The perp responsible escaped justice after the boy withdrew his eye witness testimony."

Hershey leaned forward, intrigued. "He was intimidated into recanting?"

"That was how it seemed at the time. A week later, after Dredd had single-handedly restored order to Sector 41, the perp's corpse was found jammed in a public grinder. Nobody was ever convicted of the murder."

The Chief Judge formed her fingers into a steeple in front of her face. "That suggests the boy got revenge on his mother's killer. But what are the chances of a seven year-old child forcing a grown man into a grinder?"

Niles nodded. "Bludd was brought in for questioning and evaluation. The results were most remarkable. The boy displayed close to genius-level IQ, was able to beat any lie-detector available at the time and even exhibited some latent psi talents."

"Why wasn't he drafted into the Academy?" Hershey asked. "He was an orphan by then, a ward of the city. Results like that would have marked him out as a prime candidate for training as a Judge, even starting his training two years after the other cadets."

"Psychological testing results raised some... issues about Bludd's attitude. A rebellious streak a mile wide-"

"Such problems can be overcome with Psi-Division intervention, even surgery," McTighe interrupted.

"-and strong sociopathic tendencies. An amorality in the boy's attitude to right and wrong that would make any hardened perp proud," Niles replied. "Nevertheless, Jesus Bludd was offered a place at the Academy. He refused it and absconded from judicial custody, disappearing for the next eight years."

The PSU head called for the next picture. Again, the resolution was poor and the image blurred, but the juve at the centre of the picture was still recognisable as Bludd. He was running and looking back over his shoulder. A second juve was following him.

"By the age of fifteen Bludd was leading his own street gang, clawing his way up the criminal underworld of City Bottom. The day this image was captured by PSU cameras was also the day Bludd came closest to being caught. The gang was disturbed raiding a shoppera and fled, running right into a Judge patrol. We had been tipped off by one of the juves. Every member of the gang was killed or wounded except Bludd, who escaped unscathed. It was only after the incident that someone thought to cross-check the recorded voice of our anonymous caller with voice prints already held on file. We found a perfect match from eight years earlier. Bludd had turned in his own gang."

"Do we know why?" The question came from Judge Buell, head of the Special Judicial Squad.

Niles shook his head. "Perhaps Bludd suspected one of his gang was about to betray him. Perhaps he just decided it was time for a change. Whatever the reason, Bludd used the Judges to rid himself of the gang and start over."

"Remarkably ruthless," Hershey commented.

"As I said before, sociopathic tendencies. Bludd defines his own moral universe, divorced from whatever ideals we or his fellow perps might have about what's right and wrong. Honour amongst thieves means nothing to this man. He makes his own rules." Niles called for the next picture. It showed Bludd entering the Dustbuster, accompanied by Kara.

"This was taken four months ago, when our operative was inserted into the Bludd Group. Jesus has put on a lot of weight since his juvie days but don't be mistaken into thinking he has gone soft - that bulk is all muscle. He could crush your skull with those hands, but prefers to have others do his dirty work. Despite our best efforts to prove otherwise, Bludd appears to be a legitimate businessman. He is a leading crime boss but keeps everything twice removed from himself, always maintaining deniable culpability. He's untouchable."

McTighe rose from his chair and walked towards the Tri-D screen. He pointed at the woman climbing the Dustbuster steps beside Bludd. "Who's she? I'm sure I've seen her face before."

"That's Bludd's confidante and enforcer, a woman known only as Kara. We believe they may also be lovers, although there is no explicit data on Bludd's sexuality to back that up. She joined the Bludd Group within the last two years. According to what little our previous undercover operatives have gleaned, Bludd collected her as part of a gambling debt from a rival. We know she's a psyker, as deadly as she is beautiful. Kara is probably the person who uncovered the last three Wally Squad Judges who tried to infiltrate the Bludd Group. It seems likely she is also the person who killed them." Niles deactivated the Tri-D screen. "Much of what I have told you is speculation and educated guess work. Penetrating the Bludd Group is well nigh impossible. Frankly, I'm surprised the cadet Ryan has survived this long on the inside."

Buell caught the hint. His department concerned itself with monitoring the actions of other Judges, so Buell was always looking for angles involving corruption or dereliction of duty. "You think he may have been turned?"

Niles shrugged. "As I said, speculation and guess work. Up until this morning Ryan was kept on the fringes of the organisation. At dawn he entered Bludd's penthouse and hasn't come out since. Either he's been accepted into the inner circle or else he's being set up for a mighty fall."

Hershey called a halt to the discussion. "I've heard enough. Niles, do you have any recommendations to make?"

"We have to take any threat from Bludd seriously. Most crime bosses are vain, egotistical perps who undo themselves. This one is something special, always five steps ahead. Until we know differently, we have to take this warning at face value."

The Chief Judge looked round at the others. "Anybody think otherwise?" The only reply was silence. "Very well. We proceed as planned with the treaty summit tomorrow here at the Grand Hall, but step up security by a factor of five. From dawn there will be a twenty block exclusion zone around this building, nothing to get in or out without my express permission. The same applies to the sky overhead, nothing flies through the surrounding airspace. Anyone who tries to do so will be shot down. We can ask questions later."

"That will cause chaos in nearby sectors," Buell noted.

"We've had worse," Hershey replied. "This emergency council meeting is at an end. Gentlemen, thank you for your time."

Ryan sat back in his chair, bloated and unable to contemplate moving. Never had he feasted on such a succulent selection of delicacies. To eat real meat from real animals instead of synthetic munce was a treat in itself, but the range of exquisite flesh on offer had beggared belief. After helping himself to thirds the juve waved away his plate, letting the house droids clear the table at last.

Bludd entered the dining room with Kara as the last of the food was removed, applauding the efforts of his strike team. "You have eaten well and that is as it should be. Never let it be said Jesus Bludd permitted anyone in his employ to face death on an empty stomach!"

The others laughed heartily at this, so Ryan did his best to join in. But the smile faded from his lips as Kara locked the double doors, the only exit from the dining room. Bludd smirked at the four men and two women sat round the table. "Unfortunately, for one of you, that death is going to come a little sooner than expected." The strike team members exchanged perplexed glances but said nothing.

Ryan felt his lower intestine clench in fear, suddenly all too aware of how much he had eaten and how badly it was sitting within him. But he kept the quiet terror from climbing into his conscious thoughts, lest they betray him.

Bludd began walking around the circular table, passing behind each of the six operatives. "One of you is disloyal. I won't say how you were discovered. It's enough to know that you were. Time and again the Justice Department has tried to insert one of its precious Wally Squad into the ranks of the Bludd Group. Time and again my beloved Kara has found out these undercover cretins and punished them for their temerity. But, for once, it was not Kara who revealed the disloyalty. It was one of you." Bludd stopped behind the tall figure sat opposite Ryan. Skyhook smiled and nodded at the others, accepting their thanks and congratulations.

Bludd held up a hand for silence, before resting it lightly on Skyhook's right shoulder. "As soon as he was able, Skyhook alerted me to the presence of an intruder amongst us. For that, Skyhook will be given a very special reward. But first I want to give the guilty party a chance to make themselves known. Do the decent thing, stand up for what you believe in and tell us why you turned traitor. You have ten seconds to do so, beginning now."

Ryan could feel fear shifting inside him, stretching and expanding, uncoiling itself like a serpent. He clenched both his fists and drove the fingernails into the flesh of his palms, forcing them to break the skin so the pain would distract his mind. This could all be a bluff, the juve told himself over and over, this could all be a bluff. But the serpent of fear was gathering itself inside him, as if snaking upwards along his spinal column towards his brain.

Bludd beckoned Kara closer to the table. "It seems nobody wishes to confess or absolve themselves in our presence. My dear, you will have to do the honours." Bludd took her place by the exit, resting his back against the double doors. "I want you all to pay attention. Disloyalty will not be tolerated. Let what happens next be a lesson to you."

Kara regarded each of the strike team members in turn as she spoke into their minds, her psychic voice low and penetrating, the words suffused with menace. I am reaching into your minds, one by one. Do not resist me, do not defend your thoughts. You cannot escape, cannot flee what is coming. This is the end for you, traitor. This is your death.

Ryan tried to relax. I have nothing to fear but fear itself, he thought to himself, making the sentence into a mantra. I have nothing to fear but fear itself. He looked around the table at the others. Each seemed to be wrestling with their own inner demons, bracing themselves for what was to come. The juve felt something warm and wet dribble down over his lips and chin. He wiped a hand across his face and it came away red, smeared with crimson.

I'm having a nose bleed, Ryan realised. The other five were also bleeding freely from their nostrils, some trying to staunch the flow.

Do not be alarmed, Kara announced. The nose bleeds are a side effect of my psi-probing. They will pass. Brace yourselves. The worst is yet to come.

Pain lanced through Ryan's head, like a cold knife slicing into his brain. His body went into spasm, a scream crying out through clenched teeth. Moisture soaked his seat as the juve lost control of his bowels, a dark stain spreading out from his crotch. Ryan clutched at his temples, unable to cope any longer. Stop this - please!, his mind begged.

It was then one of the strike team's head exploded.

Dredd had spent the afternoon visiting each of the foreign delegates to ensure they were safe and sound. As night fell over Mega-City One, the Judge shifted his attention to supervising final safety checks at the negotiations venue. An entire floor in the Grand Hall of Justice had been set aside for the talks. All turbolift access to that level was locked off for anyone lacking the proper security clearance and passcodes. Nobody could get in or out without Dredd's personal authorisation. He had received word about the warning from Ryan. If Bludd was planning to directly attack the talks tomorrow, the strike team would have to do so over Dredd's dead body, and that wasn't going to happen.

Satisfied with security for access to the venue, Dredd strode around the rooms set aside for the negotiations. A central chamber was the main gathering point, with tables and chairs facing each other in a ring. Doors led out to a corridor that encircled the main chamber. Surrounding these in an outer ring were smaller rooms for each of the delegates to use during breaks or for one-on-one sessions. The visitors had been given secure scrambled lines of communication back to their own citi-states, to help them maintain a dialogue with their respective leaders. Hershey had personally assured the Chief Judge of each delegate that these lines could not be monitored or intercepted.

Dredd was making a final sweep of the outer chambers when his helmet radio crackled into life. "Control to Dredd, come in."

"Dredd responding. I said I didn't want to be disturbed."

"Giant requests you meet him at the corner of Cartier and Klugman."

"I'll be there in an hour. I want to-"

"Giant says this is urgent. He called it a Crazy Zhivago and Wild Wallaby situation. Says you'll know what that means."

"Stomm," Dredd snarled with disgust. He had insisted all those involved with securing the safety of the delegates use discretion during radio transmissions. It was Giant who came up with codenames. Crazy Zhivago meant the East-Meg Two delegate had disappeared from his private quarters, while Wild Wallaby indicated Judge Bruce was also involved. "Tell Giant I'm on my way!" Dredd was already running for the nearest turbolift.

Ryan opened his eyes. "I'm still alive," he whispered and smiled. His clothes and face were spattered with viscera from the headless corpse still sat opposite. Skyhook's reward for accusing another member of the strike team was to have his brain exploded by Kara's formidable psi powers.

"Skyhook was the traitor?" Angry Sanderson asked, bewildered. "But you said he had accused one of us..."

Kara smiled, walking around the table to the chair containing Skyhook's remains. "He did. Your late team member accused Ryan of being a spy for the Judges, sent to infiltrate the Bludd Group. Skyhook even claimed to have seen Ryan sending messages to Justice Department from within the penthouse." She placed a hand on each of the dead man's shoulders, a gaping absence where Skyhook's head should have been. "What he didn't know is Ryan was acting on my orders, passing disinformation to the Judges about tomorrow's mission." Kara fixed the juve in her gaze and licked her luscious red lips.

"We have no illusions about Ryan's loyalty. I have tested it personally."

Tattoo Sue was wiping blood and bone fragments off her ample chest with a linen napkin.

"So why kill Skyhook, if he was just mistaken?"

Bludd answered that question. "Disloyalty will not be tolerated, as I said before. You must trust each other utterly, otherwise your mission will fail." He smiled broadly. "Any more questions? No? Then I suggest you all retire to bed. Tomorrow we make history. Tomorrow we change the future. Tomorrow, we show the so-called rulers of this world just who holds the real power." Bludd threw open the double doors and beckoned Kara to him. Once she was at his side, the crime boss wrapped a proprietorial hand around her waist and they strode away together.

In the dining room, Ryan found it hard to tear his eyes from Skyhook's corpse. Fincher approached the body and examined the cadaver with professional detachment. "Remarkable," he said in a Brit-Cit accent. "Not many birds can boil a man's brain in his cranial juices until it explodes." Fincher dipped a finger into the ghastly wound where Skyhook's neck had been. "Still hot, too."

Ryan ran from the room to find the nearest bathroom, an unequal battle with the contents of his digestive system about to be comprehensively lost. Fincher looked up in mock surprise, a disingenuous smile crossing his face.

"Was it something I said?"

THREE

Giant was the third helmet to reach the crash scene on the corner of Cartier and Klugman. One look inside the remains of the hoverpod confirmed what he had heard from Control. Giant shook his head in despair before turning to acknowledge the other Judges, a female veteran called Glass and her partner Daley. "You were right to have Control call me. How long have you been here?"

"Twenty minutes," Glass responded. "We saw the hoverpod weaving across Anton Diffring Overzoom before it plunged down to the skedways, nearly decapitating a jaywalker. We pursued the vehicle but the driver didn't seem aware of our presence. Eventually the hoverpod swerved to avoid a little girl and flew straight into Emporio Kneepad."

Giant glanced round the scene. This part of Sector 87 was a high-priced shoppera zone, lined with expensive outlets like Tommi Illfinger and The Gyp. A crowd of bystanders was already gathering despite the late hour, straining to get a better look at the crash and any unfortunate victims. After failing to contact Dredd directly, Giant left a message for him with Control before assigning Glass and Daley to keep the cits back. Once a cordon was established the Judge approached the crumpled hoverpod.

The Maxi Zoom Dweebie 5000 was wedged fast in the window display of Emporia Kneepad. The hoverpod's front had collapsed backwards on impact, trapping the two occupants within the vehicle. Having been stuck inside for so long, Giant would normally expect them to be dead or crying out in agony. Instead the two men were singing in slurred voices.

"What's the matter you? Hey! Why you looka so sad?" Leading the tune was a broad, nasal accent Giant recognised from earlier in the day. The other person in the hoverpod tried to join in, his broken English and East European accent making nonsense of the lyrics.

"Ahh, shut up off your vase!"

"Nah, mate, it's 'shuttupa your face'!"

"That's what I said, tovarisch!"

"Nah, you said vase; not face, vase!"

"That's what I said; vase!"

Giant used a small but powerful torch from his Lawmaster to illuminate the scene inside the crumpled hoverpod. Smirnoff was wedged behind the steering wheel, a half empty bottle of synthi-vodka clutched in one hand while gesticulating at his passenger with the other. Bruce was sprawled in the other seat, draining the last dregs from another bottle. The air inside the hoverpod was close to forty per cent proof.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Been out for a little excursion, have we?" Giant asked, his sarcasm wasted on the inebriated delegates.

"Gidday, Gigantor!" Bruce shouted.

"That's Judge Giant to you."

"Yeah, whatever. See, I wanted to show Ivan here all the sights."

Smirnoff nodded vigorously. Bruce smiled. "We were trying to find the Sstadue of Juddment, bud I think we took a bid of a wrong turn. Now, if you'll juss point uss in the right direction, then everything'ss apples and we'll be on our way."

"Apples?" Smirnoff asked. "Why would everything be apples, comrade?"

"She'll be right," Bruce replied. His drinking partner looked bewildered so the Oz delegate tried again. "As good as gold? Fair dinkum?"

Smirnoff just shrugged, belching loudly.

"You, gentlemen, will not be going anywhere else tonight," Giant announced, "except back to your beds to sleep this off. In the morning we can talk about the limits of your diplomatic immunity. Do I make myself clear?"

The man from East-Meg Two smiled at Giant and offered him the bottle of synthi-vodka. "Ahh, my dusky tovarisch! Drink with us! Here, drink!" Giant took the bottle but, to Smirnoff's dismay, emptied the contents on the ground. "You didn't have to do that, you know. But don't worry, I have more back at the hotel."

"It's not a hotel, tovarisch," Giant replied tersely. "It's a Justice Department safe house. You're supposed to be..." He gave up, realising Smirnoff had fallen asleep at the wheel. "Terrif." Giant stepped away from the vehicle and summoned a rescue detail to the scene, along with Med-Judges and other support teams. Less than a minute later the sound of a Lawmaster could be heard approaching. The bystanders stepped aside to let the new arrival through, Dredd barking at the crowd to move further back.

Once he had dismounted from his motorcycle, Dredd strode directly to Giant who offered a brief report. The younger Judge knew from experience that his former mentor had little patience for extraneous detail and less for bad news. Sure enough, Dredd's face grew sourer by the second as Giant outlined what had taken place. Once the report was finished, Dredd marched to the wrecked hoverpod and ripped open the passenger door. Bruce tumbled to the ground, a sloppy grin plastered across his face.

"Gidday, Dreddy! How's it going, cobber?"

"Are you injured?"

Bruce's brow furrowed. "Ssay thad again, mate?"

"Are - you - injured?" Dredd snarled through clenched teeth.

The Oz Judge smiled again. "Nah, no worries. I'm right as rain!"

Dredd nodded before gesturing for Giant to join him by the hoverpod. "You told my colleague you were planning a visit to the Statue of Judgement."

Bruce pulled himself into a sitting position. "Yeah."

Dredd crouched beside Bruce, his voice a murmur so low Giant could only just make out the words. "Then listen up, cobber. As far as you're concerned, I am the Statue of Judgement. Unless you want to see my fist up close and personal, I suggest you and the Red Menace get your stomm together and get back to your quarters, now. Otherwise I'll be more than happy to drop kick you both back to the misbegotten hellholes you call home, diplomatic immunity or no diplomatic immunity. Do I make myself understood, mate?"

The Oz delegate nodded hurriedly, scrambling to his feet. Bruce leaned inside the hoverpod and shook Smirnoff awake. "Come on! Rattle your dags, Ivan, it's time to go. Move it!"

By the time the two drunks had stumbled out of the wreckage, an H-wagon was descending from the sky to collect them. Dredd made sure the pair were loaded safely inside and gave the pilot orders about where to deliver them. He also put a Med-Judge in the H-wagon.

"Give these two something to dissolve the alcohol in their systems, but make sure they still have a hangover in the morning," he said. "The more fragile they feel during the opening session of negotiations, the quicker Hershey will get her treaty."

Giant observed all of this while supervising the clean-up crew assigned to remove all evidence of the accident. He joined Dredd as the H-wagon rose into the air.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you say so many words in a row as you did to Bruce just now."

"I had to get his attention."

Giant smiled. "Is it my imagination or are you trying to stack the deck in the Chief Judge's favour for the treaty talks?"

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner these clowns get out of the city." Dredd jerked a thumb at the remains of Emporio Kneepad. "You've seen what two of them can do when they get together. Imagine what it'll be like when all five of them are in one room with Hershey."

"Control to Dredd, respond!"

"Dredd here. What now?"

"The Chief Judge wants to see you in her office. Immediately."

"On my way. Dredd out."

Giant knew what was coming next. "Go. I'll stay here and supervise."

Dredd nodded before returning to his Lawmaster. Tyres squealed in protest as the motorcycle roared away towards the nearest ramp up to Anton Diffring.

Jesus Bludd stood on the balcony of his penthouse, a glass balloon of brandy cradled in one hand, a silk robe wrapped around his body. Stretched out in all directions he could see the Big Meg in its nocturnal glory, a billion lights in the night, millions of souls wondering what tomorrow would bring, if they even thought of tomorrow at all.

Bludd smiled to himself as Kara came out on to the balcony, pulling a similar robe tightly around her naked figure. A chill breeze made her gasp in surprise. "Sweet Jovus, it's cold out here!" She walked on tiptoes along the pathway of slates to join her lover by the balustrade.

"The breeze comes directly from the Arctic," Bludd replied. "This close to the Black Atlantic even Weather Control can only do so much to regulate climatic conditions. I find the wind quite bracing."

Kara slipped one of her hands inside his robe, searching for warmth. "So I can feel. Were you thinking about me, by any chance?"

"I was contemplating the next twenty-four hours. By this time tomorrow everything will be different. Reality will be revealed to those who purport to be our rulers and I will emerge from the shadows at last."

"I suppose I should be disappointed," Kara replied. "I thought only I could get you this... excited."

Bludd reached for her, his hands pushing her robe off to reveal the taut body within. "You do, my dear." He pulled Kara close, wrapping his own robe around her, fingers hungrily reaching for her. "I've never understood how the Judges can deny themselves the pleasures of the flesh."

Kara let herself be pulled off her feet, legs wrapping around Bludd's waist. "Perhaps they prefer to save their energy," she said languidly, "for enforcing the Law."

Bludd smiled, baring his teeth. "Then they are fools. Fools who will soon be parted from control of their city." He arched an eyebrow at Kara. "You do realise this balcony is under constant surveillance from the Judges, don't you?"

"But of course!" Kara replied, her face smirking wickedly. "Let's show them what they've been missing all these years..." She pushed the robe off Bludd's shoulders so both of them were naked in the moonlight. "Let's give them a show they won't forget."

Max Normal stabbed his cue forward, sending the white ball careering across the lumpy undulations of the shuggy table. The wayward shot brought a snort of derisive laughter from his opponent, a four-armed, green-skinned refugee from Rexel 56 called Bonjo. But the hilarity died in the creature's throat as the ball somehow wound its way on a seemingly impossible path to the far corner of the table, politely tapping the black and white eight ball into a pocket.

"And that's the way your cookie crumbles, my emerald-hued dude!" Max announced, snapping his fingers with delight. "I think that's ten thousand credits you owe me now. Care to go double or nothing - again?"

The alien howled with rage, gibbering in some extraterrestrial tongue. Perched atop Bonjo's shoulder was a dwarf version of the Rexellian, called Mr Rogan. He had introduced himself as Bonjo's interpreter and manager when the alien challenged Max to a little competitive shuggy earlier in the evening. Normal had been reluctant to accept - creatures from Rexel were infamous for their foul temper and tight-fisted ways - but was persuaded by the other denizens of the Acme Shuggy Hall. Bonjo had hustled his way to a small fortune in recent evenings, reducing several men to abject poverty in the process. Since Max was reckoned to be the best two-armed shuggy player in the sector, it was up to him to restore the honour and reputation of the Acme.

"He says you cheated," Mr Rogan announced loudly, struggling to be heard above Bonjo's angry jabberings. "He says you a hustler."

Max rolled his eyes. "Hey, cool your jets and stay awake! Lose the rude 'tude or I'll be forced to get in a mood. You dig?"

Mr Rogan was not listening. Instead he continued to translate Bonjo's ravings. "He says you a liar and a thief. Give back his money or you suffer."

"I was afraid you cats would lose your manners. Damn, it does this pinstripe freak no good having to kick your ass!"

By now Bonjo's rantings had finally run their course, leaving Mr Rogan free to hold a conversation. "Pardon me, please. What is pinstripe freak?"

Max stepped away from the shuggy table and held out his hands, displaying the full finery of his immaculately tailored black suit with white pinstripes. If the Big Meg Dictionary ever used pictures to replace the words in its definitions, then Max Normal would appear in the space reserved for "dapper". His three-piece suit was perfectly pressed, discreet yet stylish cufflinks held his crisp white shirt in place, and his shoes were adorned with the shiniest of spats. The ensemble was topped off by a black bowler hat, perched at a jaunty angle atop Max's slicked- back hair. In a city where crumpled clothes, oversized kneepads and synthetic fabrics were all the rage, Normal was a walking anomaly. "I got style, baby!" he said.

Mr Rogan translated this for his client but Max's cultured garb only goaded Bonjo further. The Rexellian smashed his shuggy cue across one knee and began stamping towards his human opponent, brandishing both broken halves. Max just raised an eyebrow at the approaching alien.

"I see style is not in fashion on Rexel 56 this season," Normal noted. "Anybody care to back me up?" He looked over his shoulder to see the other shuggy players quietly retreating to the far side of the hall. "Don't all volunteer at once, you cowardly cats!"

Bonjo towered over Max, making a complex series of angry gestures while bellowing Rexellian invective. Mr Rogan began to translate. "He says you prepare to die. You shall suffer and die of thousand ignominies. Then there's quite a detailed explanation of where he intends to insert those-"

"I catch your drift, daddio!" Max interrupted. "Death and maiming, nothing pretty. Are they the main features on this double-bill of doom?"

Mr Rogan listened for another thirty seconds before Bonjo finally ran out of ranting. "In short, yes."

Max smiled. "I think there's something about me your uncool cat of a client ought to know. Back in the day I used to perform a valuable service for a certain stone-faced enforcer of the Law. Maybe you've heard of him, Dredd? Judge Dredd? That name ring any bells?"

Bonjo and Mr Rogan conversed in their native tongue before replying. "We know of this Dredd; a formidable warrior. But he is not here, so we do not fear you. Prepare to die screaming in an agony beyond imagination."

The pinstripe freak shrugged. "Have it your own way, my alien adversary." He dropped into a martial arts stance, ready to fight. But before Bonjo could attack, Max straightened up again. "There's just one other thing you should know before we turn the violence dial up to ultra."

Mr Rogan sighed in exasperation. "Now what?"

"Have I told you dudes my personal combat philosophy?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure you will."

"Those who run away, live to fight another day," Max said.

Mr Rogan translated this to Bonjo but had some difficulty finding suitable Rexellian words for part of the statement. Eventually the interpreter turned back to Max.

"Please explain the phrase 'run away'."

Normal smiled. "I can do better than that. Let me demonstrate it for you."

The small alien perched on Bonjo's shoulder smiled. "If you would be so kind, Bonjo would appreciate it muchly."

"My pleasure," Max said. "It goes something like this..." As he fled the shuggy hall, Max shouted an apology to the terrified manager. "I suggest you call the Judges, my man, and make it sharpish! Tell them Max Normal, the dude who dresses formal, needs their help!"

Hershey was sat behind the vast desk in her office near the top level in the Grand Hall of Justice. Behind her, a mighty sculpture of an eagle dominated the wall, while on either side of the desk, windows reached from the ceiling to the floor, offering spectacular views across the surrounding sectors. The Chief Judge was deep in thought when Dredd arrived.

"You sent for me, ma'am."

Hershey did not reply immediately, her fingers formed into a steeple in front of her face. Eventually Dredd cleared his throat to get her attention. "Sorry, Dredd," she said. "I was contemplating my strategy for tomorrow's talks."

"Today's talks," Dredd noted. "It's gone midnight."

"Already?" Hershey rose from her chair and walked to one of the windows. "You've heard what we discussed at the Council of Five, no doubt."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What do you think?"

Dredd hesitated before replying. "It's not for me to pass judgement-"

"I'm not asking you to! I simply wanted your opinion."

"Bludd represents a significant threat," Dredd replied. "Unlike most of his rivals, he stays in the background, keeps his hands clean. To flush him out like this, it indicates the treaty must have a good chance of becoming reality."

"I meant about the security measures for the opening session," Hershey snapped. "Have we done enough to ensure safety for the delegates?"

"You've done all you can, without compromising the Law in other parts of the city." Dredd joined her by the window. "Why do you ask?"

Hershey sighed. "Since I joined the Council of Five, I dreamed of sitting in the big chair. I knew I would have to make tough choices, be willing to send men and women to their deaths. When I finally become Chief Judge, I was ready for it. But nothing prepares you for the reality of being responsible for an entire city. Every day there's a thousand decisions to be made. Every moment of every hour, somebody wants something from you. Everyone expects you to choose for them, to know what to do next, to be ready to pass judgement." Her words stumbled to a halt, the Chief Judge's head sagging forwards as she rested one hand against the glasseen window. "I just get so tired."

"Now you know why I never wanted the job," Dredd said quietly. "Being a street Judge, it's all I know. I never had your ambition."

Hershey smiled at that. "And look where it's got me." She straightened up again and returned to her desk. "No matter. The negotiations go ahead, as planned. If Bludd thinks he can take on the might of the Justice Department by attacking this building, he's got another thing coming. I won't be dictated to or threatened by anyone, least of all a crime boss who hides behind his underlings."

Dredd nodded approvingly. "What about Ryan?"

She shrugged. "We can't pull him out now. Even if we were able, that would certainly tip our hand. Ryan will have to look after himself. If he gets caught in the crossfire... well, that's a necessary sacrifice."

"Agreed." Dredd began to leave but stopped at the door. "If it's any comfort, Hershey, you're the best Chief Judge this city has had in twenty years."

She sat down in her chair again. "Maybe. But I've been lucky so far. The Big Meg hasn't faced anything to match the likes of Necropolis or Sabbat's zombie army or the Doomsday gambit Nero Narcos launched. Anybody can look good being Chief Judge during times of peace. It's how you respond in a real crisis that separates the best from the rest."

FOUR

It was dawn when Giant began transporting the delegates from their respective safe houses to the Grand Hall of Justice. Originally all five were to have appeared with Hershey in a celebratory parade through the Big Meg's streets; a propaganda exercise to show the rest of the world how seriously these negotiations were being taken. But Dredd cancelled the parade within five minutes of assuming control of security for the treaty talks. "Save the celebrations until after we've got a treaty signed," had been his exact words.

It was also Dredd who ordered Giant to rouse the delegates from their beds earlier than planned. "We believe Bludd is planning to attack the Grand Hall of Justice just as the negotiations begin. However-"

Giant finished the thought off. "However, that doesn't preclude his people trying to eliminate the delegates before they even reach it."

"Right. Get them all to the venue ahead of schedule and keep 'em there. None of our 'honoured guests' leave without my say so. Is that clear?"

So as the sun rose over the Black Atlantic, Giant was trying to get the delegates to rise from their beds. He started with Representative Chang. According to the Judges stationed outside her private quarters, the diminutive delegate from Sino-Cit had remained quietly inside all night. She had brought her own food and drink, sought no help from her guards and turned off the lights not long after dusk. Guess we should be grateful for that, Giant thought to himself, ruefully recalling the previous day's travails with the other delegates.

He knocked on the door to Chang's quarters. Within moments she was standing before him, already fully dressed in her uniform, looking at him with curiosity. "Yes? Is something wrong?"

"We're taking all the delegates in early," Giant replied. "To avoid traffic."

The Sino-Cit woman arched an eyebrow at him. "How... interesting." She looked back into her bedroom. Giant could have sworn it was tidier than before Chang had arrived. The delegate turned back to him. "Good. I am ready." She followed Giant to an H-wagon waiting outside the safe house and climbed in. "Where are the others?" Chang asked.

Giant smiled weakly. "We're collecting them en route but..."

"But?"

"They may not be ready quite so promptly as you."

Chang nodded sombrely. "I am not surprised."

Giant gave orders for the pilot to move on to the next safe house, where Judge Warner had no doubt spent an uncomfortable night recovering from his close encounter with the pleasure mech. The Med-Judges' report said the Brit-Cit delegate should suffer no lasting disability, but he would be walking bow-legged for a few days until the bruising subsided. That should make getting him into the H-wagon fun, Giant thought, rolling his eyes at what was to come.

Ryan woke to find the horrifically scarred face of Di leaning over him. "What the drokk? What do you want? What are you looking at?"

"Just admiring your skin," she replied, reaching out a hand to stroke the juve's left cheek. The once beautiful woman was sat on the side of Ryan's bed, dressed in a one-piece black catsuit of reinforced leathereen. "Mr Bludd is offering us a generous bonus if we succeed in today's mission - for those who make it back alive. I'm thinking of spending mine on skin grafts, if I can find a donor."

"Why don't you just go to a face change clinic?"

"Their machines can't cope with the sort of damage my features suffered." Di grabbed one of Ryan's hands and pressed it against the ruined side of her face. "Feel that? Like someone used a cheese grater and a blowtorch on me at the same time."

Ryan pulled his hand away hurriedly, repelled by the texture of melted skin beneath his fingers. "What did you mean, find a donor?"

Di smiled. At least, the normal half of her face curved into a smile. The scarred side was caught in a permanent grimace, unable to show emotions. "To replace such a large surface area, one that's constantly on display, you need to take skin grafts from another person's face. Of course, there's not many people alive desperate enough to sacrifice their face for mine."

The juve felt his skin crawl as he realised what Di was hinting at. "So you were examining my face, in case I die during the attack, and you might want it for yourself?"

"Hmmm," Di agreed. "Lovely and soft. Of course, I'd need to get all your hair follicles removed - don't want to start sprouting a beard on one side, do I?"

"No, I suppose not," Ryan said. He sat up in bed, clutching the sheets firmly around his waist. The juve had spent most of an hour retching after witnessing the sudden and messy death of Skyhook the previous night. Afterwards, Kara had escorted him to a private bedroom just off the main area of the penthouse. A troubled night's sleep was haunted by nightmares about exploding heads and worse, leaving Ryan feeling more tired than before he had gone to bed. The juve decided to direct some of his anger at Di.

"Did you have a reason for waking me? Or was this a social call for some face touching?"

"Keep your u-fronts on!" Di stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her catsuit.

"You're to put on the clothes supplied and report to the briefing room within ten minutes. Don't be late." She was already walking out by the time Ryan shouted a question after her.

"What clothes?"

As the bedroom door swung shut he saw a black tunic and trousers hung on the back, cut from the same toughened material as Di's catsuit. Ryan wondered how Bludd had known what size he was.

I know what size you are, Kara's voice replied inside the juve's mind. I know everything about you. Now get dressed!

As dawn broke, Dredd was supervising the deployment of Manta-tanks and H-wagons at the perimeter of the exclusion zone. In the distance the Grand Hall of Justice shone in the morning light, sun reflecting off the mighty building. It was a symbol of order and the Law, a potent representation of the power held by the Judges. To attack the Grand Hall was to attack the Law itself, to invite anarchy and chaos into this city. If Bludd should succeed, there was no knowing where the consequences would lead the Big Meg.

By eight in the morning Dredd appeared satisfied with the arrangement of defences. He had bawled out half a dozen Manta-tank drivers for sloppy placement and sent one H-wagon to the West Wall in disgrace after the pilot arrived too late to take his place in the formidable formation. The pilot, a young female Judge called Roker, tried to explain why she had been delayed.

"There was a fire at F Martin Candor Block and Citi-Def asked for our help, so we thought-" she began.

"You thought? You thought?" Dredd snarled, leaning into Roker's face. "I doubt you've either the wit or wisdom to think! Who is responsible for ensuring the safety of these negotiations: the Citi-Def squad of F Martin Candor Block, or me?"

"You are, sir," Roker mumbled.

"And did you ask my permission for this little diversion?"

"No, sir, but we assumed-"

"Assumed? Assumed?!?" Dredd stepped back, shaking his head. When he spoke again his voice had dropped to a growl. "Get out of my sight."

"Excuse me, sir, but where do you want us to-"

Dredd sneered. "Go patrol the West Wall. Perhaps they can find a use for you. But remember this day, Roker. Remember the humiliation. If you ever disobey an order again, I'll have your badge for breakfast and you can join the precious Citi-Def, since you seem so fond of them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Roker snapped into a salute and scurried back to her H-wagon, accompanied by the rest of her crew. Word of what happened quickly spread among all those assigned to security for the extradition treaty talks. For the rest of the morning Dredd's word was treated like a proclamation from grud himself, each unit responded with verve and lightning speed. Nobody wanted to face Dredd's wrath.

"Good morning! I'm Enigma Smith and you're watching Mega-City News, the place to be if you want to see the news, the whole news and nothing but the news! Today's bulletins are brought to you by Sump's Pus Capsules®, the goo that's best for you, and Grot Pot Hotties[tm] - all the flavour of a grot pot encased in a synthetic sausage skin and shoved between two buns!"

Enigma grinned at the cameras with a smile some might consider a deadly weapon. Certainly anyone who persisted in grinning so incessantly on the pedways and skedways of the Big Meg was likely to get themselves killed. The newsreader delivered the latest headlines with her usual breathless enthusiasm. "At noon today our own Chief Judge Hershey will begin talks with delegates from five other Justice Departments as part of her initiative to develop a global extradition treaty. A parade planned for this morning that would have featured the representatives has, however, been cancelled. The Judges denied this was due to any fears of assassination attempts by criminal elements. According to the official explanation, the parade was cancelled due to road works shutting several of the main skedways approaching the Grand Hall of Justice, where the talks are to be held."

"But not all celebrations have been cancelled for today. The Mega-City Museum of the Twentieth Century - more commonly known as the Dustbuster - has announced it will be hosting a massive pyrotechnic display of fireworks tonight, to mark the end of the Evil Empire exhibition. The Dustbuster's curator, Dr Janet Swanson, says the show has been a surprise success for the cash-strapped museum. The firework display will be one of the largest ever seen in the sky above the Big Meg and should be visible across the entire city. When asked who was funding this extravaganza, Dr Swanson said it was thanks to a donation from a private individual who did not wish to be named.

"Last but not least, the staff of Emporio Kneepad are still scratching their heads over what happened to their store last night. The high fashion shoppera on the corner of Cartier and Klugman was apparently attacked by two drunks in a stolen hoverpod. Bystanders claim that Judge Dredd was responsible for removing those responsible from the scene, but the Justice Department says no charges have been issued nor arrests made over the incident. In a minute we'll have sports headlines with Shamus McGinty, including news about a hot new alien shuggy player in town. But first, a word from our sponsors..."

Giant delivered the five delegates to the Grand Hall of Justice by 10:00 am, several hours after collecting Chang from her accommodation. It had taken that long to extract the other representatives from their various slumbers, Judges Bruce and Smirnoff proving particularly difficult to shift. Giant was eventually forced to call for medical assistance, having the man from East-Meg Two injected with enough stimulants to wake the dead. Smirnoff was still twitching and convulsing when the H-wagon approached the edge of the exclusion zone.

The flying vehicle was forced to land and everyone inside was submitted to rigorous security checks before being allowed inside the zone. Giant talked with Dredd nearby while the search was made. "I see Hershey's taking the planned attack by the Bludd Group seriously."

The senior Judge nodded towards the H-wagon. "Those creeps give you any trouble this morning?"

"Just getting them moving. Warner hasn't stopped bitching about his injuries from yesterday, while the other three men have got flaming hangovers."

"What about our inscrutable friend from Sino-Cit?"

"Chang? Sits and watches, observing everything, saying almost nothing. The Chief Judge is going to have a tough time with that one," Giant said. He got a signal from the search party to confirm the H-wagon was good to go. "Wish I could be here with you on the front line when the attack comes. Hershey wants me to keep close to the delegates."

"Better you than me," Dredd commented. "Tact and diplomacy. I'm not sure they were on the syllabus when I went to the Academy."

The strike team was split between two sleek, black hoverpods: Ryan and Kara going in the first vehicle with Fincher as pilot, while Di, Angry Sanderson and Tattoo Sue followed close behind. Bludd had not been present at the final briefing. Ryan guessed the crime boss was trying to keep his distance from the attack, to maintain denial of culpability. Kara instead had outlined their strategy.

"As we suspected, the Judges have created a massive exclusion zone around the Grand Hall of Justice. They are expecting an attack and we are going to give them one, but not in the way they expect. We'll be using hoverpods with stealth technology, that should give us an edge when we approach the perimeter. The first vehicle's job will be to breach the boundary and draw any fire. Once the Judges focus their attack on the first vehicle, the second hoverpod will penetrate the exclusion zone and begin its attack run."

Ryan asked the obvious question. "Knowing the department's love of overkill, how will the first hoverpod survive long enough to provide a diversion?"

Kara smiled. "The Justice Department is not the only agency with a research and development division. The Bludd Group has obtained a revolutionary new force shield that can withstand direct hits by almost all the weapons currently deployed by the Judges. They won't lay a gauntlet on us."

"Terrif," the juve replied. He had examined the hoverpod's exterior in detail before climbing inside but could find no evidence of a defence system. Ryan questioned Kara about it while Fincher was prepping the vehicle. "I still don't see how this tin can will withstand the Judges' fire power. It just looks like a normal hoverpod to me, no special-"

Kara rested a finger against Ryan's lips, stilling his voice. "Leave the thinking to us. Would Jesus let me fly in this if there was any danger?"

"Ready to go," Fincher reported from the hoverpod's cockpit.

"Good." Kara let her hand slide down Ryan's chest towards his crotch. "Blake, could you make sure the others are ready too? I need to go over the flight plan with Fincher before we're airborne."

"No problem," Ryan replied with some difficulty. "Back in a minute."

Hershey was waiting in the central negotiating chamber to welcome the delegates. Giant escorted the five visitors into the circular room where pleasantries and small gifts were exchanged. Once the formalities were over, the Chief Judge signalled for Giant to come forward. "This Judge will be your personal liaison for the remainder of the day. If there's anything you need, anything at all, just ask Giant."

Smirnoff was nursing the side of his head, his face pale and perspiring. "The hair of the dog would be most welcome," he muttered.

Hershey smiled thinly. "We are only too happy to continue offering you the benefits of full diplomatic immunity. However, we must also ask you to respect our Laws, just as we are respecting your privacy. As requested, all the delegates have been assigned their own rooms on this level of the building, each with a secure, direct comms line to your superiors. I personally guarantee these lines cannot be intercepted, traced or accessed by anyone but yourselves. Judge Giant will now show you to these private rooms. The negotiations will begin here in twenty minutes' time, at precisely midday."

Dredd was prowling the exclusion zone like a caged animal, poised for action. Cordoning off twenty blocks in all directions from the Grand Hall of Justice was a massive job, causing chaos on surrounding skedways and overzooms. Creating a no-fly zone in the sky was even harder to police, with dozens of flying Manta-tanks and heavily armoured H-wagons forming an aerial blockade. Dredd kept his helmet radio active at all times, listening to the reports flooding in from units spread around the vast perimeter.

"Dredd to PSU, any word on movement from the Bludd Group's known strongholds?"

"Nothing yet," a voice replied. The Public Surveillance Unit had an almost limitless squadron of spy-in-the-sky cameras stationed around the city, along with access to every security system and surveillance database. There were black spots, holes in the network where perps could hide or disappear temporarily, but anyone moving through the Big Meg never avoided the PSU's gaze for long.

Dredd remembered the last sighting of Ryan had been when he entered Bludd's penthouse. "What about Emil Jannings Block? Anything there?"

"Nothing as yet. Closest we've got are two hoverpods that exited a nearby parking building within the last hour."

"Where are they now?"

"Hold on-" While PSU systems gathered the necessary data, another voice broke into the transmission.

"Manta-tank Delta Two-Seven to Dredd. We've got movement up here."

"Dredd responding. What is it?"

"Something coming directly towards us, ignoring all the warning beacons to divert."

"Any ID yet?" All flying vehicles were required to carry a transponder, so the city's computerised air traffic control system could monitor what was happening in the sky. Accidents were remarkably rare, thanks to an automatic override that prevented hoverpods and other aerial transports from colliding.

"Just coming through now..."

"PSU to Dredd. Those two hoverpods, they've just split up. Both were heading towards the exclusion zone, but one has altered course to go around."

"Dredd to PSU, what about the other hoverpod?"

"Still heading straight for your position. Both have got some sort of shielding device, we can't tell if they are manned or not. Could be set to autopilot or attempting a suicide run."

"Manta-tank Delta Two-Seven to Dredd. Got that ID you wanted. The hoverpod is registered to Red Inc, a division of the Bludd Group."

"Drokk!"

"It's the same vehicle PSU just mentioned. It's headed directly towards the exclusion zone. Should be visible to you any second now..."

Dredd began searching the skyline. Twenty years ago the eyes had been ripped from his head by a vicious enemy. Fortunately, Med-Division was able to implant bionic replacements, restoring the Judge's vision and even enhancing his ocular range. In the distance he could see the approaching hoverpod, unswerving in its course, relentless in its approach.

"Dredd to all units on the exclusion zone, this is it! We've got an incoming black hoverpod with a Bludd Group ident and there's another circling round the perimeter. If either vehicle gets within three blocks of our cordon you have my permission to take them out. Use all necessary force!"

Giant was monitoring the radio chatter from Dredd's position while escorting the delegates to their private chambers. The sparsely furnished spaces had blank walls except for floor-to-ceiling windows that offered spectacular views across the Big Meg. The Judge was ushering Chang into her room when Dredd gave the shoot-to-kill order. Giant strode to the window and looked out to the east, trying to see what was happening in the distance.

"Is something the matter?" the Sino-Cit delegate asked politely.

"No, nothing." Giant moved to the desk and showed Chang how to activate the comms line to her superiors. "We have scrambled your link to stop it being hacked from outside the building. Once you add your own encryption codes, any transmissions to or from this terminal will be secure."

"We are most grateful for your assistance," she said, bowing slightly. "If you will excuse us now."

"Of course." Giant retreated to the door. "Negotiations begin in a few minutes. If you need anything-"

"Representative Chang will be there. Now, we require privacy."

The Judge departed, closing the door after him. Chang activated the comms line and clipped a tiny encryption lock to the side of the unit. After a few moments the screen came alive with a flurry of Chinese symbols. For the first time since arriving in Mega-City One, Chang relaxed. She was about to switch off the unit when a line of English text appeared on screen: WE HAVE TO TALK.

Ryan was getting nervous, sweat soaking his armpits and the small of his back. Fincher was piloting the hoverpod straight at the exclusion zone, whistling a happy tune. Kara appeared just as unconcerned by the formidable line of Manta-tanks and judicial H-wagons waiting for them in the sky ahead. "Isn't now a good time to activate the force shield?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Kara shrugged and looked at the pilot. "What do you think, Fincher?"

He smiled gleefully. "No need. We can make it past those drokkers!"

Ryan was not convinced. He looked out the rear window of the hoverpod. "Hey! Where did the others go?"

Kara reached into the juve's mind. We're the diversion, remember? They'll penetrate the exclusion zone from another angle.

Fincher kept the hoverpod heading directly at the Justice Department blockade.

"This is quite a step up for you, isn't it Sonny Jim? Mr Bludd's showing a lot of trust including you in the strike team for such an important mission."

"I won't let him down," Ryan vowed. "He took me in after I was expelled from the Academy. I owe Jesus Bludd everything."

Even your life?

Even that, Ryan thought. He could feel Kara probing at his psychic defences, each parry followed by a feint and then another thrust deeper into his mind. The juve erected the image of a brick wall in his thoughts, stretching to infinity in all directions. The bald psyker did her best to breach it but soon relented, apparently satisfied.

"Very well," Kara announced. "Fincher, you know what to do next."

The pilot began to accelerate, the hoverpod screaming towards the edge of the exclusion zone. Ryan was slammed back into his seat by the sudden burst of speed, the breath jarred from his body. He gripped the edges of the chair, his knuckles white from the strain.

"Here it comes!" Dredd shouted. "Remember what I said, once that 'pod gets within three blocks, I want it taken out. Stand by..."

In the main negotiating room, Hershey looked around the room impatiently. All the delegates were present except for Chang. The Chief Judge frowned and snapped her fingers, summoning Giant to her side. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, ma'am. I'll just go and-"

"Please begging your pardons," a quiet but firm voice interrupted. "A thousand apologies for my lateness. It shall not happen again." The Sino-Cit representative was hurrying into the circular chamber, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She took her place beside the other delegates.

Satisfied at last, Hershey sent Giant to close the doors and stand guard outside. As he left the room, the noise of twelve chimes was being piped around the Grand Hall of Justice's intercom system, announcing the noon hour. The negotiations had begun...

The hoverpod was only six blocks away from the exclusion zone now. It would be upon the boundary within seconds. Kara held up a finger as a signal for Fincher. "On my command..."

Dredd glanced left and right, checking everyone was ready, bellowing a final order at them all. "Stand by..."

"Now!" Kara shouted. Fincher twisted the steering controls sideways, sending the hoverpod into an abrupt left turn. Ryan was flung out of his chair, and slammed up against a side wall before sliding to the floor.

"Hold your fire!" Dredd commanded. The oncoming hoverpod had suddenly veered off, just before reaching the exclusion zone. Perhaps the occupants had realised a direct attack would be suicidal at best. But how had they known just when to turn away? Dredd felt a shadow leaving his thoughts as though someone had been hiding inside his mind, but it was a passing sensation so he soon forgot about it. "PSU! Report!"

"The hoverpod jagged away at the last moment. It's heading south, skirting round the edge of the exclusion zone. Seems to be following the same path as the other vehicle we've been watching, towards Ed Wood Underpass."

"All units on the exclusion zone, maintain readiness! The attack from the east could have been a diversion. Stand by for further orders!"

"PSU to Dredd, we've lost them. Both hoverpods went into the underpass but neither of them have come out!"

"Stomm." Dredd cursed under his breath before ordering a dozen helmets to investigate Ed Wood. "Find those hoverpods and whoever was inside them. There's more to this than meets the eye."

Ryan jumped out of the hoverpod to find the rest of the strike team waiting for him, concealed in the shadows of the underpass. "What's going on? I thought we were supposed to be-"

"Attacking the Grand Hall of Justice?" Tattoo Sue interjected, noisily cracking her knuckles. "That would be suicidal, don't you think?"

"But Kara said the force shield would protect us," the juve protested.

"You shouldn't believe everything people tell you," Angry Sanderson sneered while cleaning his nails with the point of a stiletto.

Di smiled with the beautiful side of her face. "I'm not surprised the poor boy got expelled from the Academy - far too trusting for his own good. He'd never make it as a Judge on the streets."

Ryan frowned, not understanding what was going on. "But I thought-"

I know what you thought, Kara replied telepathically. I've known every dirty little thing that's crossed your mind since you entered the penthouse; since you picked Jesus's pocket at the Dustbuster. Did you honestly believe those psi barriers could protect your mind from me?

"Please, I don't know what you're-"

No more lies, Blake, no more deceptions. I know what you are, why you are here. You tried to infiltrate the Bludd Group. You tipped off the Judges about our attack. But all of this, it was just a diversion. You and I, we're just pawns in a much larger game, pieces to be sacrificed for a greater goal.

"No, you don't understand," Ryan cried.

Kara smiled at him and shook her head. "Fincher?"

"Right 'ere." The last member of the strike team emerged from the shadows and clamped a powerful hand across the undercover cadet's mouth and nose, blocking Ryan's breathing. While the juve's body thrashed about, Fincher's other hand reached towards Ryan's neck with a laser blade.

"Time to remove this piece from the game," Kara commanded. "Goodbye, Ryan. At least your death will be mercifully brief. Many more will suffer far worse than you soon."

Two hours later the Judges abandoned their search of Ed Wood Underpass. The burnt out wrecks of the hoverpods had been towed away for inspection by the forensic scientists at Tek-Division, but a preliminary sweep offered little hope of finding anything meaningful. Each vehicle was incinerated with a fast burning phosphor grenade, scorching out the interior at incredibly high temperatures, searing away any trace of evidence left behind.

Infrared sensors showed remnants from the body heat of half a dozen humans who had gathered beside the hoverpods.

But the footsteps only led a few metres away before disappearing again, no doubt into another vehicle or vehicles that had been waiting in the underpass. The only other evidence discovered at the scene was a splash of blood in a gutter. Again, laboratory analysis was needed to confirm findings made on the spot, but there had been an unconfirmed DNA match already made. The blood belonged to Blake Ryan, a former cadet expelled from the Academy of Law four months earlier.

Dredd discussed the findings with Giant during a mid-afternoon break in the negotiations. The exclusion zone remained in place but nobody else had attempted to breach its boundary. Dredd relinquished command of the perimeter and rode to the Grand Hall of Justice on his Lawmaster, meeting Giant outside the main entrance.

"So Ryan's dead?"

"Probably," Dredd admitted. "Looks like the two hoverpods met a third vehicle in the underpass. Our man was either killed or wounded there and the body transported away, along with all the other passengers."

"Do you think Bludd might keep Ryan alive as a hostage?"

The senior Judge shook his head. "All our Wally Squad operatives were killed, their bodies dumped within hours. We can expect Ryan's corpse to surface before sundown. He's been undercover for four months - all Justice Department codes and encryption systems have been routinely updated or changed twice since then. Unfortunately for Ryan, he is of little or no use to Bludd, except as a trophy." Dredd glanced at the Grand Hall's upper levels. "How are the negotiations going?"

"Hard to say. Warner is making a lot of noise but is still supporting Hershey. Belgrano is arguing over every point being raised-"

"No surprise there," Dredd said. "Cuidad Barranquilla is the most popular hiding place on the planet for fugitives from the Law. Banana City Judges gather half their annual budget from bribes and back-handers. Hell will freeze over before Belgrano agrees to sign anything freely."

Giant nodded. "Bruce looks like he'd rather be anywhere else and Smirnoff was asleep for half the first session. Hershey could call a vote now and Ivan wouldn't have a clue which way to go."

"What about Chang?"

"Watching and waiting. We know she got a call on her comms line just before the opening ceremony, but the Sino-Cit encryption systems are resisting all efforts to break them. No telling which way Chang will lean."

"Keep your wits about you," Dredd said. "We still don't know-"

He was interrupted by a message from Control. "Dredd, there's a robot courier at the exclusion zone perimeter with a package for you. Tek-Judges have scan-alysed it, nothing mechanical or suspicious showing up. There's a voice-activated lock. Droid says the package will only open for your voice, after you say the words 'Open sesame'."

"Patch me through to the Tek-Judge nearest the package," Dredd replied.

Within seconds another voice could be heard via helmet radio. "Tek-Judge Brison to Dredd, you wanted to speak with me?"

"Take off your helmet and place it next to the package. Once you've retreated to a safe distance, I'll deactivate the locking mechanism remotely with my voice. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. Taking off my helmet now." Dredd could hear Brison placing the helmet down before hurrying away. "Ready when you are!" Brison shouted.

"This is the voice of Judge Dredd. Open sesame!"

After a long silence the lock could be heard springing open. Footsteps approached the package. After a gasp of horror, the helmet was picked up and Brison spoke into its radio mic. "Sir, I think you'd better come over here."

"What is it, Brison? What's inside the package?"

"I think you'd better see this for yourself. It's..." Brison broke off, his words replaced with a retching sound. "Oh grud, that smell! It's like... Sorry, sir, I think I'm going to be-" The Tek-Judge stopped talking, but the noise of someone vomiting repeatedly was all too audible.

Dredd gunned his motorcycle into life and nodded grimly to Giant before accelerating away towards the exclusion zone's perimeter.

Brison was still recovering when Dredd arrived, the fresh-faced Tek wiping the last remnants of vomit from his chin. Med-Judges were already gathered around the package; a black plastic cube. Nearby the delivery droid was being interrogated by street Judges, protesting its ignorance. "Hey, I just carry parcels from place to place. Somebody gives me a delivery and I deliver it!"

Dredd screeched to a halt nearby and dismounted from his Lawmaster, striding briskly towards the package. "Get out of my way!" he barked at the Med-Judges. They hastily stepped aside, clearing a path. Dredd stopped over the container and looked down, his mouth curling downwards.

Inside the cube was a decapitated head, face down. It had been severed above the larynx, the neck neatly sliced through as though it were a joint of cooked meat. The lack of blood indicated the use of a laser blade, cauterising the wound as it cut. Dredd sniffed the air, recognising a familiar odour.

"Roasted flesh," one of the Med-Judges commented. "Probably from the wounds to the forehead. They must have used the tip of the laser to cut into the skin there, leaving that message for you."

Dredd reached into the package and turned the head around to see its face. Lifeless eyes stared up at him accusingly. Two words were visible on the forehead, each letter burnt into the skin: NICE TRY. Dredd slammed the lid of the package shut again, hiding the dead face of Blake Ryan from view.

FIVE

Hershey stared at the image of Ryan's severed head. The Chief Judge had seen death thousands of times, witnessed the moment when life departed a body and left behind just the slowly cooling corpse. She had lost friends and colleagues and she had killed countless perps in the line of duty. None of that made it any easier to face what the Bludd Group had done to the former cadet.

"Alright, I've seen enough," Hershey said wearily. The image on her Tri-D monitor changed as the trophy was taken away, replaced by Dredd's scowling countenance. The treaty negotiations had paused for an early evening meal, giving the Chief Judge an opportunity to return to her office and deal with any urgent matters. The call from Dredd had been first on that list. "This supposed attack on the Grand Hall, it was a ruse to draw the cadet out into the open?"

"I'm not convinced," Dredd replied. "Bludd wants to see the treaty talks fail, like every other crime boss. But forcing Ryan to break his cover by contacting us, that may have been a bonus for Bludd. Or he may have already known the juve was one of our operatives and chose to use him against us."

"Plenty of unanswered questions, Dredd. I need answers."

"The hoverpods almost attacking the exclusion zone, that was a feint. Bludd has something else planned. It may have already happened. He forced us to concentrate our attention on protecting the delegates, leaving other parts of the city vulnerable. We need to identify what Bludd's real target is, or was."

A chiming noise outside her office got Hershey's attention. "The next session is about to begin, I have to go."

"Do you want the exclusion zone maintained?"

The Chief Judge sighed. Another decision, another responsibility she had to bear. "Yes, but scale back the numbers by half. Right now Bludd is five steps ahead of us. We need to catch up fast before he makes his next move. Hershey out." She deactivated the Tri-D screen and sagged back in her chair. Her desk was strewn with unanswered memos and requests, all of which would have to wait. The chimes to call delegates back to the treaty talks resumed outside. The Chief Judge sighed and got to her feet, aware she hadn't eaten all day. That would have to wait as well.

Max Normal hurried in through the back entrance of Dennis Price Block, checking over his shoulder that nobody was following him. The pinstripe freak had been keeping a low profile since his close encounter with the enraged Bonjo. Word on the street claimed the Rexellian wanted to get his hands - all four of them - on the human hustler and administer an almighty beating. Max imagined the alien's diminutive manager Mr Rogan would probably provide a live translation of Bonjo's threats and gloating as the blows rained down. Max had suffered a few thrashings in his life and had no wish to endure another.

The pinstripe freak stepped into the turbolift and requested a floor above the level where his con-apt was located. Two decades as an informant for Dredd had taught Max plenty about how to avoid unnecessary physical pain. Anyone who was important in the Big Meg's criminal underworld knew Max had been a star informant for the Justice Department. Normal had always feared what would happen if word of his association with Dredd leaked out. In fact, it proved to be his salvation. Max acquired an invisible halo of protection. Few would touch a hair on his head for fear of invoking Dredd's wrath.

Better still, Normal became a conduit between the underworld and the Judges. Should perps want to give themselves up, contacting Max was a simple solution. Decide you'd had enough of your law-breaking lover? A subtle tip-off to Normal and the unwanted person got a spell in the iso-cubes. The traffic was two-way as the Judges used Max to feed information to the underworld.

Sometimes, the quickest way to catch a perp was to set other perps against them. If word spread of a dunk poaching on another pickpocket's territory, retribution could be swift and painful. Most crime bosses had a dislike of perps who favoured any form of child abuse. The Judges could send a message via Max about a particularly horrific case. Within a day the culprit would appear at the nearest Sector House, usually the worse for wear.

Normal retired permanently after an assassin from outside the Big Meg used the former informant as bait to lure Dredd into a trap. Max had almost died from his injuries. After recovering he swore off doing favours for perps or the Judges. Every now and then he relented for a one-off message or urgent case, but otherwise kept himself to himself. The seedy world of shuggy halls was Max's only vice now. He hustled a few credits to keep himself in the style to which he had become accustomed. Bespoke pinstripe suits were not cheap and having your bowler reblocked was fiendishly expensive.

The turbolift arrived at floor twenty-eight. Max popped his head out and glanced in either direction, but nobody was waiting for him. Feeling slightly foolish, he stepped out and hurried to the nearby emergency stairs. After walking down a level he emerged cautiously on the twenty-seventh floor. Still no sign of trouble. Normal strode briskly to the door of his con-apt and unlocked it. After a final glance to either side, he slipped into the unlit room and shut the door, quickly locking it behind himself. "Lights!" he called to the voice-activated environmental control system. Nothing happened. "I said hit the lights, daddio!" Still nothing.

"Illuminate," a deep, powerful voice growled from the darkness. Gradually the con-apt's living room began filling with light. For a moment Max wondered if he had wandered into the wrong apartment, but then he realised that he wouldn't have been able to unlock the door. Comprehension slowly dawned on him when he saw three men positioned around the room. To the left was a ginger dwarf, sour-faced and pointing a powerful handgun at Max. On the right stood a pasty-faced male, lightly tossing an activated laser blade back and forth between his hands. But the most imposing figure was sat in an armchair, arms folded across his chest, one hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. When he spoke, Max recognised it as the voice that had activated the lights.

"My apologies for overriding the voice-activation codes for your con-apt, Mr Normal. It was a necessary procedure to prevent any alarm systems being triggered when we gained access to your dwelling. Rest assured, the damage will be undone when we depart."

"Whatever you say, my man," Max replied as jauntily as he could. "You're the big bad, I'm just the man dressed in trad."

"Quite." The heavyset visitor stood and approached Normal, raising a fleshy hand in a gesture of friendship. "Allow me to make the introductions. The scowling individual to your left is Angry Sanderson, while the other gentleman is known only as Fincher. I don't know if you've heard of me. My name is-"

"Jesus Bludd?" Max replied.

The visitor smiled broadly. "Exactly. I've come to ask you a favour."

"What do you mean it's impossible? You have the most sophisticated surveillance analysis systems on the planet and you can't track six people leaving an underpass in a single vehicle?" Dredd was giving the Public Surveillance Unit the rough edge of his tongue, frustration and anger evident in his voice. "PSU gets more than its fair share of funding from the department. I suggest you put it to better use!"

The unfortunate analyst on the receiving end of this tirade pulled out her earpiece and threw it down on the terminal. Judge Rebecca Sharp was about to let loose a torrent of abuse when she recognised the stern-faced figure walking towards her. Tall, black and forbidding, Niles ran the PSU with clinical detachment. His predecessor had turned the division into a personal arsenal against other senior Judges, using the PSU to gather information about potential rivals. But Jura Edgar had gone too far in playing puppet-master from behind the scenes and was pushed sideways to run a detention camp out in the Cursed Earth, out of sight and out of mind.

Niles stopped in front of the terminal and picked up the abandoned earpiece. "Is this Dredd?" he asked Sharp, who nodded. Niles pushed the comms device into his own ear. "Dredd, this is Niles. I understand you're less than happy with PSU's efforts to locate your suspects."

Sharp watched her superior as he listened to a stream of invective. Around the operations room of PSU, other analysts were quietly switching over to the same channel, not wanting to miss out on the confrontation. After half a minute of harsh words Niles interrupted the veteran street Judge.

"I've heard enough, Dredd. My people are doing everything they can to help you solve the murder of Cadet Ryan. I don't need to remind you this isn't the only case being worked on here and shouting at my analysts does nothing for morale or productivity. If you've got a problem with how I run my division, you take it up with me. Don't take it out on my Judges! Do I make myself clear?"

A long silence followed. Sharp realised she was holding her breath and let the air slip out through her nostrils. Dredd mumbled a reply to Niles, who gave Sharp a wink and smiled.

"That's perfectly understandable, Dredd. Everyone in the department wants these killers found and punished. As soon as we have something, PSU will communicate it directly to you. Niles out." He removed the earpiece and returned it to Sharp. "I don't think you'll have any more trouble from Dredd today."

"Th-thank you, sir," Sharp stammered. "Thank you very much."

Niles looked around the operations room. Everyone was watching to see what he would do next. "Nobody said you could take a break! We've got perps to catch so get to it!" The other analysts hurriedly reactivated their terminals and resumed working. Niles nodded at Sharp before returning to his office.

She pushed her earpiece back into position and began scrutinising the readouts on her terminal. "PSU to Dredd, I've got some new information for you. Only nineteen vehicles capable of carrying six people emerged from the underpass during the half hour immediately after the second hoverpod went in. None of those are registered to the Bludd Group or Red Inc, but one was reported stolen this morning. I'm uploading the details to your onboard computer now."

Dredd began following the route taken by the suspect vehicle after it left Ed Wood Underpass. The stolen transport was a mo-pad, hijacked soon after dawn from a family driving across Southside Sector 41. Mega-City One had a permanent housing shortage, thanks to its burgeoning population and tendency to suffer apocalyptic disasters every few years. Such incidents frequently resulted in tens of millions losing their homes as entire city blocks were wiped out by the latest calamity to befall the Big Meg. Taking up residence in a Displaced Persons Camp was never an enticing prospect, so those who could afford to would buy a mo-pad instead. PSU estimates suggested nearly twenty million people currently resided in such vehicles.

Frequently luxurious, mo-pads were required to remain permanently on the road. Any vehicle that stayed in one place for more than a day - barring catastrophic gridlock or act of grud - lost its mobile home classification and became liable to crippling property taxes. So mo-pads were always moving, driving around the thousand million miles of skedways snaking through the city. Mobile refuelling trucks avoided the need to stop while cruise control and auto-pilot facilities meant the owner did not spend their entire life behind the wheel. Nevertheless, living in a mo-pad required a peculiar kind of citizen; one who was able to cope with a life always on the move.

Dredd tracked the mo-pad's movements for more than an hour before locating the vehicle in the Sector 87 dust zone. These abandoned industrial areas were favourite haunts for fugitives and perps, the residual radioactivity and presence of bubbling chem-pits disrupting PSU camera coverage. Dredd eventually found the mo-pad in a dead end. The vehicle had been burnt out with another phosphor grenade, destroying all trace of evidence. Scorch marks on the ground nearby suggested the occupants had switched to another pair of hoverpods. Dredd muttered to himself as he crouched to examine the scorch marks. "Five steps ahead of us... Hershey was right." His thoughts were interrupted by a message from Control.

"Dredd responding, what is it?"

"There's been a raid at the Dustbuster. A display has been stolen from the Cold War section. Judges on the scene are asking for you to attend."

"Tell them I've got greater concerns than some opportunist thief stealing a collection of one hundred and fifty year-old digital watches!"

"The helmet in charge is quite insistent, Dredd. Judge Langenkamp believes it may be related to the case you're investigating."

"Mind telling me how?"

"The robbers left something behind at the scene; a headless corpse. Initial analysis suggests it's the body of-"

"Blake Ryan," Dredd said, already running for his Lawmaster. "Tell Langenkamp I'm on my way!"

Judge Bruce was sick and tired. He had managed just three hours of sleep after his late night drinking binge with Smirnoff from East-Meg Two - by crikey, that bloke could drink - and a long afternoon of meaningful discussions about formulating an extradition treaty was not Bruce's idea of a good time. Mega-City One's Chief Judge might be a looker but her conversation was all business, business, and more bloody business. The Oz delegate wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Thankfully, Hershey had called a halt to the opening day's session and told all the visitors they could return to their quarters.

Bruce was pausing in his private room to collect some papers when he noticed a light blinking on his comms unit. He had spoken with the Chief Judge of Oz during an earlier break and was not due to report back in until the next morning. Who else could have accessed the secure line? Bruce considered summoning Giant from the corridor outside. The young Judge didn't seem to have a daystick up his arse like Dredd and the other yanks, so maybe he'd be able to help. But curiosity got the better of Bruce and he activated the comms unit. A single line of text appeared on screen: INCOMING MESSAGE, AUDIO ONLY - DO YOU ACCEPT?

"Suppose so," Bruce said, shrugging his shoulders. The unit crackled with a burst of static, then a deep voice resonated from the speakers.

"Judge Bruce, I have information that may be of interest to you - and a warning. Once you have returned to your private quarters, I strongly suggest you watch the Mega-City News on Tri-D. You will see something quite remarkable later this evening, something you will wish to communicate to your superiors in Oz. Now, I must give you a warning about events to come..."

Doctor Swanson had never been the most confident of women in matters of the heart. Ask her to give a paper about the historical era in which she specialised, the 1980s, and she was utterly at ease. Her mastery of that decade was second to none, her understanding of its curiosities and quirks unrivalled among scholars around the world. On her favourite topic Swanson could converse with Chief Judges and Tri-D celebrities without nerves or fear. But ask her to articulate the romantic feelings locked within her heart, to speak aloud the private fantasies that sent a shudder of delight through her body... then she reverted to plain Janet, a shy girl hiding behind her glasses and textbooks, terrified someone could get close enough to touch her or to show her any affection. That changed the day the museum curator first met her lover.

The Swanson family had always been academics. Janet's parents were professors at Mega-U, teaching Classics and Social History. Both had been eminent figures in their respective fields. How they had ever found time to conceive a child was a mystery to Janet, such was her parents' devotion to history. Growing up surrounded by dusty books and relics in the family con-apt at Kazuo Ishiguro Block had been a lonely and demeaning experience. No affection was ever shown, no warmth, no kinship. On the rare occasions her family ate a meal together, all discussions were conducted in the arid wasteland of academic terminology and debate.

In such a loveless environment, Janet had instinctively grasped at the one area where she might form a bond with her parents. She devoted herself to studying, becoming the youngest graduate ever from Mega-U and earning her own professorial chair by the age of twenty. But this remarkable achievement went unnoticed and uncelebrated. All her life had been given over to trying to win her parents' love and affection, all in vain. Instead they had accepted her as a fellow academic, a new addition to the ranks of petrified people whose only excitement came from living in the past.

Janet had rebelled and abandoned her professorship to become curator of the Dustbuster when it opened. After that her parents refused to even acknowledge her. She had moved outside the tiny orbit of their lives and thus ceased to exist, except as another physical presence in the family con-apt.

Dr Swanson did not believe in fate, but she sometimes wondered if chance was truly random. The invitation to give a lecture series in Brit-Cit on that nation's legacy from the 1980s had come out of the blue, but it was a welcome opportunity to get away from the dry hopelessness of her life in the Big Meg. The chances of a toxic waste hover-tanker crashing into Kazuo Ishiguro and only killing two people were miniscule. That those two people should be her parents... Maybe fate was real and it had smiled down on her. She had been due back home the previous night but missed her flight. Another coincidence, another piece of happenstance.

After the freakish death of her parents, Dr Swanson had blossomed. She still wore her usual tweed suits and forbidding glasses, but gradually began learning how to enjoy life. Rather than shut herself away at the end of the working day like one of the exhibits, Janet started joining her staff for an occasional meal, even sampling shampagne for the first time. A life that for so long had appeared empty and futile was starting to come alive.

Then she met her lover. It happened at a lecture Janet was giving about the rise and fall of Reaganomics, a political movement of great influence to American domestic politics in the 1980s. Most of the audience was comprised of the usual crowd of fellow academics and students, but among them one face caught Janet's attention. Sat towards the back, this person seemed to delight in what Dr Swanson had to say, hanging on her every word. The rest of the audience began to fade away, as if Janet and this lone person were having a private conversation like old friends, sharing their most intimate secrets.

When the lecture concluded. Dr Swanson found herself blushing. The applause from the audience was rapturous and her colleagues had been most complimentary. "Amazingly passionate!" said her assistant, Miles Wilberforce. "I didn't think anyone could get me excited about this topic but you managed it, Janet. Quite, quite remarkable!"

Dr Swanson could recall little else anyone said afterwards. She had been too busy searching the crowd for that figure from the back row, the person with whom she had experienced such a strong connection. But the person was nowhere to be found, having slipped away into the night. Janet felt a gnawing sense of loss, far stronger than the faint wisps of grief left by her parents' passing. Somehow Dr Swanson knew she would never be complete until she found that person again. What surprised her most about the experience was the gender of her beloved. Without realising it, Janet had fallen in love at first sight with another woman.

Dr Swanson was not a virgin. There had been a messy, fumbled incident with one of her male lecturers while studying at Mega-U and a brief encounter with a crusty Brit-Cit professor when they both attended a symposium in Hondo City. But those were fleeting, meaningless moments where she acquiesced to the desires of others, thinking it would be impolite to say no. Her own sexuality had remained unknown, an untapped well of feelings and needs. She had pushed aside fantasies as girlish and immature idylls. She had her work. That was her life. She would not let herself be ruled by base, animal desires.

Her lover had changed all that. Janet had arrived at the Dustbuster late the following morning, having spent a sleepless night thinking about what had happened. For the first time she let herself imagine what it might be like to share herself with another woman. To kiss those luscious red lips, to feel her hands caressing another woman's body and be touched too. To undress and stand naked, to be unashamed and wanting. Janet was surprised to experience no guilt, no doubt about what she felt. It seemed utterly natural and inevitable, as if a part of herself long missing had been discovered at last.

The woman was waiting for Janet outside her office at the museum. She was wearing a taut, black leathereen dress, her angular face framed by jet black hair cut into a bob. Seeing Janet approaching, the woman smiled and offered a handshake. "Hello, my name is Kay. I enjoyed your lecture last night, but had to hurry away afterwards to a prior commitment. So I decided to come here and tell you how I felt in person. I hope you don't mind."

Dr Swanson realised she was turning crimson again and hung her head in embarrassment. "No, not at all. I'm glad you did."

Kay had looked at Janet with dark, piercing eyes. "Are you blushing? I didn't think people still did that."

Janet said nothing, just shook her head.

Kay slipped off one of the black leathereen gloves she was wearing and gently tipped Janet's head up to the light. "Don't be embarrassed, it's quite charming. You shouldn't hide your face away, especially not one so beautiful."

"You'll make me blush again," Janet replied giddily.

"Nonsense!" Kay moved to stand beside Dr Swanson and slid her hand around the curator's elbow. "Tell you what, why don't you give me a tour of the museum? I've never been round the 1980s and I suspect you will make the perfect guide. That is, if you're not too busy."

Janet had looked into Kay's face and felt herself melting. She knew she would never be able to refuse this woman anything. "It'll be my pleasure. Where would you like to start?"

Kay gave her elbow a squeeze. "Let's just begin with the tour. We can save the real pleasure for later."

They got as far as the Evil Empire display before Janet felt an irresistible urge. She dragged this woman about whom she knew so little into an alcove and began kissing her passionately. But after a few moments Janet realised Kay wasn't kissing her back. The curator broke away, confused and ashamed. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought..."

Kay smiled and pointed up at the security cameras. "Are you sure we should be doing this in front of all those eyes?"

Janet waved away such concerns. "They're just for show. The museum can't afford to maintain them, so only the most valuable exhibits are covered."

Kay arched an eyebrow at this news, licking her lips. "In that case..."

They made love in a dark corner, Dr Swanson experiencing a pleasure she had never previously known. At one stage a tour party wandered past the nearby exhibit, forcing the two women to pause their frantic movements. Janet tried to pull away from Kay but found herself unable to resist the other woman's urgings. "What if somebody sees us?" the curator asked helplessly, suddenly aware of how few of her clothes she was still wearing.

Kay grinned wickedly. "They should be so lucky."

Janet bit her bottom lip, suppressing the urge to cry out in ecstasy.

All that had been five months ago. Since then the two women had spent many nights in each other's arms. They slept at Janet's con-apt, Kay always taking the initiative in arranging the next meeting. Janet felt besotted when they were together, bewitched by the power of her lust for the other woman. Only when they were apart for more than a few days did Dr Swanson begin to question the relationship. Kay refused to let Janet know where she lived, or give her a way of making contact. Kay said it kept the passion alive, helped her maintain an air of mystery. To rational, sensible Dr Swanson that seemed like an excuse, something to hide behind. But when Janet was with Kay, she never entertained such thoughts. She was too busy with other endeavours.

After they had been lovers for a month, Kay revealed a little about herself. She was personal assistant to an influential businessman and philanthropist, Jesus Bludd. He planned to make a very generous donation to the museum, at Kay's urging. In return Bludd asked only for free tickets to visit the Evil Empire exhibition on the day of his choice. Janet had been more than happy to oblige, especially when the donation of half a million credits arrived at the museum.

Bludd's visit had been somewhat perturbing for Dr Swanson. He treated Kay more like his property than his employee, and seemed to sneer at the two women's obvious affection for each other. Janet had just been happy to see a little more of her lover's secret life. But after that day their assignations became less and less frequent, Kay more perfunctory in her lovemaking, as if she were just going through the motions. Janet cried herself to sleep at night, worrying about losing the only person she had ever loved. She began losing weight, rarely ate more than one meal a day and became slack about paying attention to her job. Janet was falling apart, one piece at a time.

Then came the worst day of Dr Swanson's life, the day she discovered the truth about Kay, the day she discovered the truth about herself. After that, nothing would ever be the same again.

Dredd's Lawmaster roared to a halt outside the Dustbuster. He strode inside, taking the turbolift to the forty-second floor. The grim-faced Judge emerged in the 1980s area and abruptly stopped, recognition making his expression even more sullen. He had seen this particular exhibition area before.

"Dredd? Over here!" A female Judge was standing next to a barren display space, her helmet tucked under one arm. Brown, curly hair tumbled down around her freckled features. As Dredd approached, the Judge introduced herself. "Langenkamp. I was first on the scene."

Dredd gestured towards the empty exhibition. "What's missing?"

"The Evil Empire. It depicted the old United States' command and control centre for weapons of mass destruction. Even had an animatronic President getting ready to launch nuclear war. Quite popular, apparently."

Dredd nodded. "I know. Bludd came to see it four months ago, the day Ryan was inserted into the crime boss's organisation." He paused. "Where's the body?"

Langenkamp jerked a thumb at a corner of the exhibition space where forensic specialists were examining something on the floor. Beyond them stood the doors of another turbolift marked DISPLAYS ONLY. "We think the perps took the exhibit out using the museum's goods elevator."

"What did the security cameras capture?"

"Nothing. They weren't switched on in here today," Langenkamp replied, rolling her eyes. "Seems the museum has been skimping on aspects of its budget. Nobody expected a theft from this display. It was deemed low risk."

"But the cameras were working the day Bludd came to visit."

"Only because PSU asked for access to the video feed for this area."

"Terrif," Dredd growled. "This was probably an inside job. There was a curator here when Bludd did his tour, a woman. Where is she now?"

Langenkamp sighed. "Dr Janet Swanson, she's in her office, down that corridor. But take it gently with her, Dredd. She seems to have suffered some sort of emotional breakdown. There's a Psi-Judge with her now, trying to put the pieces back together."

Dredd scowled. "We haven't got time to take it gently. Bludd has been planning this raid for months, keeping us guessing. We need to know exactly what has been taken and why!"

The forensic Judges had finished their on-sight examination of Ryan's headless corpse. They were just lifting the cadaver on to a hover-stretcher when Dredd joined them outside the turbolift doors. He pulled back the sheet covering the remains and glared at the body, the neck severed by a cauterised slice mark. "DNA match?" Dredd asked the nearest Tek-Judge.

"It's Ryan, no doubt about it. But why did they dump the body here?"

"Bludd is sending us a message," Dredd replied. "He wants us to know who was behind this theft and this murder. But I guarantee you won't find a shred of evidence here or on Ryan's body that links Bludd to either crime. He's too smart for that."

The Tek-Judge pulled the sheet back over the corpse. "He's taunting us."

SIX

Psi-Judge Karyn regarded the Dustbuster's curator sadly. It had taken almost an hour of coaxing to prise the tear-stained tale out of Dr Swanson. The poor woman was almost catatonic when Karyn started, her psyche shattered by an attack so vicious it beggared belief. A lifetime of therapy would be needed for Janet to recover from what had been done to her and even then she would never be able to reclaim the life she had once enjoyed. The curator was a numb, broken woman with no fight left in her when Dredd entered the office.

Karyn hurriedly escorted him back outside and shut the door to keep Swanson from hearing her verdict. When Dredd objected, the Psi-Judge hushed him into silence.

"Somebody has done a job on that woman like nothing I've ever seen before; total character annihilation," Karyn explained in a whisper. "The last thing she needs now is you shouting at her."

"When will she be able to talk?" he hissed. Karyn didn't need to be a psychic to sense his boiling anger and frustration.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I've got the gist of what's been happening to her. The fine details will have to wait."

Dredd looked past Karyn through a window into Dr Swanson's office. The curator was crouched over in a chair, her arms locked round her knees, rocking slowly backwards and forwards. "Tell me what you can."

Karyn leaned against a wall in the corridor, pushing her copper red curls out of her face. She outlined Dr Swanson's love affair, how the arrival of the woman known only as Kay turned the curator's life upside down. "From the description it's clear this Kay was Kara, Bludd's right-hand woman. She must be a powerful psyker to ruthlessly and effectively manipulate Swanson's emotions and actions on such a scale."

"We don't know much about her," Dredd admitted. "Kara appeared at Bludd's side last year and is his most trusted confidante. She's also his enforcer, doing Bludd's dirtiest work."

"Well, she's done quite a job on Swanson. From what I can glean it was simply a ruse to gain access to information about the museum and the Evil Empire exhibition in particular." Karyn frowned, still coming to terms with the horror show inside the curator's mind. "Kay, I mean Kara turned up today with several associates, leaving the headless corpse and taking the exhibit. Just before leaving, Kara set off a mind-bomb inside the curator's head, scrambling half her memories and letting Swanson know how she had been manipulated and used from start to finish. That bitch destroyed the curator, just for fun." Karyn paused to let the Tek-Judges removing Ryan's corpse pass. "There's something else, Dredd; a gap in Swanson's mind."

"Explain."

"It's as if someone has ripped a tiny section out of the curator's memory, like tearing a page from a book. I could read everything leading up to and following on from that section, but the missing part is a void, a blank."

"Can you tell what's missing from the context?"

Karyn shrugged helplessly. "I'll have to go back inside Swanson's mind, have another look. I can't promise anything."

"Try," Dredd urged. "I'm going to interview the curator's colleagues, see what they know. Langenkamp has them in the staff room."

Minutes later, Miles Wilberforce was learning the meaning of regret. He had been complaining about being locked inside the cramped staff room with nearly thirty other museum workers. "Why are we being kept here like prisoners? We've done nothing wrong! My shift finished more than an hour ago, I should be at home by now. Instead we're stuck in this shoebox of a room, with no explanations and no apologies. Well I've had enough! I want to speak with somebody in authority and I want to do so now! In fact, I demand it!"

Dr Swanson's assistant had worked himself up into a fit of self-righteous pique, trying to goad his colleagues into action. "Look at you all - sheep! None of you knows what is going on but you all sit there meekly, accepting what the Judges tell you to do, never having the nerve to stand up for yourselves. Well I'm going to show you exactly who's in charge here!"

Wilberforce strode to the door and pulled it open. Standing on the other side was the imposing figure of Dredd, gently tapping his daystick against a gauntlet-clad hand.

"You were saying?"

"I demand to be allowed to leave," Wilberforce replied, trying to keep a tremble out of his voice. "You have no right to keep us in here like cattle!"

Dredd lifted his daystick and used the rounded end to nudge Wilberforce in the chest, sending the assistant back a step into the staff room. "Don't talk to me about rights, punk." The Judge gave Wilberforce another nudge with each successive sentence. "You have no rights as far as I'm concerned. You don't have the right to remain silent. You don't have the right to an attorney. You don't have the right to a trial, fair or otherwise. All you need to know is that I am Judge, jury and - if necessary - executioner."

Dredd gave the assistant a final, hard jab in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. The other staff members were cowering against the walls; meek museum workers trying to keep as far from Dredd's wrath as possible. "I dispense instant justice. Unless you creeps want a taste of that, I suggest you start giving me answers. Now, which one of you punks is Dr Swanson's assistant?"

The other staff all pointed accusingly at Wilberforce.

"I might have known," Dredd snarled. He pointed at the open doorway with his daystick. "Out in the corridor. Now." Once they were both in the hallway, Dredd closed the door behind him before turning his attention to Wilberforce. "Tell me about the Evil Empire exhibition. What's so special about it?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question," Swanson's assistant replied.

"Don't try my patience," Dredd warned. "Why would someone want to steal the exhibit?"

Wilberforce paled. "It's been stolen? But that's impossible. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Well, only Dr Swanson has all the information necessary to remove and reactivate the system. She's still here, isn't she?" Wilberforce looked along the corridor to his boss's office. "She was being interviewed in her room."

"What are you talking about? What system?" Dredd demanded.

"The computer system for the command and control exhibit. Only Dr Swanson knows all the data to reactivate it."

"Reactivate it? How can you reactivate a replica?"

"Oh, grud," Wilberforce murmured. "You don't know..."

Dredd grabbed the assistant by the neck and lifted him bodily off the ground. "Enough with the mumbling, punk. What don't I know?"

Wilberforce choked out his reply between gasps for air. "The command and control system. It's not a replica, it's the real thing."

Dredd released Wilberforce. The assistant curator slumped to the floor, choking and coughing as he explained. "It was decommissioned and removed from the White House in the early twenty-first century and put into storage after being superseded by more advanced systems. But some of the weapons it controlled are still active."

"Who else knows about this?" Dredd demanded.

"Dr Swanson, obviously. The museum's board of directors. Our security advisors at Red Inc. That's about it."

"Red Inc provides security advice?"

"Yes. They got the contract a few months ago when Dr Swanson-"

Dredd opened the door to the staff room and threw Wilberforce back inside. After ordering another Judge to stand guard outside the door, Dredd hurried back to Swanson's office. Karyn was emerging, a worried look on her face. She saw Dredd approaching. "I'm not sure I've got this right, but if it's accurate then we've got a serious problem," she said. Dredd outlined what he had discovered from Wilberforce.

"That corroborates what I could glean from the holes in the curator's memory," Karyn said. "Kara has stolen everything anyone needs to know to make that command and control system active again."

"Sweet Jovus," Dredd said quietly. He activated his helmet radio and called Control. "I need everything you can give me about late twentieth century weapons systems controlled by the United States Government."

"That isn't going to be easy," Control replied. "All the central records were destroyed during the Atomic Wars of 2070. Anything from before that period is considered arcane knowledge these days. You could try the Museum of the Twentieth Century. The Dustbuster's staff probably know more than we do."

"I'm at the Dustbuster!" Dredd snarled back. "Contact the Chief Judge. Tell Hershey I have to speak with her immediately, if not sooner!"

"We'll pass the message on, Dredd, but she's been busy at the treaty negotiations all day. Don't know if-"

"I couldn't give a drokk what you know or don't know, Control. All I do know is that this city is in grave and imminent danger. Now do what I ask or I'll have your badge for breakfast! Dredd out."

Karyn had observed all of this at close quarters and it scared her. She had never seen Dredd so anxious nor so angry. The Psi-Judge was trying to think how she could help when a weak voice spoke behind her.

"You're right to be afraid," Dr Swanson said. She had opened the door to her office and was watching the two Judges. "In the late twentieth century, different nations launched thousands of satellites into orbit, laden with all manner of doomsday weapons. Mutually assured destruction, it was called. They believed nobody would dare risk a global conflict using these weapons of mass destruction, for fear of being destroyed themselves. They all believed that having the power to destroy their enemy made them safe. But how many different ways do you need to wipe humanity off the face of the earth?" Swanson smiled, her face briefly brought alive again by bitter irony. "Of course, we know different now, don't we? Thanks to Bad Bob Booth." The curator sagged sideways, leaning against the doorframe for support. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry," she whispered sadly.

Dredd moved closer to Swanson, acknowledging a look of warning from Karyn. "What sort of weapons did the US Government send into orbit, Dr Swanson?"

She shrugged. "There was a lot of talk about a laser defence system. But many suspected the satellites were used to store atomic, biological and even chemical weapons. Little time bombs from the past, gently orbiting the planet, just waiting for the chance to explode, nearly one hundred and fifty years later." The curator frowned. "I used to know a lot about such things but I can't recall any of the details now for the life of me. I don't know why..." She wandered back into her office, standing over the desk like a puppet whose strings have been cut, just waiting to fall over. Karyn watched Swanson with concern.

"She's coming apart," the Psi-Judge whispered to Dredd. "Whatever Kara did to her, it's getting worse, like a ricochet bullet, bouncing around in Dr Swanson's mind, causing more and more damage. We need to-" Karyn was interrupted by Dredd getting a call from Control.

"Putting the Chief Judge through to you now."

Karyn listened as Dredd explained the gravity of the situation. The Psi-Judge was not able to hear Hershey's side of the conversation, but it did not require much imagination. In the past Bludd had been considered a minor but growing threat to the Law. But in a single, bold stroke the crime boss had apparently acquired a means of destroying entire cities. Karyn was so intent on Dredd, she didn't notice what Dr Swanson was doing.

Janet could feel her thoughts coming apart, her mind splintering into broken shards, all shapes edges, and pain. She tried to picture Kay's beautiful face but couldn't see it anymore, just a grinning mask of hatred where once her lover had been. Worst of all, she knew the love they had shared was a sham, a ruse, and somehow that was the cruellest trick of all.

I don't want to have these memories anymore, Janet thought. She turned away from the desk towards her office windows. Outside, the city was slowly being enshrouded by night, the sun setting beyond the West Wall in the distance. To the east, lights were beginning to appear in a few buildings. It would be dusk soon, the end of another day. I thought I was unhappy this morning, Janet realised. I didn't know what unhappiness was.

She took two steps back, then ran forwards, launching herself at the office windows.

Karyn felt the psi-flash of Dr Swanson's terror a moment before the curator crashed through the glasseen, but it was too late to do anything. The Psi-Judge twisted round to see the broken woman plunging out of the window, blood trailing from the wounds sliced by the shattered fragments of glasseen. Karyn braced herself for the moment of death as Dr Swanson fell forty-two storeys to the ground below, screaming with terror all the way down.

Then it was over with just a horrible, numb emptiness left behind.

No matter how many times Karyn had experienced the death of a mind, it never got any easier, any less painful. She felt drawn into the death, a tiny piece of herself dying too. The Psi-Judge did not fear her own death. It was an ending, nothing more. When you worked the streets of Mega-City One, death could come at any moment. But the horror of feeling another person die, that lingered in the mind like a cancer, eating away at you.

Karyn turned away from the window to see Dredd watching her, still talking with the Chief Judge on his helmet radio. "Sorry to interrupt you, but Dr Swanson has just committed suicide." He paused for Hershey's response. "We'll keep interviewing the other staff, but it seems the curator was the key to the theft. I doubt the others will be able to add much." Another pause. "Yes, ma'am. We'll just have to see what move Bludd makes next. Dredd out."

Karyn apologised for failing to stop Dr Swanson. "She was out the window before I realised what was in her mind. Kara left such a mess, I couldn't anticipate what the curator was going to do."

Dredd waved away the apology. "I doubt there was much more we could have gotten from her anyway." He slammed a fist against the nearest wall, leaving a dent in the surface. "Drokk it! This creep has been playing us for fools all day. He let Ryan tell us about the supposed attack on the treaty talks, knowing it would expose the security shortcomings here. If Swanson was right, Bludd now has the power to hold Mega-City One to ransom and there's nothing we can do about it!"

Karyn volunteered to interrogate the rest of the museum staff. "With my empath abilities and a handheld lie-detector, I'll soon find out if any of them was involved with all of this," she said. Dredd was about to respond when he got another call on his helmet radio. As Karyn walked away, she heard his response to the incoming message.

"Max Normal? Alright, patch him through."

"Hey, Joe! Where you going with that Lawgiver in your hand?" Max smiled at the ginger dwarf. Angry Sanderson was threatening him with a handgun. The two men were standing by a vidphone booth on a deserted skedway.

"I'm busy, Normal. State your business."

"Always to the point, Dredd. That's what I like about you Law dudes. Just the facts, Max, just the facts."

"I thought you retired. Why are you calling?"

The pinstripe freak leaned closer to the vidphone, its screen empty but for the words AUDIO ONLY SELECTED. "Well, a mutual acquaintance of ours wanted me to pass on a message."

"Who?" Dredd asked. Before Normal could reply, the Judge added another question. "Max, are you being threatened?"

"You could say that, daddio, but I couldn't possibly comment."

"That's a yes. What's the message?"

"You're to be at the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner, corner of Campion and Cribb in Southside Sector 41, within thirty minutes. Come alone: no homing devices, no weapons, no surveillance equipment and no tricks. Our mutual acquaintance says you'll be thoroughly scanned on arrival, so don't bother trying to hide anything."

"Max, can you tell me the name of this acquaintance?"

Normal turned away from the dwarf before whispering his reply. "Let's just say I've never believed in any messiahs besides myself, you dig?"

"Jesus Bludd?"

"I knew you'd be hip to my jive, Joe!" Normal glanced back over his shoulder nervously. Sanderson had disappeared. Max swivelled round but could not see the dwarf anywhere. "Dredd, he's gone!"

"Who? Max, are you there?"

Normal relaxed again, mopping his brow with a white linen handkerchief. "I'm here, daddio. The runt that had a gun on me has gone."

"Was there any more to the message?"

"No, that was all Bludd said. Listen Joe, I know I put plenty of patois in my patter but these cats are serious - deadly serious. You catch my groove?"

"Loud and clear. Dredd out."

Cosmo Zimmer's feet were cold, as usual. They had been cold since he started work as a security guard at the Mega-City One Spaceport three months earlier. In the past, such jobs had been entrusted only to robots but the Second Robot War launched by Nero Narcos back in 2121 resulted in sweeping changes to the city's security systems. High risk areas such as the spaceport were now required to employ one human for every five droids.

In theory, finding people to take the job should have been simple. The Big Meg's unemployment problem was endemic with fewer than one in eight citizens having paid work of any description. The rise of mechanisation had driven most of the population on to welfare support. While most coveted the prestige of having a job and the extra income it brought, that didn't mean people were rushing to do demeaning work.

Being a live mannequin at one of the sprawling shopperas, that was high visibility, Cosmo thought. Prowling around empty hangars in the cold, well, there was nothing glamorous about that. He lived in a world of private fantasy, always imagining some extravagant scenario that would change his life forever. Anything was better than dreary reality. The spaceport jutted out into the Black Atlantic, built on land reclaimed from the toxic ocean. Once the sun started setting in the west, cold air began sweeping in off the water. Cosmo felt like each breeze was cutting him to the bone, slicing through his flimsy uniform.

The worst aspect of the mandatory orange and black uniform was the boots. Thin-soled and flimsy, they leeched the warmth from Cosmo's feet, chilling the toes and numbing the bones. He had tried putting on extra socks or fitting electric foot warmer insoles in his boots, but nothing seemed to hold back the creeping cold. Everytime he stamped his feet to get some warmth into them, the insoles shorted out in protest. Cosmo had promised his wife Helga he would stay in the job for three months. The ninety days were up tonight. At the end of this shift he was quitting. Nothing was worth this; certainly not the pitiful handful of credits the spaceport authority deigned to pay its human staff.

Having reached the furthest extent of his nightly route, Cosmo began the long circle back to the main terminal. He paused to blow hot breath between his frozen fingers, rubbing the palms together briskly, when the sound of metal striking metal caught his attention. It was coming from one of the hangars he had just passed. Cosmo circled back and saw a glimmer of light beneath the main doors. Strange, this hanger had been out of use for weeks. What was someone doing inside it now?

The night watchman decided against calling in his discovery just yet. It was probably just an engineer, pulling some extra overtime. Of course, it could be perps, trying to rob the spaceport. What if I could catch them in the act, Cosmo wondered. Would there be a reward? Perhaps a promotion too? If I showed up those drokking security droids, it'd make me look even better. His mind filled with notions of glory, Cosmo crept round to a side entrance and peered through a crack in the door.

Inside, two women were shoving a heavy metal crate into the cargo hold of a private shuttle. The crate had become wedged, defying the pair's efforts to shift it. The larger woman cursed loudly, her face livid with rage. Cosmo was startled by the array of tattoos illustrating her body; he had never seen so much ink on one person. The other woman was smaller and slighter. She was standing side-on to Cosmo, but what he could see of her face was strikingly beautiful. They didn't seem like perps to him, just two women in need of a man's help. Perhaps if he stepped in and offered his assistance, they would reward him. Two handsome women, one strong man... Cosmo's face twitched into a smile as he imagined the possibilities. Adjusting his uniform, he strode into the hangar and boldly presented himself.

"Ladies, you look like you could use my help!" Cosmo announced. He was dismayed to see the more beautiful woman was hideously scarred on one side of her face. He was more dismayed to see she was pointing a small handgun at him. "Hey, what's going on here? I didn't-"

Di shot the security guard five times before returning to the crate. "Come on, Sue, we haven't got all night. The security droids will eventually notice that simp is missing and come looking for him."

Cosmo moved a weak hand round his comms unit but the fingers kept slipping off, unable to grasp it. Tilting his head to one side, he could see the reason why; his hand was covered in blood. A large pool of it was forming underneath him too. That can't be good, Cosmo thought. Still, I'm sure there's some new surgical procedure that can save my life. You never know, I might become a famous case, mentioned in medical journals...

Dredd stopped his motorcycle a block short of the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner. The eatery was visible in the distance, an outpost of light and warmth on the corner of Campion and Cribb. Southside Sector 41 had long been one of the Big Meg's most dangerous areas, home to vicious turf wars between street gangs. Few citizens walked the pedways after dark. It was a wonder the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner still had any windows, let alone any customers.

It had taken Dredd twenty minutes to drive across the city from the Dustbuster. He had talked with Hershey en route, discussing tactics for the meet. The Chief Judge was unhappy about one of her Judges walking into the diner unarmed and without back-up, but Dredd dismissed such concerns.

"If Bludd wanted me dead, he could easily have me killed at any time," the Judge had reasoned. "He wants to talk, so I'll hear him out. And Hershey, don't send anybody along to keep watch from a distance. Bludd will be expecting that. Don't get another Judge killed trying to protect me."

Dredd switched off his Lawmaster's engine and dismounted. He began methodically removing all his weapons: the Lawgiver handgun, the bootknife, the utility belt and its pouches laden with equipment. The Judge opened the panniers mounted over his motorcycle's rear wheel and locked the weapons inside. After glancing around to check he wasn't being followed, Dredd began striding towards the diner. He recognised the city block standing diagonally opposite the eatery. Joe Chill Block had been the scene of more murders than any other residential building in the Big Meg, its hallways and stairwells a notorious killing ground. Few residents survived more than a year inside those walls, either dying in pain and terror or opting for a Displaced Persons Camp as the safer, happier lifestyle option.

As Dredd got closer to the diner, two men of contrasting heights emerged from the shadows. The taller of the pair, pasty-faced with mirrored eyeballs, began scanning the Judge's body with an electronic sensor wand while his dwarf colleague watched, a handgun trained on the scene. "You're Fincher," Dredd announced to the man searching him. "Wanted in three other cities for multiple murders and mutilations."

"Shame you ain't got an extradition agreement with those cities, isn't it?" Fincher replied with a smirk. The wand crackled with alarm as it passed over Dredd's name badge. Fincher examined the heavy metallic badge but could find nothing untoward about it. Satisfied Dredd was unarmed, the perp snapped the microphone off from the Judge's helmet radio. "Don't want anybody ear-wigging your conversation now, do we?"

Dredd ignored Fincher, glaring at the ginger dwarf guarding them. "And you must be Angry Sanderson. According to our files, your real name is Audley. I can see why you'd change it. Other punks don't take you seriously now. Imagine what they'd say if they knew your name was Audley?"

Sanderson's face curled with disdain. He pointed into the diner. "You're wanted inside. Get your ass in there."

"Whatever you say... Audley." Dredd began walking towards the eatery. He smirked at the dwarf and was rewarded by the sight of Fincher having to restrain the furious Sanderson from attacking the lawman.

The Nothing Could Be Finer Diner was a throwback to a bygone era, a perfect replica of the roadside cafes that spread across North America nearly two hundred years earlier. Outside it was all gleaming chrome and glass, a long, rectangular masterpiece of art deco lines and curves. Inside was even more stunning, with a serving counter dividing the interior in two halves. The area beyond the counter was the kitchen, all stainless steel and polished precision.

The other half was for customers. A row of fixed stools with circular seats ran down the length of the counter. The rest of the black and white checked floor was given over to booths, each made up of two bench seats facing each other across a table. Every seat was upholstered in red with real leather, none displaying the usual graffiti or razor slashes.

As Dredd closed the diner door behind him, a small bell above it rang. A beautiful but stern-faced woman appeared from the kitchen clad in a pristine pale green uniform, a white cotton apron fastened around her waist. A towering beehive of strawberry-blonde hair was perched atop her head, while a bored expression was fixed on her face. She chewed gum and regarded the newcomer with undisguised disinterest. "Can I help you?"

Dredd approached the counter. "I'm here for a meeting."

"Really?" the waitress replied, sarcasm dripping from her nasal voice. "Well, take a seat and have a look at the menu. Once your partner in crime turns up, I'll come over and tell you both about today's specials. Alright?"

The Judge tilted his head to one side, staring at the waitress's profile. "Have we met somewhere before, Miss...?"

The waitress tapped one of her long, scarlet fingernails against a plastic name badge attached to her uniform just above the left breast. "The name's Karrie-Ann, buster. Now go sit down and look at the menu, okay?"

Dredd nodded and wandered over to a window booth a few tables away. He slid into the seat facing away from the door and picked up the menu. The choice was surprising but limited: BREAKFAST, LUNCH and SUPPER, all priced at twenty-seven credits. Grud knows what the specials were going to be.

The diner's door opened and swiftly closed again, tinkling the bell above it. Dredd could see the new arrival reflected in the glass at the far end of the eatery. It was a man, heavyset and immaculately dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. The figure looked about the diner before speaking to Karrie-Ann. "I'm here for a meeting." The waitress made a bored gesture in Dredd's direction. The newcomer approached the Judge's booth, moving with ease despite his bulk. He stopped and pointed at the seat opposite Dredd. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Dredd replied dryly.

The newcomer slipped into the booth and positioned himself opposite the Judge. Before he could say anything else, the waitress was sauntering over from the counter, already intoning a list of specials in a tired monotone. "Good evening, gentlemen. Tonight's specials are anarchy, chaos, cunning and guile. The Nothing Could Be Finer is also happy to offer its signature dish, revenge. We normally serve this cold, but it can be heated through if you prefer."

"Very droll," the newcomer replied. "We'll just have synthi-caf."

"Two synthi-cafs, coming right up." Karrie-Ann strolled away, her high heels clicking on the floor as she returned to the counter.

"I hope that's alright with you," the new arrival said to Dredd. "You look like you could use a pick-me-up. Been a long day, has it?"

The Judge did not reply.

"I'm terribly sorry, I realise I haven't introduced myself." The newcomer stretched out a hand for Dredd to shake. "My name is Bludd - Jesus Bludd."

SEVEN

"I know who you are, creep," Dredd replied, folding his arms. Bludd withdrew his offer of a handshake, instead resting both arms on the table.

"You know something? You're just as I expected," Bludd said. "Just as I remembered. I saw you once, more than twenty years ago, after Cal almost brought this city to its knees. You were dispensing justice to the Cosmic Punks gang, not far from this diner. A most impressive display."

"They challenged the rule of the Law."

"And you crushed them for that, single-handedly. Quite remarkable."

"I was doing my job."

"Maybe," Bludd said. "But there was something else going on that day. It wasn't only a Judge bringing some street scum to justice. You were imposing your will on them, sending a message to everyone else in Southside 41 and the rest of the city. You were showing them the Law was back in town, the Judges were in control once more, deploying the firm spank of authority to remind everyone who was boss. You were giving a masterclass in the application of power. I remember that day well."

"What about what happened to your mother? Do you remember that too?"

Bludd smiled. "I wondered how long it would be before you'd bring that up. No doubt the department's profilers and Psi-Division empaths pinpoint my mother's rape and murder as the key incident that turned me to a life of crime, yes?"

"I don't put much stock in psychological profiles," Dredd replied. "All I need to know is who's breaking the Law, then I break them."

"Then why mention my mother?"

"Call it a test."

"Really? So you don't just use physical force to break perps, Dredd. You're just as happy to break them mentally."

"I'll use whatever weapons I can."

"An admirable approach. One I utilise myself."

Karrie-Ann returned to the booth, carrying two cups of synthi-caf. She placed them between the two men before straightening up again, the short skirt of her uniform touching the tops of her white mesh stockings. Bludd reached out a hand and slid it under the skirt, all the while smiling at Dredd.

"Do you like my assistant Kara? She does love these little role-playing exercises, taking on a fresh persona to suit my needs."

"She destroyed the curator at the Dustbuster."

"Really? How is Dr Swanson these days? I haven't seen her in three or four months," Bludd ventured blithely.

"Dead. She committed suicide earlier today," Dredd snarled.

"How unfortunate. Still, as you say, we should always use whatever weapons we can. You can go back to being a waitress now, my dear." Kara strode back to the counter, all the while loudly cracking her gum. "Such a sweet girl. Do you know how I acquired her services?"

Dredd shook his head.

"Payment for a gambling debt, if you can believe that, along with this eatery. Do you like it? I was contemplating starting a chain of Nothing Could Be Finer Diners across the city. I have a fondness for the twentieth century: its style, its culture, its contribution to the arts. I collect the masterpieces of that era: paintings by Warhol, films by Eastwood, novels by Wyndham. They inspire me and I wish to share this inspiration with others."

"Is that why you had the Evil Empire exhibit stolen from the Dustbuster today? To share your inspiration with others?" Dredd sneered.

Bludd ignored the jibe. "This eatery is a perfect replica of a twentieth century American roadside cafe. Of course, when I chose to move the diner to this location, I made sure everyone in Southside Sector 41 knew it was under my protection."

"That explains the lack of vandalism," Dredd said.

"My reputation does have its advantages," Bludd conceded. "A business acquaintance of mine got in over his head and felt impelled to surrender this place and his beloved Kara to me as compensation. It was only when she entered my employ I discovered Kara's many other talents. She is one of the most powerful psykers I have ever encountered, utterly ruthless and completely amoral. Better yet, she is quite devoted to me, doing anything I ask with anyone or to anyone. You could taste her talents, if you like?"

"No thanks. You should be careful of her too." Dredd leaned forward in his seat. "You never know when she might turn. Someone that fond of role-playing... How do you even know Kara is her real persona?"

"Sow all the seeds of doubt you want, they will not grow within me."

"Just don't say I didn't warn you." The Judge leaned back on the bench again. "You called this meeting, Bludd. What do you want to talk about?"

"To be honest, there are some questions I've always wanted to ask you. For instance, how can you devote your entire life to fighting a losing battle?"

"I don't."

"You must know you can never eradicate crime, not in a city of four hundred million people - every one of them a potential perp. Yet you persist in trying."

"I believe in the Law," Dredd replied. "I believe in justice."

"The two are not always the same thing, but that's another debate," the crime boss said. "One day you must lose this unequal battle, Dredd. Some perp will get the drop on you and you'll die, face down in a pool of your own blood. No glory, no fanfare. Just another dead Judge, one of thousands killed every year, all losing their personal battles to win the war against crime."

"It's not about winning the war. It's about winning the battles."

"But it's a hopeless fight."

"What's the alternative, Bludd? Anarchy? The people need the Law, they need order. Without it, Mega-City One would be torn apart within weeks, even days. Millions would die and for what? The want of the Law."

"I can't decide if your life is heroic or an exercise in self- delusion."

"Delusion is what you must be suffering from if you believe you can elude the Law forever, creep."

"No need to get unpleasant. Now that I think about it, you are the ultimate existentialist. Did you ever study Kierkegaard?"

"He wasn't required reading at the Academy."

"What a pity. He neatly summed up your approach to life, Dredd. Søren Kierkegaard was a nineteenth century Danish philosopher who believed all human existence was absurd. He suggested the only way for an individual to combat this absurdity was devoting themselves to a life of their own choosing. Doesn't that sum up the singular devotion to duty required of all Judges?"

"You tell me."

"Or there's the German philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte. He proposed that since we can never hope to understand why we are alive, the individual should choose a goal and pursue it wholeheartedly, despite the certainty of death and the meaninglessness of action. A neat précis of your existence, don't you think? You know you can never win the war against crime, yet you continue fighting it until you die, because that is the life you have chosen. You chose the nature of your existence, Dredd, just like I chose the nature of mine. It's what we do. We are both existentialists. We are more alike than you can bring yourself to admit."

"You're wrong, Bludd. You were offered the chance of becoming a Judge, of bringing justice to those who raped and murdered your mother, but you refused that chance. Instead you chose to become a criminal like your mother's killer, making money from the suffering of others. Why?"

"I am nothing like the man who attacked my mother. Anyway, he did find justice, just not at the hands of the Law. Your kind let him escape on a technicality. It took someone else to make him pay for what he did."

"You call being shoved into a public grinder justice?"

"He got what he deserved. Nothing more."

"And you gave him that justice."

Bludd smiled. "You don't honestly expect me to admit to that, do you?"

"You still haven't answered my question: why turn to crime? Why become like the perp who hurt and killed your mother?"

"You say I did, but you haven't proven it. If I am the underworld boss the Justice Department believes me to be, why have I never spent an hour in an iso-cube? Why am I still at large, free to allegedly commit and commission more crimes? Aren't I another example of you losing the battle as well as the war?"

"Our testing showed you possessed a high IQ, great guile and cunning. Most perps act from stupidity or passion. You think first. That gives you an advantage from the beginning. You let others do your dirty work so they do the time when we catch them. You haven't been caught, yet. But that doesn't absolve you of your crimes. Why? Why choose this life?"

"I was inspired by you, Dredd." Bludd leaned back in his seat, locking his hands together behind his head. "I saw what you could do the day you beat the Cosmic Punks. You were the best Judge then and you're probably still the best there is. I decided to become the best there was at what I do. Now, after twenty years of training myself, I am ready for my greatest coup." The crime boss took a sip of his synthi-caf, thoughtfully watching Dredd. "Your friends at the Justice Department like to foster the illusion they control this city, but you and I both know that simply isn't true."

"Do we?"

"The Big Meg is never more than one step away from anarchy. You and the other Judges keep fighting to maintain order, but what happens when you lose the war? Who will be in control then?"

Dredd folded his arms. "You want to rule the city, is that it?"

Bludd laughed hollowly. "Of course not. Nero Narcos proved the stupidity of such an endeavour. He spent years developing his scheme to usurp the Judges. One of your kind stumbled across his masterplan and Narcos felt obliged to put it into action. He smashed the Justice Department's control of this city in just a few hours only to discover running the Big Meg was a curse, not a blessing. Who would want to be in charge? Even the Judges don't want the job, if they are honest. You only assumed power by public demand after the Atomic Wars. No, I won't be repeating the folly of Nero."

"Then what?" Dredd asked.

"Consider the next few hours a demonstration of where real power resides. You can talk about justice and the Law all you wish, Dredd. But when chaos hits the Big Meg, you will see the truth." Bludd rubbed a finger against his lips before speaking again. "Have you ever heard of the old expression that in the kingdom of the blind..."

"The one-eyed man is king," Dredd replied. "What about it?"

"I've been researching the history of that adage. Apparently it's a mistake; a corrupted quotation, if you will. The adage originally sprang from the pen of Erasmus, a fifteenth century humanist and satirist, a man of letters, if you will. He wrote that in the valley of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I find it interesting how popular usage alters words to suit itself, don't you?"

"Get to the point, Bludd."

"I just wanted to plant that seed in your mind for later. You never know when such arcane knowledge might come in handy. Your singular vision, your quest for justice may be all that saves this city in the coming crisis." The crime boss swirled the last of his synthi-caf around inside the cup and then swallowed the liquid. "Well, I must say I've enjoyed this little chat of ours. It's always a pleasure to meet somebody else who excels in their field of endeavour."

"You really are bloated with your self-importance, aren't you?" Dredd spat back, disgust evident in the set of his jaw.

"On the contrary. I am perfectly aware that as of this moment, whether I live or die is of little consequence to a vast number of people. That may change, it may not. I am not the one who suffers the delusion of believing they can control this city, that they can hold back the inevitable. I just wish I could be here to see that smug authority wiped from your face, Dredd, and from the face of every other Judge on the planet. Alas, this is where our paths diverge again. We will not meet again. Goodbye." Bludd stood, signalling for Kara to join him.

"Going somewhere?" Dredd asked.

"Regrettably, yes. Much as I would like to stay and continue our little philosophical debate, business calls me elsewhere. Remember what I have said, Dredd. It may be of help to you in the coming hours."

"Whatever you've got planned, Bludd, I'll find a way of stopping it. You won our first battle today, but I'll win the war. Count on it, creep!"

"Ahh, bravado. The last resort of a beaten man," Bludd replied. Kara emerged from behind the counter, still wearing the guise of a waitress. She opened the eatery's front door for Bludd. The crime boss stopped to offer one last comment to Dredd. "By the way, I ask you to remain here for a few more minutes after we have departed."

"Why?"

"Let's just say you will hear something of value and see something of interest. Besides, if I am the notorious crime boss you claim, I need time to make my getaway. How is it Judges say goodbye to each other? Oh yes, that's it. See you on the streets, Joe." Bludd sauntered out of the diner, chuckling quietly. Kara made an obscene finger gesture at the lawman before following her master. The door swung shut behind her, leaving just Dredd in the diner. He waited a full minute before pressing the letter "E" on his name badge.

"Dredd to Hershey, did you hear all of that?"

"Loud and clear," the Chief Judge replied via Dredd's helmet radio. "Tek and Psi-Divisions are analysing everything Bludd uttered for clues about what he has planned. What did you make of it?"

"If he was like most perps, I'd say he was in love with the sound of his own voice. But Bludd isn't like most perps."

"Agreed. One thing was clear, whatever he's got planned, it's happening tonight. Bludd repeatedly talked about the next few hours, the coming crisis. The reference to a 'kingdom of the blind' must be significant too."

"Creep was taunting us," Dredd said. "He's-"

Suddenly a high-pitched electronic squeal cut through the radio transmission. Dredd cried out in pain, his eardrums assaulted by the sound just on the edge of hearing. After a few moments it stopped as abruptly as it had started, replaced by a woman's soothing voice.

"Tut, tut! You were told not to bring any communications devices to your meeting, Judge. For that infringement there shall be a forfeit. However, first things first. Look under your cup of synthi-caf."

Dredd recognised the voice as belonging to Kara. She must still be watching him. He glanced round the diner and spotted a small camera set into a corner of the ceiling. "That's right, I've got my eye on you. Now look under your cup of synthi-caf, lawman."

Dredd raised the still full cup from its saucer and peered beneath it. A small, translucent plastic disc adhered to the bottom of the cup. "Remove the device and place it against the outside of your helmet, close to the area covering one of your ears," Kara commanded. Dredd followed her instructions. Once the disc was fastened to his helmet, he could hear only Kara's voice. "The disc jams all incoming signals to your radio except mine and prevents you from calling anyone else for help. It has a few more interesting properties, but we'll get to those in due course. Our conversation cannot be traced, nor can the signal between us easily be hacked by Tek-Division. From now on you speak only to me and hear only my voice. Is that clear?"

"What do you want?" Dredd asked.

"We're going to have some fun, you and I. We're going to play a little game. Normally you are the hunter and the perp is the hunted. Tonight we're going to do some role reversal. For a change you will be the hunted, while four perps try to hunt you down. You met two of them earlier - Sanderson and Fincher. The identity of the others I will keep a secret, for now. It should make for an interesting evening."

"Why should I do what you say?"

"Remember that forfeit I mentioned? Take a look out through the diner windows. Diagonally opposite you will see a building called Joe Chill Block. How many people live in that skyscraper?"

"About thirty thousand."

"Now, imagine what would happen if that city block was suddenly destroyed by a laser beam projected from a twentieth century satellite in geostationary orbit above the Big Meg."

"Oh grud," Dredd whispered. He was already running towards the door of the diner, trying to remove the jamming device from the side of his helmet. "Dredd to Control, can you hear me? Dredd to Control, respond!"

"It's no use, Joe," Kara replied. "I told you, the disc will jam any attempt you make to call for help. Besides, the energy pulse is already coming."

The Public Surveillance Unit's headquarters were located inside the Statue of Judgement, a massive monument constructed in the shape of a Judge that dwarfed the nearby Statue of Liberty. Inside the PSU's central monitoring chamber were dozens of terminals where analysts pored over data from thousands of sources. As well as keeping tabs on a city of four hundred million people, the PSU staff were also tasked with watching out for any external threats to the Big Meg. Judge Kerri Levene had just come on station with the night shift when a red warning light began flashing beside her terminal.

"PSU to Control, Levene here. Have we been notified about anything unusual happening in the sky overhead tonight?"

"Just a fireworks display. Why?"

The PSU analyst was juxtaposing data from multiple sources. "I'm reading a massive build-up of energy several miles above the city. I think it's centred on an old satellite in orbit."

"Those things are always falling out of the sky, Levene. They burn up on re-entry, ninety-nine times out of a hundred."

"I know, but this one isn't falling out of orbit. It's perfectly stable. The-"

Suddenly all screens in PSU were overloaded simultaneously. Around the room analysts were tearing off their headsets to escape an ear-piercing squeal of static. The lighting system dimmed and then cut out completely before being replaced by emergency illumination. A babble of sound filled the air as everyone shouted to be heard, trying to discover what had happened.

A deep, booming voice cut through the noise, silencing the cacophony. "Quiet! There will be quiet!" Niles emerged from his office, scowling with fury. "I want to hear one voice and one voice only." He glared round the room, searching for answers. "Can anyone tell me what just happened?"

Wincing inwardly, Levene cleared her throat. "Excuse me, sir..."

"Yes?"

"Before the overload I was monitoring a massive build-up of energy on board an old satellite over the city. I could be wrong, but..." The analyst's words trailed off, not wanting to give voice to her suspicions.

"What is it, Levene? Spit it out!"

"I think someone fired an energy pulse weapon at us from orbit. If the beam was powerful enough to disable all our systems as a side effect, then it could destroy a city block in seconds."

"Sweet Jovus," Niles muttered. "Can you recall the precise location above which the satellite was orbiting?"

Levene closed her eyes and recited the longitude and latitude. Niles turned to the analyst standing closest to him, Judge Sharp. "Where is that?"

"Southside Sector 41," she replied instantly. "Joe Chill Block."

Dredd had only reached the doorway of the diner when the energy pulse hit Joe Chill. A beam of red light shot down from overhead and penetrated the roof of the city block. As it punched through floor after floor of the building, each storey exploded outwards in a shower of glasseen and rockcrete. In less than a second the pulse had reached the bottom floor, burrowing deep into the ground beneath Joe Chill before abruptly stopping.

Dredd was thrown backwards through the diner by the first shock wave, sliding along the counter and thudding into the wall beyond. Before he had collapsed to the floor, the eatery was hit by a second wave, this one made of flames and debris from the exploding city block. The Nothing Could Be Finer Diner was crushed by a blizzard of rockrete, the roof crumpled inwards like a paper bag. Billowing clouds of smoke and dust ensued, turning the air into an acrid smog within moments. As Dredd slid to the floor of the diner he felt blackness engulfing him. He pulled the respirator unit on his helmet down to cover his nose and mouth. That saved his life, as did the long counter keeping the roof from collapsing completely. But it was almost an hour before he regained consciousness.

In con-apts across the Big Meg, millions were settling down to watch their favourite Tri-D show, the Celebrity Humiliation And Nominal Career Enhancement Reality Show. Every week a fresh crop of Z-list has-beens were dropped into a hostile environment and filmed while trying to survive long enough to be rescued. Anyone who made it out of an episode alive was granted fifteen seconds of infamy.

Shot in locations around the world, CHANCERS had proved to be a runaway hit for Ruprecht Maxwell's phalanx of Tri-D stations. Coverage was split between twenty-two channels. Each of the twelve contestants was filmed twenty-four hours a day, the footage broadcast live to air on individual channels. The other ten shows were devoted to commentary, analysis and action replays. Last week's most popular choice had been Channel 27, featuring the twin talents of mega-chested, kind hearted softcore porn star Randy Mandy Candie, despite the fact she had been killed on the first day.

Round the clock coverage of her body beginning to decompose while being eaten by wild animals attracted a hardcore audience of necrophiliacs and nature enthusiasts, tapping two previously unserved segments of the marketplace. At least, that was the defence offered by Maxwell's lawyers when ordered to cease broadcasts of the footage by the Justice Department. The Judges were unable to stop CHANCERS completely, as the show's makers were careful to film only in non-extradition territories. Even if a global extradition treaty was successfully negotiated, the production crew had a replacement ready, OFFWORLD CHANCERS. It just needed the market research team to create a credible acronym from the word OFFWORLD.

The latest edition of the show was expected to be the most popular yet, with survivors from previous locations returning for a second dose of death and dismemberment. By popular demand, Randy Mandy Candie's corpse had been exhumed and added to the cast list. She wasn't a serious contender for the top prize, having already died, but the ratings from her channel were tracking a phenomenal interest in what the corpse did next.

CHANCERS' title sequence was just finishing when a news flash appeared on screen, interrupting the broadcast signal on every Maxwell-owned channel in Mega-City One. After a caption announced "Breaking News", Enigma Smith appeared, still adjusting her chair. Realising she was on the air, the seasoned presenter beamed one of her dazzling smiles.

"Good evening! I'm Enigma Smith and you're watching a Mega-City News Flash! Reports are coming in of a tragedy in Southside Sector 41. An entire city block has been destroyed in a massive explosion, the cause of which remains unknown. It is not known if there are any survivors or how many died in the catastrophe. No statement has yet been issued by the Judges, fuelling speculation this was a terrorist incident. Since we've been on the air, three groups have claimed responsibility: the Mutant Liberation Front, the Mutant Liberation Army and the Popular Front of the Mutant Liberation League. More on this incident as we get it. For more information, switch over to Mega-City News and see the story unfold. Now, we return you to your regular scheduled shows!"

At Psi-Division, all Judges and cadets are tutored how best to screen out the thoughts of those around them. Telepathy might be a rare talent but it could also be a great burden for the untrained mind. A constant cacophony of other people's thoughts could quickly drive anyone insane. Extreme emotions were just as bad, like daggers thrust into the mind of a psi. In times of war it was not uncommon for Psi-Division to issue mild sedatives to its Judges, to help numb the waves of feeling that leaked from the terrified psyches of ordinary people.

When the energy pulse destroyed Joe Chill Block, thirty-three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-two people were inside. At the moment of their death, each one's mind screamed out in terror. Any Psi-Judge could cope with up to a hundred people dying suddenly nearby, or ten times that number if given warning. The simultaneous, unanticipated annihilation of almost thirty-four thousand people was beyond any psyker's ability to screen out.

The effect was akin to a chisel being punched through the head of every Psi-Judge in Mega-City One. At the school where latent psi-cadets were trained, children woke screaming in their beds, blood streaming from their eyes, ears and nostrils. Tutors staggered from dorm to dorm, trying to reassure the weeping cadets, while themselves debilitated by the incident.

In Sector Houses across the Big Meg, Psi-Judges collapsed where they stood, unable to cope with the mental overload from the attack on Joe Chill. Those unfortunate enough to have been riding their Lawmasters drove off the road, crashing into whatever stood in their way. Dozens died from the shock or resulting trauma. The rest were left with debilitating migraine headaches, unable to focus their psi talents or even think.

The head of Psi-Division, Judge Shenker, crawled into his office and succeeded in putting a call through to Hershey. The Tri-D screen blurred before him but Shenker closed his eyes, concentrating all his energy on staving off the darkness overcoming him. "Chief Judge," he whispered, "this is Shenker..."

"Sweet Jovus! What happened to you?" she demanded.

"Massive psi overload... thousands dead... in the city... no warning..." Shenker felt himself sliding sideways but was unable to stop the decline. "Psi-Division... out of action... Sorry..." Then the blackness took him.

"Shenker? Shenker!" But Hershey got no reply.

Several miles above Mega-City One, Justice Seven was limping across the sky. The orbital platform was tasked with providing a constant flow of surveillance data to the PSU, while also acting as a relay station for Control's signals to Judges across the Big Meg. When the energy pulse was fired down into the city, a massive wave of electromagnetic interference radiated outwards from the beam's source. The wave engulfed the orbiting platform, debilitating its computer-controlled propulsion and scrambling every other system on board.

Justice Seven's commander, Judge Samantha Scattergood, was first to react when the lights went out. "Damage report!" she called, shouting to be heard above the hubbub of worried voices in the control centre. A veteran of Necropolis and the Zombie War known as Judgement Day, Scattergood had seen enough to know that panic and survival never made good partners. She had lost a limb in every major conflict of the past twenty-five years, each one replaced with a robotic prosthetic. No longer able to function effectively on the streets, Scattergood had volunteered for Justice Seven where her lack of mobility was not a factor. She had proven an able commander since taking control of the facility seven months earlier. "I want to know what happened, why it happened and how it affects our status, now!"

"Somebody fired an energy weapon at the Big Meg," Responded Judge Grissom, one of the PSU analysts on station. "The resultant surge took out our guidance, propulsion and manoeuvring, along with almost everything else."

"How long to repair them?" Scattergood demanded.

"I'm not sure we can," Grissom replied feebly.

The veteran rose from her chair, the servo-joints in her robotic arms and legs whirring noisily in the unusual silence. "What did you say?"

The PSU analyst gestured at the blank, black computer screens around the control chamber. "Auto-repair systems are gone too, along with access to all our repair guidelines. Without those, we're helpless. It's impossible."

Scattergood stopped in front of Grissom, the commander's grizzled face made even more menacing by the flickering red emergency lighting. "There is no such word as can't. Grissom, you're relieved of duty. Return to your quarters." The commander swung round, glaring at the rest of her staff. "Anyone else here think we're helpless?" Nobody replied. "Good. We've got less than an hour before Justice Seven drops out of orbit and burns up on re-entry, so that's your deadline. Then we have to find and destroy whatever just fired on our city. Any questions? No? Good. Now get to work!"

The crew of Justice Seven hurried to assess the damage and find ways of restarting the platform's systems. Scattergood realised Grissom was still standing beside her. "I thought I told you to leave."

"Please, ma'am, I want another chance. I was panicked by the situation and I didn't think before I spoke. Give me a chance and I'll prove myself to you!"

Scattergood leaned so close to Grissom the analyst could feel her breath on his face. "One chance and one chance only. Get to it!" she snarled.

EIGHT

Dredd, can you hear me? Dredd, wake up! It was the nagging sound of Kara's voice shouting in his mind that dragged the Judge back to consciousness. Dredd opened his eyes to find himself lying on a hover-stretcher. Overhead, he could see the night sky through gaps in billowing black smoke. "Where am I?"

"Lucky to be alive," a familiar voice responded. Dredd turned to see the Chief Judge standing beside him, her face etched with concern. "Thought we'd lost you in the explosion, Joe. They dug you out of what was left of that diner."

Dredd sat up on the hover-stretcher, wincing in pain. A succession of rapi-heal pads were wrapped around much of his body. "What happened?"

Hershey gestured at the smoking crater across the skedway where Joe Chill Block used to be. "Looks like Bludd is making good use of his latest acquisition. Energy beam from an orbiting satellite took out that building with a single burst. Death toll's thirty thousand and rising. The trauma from so many people dying at once has crippled Psi-Division and PSU is still getting back online." She placed a hand on Dredd's arm, "What can you remember? We lost radio contact with you after Bludd left the eatery. Less than a minute later the beam hit ground zero across the skedway."

Don't tell her anything, Kara warned telepathically. No codes, no secret gestures - we're watching you, remember? Just act dumb for now.

Dredd shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, it's still a blur. Delayed concussion from the blast, maybe..."

"Of course. I'll let the Meds take care of you. Justice Seven should be back online within an hour; it'll take out that rogue satellite. You just concentrate on getting better, okay?"

"Sure." Dredd watched her turn away. "Hershey-"

Careful, Joe. Remember what I said.

"Yes?"

"How did the negotiations go?" Dredd asked.

The Chief Judge shrugged. "Hard to say. Brit-Cit and East-Meg Two are on board but Chang from Sino-Cit is impossible to read. When all this happened I sent the delegates back to their private quarters. Giant is in charge of their security for tonight."

"He's a good law enforcer."

"Yes." Hershey frowned. "Was there something else you wanted to say?"

One more word and our next target is the Academy of Law!

Dredd shook his head. Hershey smiled. "I'll let you get some rest. Don't worry, Joe. The Big Meg can survive for one night without you." As the Chief Judge departed, Kara's mocking laughter echoed in Dredd's mind.

I wouldn't count on that if I were you, Joe!

"I'm Enigma Smith and you're watching Mega-City News. Now, here are the headlines for this hour." The ever-grinning face of the newsreader was replaced by a graphic image showing a smoking crater. "Judges estimate more than thirty thousand citizens died when Joe Chill Block in Southside Sector 41 was destroyed earlier this evening. The Justice Department dismissed earlier reports that the explosion was the result of a terrorist incident. An unnamed spokesperson said the damage was the result of shoddy workmanship tragically combining with a gas leak. Thus far thirty-four fringe groups have claimed responsibility for the carnage."

The programme switched back to Enigma's happy face. "In other news, the Mega-City Museum of the Twentieth-Century says its most popular attraction of recent months, the Evil Empire exhibition, was stolen this afternoon from the Dustbuster. The museum's curator, Dr Janet Swanson, apparently committed suicide after discovering the theft. Despite the loss, the museum is going ahead with its sponsored fireworks display at midnight to celebrate the exhibit's success. The Judges have yet to make a comment on the theft, beyond saying they were pursuing several promising leads."

The newsreader's features were replaced with a graphic depicting the face of a mustachioed man straining to achieve some unseen goal. "Now on to sports, where Big Meg superstar Hank 'Pee-Wee' Potts came from behind to win the Men's Individual section in the World Sex Championships currently being staged at the Vatican City. Potts was lying third after the compulsories yesterday, but proved a master blaster in the freestyle event despite having the smallest equipment among any of the competitors. The sky's the limit when our Hank does his thing, literally! So let's all give our onanist a big hand..."

Dredd was being loaded into a med-wagon when Kara's voice switched back to his helmet radio. "Listen up, Joe, because I don't enjoy repeating myself. The time is just after nine. For the next three hours you will be my plaything, doing exactly what I want, or else... Well, you've seen the consequences when you don't follow orders. Unless you want more people to die needlessly, you will comply with everything I say. Signal your understanding by asking the Med-Judges where they are taking you."

Dredd did as ordered by the enforcer's voice. A friendly Med-Judge called Callaghan responded. "St Peter Root Hospital, it's the nearest," she said. "Right now our own facilities are overloaded with Psi-Judges bleeding out of every orifice. Not very pleasant, let me tell you. I was almost happy when we got called out to this bombsite."

"Good," Kara said via the helmet radio. "Once the med-wagon gets into the air, I want you to seize control of the vehicle. You'll need to disable the crew: kill or wound them, I don't care which. Once that's done I'll give you further instructions. If you try to warn the crew, tens of thousands will die as retribution. If you understand, clear your throat now."

Dredd signalled his compliance.

"That's good. You're doing better, Dredd. You might live long enough to see midnight. Then... well, let's burn that bridge when we get to it, yes?"

The engines of the med-wagon roared into life and the vehicle rose into the air, ascending through the clouds of acrid smoke still rising from the gnarled wreckage of Joe Chill. Dredd began undoing the restraints on his hover-stretcher while the crew were distracted by the view outside. He dealt with Callaghan first. She was folding away a dummy used to train cadets in resuscitation when Dredd tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey, what are you doing up? Those rapi-heal pads need time to-" The Med-Judge's words were abruptly cut off by Dredd smashing her face against a bulkhead. Callaghan slumped to the floor, unconscious and bleeding. Dredd paused to check her vital signs, ensuring she was still breathing before moving on.

Still without his weapons, he was forced to improvise while dealing with the rest of the crew. Two more Med-Judges fell before Dredd's physical onslaught, allowing him access to the med-wagon's small onboard armoury. Inside the locker was a tranq gun for dealing with out of control patients, three grenades of stumm gas and a daystick. "Very resourceful," Kara offered by way of commentary for his action. "I can see why so many perps fear you."

"Why did you switch back to communicating by radio?" Dredd asked. "Telepathy is more private, less likely to be intercepted."

"The PSU is too busy chasing its own tail to even think of looking for this signal," Kara replied. "Soon I'll be too far away for psi talents to be effective, even with my power. Now get on with your task!" Dredd pulled his respirator back down over his nose and mouth before releasing stumm gas into the vehicle's air conditioning system. He burst into the cockpit twenty seconds later to find the pilot and copilot both unconscious. The med-wagon was slowly tipping forwards, dropping into a steep dive.

"I'd get the nose up, if I were you," Kara suggested snidely. "Otherwise you'll make a hell of a mess when you crash into that building ahead."

Dredd glanced up to see St Peter Root Hospital filling the windows of the med-wagon. He dragged the pilot out of the way and pulled back on the controls. The vehicle's descent slowed as the nose began clawing its way upwards again, but the hospital was getting closer by the second. The med-wagon would never get enough height to clear the building.

"Think fast, Joe!" Kara shouted. "Ten seconds to impact!"

Dredd gritted his teeth and yanked the controls sideways, sending the med-wagon into a desperate banking manoeuvre. Still the hospital grew nearer, close enough to see through the windows. Patients inside were screaming in terror as the vehicle hurtled towards them.

Kara kept up her running commentary, teasing and taunting Dredd. "Five seconds to impact, Joe! Four! Three!"

"Shut the drokk up!" Dredd shouted over her words, his body shaking as the med-wagon tried to tear itself apart in protest at the near impossible change in direction, G-force dragging the skin across his face.

"Two seconds! One!"

The med-wagon hurtled over the front of the hospital, the base of the vehicle just scraping the outer wall in a shower of sparks. Then it was gone, flying freely through the air again. Dredd righted the controls, gasping for breath as the med-wagon levelled out again.

"Well, that was exciting!" Kara said breathlessly. "I'm feeling all a-tingle."

"I did what you asked," Dredd growled. "Now release me."

"Sorry, but the fun's just getting started. Find a quiet place to land - a dust zone or something similar. Then we shall begin the hunt."

On Justice Seven, the lighting, life support and guidance systems were back online. But propulsion and manoeuvering remained disabled, and without them the orbital platform was heading for a fiery death. Scattergood was reporting this status to the Chief Judge via a scratchy audio-only connection.

"Everyone's performing miracles up here, ma'am, but it may not be enough," the commander conceded.

"What about the escape pods? In a worst case scenario you can still get the crew off before re-entry, can't you?" Hershey asked.

"Only half the pods are still functional. We lost the rest when the energy pulse fired," Scattergood reported grimly. The Chief Judge's voice kept fading in and out, overwhelmed by white noise and interference. "For the love of grud, somebody stabilise that signal!"

Hershey's voice phased back into audible range. "-did you say, commander? Your signal is breaking up and-"

"Stomm!" Scattergood spat out in frustration. "Now we've lost her altogether!" She slammed a robotic fist through the comms unit, destroying any chance of reinstating radio control soon. The commander looked round the control room to see most of her staff watching. "Nobody said stop working!"

"Ma'am! I think I've found the problem," a voice cried out.

"Who said that?" Scattergood demanded.

A hand appeared from beneath a console unit. "Over here!"

The commander stomped across to find Grissom's face protruding from beneath a mess of wiring and circuitry. The PSU analyst was clutching two blackened connections.

"Well?" Scattergood asked tersely.

"We've tested most of the routing systems. This is just an auxiliary, but it could give us a bypass for the-"

"Speak English, Grissom - I'm a street Judge, not a Tek!"

"Yes, ma'am." The analyst swallowed hard. "If I reconnect these two junctions it will either restart propulsion and manoeuvring or... disable everything on board. Probably for good."

Scattergood glanced round the others. "Anybody got a better idea?" Nobody answered. The commander looked back down at Grissom. "Do it!"

Grissom pushed the two connections together, closing his eyes as they made contact. For a moment nothing happened, then control panels began surging back into life. "Did it work?" the analyst asked meekly.

Scattergood smiled as she dragged Grissom to his feet. "We're back in business! Now, let's find the satellite that fired the energy beam and take it out of action - permanently."

The Chief Judge was shouting at Control, exasperation evident in her voice. "For the love of grud, how hard can it be to re-establish contact with Justice Seven? Do I have to do everything myself?"

"Sorry, ma'am. All radio contact has been lost with that location."

"What does that mean? Has it already burnt up on re-entry?"

"No, ma'am. Justice Seven is still showing on our system. Looks like they've restored motive power. Manoeuvring thrusters are firing too. We just can't talk to them at the moment."

"Let me know when we can. Hershey out!" The Chief Judge deactivated the comms unit in her office and slumped back into her chair. Only a few seconds passed before the comms unit was calling for her attention again, the screen flashing up AUDIO ONLY. "What the drokk is it now, Control?"

But the voice that answered did not belong to Justice Department. It was male, authoritative and richly resonant. "Feeling under pressure, Chief Judge? I am sorry to hear that. Things getting out of hand, I believe."

"Who is this?" Hershey demanded. "How did you-"

"Never mind about that for now, my dear lady. You shouldn't get bogged down in the details. As leader of Mega-City One you would be better devoting your time to the bigger picture, preparing for the chaos to come."

"Bludd!"

"How gratifying it is to be recognised by a woman of such importance."

"Spare me the sarcasm, scumbag. What do you want?"

"Scumbag? I hardly think that's called for, or advisable, considering I can decimate large sections of your city and its people in seconds."

"It's your city too, Bludd," Hershey replied.

"Not anymore. I have departed the Big Meg, with no immediate intention of returning. Knowing what is still to come tonight, it seemed the safest course of action. Alas, such measures are not available to you."

"You've been dropping hints and making veiled threats all day. Why should I believe this one? Your so-called strike team didn't get within twenty blocks of the extradition treaty negotiations."

"I would have thought the destruction of Joe Chill Block clearly established my bona fides. I can organise another such demonstration if-"

"That won't be necessary," Hershey snapped.

"Very well, then. Don't suffer from any illusion I may be bluffing, Chief Judge. I am quite serious in what I am about to say - deadly serious. Unless the Justice Department transfers one hundred billion credits into an untraceable offworld account of my choosing before midnight, your city will be plunged into a crisis that makes Necropolis look like inclement weather."

"You're blackmailing us?"

"I prefer to think of it as an insurance policy."

"It's extortion, plain and simple."

Bludd chuckled to himself. "We can argue about semantics all you wish, Chief Judge, but it will get you no closer to saving your city. The time is now approaching 9:30 pm. That leaves you a little over one hundred and fifty minutes to pull together the sum I require and complete the transfer."

"Even if I wanted to do as you ask, that isn't enough time."

"Don't insult my intelligence!" Bludd snarled, all humour suddenly draining from his voice. "Your precious Justice Department spends that much on covert operations in other mega-cities every year. Divert some funding, be inventive... A little creative accounting can do wonders."

"The Justice Department does not negotiate with terrorists or criminals," the Chief Judge maintained.

"Then I hope history will forgive you for such a foolish policy. I will call in ninety minutes with the account details you require, then once more at midnight. If the transfer I have asked for is not completed before the deadline, the consequences will be more terrible than you can imagine. Goodbye."

The comms unit went dead. Hershey quickly reactivated it, calling the head of the PSU. His stern face appeared on the Tri-D screen. "Niles, I've just had a call from Bludd. He stayed on the line for several minutes. Were you able to run a trace?"

"Negative, ma'am. Systems are still recovering from the energy beam."

"Drokk it!" Hershey slammed a fist down on her desk. "Then perhaps you can tell me how that punk was able to call direct to my office?"

"Security is shot to hell across the comms network, a side effect of that strike on Joe Chill. Bludd must have known that would happen, so he's using it to his advantage. It'll be midnight before we're secure again."

"What about the spy-in-the-sky network? Creep suggested he was shifting operations offworld. Where did he go after leaving Dredd at the diner?"

"We lost him in the confusion after..."

"What happened at Joe Chill."

"Yes, ma'am."

"He's still winning the game," Hershey said wearily. "We've only got one trick up our sleeve and no way of playing it, unless we can find Bludd."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow you, ma'am."

Hershey realised she had been thinking out loud. "Never mind. Does the PSU know Dredd's location? We may need him after all."

"He went missing twenty minutes ago, along with the med-wagon taking him for treatment. It nearly flew into St Peter Root Hospital, then disappeared. No reports of a med-wagon crashing yet. Sorry, ma'am, I thought you knew. We've got search teams looking for wreckage in surrounding sectors."

The Chief Judge shook her head despondently. "Contact the Council of Five, along with Shenker from Psi-Division. I'm calling an emergency meeting here at the Grand Hall, beginning in an hour. We need to know what Bludd has planned for midnight and we need to be ready for it. Hershey out!"

"The rules of the hunt are simple," Kara said via Dredd's helmet radio. "You have two and a half hours to reach the Grand Hall of Justice. You are not permitted to speak to another Judge, nor use any code to ask for their help. You cannot use any Justice Department vehicle to assist your journey. You cannot call Control or relay a message to Control via a third party. You cannot remove your helmet. Break any of the rules and we will detonate the explosive charge embedded within the disc attached to your helmet. You are currently..." Kara's voice trailed away for a second before returning. "You are currently twenty-one miles from your destination. Marathon runners are expected to cover greater distances in less time, so it shouldn't be a problem for you. Of course, most marathon runners don't start the race covered in rapi-heal patches."

"What's the catch?"

"Four members of the strike team that raided the Dustbuster earlier today are going to hunt you to death. Other than that, I foresee no great impediment to your journey," Kara said cheerfully. "Except one. That disc on the side of your helmet, it's also a homing beacon for the hunters to follow."

"Why are you doing this?" Dredd demanded.

"It's just a little diversion to keep my lover and I amused while we wait for the Justice Department to pay our ransom."

"What ransom?"

"Enough questions, Dredd, it's time for the hare to begin running from the hounds. Reach the steps of the Grand Hall in time and you're safe. Otherwise... let's just say it's been nice knowing you."

"This isn't over," Dredd vowed. "You can run, but you can't hide from me!"

"You're the one doing the running, remember?"

The helmet radio fell silent. Normally it transmitted a constant, low level hum of updates and information from Control. Now there was just quiet. Dredd had landed the med-wagon in an abandoned dust zone. He made a final check on the crew before emerging into the cool night air. Bullets thudded into the ground at his feet, sending him tumbling backwards into the vehicle. At least one of the hunters had already found their prey.

Dredd used the med-wagon's infrared scanners to locate his enemy. A squat heat flare appeared at the edge of the dust zone, moving towards the vehicle. Judging from the size of the image it had to be Sanderson the dwarf. "The sooner I get out of here, the safer the crew will be," Dredd said to himself. Looking round the cockpit of the med-wagon, he noticed a lever beside the pilot's chair marked EJECTOR SEAT.

It was against safety regs to operate such a device while on the ground. The seat would be flung a hundred metres into the air, not giving the parachute enough time to fill with air before impact. But Sanderson was closing in fast and another figure was approaching from the opposite side. It was now or never. Dredd sat down in the pilot's chair and began buckling himself in. He reached a hand towards the ejector seat lever.

Fincher was looking forward to killing Dredd. It had irked him enormously to let the Judge walk untouched into the diner earlier, but orders were orders and contradicting Bludd was only for the suicidal. When Kara had told the strike team about the hunting party contest with Dredd as their quarry, Fincher couldn't wait to get started. Bludd had offered no prize for the winner, but he didn't need to. Any bounty hunter who could produce the corpse of Mega-City One's most famous lawman would be set for life, just by collecting the many rewards offered by the underworld for Dredd's demise.

Then there were the fringe benefits. Become the man who killed Dredd and you could pick and choose bounty hunting assignments, charging any fee imaginable. Better yet, your name would become legend, forever associated with the murder of Old Stony Face. It was a sort of immortality, Fincher decided. Not to mention the added pulling power such kudos would give him with the ladies. Oh yes, he was determined to claim the prize for all those reasons.

But most of all, Fincher liked killing. The expatriate from Brit-Cit enjoyed the terror in his victims' eyes as he flayed the skin off their still-living bodies: the agony of their pain as he cut and sliced and mutilated them, the sickly sweet taste of their blood as it spattered his face and hands. Fincher's murderous ways found an outlet by killing and maiming for the Brit-Cit criminal underworld.

Having grown bored with the quality of victim on offer in his homeland, the young Brit had relocated to the Big Meg. Fincher found he had to kill at least once a week to sate his yearning for murder. Despatching the juve Ryan earlier, that was just a palate cleanser, a light apéritif before the main course.

Fincher was cursing under his breath when he reached the dust zone. That stunted simpleton Sanderson had beaten him to the killing ground, alerting the prey to their presence. Dredd was no fool, Fincher knew that. You did not acquire such a formidable reputation without learning how to defend yourself. But the bounty hunter remained confident of being equal to the task. He could hardly contain his excitement at what lay ahead. Fincher approached the med-wagon from the opposite side to Sanderson, thinking the blundering dwarf might send Dredd his way. When the Judge did not emerge from the vehicle, Fincher began to creep closer, his laser blade ready for the kill.

Suddenly the glasseen roof of the cockpit exploded outwards, startling both hunters. Moments later a heavy object shot up into the air. Fincher's gaze followed the projectile as it rose into the night sky. He realised it was the med-wagon's ejector seat when a parachute burst open above the chair as it neared apogee. A figure in the seat confirmed his deduction. Clever sod! But Sanderson was already shredding the parachute with machine gun fire and the ejector seat began plummeting to the ground at an ugly angle. It crashed into rockcrete with a sickening thud, throwing the occupant to one side.

Fincher ran towards the body, preparing to finish Dredd off and claim the kill for himself. It might not be satisfying but the rewards on offer were worth the sacrifice. "Get away from him, he's mine!" Sanderson screamed. The dwarf was still some distance away, his stubby legs not able to generate much speed. Angry was living up to his nickname, the midget's face red with rage at the prospect of having the glory of killing Dredd stolen from him.

Fincher grinned wolfishly as he reached the crumpled figure on the ground. Pulling back the laser blade ready for the killing blow, the bounty hunter rolled the body over. But, instead of Dredd, Fincher was confronted by a blank-faced dummy. There was a small speaker where its mouth should be. "Hello!" the mannequin announced. "My name's Bobby and I'll be your training partner for today's lesson in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Pucker up!"

"Bollocks!" Fincher shouted angrily. "It's a trick!" The Brit turned to see Sanderson approaching the med-wagon. Fincher saw a shadow lurking beside the downed vehicle, an all too familiar shadow. "Angry, look out! Dredd's right there!"

"Don't give me that stomm!" Sanderson shouted back, shoving a new clip of ammunition into his machine gun. "You just want-"

Thwack! Dredd smashed his newly acquired daystick into the dwarf's face, sending the short man into a backward somersault. As Sanderson's body hit the ground the Judge followed up with another blow, ramming his truncheon into the killer's throat. There was a hollow crack as the dwarf's windpipe broke. Dredd grabbed the discarded machine gun and began firing at Fincher, who took cover behind the ejected pilot's seat. The Brit cried out in agony as one of the bullets shattered flesh and bone.

The Judge kept shooting until he had exhausted the new clip in the machine gun. Only when the cacophony of gunfire had died away could the gurgling death rattles of Angry Sanderson be heard. Dredd crouched beside the body and gripped the head with his powerful hands. A single twist snapped the spinal column, killing the dwarf outright. "Two down - two to go," Dredd muttered. He threw the empty machine gun aside and began running.

Behind the ejector seat Fincher was binding the wound to his hand. He had listened to the brutal efficiency of Sanderson's slaying. I've underestimated this Dredd, Fincher decided, we all have. If I'm going to take him out, I'll need an advantage; the element of surprise. Rather than hunt Dredd down, I'll let him come to me.

Dredd emerged from the dust zone on to the nearest skedway, a deserted three-lane road. A sign for Harry Alan Towers Overzoom confirmed what Kara had said earlier. Dredd was at least twenty miles from his destination, with two unidentified bounty hunters between him and safety. Worse still, he was in an area of the Big Meg most citizens avoided after dark, and not far from the crime-riddled zone known as City Bottom.

Lights flashed against the overzoom sign. Dredd swivelled round to see two vehicles approaching: a hefty purple mo-pad and a scarlet speedster. He stepped into the middle lane of the skedway, motioning for the oncoming motorists to slow down. Instead, the speedster accelerated past the mo-pad towards Dredd. The red car cut across the path of the other vehicle, forcing the mo-pad to slam on its brakes. Dredd held up his badge for the speedster driver to see but the car kept accelerating towards him. The anti-dazzle filter on Dredd's helmet enabled him to see past the speedster's headlights. The driver was a heavily tattooed woman, her face a gleeful grin of anticipation.

"Drokk! One of the bounty hunters!" Dredd stood his ground until the speedster was almost upon him before diving out of its path. The vehicle shot past, its brakes squealing in protest as the driver tried to stop. Dredd ran to the mo-pad and pulled open the driver's door. A startled woman was crying behind the steering wheel. The mo-pad's interior was the same lurid purple as on the exterior, every surface upholstered with plush velveteen. The driver was wearing a catsuit of the same material, her hair dyed purple to match.

"Did you see what that roadster did? It nearly took me off the road! I only finished paying off my mo-pad this morning and that kook nearly killed me!"

Dredd glanced up the road to where the speedster had halted, just beyond the turnoff for the Harry Alan Towers Overzoom. The red car wasn't moving, but exhaust fumes from the tailpipe showed the engine was still running. "She was trying to kill me, not you," Dredd explained. "Ma'am, I need to commandeer your vehicle."

"My mo-pad? W-why?" the woman stammered.

"Justice Department business. I must reach the Grand Hall of Justice before midnight and I need your mo-pad to do that."

"Well, I'm not sure... What if something happens to it?"

"You will be fully compensated for any damage sustained by your vehicle, you have my word as a Judge," Dredd replied.

"I don't know..."

Dredd looked back up the road. The scarlet speedster had gone. He relaxed a little, the threat of another attack gone for now. Dredd rested a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder. "Please, ma'am. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

The mo-pad driver bit her bottom lip nervously before nodding. "Alright. But you have to let me come with you. I've spent twelve years paying for this baby and I ain't letting it out of my sight for a moment."

"Very well," Dredd agreed. "I'll drive, if you don't mind ma'am. That will allow us access to Judges-only bypasses."

"Oh! Okay," she replied, clambering over to the passenger seat. "I've never been in the same vehicle as a Judge before."

Dredd settled himself in the driver's seat and restarted the engine. "It shouldn't take us long to reach our destination," he said. "Then you can continue on your journey. Where were you headed, Miss...?"

"Just driving, I guess, getting used to enjoying this baby. My name is Diana," the woman added. She turned to face Dredd, revealing the horrific scar tissue burnt into the other side of her face. "But you can call me Di."

NINE

No sooner had the mo-pad driven away than two female Judges approached on Lawmasters. The pair turned off the skedway onto the access road Dredd used to escape the dust zone. Within a minute they were parked beside the downed med-wagon.

"Langenkamp to Control," one of them said as she got off her motorcycle. "Have found the missing med-wagon. Looks like there's been an incident here. I can see a corpse, the ejector seat has been fired from the vehicle and there's evidence of gunfire."

"Acknowledged. Do you require back-up?"

The lead Judge turned to her colleague. "Karyn?"

The Psi-Judge removed her helmet, shaking out her mass of copper red curls.

"Still got a splitting headache from what happened at Joe Chill," she muttered before closing her eyes. "Can't guarantee I'll be able to sense much." Karyn pressed her hands to her temples and concentrated, her face creasing in pain. "Several people unconscious inside the med-wagon. There was violence here recently. Blood has been spilled."

"Sounds like we need Med-Judges, a meat wagon for the corpse and some forensic help from Tek-Division too," Langenkamp told Control. "No sign of Dredd. I'll keep this channel open." She drew her Lawgiver and began approaching the med-wagon. "Easy does it. Let's take this one step at a time."

Karyn moved to examine the corpse. "A dwarf? What's he doing here?" She crouched by the body, passing her hands across the dead man's face. "He was angry, hunting someone. But they got the better of him. His death was swift, merciless. The killer was... Dredd?"

Langenkamp had drawn her Lawgiver and was peering in through the broken cockpit of the med-wagon. "I can see the pilot and copilot inside. They're unconscious but no other obvious injuries." She sniffed the air escaping from the vehicle. "Can you smell that?"

Karyn breathed in deeply. "Stumm gas. The med-wagon was probably hijacked in the air and brought down here. But by whom?" She saw a trail of blood leading past the med-wagon. The splashes of crimson led to the ejected pilot's seat. The Psi-Judge followed the trail to the chair. It was riddled with bullets on the side facing the med-wagon. "Someone took cover behind this when the shooting started." She touched a pool of blood on the ground. "They were wounded. Not fatally, judging by the amount of blood. The blood's still wet. This happened minutes ago, not hours."

Langenkamp nodded. "That ties into the near miss with the med-wagon at St Peter Root. The dwarf, could he be one of the hijackers?"

Karyn shrugged. "I don't know... I don't think so. What little I can glean from the corpse, there's nothing to suggest he took down the vehicle."

A moan from the med-wagon halted their speculations. Inside, Karyn and Langenkamp found a female Med-Judge crouched on all fours, nursing a bloody head wound. She looked at the new arrivals with fire in her eyes. "Did you catch him?"

"Catch who?" Langenkamp asked.

"Dredd! He's the drokker who did this to us!"

Dredd accelerated off the overzoom, easing the purple mo-pad into the slow lane of Peter Welbeck Skedway. In daylight this road was habitually choked with traffic, but now the evening crush hour had passed the going was smooth and untroubled. Dredd activated the vehicle's cruise control so he could strip away the remaining rapi-heal patches still attached to him.

"What happened?" Di asked innocently. "You don't seem to have all your uniform. I thought you all carried those guns, what do you call them?"

"Lawgivers," he replied. "It's still with my motorcycle, over at Southside Sector 41."

"Isn't that where the-"

"Yes."

"Oh my grud! You were there?"

Dredd winced as he tore away the final patch from his side. Blood was still seeping from the wound where a slither of shrapnel had cut through the reinforced synthi-kevlar of his bodysuit. "Yes, I was there," he replied grimly.

Di held up her hands in apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's just... well, I lead a very quiet life. Meeting a real Judge, one as famous as you... It's a little overwhelming. Sorry if I'm babbling on and on."

"You've had a shock. It affects different people in different ways." Dredd checked the cruise control was still doing its job. "What happened to your face?"

Di grimaced. "My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, I should say. When I said I didn't want to marry him, he threw acid in my face. Said if he couldn't have me, he'd make sure nobody else wanted me."

"Was he punished?"

"Five years in the cubes. Should have been fifty."

"Which Judge handled the case?"

"Molloy, I think his name was - Sector House 87. Why do you ask?"

"You've been very helpful. A lot of citizens would have kept on driving. I could look into your case, see if the Judge dealt with your perp too leniently."

"That's very kind of you but..." Di let her voice trail off. "I'd rather forget about it, move on. I'm making a new life for myself."

"Still, it can't hurt for me to review the file," Dredd insisted. "A Judge Molloy, you said? I've been stationed in Sector 87 several times, but I've never encountered a Molloy there."

Di shrugged. "Maybe I got the name wrong. It was a long time-" She was cut off by a sudden jolt that jerked the mo-pad forwards. "What the drokk?"

Dredd was peering at the rearview mirrors. "It's the scarlet speedster. She must have been following us, waiting for another chance to attack."

"That slitch!" Di snarled. "She'll kill both of us!"

Dredd frowned before checking his seat belt was firmly buckled. "Strap yourself in, ma'am." He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, retaking control of the mo-pad.

"It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

"You're sure about this?" Karyn was interviewing Callaghan while Langenkamp supervised the removal of the other crew from the downed wagon. The Med-Judge nodded vehemently.

"Dredd hijacked us. He asked where we were going and I told him St Peter Root Hospital. After that he attacked me. When I came to he was leaving the med-wagon, carrying a daystick and other small weapons from our lock box armoury: some stumm gas grenades and a tranq gun." Callaghan was resting on a hover-stretcher outside the med-wagon, her eyes not moving from Sanderson's corpse on the ground nearby. "I heard him killing that man and then shots being fired. Dredd didn't give any explanation. It was like he was possessed."

"I want to look into your memories," Karyn said. "See that the concussion you suffered hasn't scrambled what you're recalling. Is that okay?"

Callaghan shrugged. "I guess. Go ahead."

Karyn removed her gauntlets and laid both hands on the Med-Judge's head, reaching into her thoughts. The events of the past hour flashed backwards through her mind's eye, confirming what Callaghan had described. Karyn slowed the flow of memories down, then moved back and forth over them, focusing on the moments when Callaghan had been watching Dredd's face.

"When you spoke with Dredd, was he paying attention to you?"

"I guess. He was..." The Med-Judge paused, reliving the same moments Karyn was reviewing. "No, he wasn't. I didn't notice at the time, but he seemed distracted, distant."

Karyn delved deeper into Callaghan's mind, freezing an image from her memories of Dredd lying on the hover-stretcher. Something small and round attached to his helmet had been catching the light at a certain angle, a translucent disc positioned close to one of Dredd's ears. The Psi-Judge could sense Callaghan's discomfiture and let go of her head. "Thank you."

"Did you find anything?" the Med-Judge asked. "I still can't believe Dredd would attack us like that, it doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, it doesn't," Karyn agreed. She signalled for Callaghan to be removed. Once the Med-Judge was out of earshot Karyn explained what she had seen with Langenkamp.

"Could it be a mind control device?" the street Judge wondered.

"I'm not convinced. It looked more like a tiny comms relay. Somebody could be using it to jam our attempts to contact Dredd. They could be feeding him instructions, lies, anything."

Langenkamp nodded. "From now on, we have to assume Dredd is under hostile control and treat him as a rogue Judge. I'll tell Control. You see if there's anything more we can get from the rest of the crew."

Tattoo Sue was enjoying herself again. When Dredd had escaped her by taking refuge in Di's mo-pad, Sue feared the worst. Di might be her lover but in the bounty hunting business they were still rivals. The tattooed woman was confident she could beat Fincher and Sanderson to the prize of killing Dredd, but Di was another matter. She was devious, cunning and deadly.

The homing device attached to the Judge's helmet made it all too simple to follow him and Di safely from a distance. The signal would cease when Dredd was terminated, so Sue knew the chase was still alive. She couldn't understand why Di hadn't finished the Judge off yet. What was the stupid slitch waiting for? With every minute the mo-pad was getting closer to the Grand Hall of Justice. Perhaps Di was trying to lull Dredd into a false sense of security.

Sue lost patience and decided to up the ante. She accelerated the scarlet speedster through the four lanes of traffic on Peter Welbeck and rammed into the back wheels of the mo-pad. It careered sideways, swiping a faster vehicle and causing a five-car pile-up before returning to its lane. Sue ploughed into the rear of the mo-pad again, exploding one of the slower vehicle's tyres. Flaps of rubbereen flew up into the air as the tyre shredded itself. Within seconds the mo-pad was lurching across the four lanes, sparks shooting out behind as it began running on a metal rim.

It could only be a few seconds before whoever was driving lost all control of the mo-pad. Sue slammed on the speedster's brakes, her own tyres screaming in protest. The pile-up two miles back had cleared the skedway of other traffic, so she had an unobstructed view of what happened next. "Drokking hell," Sue gasped. "Get out of that one, Dredd!

When the speedster hit the mo-pad for the second time, Dredd was ready for it. He kept a firm grip on the steering wheel, cushioning the impact and keeping the vehicle in its own lane. "You said 'She'll kill both of us!'," he shouted at Di. "How did you know that red vehicle is being driven by a woman?"

"What did you say?" Di was screaming to be heard above the sound of the mo-pad's tyre shredding.

"There is no Judge Molloy at Sector House 87, is there?" Dredd demanded.

"No," Di admitted, pulling a small handgun from inside her purple catsuit and pointing it at Dredd. "Now hit the brakes and-" She was cut off by the mo-pad lurching sideways as the failed tyre was lost altogether. Metal screamed in protest as the hefty vehicle slid along on its rim. "Sweet Jovus," Di whispered.

Dredd let go of the steering wheel and slapped the gun out of Di's hands. She unclipped her seat belt and dived into the foot well to retrieve the weapon. "You shouldn't have done that!" Dredd shouted.

"Why not?" Di asked, smirking as she aimed the gun at her quarry.

"Road safety: always buckle up in case of an accident," the Judge replied. He twisted the steering wheel violently to the right. The mo-pad tried and failed to make the turn before flinging itself into the air like a wounded animal. Dredd braced himself in the driver's seat as the mo-pad flipped through a somersault, the road surface ahead pin-wheeling around.

The purple people carrier then slammed into Peter Welbeck, tearing up tarmac as the front windows exploded. It continued careering forward, nose buried in the road, the rest of the mo-pad still rearing up in the air. The skedway went into an abrupt curve ahead as it turned away from a spectacular vista over the shantytown known as City Bottom. The mo-pad was sliding directly towards the crash barriers and nothing could stop it.

Tattoo Sue could see precisely what was going to happen next. She gunned her speedster's engine into life and roared down an offramp towards City Bottom. If Dredd survived the fall, she wanted to be the one to finish him off. Di would have done all the hard work, but I'll still get the credit, Sue thought.

"Control to all units! We've got a multi-car pile-up on Peter Welbeck, just after the onramp from Harry Alan Towers Overzoom. PSU reports more trouble further along the same road. Proceed with extreme caution!"

The mo-pad thundered into the crash barriers. They had been designed to withstand a direct hit from mega-trucks travelling at full speed, able to displace the impact through hollow rubber supports and struts. But the mo-pad hit the barriers while still upended on its front. The bulk of the vehicle tipped over the top of the barriers, doing a slow roll towards the ten-storey drop on the other side. It was the crumpled carnage at the front of the mo-pad that halted the vehicle's progress. The gnarled metal got entangled with the barrier and left the vehicle dangling over the precipice, just a twisted scramble of chassis keeping it from falling.

Dredd was trying to free himself when Di stirred beside him. "Road safety tip, huh?" she asked. Bruised and bloody, the bounty hunter was free to climb out through the shattered windscreen. But Dredd's seat belt buckle had been wrenched out of shape by the crash and refused to unlock. Di stood on the passenger seat and began pulling herself out. "Guess breaking the rules can have its compensations after all."

Dredd grabbed her left leg as she passed him. "Where do you think you're going, punk?"

"Let go of me!" Di protested. She kicked at Dredd's head and hands with her spare foot, trying to dislodge his iron grip. "Let go!"

Dredd grabbed the other leg and held both of them fast. "You're not leaving me here," he snarled. "If this thing falls, you're coming with me!"

The mo-pad suddenly slumped a few inches, metal screeching as the weight of the vehicle began dragging it downwards. Di looked up in alarm, watching the tangle holding them in place slowly unravelling. "Please, Dredd! We'll both die if this thing crashes to City Bottom!"

"That's what your master wanted, isn't it? Bludd sent you to hunt me down and kill me, didn't he?" Dredd demanded.

"Yes, yes!" Di cried, beginning to sob with terror.

"Why? Why do all of this? What's his real aim?"

"I don't know!" Di shouted, fear making her voice hysterical. "Now let me go, you drokker! Let me-"

Then the mo-pad fell.

Tattoo Sue was still driving her speedster down the long spiral offramp to City Bottom when she saw the mo-pad begin its last journey. The purple vehicle accelerated as it fell, the weight of the engine pulling the mo-pad backwards. The bounty hunter thought she could see Di clinging to the front, screaming as the ground got closer. Then the mo-pad was hidden from view, obscured by the three-storey shanty huts erected across the abandoned sector.

Sue felt the impact before she heard it, the mighty vibration rippling through her vehicle. Then came the sound: metal and mayhem, death and destruction, violent and vicious. A fireball of flame billowed into the air, followed by clouds of ominous black smoke.

"Touchdown," Sue said with a smile. Her eyes slid to the speedster's onboard computer screen. Despite the sudden impact Dredd's homing signal was still transmitting. The drokker must have survived somehow, but not for long, the bounty hunter thought. She floored the accelerator, determined to reach the crash site in time to claim her kill.

"Control to all units! Reports coming in of an explosion on City Bottom. Fires are spreading from the source. Expect heavy casualties. Nearest Sector Houses to send all available units. Scramble emergency service crews and Med-Judges."

Tattoo Sue reached the crash site first, abandoning her speedster nearby and advancing to the scene by foot, a pistol clutched in each hand. Ramshackle homes made of scavenged cardboard were ablaze, the fires leaping from building to building. The fuel tank must have exploded when the mo-pad hit the ground, Sue decided. She could hear the screams of City Bottom dwellers from inside burning hovels but chose to ignore them. Let the Judges save this scum.

Approaching sirens meant help was only a few minutes away for the locals and hindrance just as close for Sue. She began running towards the centre of the carnage, covering her mouth and nose to block out the acrid smoke and fumes. The bounty hunter burst through the surrounding ring of burning shanty homes to find what remained of the mo-pad.

The purple vehicle was just a metal carcass. The back end had plunged into the ground, the engine burying itself. The chassis had exploded when the fuel tank blew, a scorch mark burnt into the ground around the fractured remains. The only section still intact was the driver's compartment, held in place by white foam that seemed to have filled the interior.

Protruding from the compartment were some of Di's remains. Her legs were locked inside the white substance but they ended just above the knees, the rest of her torn away by the force of the impact. Sue took a step towards the mo-pad and stepped in something soft and wet. She looked down with a crawling horror of realisation, knowing before seeing what the thing beneath her feet was. Di's torso and head were smeared across the ground like paste. Grud only knew what had happened to her arms.

Sue had witnessed some horrors in her time but this was too much. She stumbled to one side and vomited up the contents of her stomach, retching over and over until there was nothing left to expel. Once the gut-wrenching spasms had subsided, she wiped the moisture from her chin and opened her eyes again, careful to avoid seeing again what was left of Di.

The homing signal for Dredd was still active. The bounty hunter checked the handheld scanner several times but it remained steadfast in its readings - Dredd was a few metres away, directly in front of her. The Judge was alive and entombed inside the mo-pad. Holstering one pistol in her left boot, Sue approached the wreckage carefully, keeping the scanner in one hand and a pistol in the other. She reached towards the white foam and was surprised to find it was rock hard on the outside. But after a few taps the white substance began to collapse inwards, bubbling away to nothing.

I've heard about this stomm, the bounty hunter thought. New safety device fitted to large vehicles. A computer-controlled system senses danger just before impact and floods the driver's compartment with riot foam. It surrounds the occupants, enabling them to breathe but protecting them from the smash. Afterwards the foam evaporates, freeing whoever is inside. Sue checked, realising too late what that meant. Freeing whoever is-

Dredd burst from the mo-pad, using Di's severed arms as a club to smash the pistol from Sue's hand. While she scurried after the weapon Dredd clambered out of the wreckage, tossing aside the unwanted limbs and pulling the tranq gun from his boot holster. He shot a drug-tipped dart into the bounty hunter's outstretched hand before Sue could retrieve her pistol. She cried out, clutching the numbed hand to her chest. "Don't shoot me!" she said.

The Judge wiped the last of the foam from his visor. "Why not? You were ready to shoot me."

"That was business. Please, I don't want to die," she begged.

Dredd shook his head in disgust. "Your kind sickens me. You'll kill for money but plead for your own life like a whimpering child."

Sue kept up the pretence, all the while easing her good hand towards the other pistol hidden in the boot farthest from Dredd. "Please, I can help you. I know what Bludd has got planned! All of this, it's just a diversion!"

"Tell me more."

The bounty hunter looked over her shoulder fearfully, all too aware Judges would be on the scene within minutes. "Alright, but not here. I'll trade what I know for safe passage out of Mega-City One."

"Why should I cut a deal with scum like you?"

"My life is worthless once Bludd knows I've betrayed him. Trust me, when you hear what he's going to do to this city, it's worth making the deal."

Dredd kept his tranq gun trained on the tattooed woman, the sounds of sirens drawing ever closer. "Kick the pistol over to me," he commanded. Sue did as she was told, palming the weapon from her boot. As Dredd crouched to pick up the pistol the bounty hunter took aim at the Judge.

"Die you drokker!" she screamed, pulling the trigger.

Dredd threw himself sideways and fired back with his tranq gun.

Both shooters went down and stayed down.

The Chief Judge looked round the faces of her senior staff. The Council of Five's members were assembled, each with their individual reports on recent activity. Shenker had arrived in a hoverchair, still recovering from the debilitating shock of what happened at Joe Chill. Hershey had not given them advance warning of what was to be discussed, but none of those present needed psi powers to guess the main item on the agenda.

"Jesus Bludd," the Chief Judge began, "is trying to ransom this city for one hundred billion credits. Unless we transfer that sum to an untraceable offworld account of his choosing before midnight, he will do to the entire city what he did to Joe Chill a few hours ago. Bludd is calling at eleven with the account number. Reactions?"

Ramos was first to speak. A veteran street Judge, he was on the council with Hollister to represent the department's rank and file, the men and women who had to enforce the Law every day. "We can't give in to blackmail or extortion. I'd rather see the city burn than have it capitulate to the likes of Bludd."

Hollister was quick to reinforce that attitude. "Give in to one such threat, no matter how powerful, and you abdicate all responsibility for control of this city. We're worth more than that! We've got to find the drokker and stop him."

"Easier said than done," was Hershey's dry response. "Niles?"

"Like several key divisions of the department, the PSU was badly hit by side effects of the weapon that destroyed Joe Chill. Only now are we beginning to put together the pieces of what happened. Earlier today Bludd had an exhibit stolen from the Dustbuster. It proved to be a fully functional command and control system for firing orbital weapons left over from the twentieth century. The energy beam that crippled Psi-Division and took out our network was one such weapon. Fortunately for us, research in the archives suggests this weapon, though very powerful, requires several hours to be recharged."

"Thank grud for that," Shenker whispered.

"That explains why Bludd has not used it again, so far," Niles added. "But it's only a matter of time before he does. We believe Justice Seven has located the orbital platform where the energy pulse originated. Scattergood and her crew intend to destroy the platform by midnight. That's the good news..."

"And the bad news?" Hershey asked.

Niles grimaced. "Most records from the twentieth century were destroyed by the Great Atom War of 2070. But from what my analysts have uncovered, there were dozens of weapons of mass destruction in orbit. Many of those will have fallen from the sky and burnt up during re-entry since, but not all."

The Chief Judge looked into the eyes of her senior staff as she continued what Niles had been saying. "We're talking atomic, biological and chemical weapons, the sort of stomm outlawed by global treaties after 2071. Some of it is still up there, waiting to be fired, and Bludd's got his finger on the trigger."

"Where is he?" Buell demanded.

"Offworld," Niles said. "We believe he has shifted operations to an orbital HQ outside our jurisdiction, taking the command and control system with him."

"Outside our jurisdiction or not, can't we take out Bludd's HQ?" Hollister asked. "One or two well placed missiles, or a crack team of insurgent Judges? We can deal with the consequences later."

The Chief Judge sighed heavily. "Niles?"

"Unfortunately, Bludd's HQ has stealth capabilities, making it next to impossible for us to locate it. Even if we were willing to breach international law to destroy the threat from Bludd, we have to find him first."

"I find it ominous this perp has evacuated himself from the Big Meg," McTighe from Tek-Division said. "To me that indicates he plans a strike against our city, whether or not we pay this ransom." Others around the council table nodded. Hershey waited until everyone fell silent before speaking.

"The Justice Department will not surrender its control of Mega-City One to blackmail. No money will be paid. We must trust Justice Seven is able to find and destroy these orbiting weapons. Meanwhile we shall develop a response for Bludd's demands, a stalling tactic until his orbiting HQ can be located." The Chief Judge folded her arms. "We face a difficult few hours ahead. The city needs us to be at our best. It's up to you to make sure that happens within each of your divisions. Dismissed."

The Judges rose from their seats and began filing out of the chamber, but Hershey remained in her chair. Niles hung back to speak with the Chief Judge. "Permission to speak off the record?" he asked.

"Granted."

"You look tired. When was the last time you ate or slept?"

"I can't remember," Hershey admitted.

"What you said applies just as much to yourself. The city needs all its Judges at their best tonight, you more than any of us. Grab something to eat and take five minutes on a sleep machine. You've got time before Bludd calls."

The Chief Judge sighed. "You know what happens if we make it through the night? Come nine tomorrow morning I have to resume negotiations about the treaty with our five honoured guests."

"It's the right thing to do," Niles said. "Global extradition would make a significant difference to our ability to pursue perps like Bludd. Nothing good ever came easy, Hershey."

"You're right," she admitted. "I'm going to give Giant a call, make sure the delegates are behaving themselves. We don't need a repeat of last night's activities, not with everything else that's going on."

"It's all quiet," Giant said via his helmet radio when the Chief Judge called. "The delegates took meals in their private quarters about eight and most have turned in for the night. Some of them must have learned their lesson yesterday."

"Even Smirnoff?" Hershey asked, surprise in her voice.

"The last of the great synthi-vodka drinkers seems to be taking it easy for once. Guess you can only drink non-stop for so many days before it finally catches up with you."

"Alright. Let me know if anything untoward happens, Giant."

"Yes, ma'am." The street Judge hesitated before raising something that had been bothering him. "Excuse me for asking, but will Dredd be returning to help supervise security for the delegates? He's been gone for some hours. I don't listen to gossip usually, but I've heard whispers he's disappeared and is being considered a rogue Judge."

"You're right, Giant, you shouldn't listen to gossip. Dredd is receiving treatment from Med-Judges at City Bottom. Hershey out."

Giant looked at Eaglestone and Jenkins. All three Judges were sat on their Lawmasters outside the safe house where Warner was being kept. "Hear that, Eaglestone? I told you Dredd would never go rogue. That's two graveyard shifts you owe me."

Med-Judge Karter was wrapping a fresh rapi-heal pad around Dredd's latest wound when the street Judge came round. "Don't move yet, I haven't finished," she warned. "You can't expect these injuries to heal if you don't give rapi-heal time to do its job, Dredd."

"What happened?"

"Where do you want me to start?" Karter assessed the battered and bloody body beside her. Every wound, every contusion told its own story. "You were shot just above the waist but luckily for you, the bullet went straight through. Took a chunk of flesh but missed the vital organs, which is why we can still have this conversation. If it had nicked the spleen you'd have bled out before we got here. Your helmet took the full force of the other round, but the impact still knocked you out. A few inches down and left, you'd be a dead hero instead of just having what I imagine is a raging headache."

"Who shot me?"

"You don't remember?" That worried Karter. The head injury might be worse than it first looked, perhaps a serious concussion. She jerked a thumb towards the corpse lying close to Dredd's feet. "Your illustrated woman friend was the culprit. I'm guessing you two fired at the same time."

Tattoo Sue was sprawled out on the blackened ground beside the mo-pad's remains. The end of a tranq dart was protruding from her left eye socket, the rest of the dart embedded inside her skull. Karter spared a glance for the dead perp. "Never seen someone killed that way before, a remarkable shot."

"Lucky," Dredd muttered. "Just lucky." He glanced around the crash site. Emergency crews had put out the fires while Tek-Judges were examining the scene for clues to what had happened. Big arc lamps lit the area, throwing bleak shadows across the night. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Less than an hour. It's not quite eleven..."

Karter realised Dredd was no longer listening to her. He reached a hand to the side of his helmet where a translucent plastic disc was visible. "Yes, I understand," he said tersely.

The Med-Judge was confused. "You understand what?"

"I'll make it," Dredd continued.

"Make what? Dredd, what are you talking about?"

But the street Judge ignored her, his expression changing to a grimace as he turned to look at Karter. "Very well."

"Dredd, are you getting messages on your helmet radio? I didn't hear anything from Control just then-"

Her words were cut out abruptly when Dredd grabbed her throat. Karter couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, the grip around her windpipe tightening by the moment. She flailed at Dredd with her fists, but his pressure just increased. He leaned closer to her and whispered a question.

"Which way to the Grand Hall of Justice?"

Karter's eyes slid sideways, to the north.

"I will continue squeezing until you pass out," Dredd said. "Stay down until after midnight - it will be better for both of us."

The Med-Judge nodded with the last of her strength. Already the blackness was closing in round her.

TEN

Scattergood was proud of her crew. Justice Seven's operational effectiveness was back to ninety-two per cent of normal, just a few hours after being crippled. Now the orbital platform was closing in on its quarry, the ancient satellite that had launched such a devastating blow against the Big Meg. Scattergood was surprised when she got her first good look at the source of their troubles.

"Grud on a greenie! How is that still in the sky?" she wondered out loud.

The satellite was an antique by anyone's reckoning. More than a hundred years old, its metal surface was pitted and scarred from decades of impacts by space debris. Some words were visible on the side of the cylindrical device: UNITED STATES OF AMERICA SW-1701D. Grissom was already investigating this in what remained of the pre-Great Atom War archives.

"Launched covertly in the 1990s. Part of an initiative known as Star Wars," he explained. "Designed as a way of blowing intercontinental missiles out of the sky before they could deliver their payload. Proved ineffective for that but was used as an offensive weapon against ground-based targets in 2017 with some success. Officially decommissioned in 2057 as part of an orbital weapons disarmament programme by the old United States."

"Like drokk it was," Scattergood muttered darkly. "How long before it's capable of firing again?"

"The weapon is solar powered. It takes four to six hours to recharge."

"And how long since Joe Chill was summarily demolished?"

"Just under four hours," Grissom replied. "Analysis suggests energy levels are almost fully restored. It could be fired again at any time."

"Very well," Scattergood said. "Lock our weapons on that satellite and blow it out of the sky!" A long, awkward silence followed. Justice Seven's commander looked round her crew. "Give me the bad news."

Everyone else turned to Grissom. "In order to restore propulsion and manoeuvring earlier, I had to scavenge a bypass circuit from elsewhere..."

"And you took it from our defence systems?"

Grissom nodded.

"Terrif!" Scattergood scowled. "Take us closer to that satellite and prep a suit for EVA. Guess I'll have to go over there and place the charges myself."

Bludd was enjoying the show. Since arriving at his new orbiting home he had savoured a gourmet meal, enjoyed a sexual liaison with Kara and was now ensconced in his command suite. Sat in a hovering chair, he watched a wall of Tri-D screens depicting a thousand scenes from across the Big Meg. That one plastic disc attached to Dredd's helmet was proving a boon, enabling Bludd's computers to eavesdrop on all Justice Department comms and surveillance systems. The crime boss could see and hear everything the Judges did. But he had one advantage over Hershey and her underlings; Bludd knew what was coming next.

To Bludd's side Kara was busy keeping watch over Dredd's progress. The Judge had fled the crash site in City Bottom and was now making his way to the Grand Hall of Justice on foot. He was still several miles away, bleeding from multiple wounds and armed only with two stumm gas grenades and a daystick. It would be a miracle if he reached his destination in time.

"How is the hunted man?" Bludd asked.

Kara smiled at her lover. "Slowing down. He's torn open his old wounds and even the rapi-heal pads can't staunch the bleeding where Sue shot him." She could not keep the curiosity from her face. "Why are you making him do this? It doesn't advance our goals."

"No, but it keeps Dredd busy. Before beginning this endeavour I analysed every significant threat to the Big Meg from the past forty years. In almost every case it was an intervention by Dredd that preserved Justice Department's position and saved the day if you like. Remove Dredd from the equation and our chances of success improve immeasurably."

"Why not just kill the drokker?"

"My dear Kara, I do not share your love of pain and death. To me murder is another weapon in my armoury. I do not kill when it is not required. Anyway, come midnight Dredd will be far too busy to worry about us anymore." Bludd swivelled his chair round to face a screen filled with Hershey's face. "It appears the Chief Judge is about to get some rest in a sleep machine. I think it's time I gave her another call, something else to worry about."

Hershey was adjusting the settings on the sleep machine nearest her office when Bludd's call came through to her via Control. "Tut, tut, Chief Judge! Going to sleep on the job, are we?" the crime boss said.

"How did you know-" Hershey stopped, realising the significance of what had been said. "You've got access to our comms network, the PSU. How?"

"Let's just say I had some help from a new friend. He and I had a chat over some synthi-caf earlier this evening."

"Dredd? He would never betray the department!"

"Not willingly, no. But sometimes free will is just an illusion."

"Spare me the cod philosophy," Hershey snarled. "What do you want?"

"I've already told you, one hundred billion credits before midnight."

"If you're able to see and hear everything we do, then you should already know our response - no deal. Mega-City One does not give in to blackmail!" The Chief Judge was striding back to her office, spitting out her words venomously.

"It's more accurate to say the Justice Department of Mega-City One does not give in to blackmail," Bludd replied. "You haven't asked the people of Mega-City One what they think. Would they rather be proud and dead as you soon will be, or alive and a little poorer, as I am suggesting?"

"The Big Meg isn't a democracy," Hershey said. "We choose what is best for the people, so they don't have to."

"We'll see what they have to say about that after midnight. In the kingdom of the blind-"

"-the one-eyed man is king. I know the quotation, Bludd. What does it signify?"

"You'll see soon enough. Or perhaps you won't. I am transmitting the number for my offworld account to you now. Either agree to my request or all of Mega-City One shall suffer the consequences come midnight."

"We have located the orbital platform where the energy pulse originated. Within minutes my Judges will have disabled your weapon permanently."

"Perhaps," Bludd replied. "But I never said that was my only weapon, did I? Goodbye, Hershey. We shall speak once more at midnight. After that I doubt you will still be in charge of your city, unless you meet my demands."

A brief crackle of static was followed by silence. Bludd was gone again. The Chief Judge called Niles at the PSU. "Well?"

"Bludd bounced the signal through a dozen relays but he's definitely offworld. We've got an idea what quadrant, but beyond that..."

"Drokk it!" Hershey cursed, letting her frustration escape. "You heard what he had to say about intercepting our comms?"

"Yes. No doubt he can see all our surveillance feeds, as well as listening in to this conversation. We have a serious security problem."

"Agreed. Meet me at the following location in twenty minutes." Hershey sent an encrypted message to Niles. "It's the one place we know is not covered by PSU surveillance, so it'll be safe to talk there. Hershey out."

Dredd rounded a corner into a dark alley and leaned against a wall. Something was moving around inside him, probably a rib. With every step the broken bone was digging into him, its edge grinding into soft tissue. Blood was seeping freely from the entry and exit wounds where Sue had shot him, while his vision was blurring badly. Dredd rested his helmeted head against the wall and squinted at the skyline.

In the distance a familiar building was glinting in the darkness, its many lights and levels a blurred smear of hope. The Grand Hall of Justice was close, perhaps a mile away or two at the most.

"You better hurry, Dredd," Kara said via the Judge's helmet radio. "You've got less than an hour to reach the front steps. Judging by the trail of blood you're leaving behind, you'll be dead if you don't make it there before midnight."

"Drokk you, creep," Dredd muttered.

"Is that any way to speak to your guardian angel?"

"You're no angel. I know you."

"So you keep saying. I'd be more worried about the street gang approaching your location if I were you," Kara replied. "They should be with you right about... now."

"What direction are they coming from?" Dredd demanded. "Answer me, damn you!"

"I'll give you an answer," a different voice said. A female juve stepped out of the shadows, her face adorned with dozens of metal piercings, rings and chains. Her clothes were a mixture of rags and rubbereen, heavy on studs and symbols. In her hands she clutched a laser truncheon, its long metal tube surrounded by crackling blue energy. "But I don't think you'll like it, old man."

"What have we got here, Myroid?" Another juve emerged from the darkness, clad in similar garb. Instead of a truncheon she was tossing a laser blade from hand to hand, careful not to slice off her fingers with its edges.

"A Judge who's seen better days," Myroid said. "Ripe for ripping, Trace!"

Three more females joined the others, forming a semi-circle around Dredd. All wore the insignia of their gang, the Slack Magic Sluts. Trace moved closer to the Judge, sneering at his weakened state. "Surprised he's still standing. Somebody been using you for target practice, old man?"

"Punks like you don't impress me," Dredd replied. "I knew a real punk once, name of Spikes Harvey Rotten. He wore a hand grenade as an earring."

Trace laughed out long, encouraging her gang members to join in. "What a joke! You're giving us jewellery tips now? What are the Judges coming to?"

Dredd produced two stumm gas grenades he had taken from the med-wagon, having already pulled out the pins while the gang leader was talking to her disciples. "Here, try 'em." Dredd tossed a grenade each to Trace and Myroid, then pulled down the respirator from atop his helmet. Within seconds the alley was filled with debilitating fumes.

"Cover your mouth and nose!" Trace commanded, but Myroid and two of the other juves had already succumbed to the gas. The Slack Magic Sluts' leader launched herself at where Dredd had been standing, flailing at the air with her laser blade while using her other hand to shield herself from the fumes. But the Judge had already stepped aside, hiding among the thick clouds of stumm.

The other gang member began backing away, having pulled a bandanna down from her forehead to cover her nose and mouth. She heard a noise and twisted round to find Dredd behind her. He pulled the cloth mask from her face. "Sweet dreams, punk!" he whispered.

"Myroid, where are you?" Trace shouted, lost in the gas. "Cosmina? Meadow? Clamidia! Answer me, you drokkers!"

"They can't," Dredd replied, moving closer to the gang leader. "They're having a nap."

"Drokk you, lawman!" Trace screamed, hurling herself at the sound of his voice, laser blade stabbing down through the stumm fumes. It plunged into Clamidia's chest and stuck there. Dredd let go of the gang member he had been holding in front of himself as a human shield.

"You just hurt one of your own, punk," he snarled, brandishing the daystick in his right hand. "Now it's my turn."

It was three years since Scattergood had finished her training in an EVA spacesuit and she hadn't needed to use one since. Justice Seven took care of its own exterior, thanks to an army of nanobots crawling across the outside constantly searching for repairs to make. Spacesuits were only required in case of sudden evacuation or for manual tasks beyond the capabilities of the nanobots. Space-walking to the satellite housing the energy pulse weapon was just such a task, much to Scattergood's regret.

Justice Seven's commander suffered from claustrophobia, something Psi-Division had detected when she was a cadet at the Academy decades ago. The condition was mild and deemed unlikely to impinge on her abilities as a street Judge. Even when she was appointed to the command of Justice Seven, the veteran law enforcer dismissed any suggestion her fear of enclosed spaces would be a problem. Yes, of course, she would be living inside a metal can but so would dozens of other operatives. There was plenty of room in space.

It was only when the helmet was sealed shut and the straps tightened around her body that Scattergood felt the old fear and anguish begin to creep out from deep inside. The spacesuit was not the problem, it was the heavy strapping to keep her bound against the EVA rocket chair. This device gave her manoeuvrability in the vacuum of space, but also restricted any bodily movement. She was trapped, caught, confined.

"Ma'am, we read your pulse rate and blood pressure accelerating. Everything alright in there?" Grissom asked. He had volunteered to be her EVA buddy, keeping tabs on her progress. Scattergood was already inside the airlock, waiting for the outer doors to open.

"Just let me out of this tin can," she urged.

"Acknowledged. Opening outer doors... now!"

Dredd limped away from the alley, the stumm gas clearing to reveal the five bodies on the ground. He only had the daystick left to defend himself now but the Grand Hall of Justice was walking distance away. All four bounty hunters had been dealt with and it was doubtful two street gangs would patrol the same turf so close to the home of the Law.

The Judge staggered onwards towards his goal. There were only minutes left until midnight. He could not and would not let this city down.

Scattergood reached the cylindrical satellite with few difficulties. Just like riding a Lawmaster, she thought to herself with pride. Once you get the knack, you never fall off again. She powered down the EVA rocket chair and locked it in place beside the satellite. Clutching a belt laden with magnetic charges, Scattergood began clambering across the surface of the satellite. Justice Seven's commander could hear Grissom's instructions via her helmet radio. "You need to position those charges in specific places around the satellite, otherwise they will not be enough to destroy it. Okay, you're coming to the first vulnerable spot. Clamp that sucker down over the letter U in United."

Scattergood removed the first charge from the belt and pressed it against the required spot. Once that was in place, she twisted a dial on the outer ring of the explosive device. A faint thumping sound indicated the magnetic lock had been activated. Scattergood tugged at the charge but it would not budge. "That's the first one fixed on, five more to go. Where next?"

Bludd was amused to see a warning light appear on one of his Tri-D screens. "It seems Justice Seven has located our first weapon of choice," he told Kara cheerfully. "Start the countdown for firing, let's see how they react."

Scattergood twisted the dial on the third magnetic charge. It thumped into place and resisted her attempts to dislodge it. "That's half of them done," she announced. "Where next, Grissom?"

"About three metres round to your right, ma'am," the PSU analyst replied. "And you might want to hurry it up if you can."

"Why?"

"Our systems show the weapon is being powered up for ignition again. If you're still over there when it fires..."

"Hotter than July?"

"More like trying to get a tan on the surface of the sun."

"Terrif," Scattergood muttered. "Moving to the next location."

Dredd was less than a block from the Grand Hall when he heard the voice. "Going somewhere, Judge?" a Brit-Cit accent asked. Fincher stepped into view, positioning himself between Dredd and the Grand Hall. "I knew those stupid cows Di and Tattoo Sue would never get the better of you, but I thought I'd let them take their shot. With a spot of luck, they might do you some damage. I can see I was right. Some nasty wounds you've got there, mate."

"I'm not your mate, scumbag."

"Scumbag? Is that any way to talk to the best bounty hunter in Mega-City One? I'm going be more famous than Orlok the Assassin once I've offed you."

"You've got to kill me to get the kudos, creep. Better men and women than you have tried, and failed."

Fincher pulled out an old fashioned straight-bladed razor. "See this? It's an antique. I save it for special kills, the ones that mean something. You should be honoured, Dredd, not many people get to feel my straight razor as it slices through their neck. Course, you won't feel much of anything once I've done with you. Bludd wants your badge, but I think I'll take your head as a trophy. Probably charge people for a peek under that helmet of yours, see what Old Stony Face really looks like."

Dredd leaned one hand against a wall for support. "You planning to kill me with that thing or talk me to death?"

The Brit smiled, revealing a mouthful of decaying teeth and gums. "Don't you worry, mate, you'll be dead soon enough. I just wanted you to know that this isn't personal but strictly business. I've got a lot of admiration for you, Dredd."

"It isn't mutual."

"I mean, there's probably not a bone in that body hasn't been broken at some point. How long you been on the streets now? Thirty years? Forty? And top of the game for all that time. The undisputed world heavyweight champion when it comes to law enforcement, until today."

"You know what I hate most about punks like you?"

"Today I'll be putting an end to your brilliant career. This is the end of the line, Dredd. How does it feel to meet your match at last?"

"They can talk the talk, but they can't walk the walk."

"How does it feel to meet the man who's going to end your life?"

"Like you Brits say - all mouth but no trousers."

Fincher's smile faded. "You're gonna pay for that, mate. I was gonna finish you off nice and quick, as a mark of respect. Now I think I'll take my time instead, savour the moment."

"Don't rush on my account." Dredd drew his daystick from its leathereen strap. "You bring anything besides that razor?"

"It's all I need to finish you."

"We'll see." Dredd suddenly threw the daystick at Fincher.

The bounty hunter was surprised but still had time to duck out of the way. He burst out laughing, looking over his shoulder at the fallen weapon. "Is that the best you can do, old man?" Fincher turned round again to find Dredd drawing back a fist, ready to strike.

"No," Dredd hissed. "Try this!"

"Energy Pulse weapon is almost ready to fire again," Kara reported. Bludd was watching Scattergood clamp magnetic charges to the cylindrical satellite, using the same surveillance feed as Grissom had on Justice Seven.

The crime boss smiled to himself as he gave fresh orders to Kara. "Reposition so the weapon is taking aim at the department's orbital platform. Let the Judges know what it's like to be at the wrong end of a weapon for once."

Scattergood finished clamping the fifth charge to the exterior of the satellite. She reached for the final magnetic device. "Alright, just one left. Where should this one..."

"Grissom to Scattergood, can you hear me? What's wrong? Ma'am-"

"The satellite's manoeuvring thrusters are active!" Scattergood replied. "It's changing target! Grissom, how long before this thing can fire again?"

"The energy pulse is ready now, ma'am. Bludd just needs to lock on target and he can fire whenever he wants."

"Stomm," Scattergood hissed. She hurriedly reached for the last magnetic charge but her fingertips only brushed its edge. The device floated away from her, banging against the side of the satellite. Scattergood grabbed at its clamps and got hold of one. "Grissom, where do I put this last charge?"

"Two metres above your current position, ma'am - and make it snappy!" Fear was evident in the PSU analyst's voice.

"Why? What's wrong now?"

"The satellite - it's taking aim at Justice Seven!"

Dredd smashed his fist into Fincher's face, sending the Brit sprawling backwards. The straight razor tumbled from the bounty hunter's hand as Dredd followed up with a boot into the fallen man's crotch. Fincher screamed out in agony, the breath hissing between his teeth.

"Christ, me bollocks!" he whimpered, curling up into a foetal position, one hand stretched outwards in anguish.

Dredd crouched beside the stricken murderer. "Two blows, that's all it took to stop you, punk. So much for the great pretender."

Fincher closed his outstretched hand around the straight razor's handle before smiling at the Judge. "You got that last part wrong, mate." Fincher swept his arm round in an arc. The blade sliced through the sleeve of Dredd's uniform and cut deep into the forearm, right down to the bone. The Judge screamed out in anguish, blood spraying from the wound in a crimson gout as he doubled over. "I like a little pretending," Fincher smirked as he threw a punch into Dredd's throat, sending the lawman backwards into a rockrete wall, gasping for air.

The Brit stood and brushed himself down. "Little trick I learned during a visit to Hondo City when I was a kid. Sumo wrestlers are trained from puberty to retract their meat and two veg into the cavity from where your balls drop as it protects you from low blows. I'm quite a dab hand at it myself now - very useful in a fight, I find."

Dredd was slumped against the wall, still fighting for every breath as Fincher came nearer. The bounty hunter held the straight razor in front of his face and licked blood from the blade. "There's an old saying - the first cut is the deepest. But nothing could be further from the truth."

Scattergood pressed the final charge into position and twisted the dial to clamp it down, but nothing happened. She gave the dial another twist. Still nothing, no reassuring clump to prove the magnetic seal had been made. "Grissom, something's wrong! The last charge isn't magnetising!"

"Have you twisted the dial?"

"Of course I've twisted the drokking dial! It's not clamping to the satellite!"

"Magnets must have been damaged when the charge banged against the exterior. They're very sensitive, prone to breaking. That's why we use them so infrequently, except in emergencies."

"Now he tells me," Scattergood muttered under her breath. "How do I fix it?"

"You can't," Grissom replied. "You could come back for a replacement-"

"By the time I do that Justice Seven will be space debris!" The veteran Judge could feel the spacesuit closing in, her breath coming in ever shorter gasps as her heart rate accelerated from the stress. "I've got five charges in place - will that be enough to destroy the satellite?"

The only reply was a long silence.

"Grissom! Are five charges enough to-"

"No," the PSU analyst said quietly. "Six is the minimum. It should be double that number to be certain. With just six, all of them must be securely fixed to the exterior of the satellite when they blow to be effective."

"Terrif," Scattergood sighed. "How long until Justice Seven is in range of the energy pulse beam?"

"Less than a minute before it can fire."

Now it was Scattergood's turn to fall silent. She twisted round in the spacesuit to see the Earth, the sprawling conurbation of Mega-City One just visible through a gap in the clouds. Grissom's voice interrupted her reverie. "Ma'am, did you hear me? We've got less than a minute."

"I heard you," Scattergood replied. "I'll hold the final device in place while you detonate all six charges, it's the only way to stop this thing."

"But ma'am, if you stay there you'll be-"

"If I don't do this, everyone on board Justice Seven will die. One life versus dozens. You do the math, Grissom."

"But there must be-"

"There isn't and you know it. Detonate the charges, Grissom, while you still have time."

"But-"

"Detonate the charges! That's a direct order!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Scattergood pressed the final charge into place and closed her eyes, remembering the words of a prayer she had learned as a child. The veteran Judge whispered the opening phrase over and over to herself as she waited for the explosion. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of-"

The satellite exploded in the sky above Mega-City One, a fleeting fireball in the night. Fincher saw the blink of light from the corner of his eye and paused to look up. "That's funny. I didn't think the fireworks started until midnight."

"They don't," Dredd replied, "but you won't be alive to see them." He grabbed the bounty hunter's hand clasping the razor and began twisting the blade towards Fincher's neck. The Brit fought back with all his strength, but Dredd had the advantage. "Time to die, punk!" The Judge rammed his fists forward, forcing the razor deep into Fincher's throat before ripping it sideways.

The blade cut through the carotid artery, showering Dredd with the bounty hunter's blood. Fincher clasped both hands over the wound, trying to hold back the inevitable. But Dredd punched the bounty hunter in the face, knocking the Brit backwards to the ground. The Judge crawled away from the dying perp, ignoring the last spasms as death took hold of Fincher.

A familiar voice reappeared via Dredd's helmet radio. "Still alive?" Kara asked sarcastically. "Congratulations, Dredd, you've killed four of the finest bounty hunters in the business. But you only have minutes left to reach the Grand Hall, otherwise the weapon that levelled Joe Chill will be turned upon the home of justice. Hurry, Joe, hurry!"

Dredd pulled himself to his feet, fighting back the effects of blood loss and concussion. He staggered towards the Grand Hall, each step sending a shudder of pain through his battered body.

In the Chief Judge's office, Hershey sat behind her desk, waiting for Bludd's call. Niles was with her, pacing restlessly back and forth from the door. The Tri-D screen on Hershey's desk came alive. "Control to Chief Judge, message coming in from Justice Seven for you!"

"Patch it through," Hershey commanded.

A careworn face appeared on the monitor. "PSU analyst Grissom reporting, ma'am. We destroyed the satellite containing the energy pulse beam weapon. It's no longer a threat to the city."

The Chief Judge smiled, happy to get some good news at last. "Congratulations, Grissom. Where's your commander, Judge Scattergood? I'd have thought she would want to tell me this herself."

Sorrow passed across the analyst's face. "We lost her, ma'am. Judge Scattergood sacrificed herself to take out the satellite. She saved us all."

Hershey's happiness faded away. Another death to add to Bludd's toll, another life lost trying to stop this creep. "Thank you, Grissom. Who's the most senior officer on Justice Seven now?"

Grissom turned away from the screen to glance round his colleagues. "I suppose I am, ma'am."

"Very well. As Chief Judge of Mega-City One I hereby promote you to acting commander of Justice Seven until this crisis is averted. Do well and the job can be yours permanently."

"Yes, ma'am. But haven't we averted the crisis already? We stopped the satellite from firing its weapon again."

Hershey grimaced. "Unfortunately, we suspect that satellite may be just the first of a dozen such threats in the sky. You and your team have to stop them all. Stand ready - Bludd isn't finished with us yet. Hershey out." She deactivated the Tri-D monitor. From the antechamber to her office a clock began chiming twelve. Niles stopped his pacing to listen.

"It's midnight."

The Tri-D monitor came back to life, the face of Jesus Bludd appearing on screen. "Good evening, Chief Judge, or should I say good morning. It's deadline time. Which is it to be, the money or your lives?"

Dredd staggered across the skedway in front of the Grand Hall, his legs collapsing as he neared the steps. "Don't give up now, Joe!" Kara's voice goaded him. "I can hear the chimes of midnight, you've got a few seconds left."

"Drokk you," Dredd snarled. He crawled towards the stone stairs, reaching one hand towards them. With one last effort he touched the first step with his fingertips.

"Congratulations, you made it," Kara said via his helmet radio. "The good news is the weapon used to destroy Joe Chill will never be fired upon Mega-City One, just as I promised. The bad news? It seems your Chief Judge is not as cooperative as you, Dredd. Now everyone in Mega-City One shall suffer the consequences!"

ELEVEN

Bludd waggled an admonishing finger at the Chief Judge. "Tut, tut! You have failed to transfer the required payment to my offworld account, Hershey. Are you ready for the consequences of such disobedience?"

"I don't answer to scum like you," she spat back. "Mega-City One will not be blackmailed. Do your worst Bludd, but heed this: attack my city and its Judges will hunt you down and kill you, no matter where you go and how well you hide. You will never be safe, never know peace again. Your days will be numbered and your life forfeit."

"So be it," Bludd replied. "You might want to look out your windows in the next few minutes, the fireworks are about to start."

Med-Judges swarmed around Dredd's body, trying to staunch the bleeding from his many wounds. Most of the PSU surveillance cameras surrounding the Grand Hall were still offline, so Dredd's approach had gone unnoticed. It was a passing patrol that first saw the Judge's body collapsed on the stairs and reported the emergency. Med-Division was based in another sector of the city, but the Grand Hall did have its own medical bay and staff of physicians.

Now a phalanx of Med-Judges was crouched on the building's front steps around the dying lawman. Leading the efforts to save Dredd was Callaghan. Only a few hours before she had accused Dredd of going rogue, now she found herself fighting to keep him alive. Much of his body was swaddled in rapi-heal patches but the razor cuts inflicted by Fincher were too deep for such treatment so a staple gun was used, metal bands crudely fastening the gaping wounds back together.

Handheld scanners monitoring Dredd's vital signs began bleeping in distress. "We're losing him!" Callaghan shouted as she examined the readouts. "Looks like a blood clot close to the brain. Get that helmet off him - we've got to relieve the pressure now!"

Another Med-Judge questioned her command. Blum was a stickler for procedure, an attitude that won him credit at the Academy but often proved too rigid in matters of life and death on the streets. "You can't do that procedure out here, the risk of infection is too high. He should be on an operating table, not the front steps of the Grand Hall!"

"He'll be dead before we get him inside. We do this here and now, or we lose him altogether!" Callaghan snarled. "Somebody hand me a laser scalpel."

Grissom stood in front of Scattergood's empty chair. The Chief Judge might have rewarded him with a field promotion to acting commander, but Grissom didn't feel ready to take the dead woman's place yet. She had been a towering presence on Justice Seven, transforming the orbital platform's status from minor outpost to a vital part of the Big Meg's defences.

"Commander," one of the other analysts called out, but got no response from the new boss of Justice Seven. "Grissom!"

"Sorry," he replied. "What is it?"

"One of the dormant satellites with geostationary positioning above the Big Meg is falling out of orbit, sir."

Grissom shrugged. "Not an infrequent occurrence. It's amazing those old tin cans have stayed up this long."

"Yes, but this one fired its retro rockets first. It isn't dormant any longer. Someone has deliberately triggered the descent mechanism."

"Trajectory?"

"Headed straight for the Grand Hall of Justice."

"Terrif," Grissom muttered. "How long for us to intercept that satellite?"

"Seven minutes."

"And how long before it re-enters the atmosphere?"

"Four minutes, sir."

"Stomm," the new commander hissed. "Plot an intercept course and fire all manoeuvring thrusters. We've got to find a way of stopping that satellite!"

Bludd finished tapping instructions into the stolen command and control system. In an era of voice-activated computers and faster-than-thought relays, using such an antiquated device was something of a shock. How did people ever cope with this puny processing power? It was remarkable to think such an arcane mechanism had controlled so many deadly weapons. The command and control system was technologically akin to a bow and arrow, he thought to himself.

Satisfied with his efforts, the crime boss strolled back to the comms centre of his orbiting headquarters. Everything was going according to plan. Now it was time to apply the squeeze. Bludd returned to his wall of Tri-D monitors, Kara vacating his hoverchair to take her own seat. "What's the latest?"

"Dredd's circling the drain," Kara replied. "They might save him but..."

Bludd was disturbed to see static on some of the Tri-D monitors. "And what's causing the interference on these screens?"

"Meds took off Dredd's helmet to treat his head wounds. The relay disc on the side of the helmet is face down. That's interfering with our signal from Control and PSU systems." Kara pointed at the live feed from a spy-in-the-sky camera observing efforts to save Dredd's life. "You can see it there."

Bludd peered at the image. A street Judge called Elson was picking up Dredd's helmet. As he turned the helmet over, the static cleared away from the monitors, the relay signal restored. "That's better," the crime boss said.

"Not for long," Kara noted. She amplified the audio signal.

On screen Elson was staring at the translucent disc on Dredd's helmet, puzzlement evident on the Judge's face. "Anyone know what this is?" he asked. The medics were too busy attending their patient to answer. Elson began picking at the disc, trying to prise it off the helmet.

"No, don't touch that-" Bludd urged.

Suddenly most of the Tri-D monitors went black.

"We've lost our relay signal," Kara said bleakly. "My bluff about the disc containing an explosive charge was only effective while Dredd was conscious."

Bludd shrugged. "It was good while it lasted. The pieces are in place. We can glean all the information we need from other sources now."

Justice Seven was moving faster than it had since being launched into orbit eight years previously. The platform was thundering across the sky, firing all its thrusters and manoeuvring rockets in a vain attempt to intercept the satellite tumbling out of orbit. Inside, Grissom was barking orders to his crew, trying to find some way of achieving the impossible.

"How long to intercept now?"

In front of Grissom sat another PSU analyst, Rayner. She scanned the readings on her computer screen before answering. "Three minutes, sir"

"And until that thing re-enters the atmosphere?"

"Eighty seconds."

On the large view screen in the command centre, the satellite was clearly visible ahead of Justice Seven, a black hulk given shape by the curve of Earth below it. Already the bottom of the satellite was beginning to glow red as its temperature rose, warmed by the friction of the approaching atmosphere.

"Drokk it, there must be something we can do!" Grissom protested.

Rayner looked over her shoulder at the new commander. "Even if we could reach the satellite, how would we stop it?"

"We'd find a way," Grissom replied. "Scattergood would've managed it."

"Less than a minute to re-entry."

Callaghan crouched above Dredd's head, the laser scalpel clenched tightly in her hand. "I'm going in," she announced. The Med-Judge began pressing the end of the cutting tool against the lawman's scalp. It sizzled through the skin, cauterising the blood vessels directly beneath before cutting into the skull.

"Getting some resistance. Gonna press harder," Callaghan said, all too aware of how dangerous this procedure was. Go too far and she would plunge the laser scalpel directly into Dredd's brain, performing a crude lobotomy. Hold back too much and he would be dead of a brain seizure within minutes.

Suddenly the scalpel was through the bone of Dredd's skull. Blood surged out the hole, boiling as it passed the intense heat of the laser, cooking in the air with a sickening smell of metal burning. Callaghan held her hands steady. "Withdrawing the laser scalpel. We'll let the blood clot drain out, then seal the vent. Everybody ready?"

The Med-Judge pulled the scalpel away and blood spouted from the circular hole in Dredd's skull. Once the flow had subsided Callaghan took a rapi-heal patch from one of her colleagues and positioned it over the void, while another medic secured it in place. "Vital signs?"

"Stabilising," someone nearby replied.

"Once the hover-stretcher gets here we can move him inside." Callaghan sat back on her haunches and took a deep breath, her face flooded with perspiration and relief. "We did it."

The satellite was re-entering the atmosphere, surrounded by blazing white light as it burnt up. Justice Seven plunged after it, Grissom determined to keep going until the last possible moment. Already the temperature inside the orbital platform was past all recommended safety limits and still rising.

"Sir, if we don't alter course soon, we'll burn up too!" Rayner protested.

"Not yet," Grissom snapped. "I want to be certain that thing doesn't reach the Big Meg. Do we know what the satellite's payload is yet?"

"Manifest is encrypted but I've transmitted it to Tek-Division for breakdown and analysis. Not sure if the message got through. This close to re-entry all radio signals start to degrade."

On the view screen the satellite abruptly exploded into a hail of green and yellow fragments, each burning brightly as it fell to Earth. "That's done it!" Grissom shouted in triumph. "Pull us away - now!"

"I'm not sure I can," Rayner said. "We used too much fuel getting here. There's nothing left to fire the manoeuvring thrusters!"

"Retro rockets then!"

"Gone as well, sir!" Rayner screamed as her computer exploded in a shower of sparks and flame. That set off a chain reaction as other systems began succumbing to the temperature.

Grissom sank back down into the commander's chair. "Get a message through to Control. We have tried to-"

Justice Seven exploded.

The sky above Mega-City One offers many exciting opportunities for the amateur astronomer. Powerful telescopes like the Home Hubble 3000 enabled ordinary citizens to observe a range of heavenly bodies. Twenty-second century fireworks were dazzling and undeniably exciting. But few pyrotechnic displays over the Big Meg could hope to match the astounding light show that began dancing overhead just after midnight.

The yellow cloud was first; light bouncing from edge to edge, bringing a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" from all who saw it. Next came green, verdant hues of emerald and jade, bathing the city in luminescence. Then the two clouds combined to create striations of colour and intensity surpassing imagination.

Those citizens still out on the streets hurried home or called friends and family to tell them about the wonders overhead. Parents and children spilled out of bed to witness this once-in-a-lifetime extravaganza. Within minutes, news stations were being flooded with calls about the pyrotechnics and images of the spectacle were being broadcast on all the major Tri-D channels.

On the Mega-City News, Enigma Smith was almost speechless with awe. She had won a battle to escape from the studio, persuading her producer to authorise a rare outside broadcast from the roof garden of Ruprecht Maxwell's headquarters. Smith enthused live to air while the light show was visible behind her in the sky.

"Get out of your beds, get out of your con-apts, people of Mega-City One," she urged. "Never in her life has this reporter seen such glory, such majesty. It makes you feel lucky to be alive this night, lucky to have savoured this wonder! Don't be selfish and wake up your neighbours, your friends, even your enemies. I can only say I feel sorry for those who can't see what I am looking at now. You don't want to miss this spectacle of spectacles."

A particularly intense burst of light overhead took the words from Smith's mouth. After watching for a few seconds she looked at the camera, tears filling her eyes. "You know what? I'm not going to spoil this moment by talking all over the top of it. Let these pictures tell the story for you."

"Control to Chief Judge, please respond. Control to Chief Judge, can you hear this message? Please respond!" The voice speaking through the comms speaker on Hershey's desk was becoming frantic. "Control to all units close to the Chief Judge's office, please-"

"I'm here, for grud's sake!" Hershey snapped, returning to her desk. "What's so drokkin' urgent I can't take a minute away to look at the fireworks?"

"It's about what's happening in the sky, ma'am. The director of the Dustbuster called in to say the museum's board cancelled the display this afternoon when it discovered who was sponsoring the event."

"Let me guess, Jesus Bludd," the Chief Judge replied. "Then where is the light show coming from?"

"Tek-Division believes it may be fall-out from an old satellite that exploded while trying to re-enter Earth's atmosphere, ma'am."

Hershey mused on this. "Get me Justice Seven. We need to know more about what we're dealing with."

"That's the other problem, ma'am. Justice Seven was destroyed trying to intercept the satellite. Their last transmission was scrambled with static. It's taken Tek-Division several minutes to reconstruct the message. Justice Seven relayed an encrypted manifest. It seems the satellite was carrying some kind of biological or chemical weapon. No further details available."

"Stomm," Hershey whispered. "Recall all street Judges to Sector Houses, now! If that yellow and green light show is raining a bioweapon down on the city, we don't need any more helmets being exposed to it."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The Chief Judge sank into her chair, aware of her eyes starting to itch. Probably psychosomatic, but she should get it checked by the Med-Judges. It would give her a chance to see how Dredd was doing. He'd been stabilised and shifted into the Grand Hall's medical bay just before the light show had begun over the city.

Her thoughts were cut short by an incoming call from Niles at PSU. "Ma'am, have you been outside to see the pyrotechnics display?"

"Yes, I just came back in. McTighe has already warned me about possible contaminants, so I've recalled all our-"

"Sorry to interrupt but you should switch your main screen to multiview."

Hershey pushed a button on her desk. Part of the opposite wall slid away to reveal an array of Tri-D monitors. "Show me multiview," the Chief Judge commanded. Each screen came alive, displaying a different broadcast channel from among the tens of thousands serving the city. On every monitor were scenes of chaos on the streets, people staggering around clutching at their faces, blood trickling from their eyes. After a few seconds the images were replaced with feeds from different channels. "Sound on," Hershey said. She was overwhelmed by a cacophony of voices, all telling similar stories.

"Reports are coming in about a plague of blindness that appears to be sweeping across the Big Meg. So far we've had dozens of calls from-"

"Citizens everywhere are bleeding from their eyes, unable to see anything but a blur, everything fading into darkness and-"

"It began a few minutes ago and already our switchboard has been overloaded as concerned cits are calling us to-"

"Chaos is gripping the streets of the Big Meg as people stagger-"

"The wave of blindness is spreading faster than any disease-"

"We estimate tens of thousands are already affected and many-"

"Could the affliction be linked to the light display still going on above the city? So far there has been no statement from the Judges but-"

"The end is nigh! The end is nigh! Abandon hope as God punishes the sinners and takes their vision from-"

"Don't go outside, don't look outside. That's the warning from-"

"We've had reports of roadsters crashing into buildings-"

"Stratbats and other aircraft are falling from the sky-"

"Fires are spreading rapidly, out of control and with nobody to-"

"Apparently the first symptom is itching behind the eyes, then a trickle of blood begins seeping out. Within a few minutes the victims are blind, unable to see their hands in front of their faces. So far-"

"I'm Enigma Smith and I've been struck blind like many of you. What has caused this apparently citywide catastrophe? Who can reverse this plague of sightlessness? What hope can there be for a city where none can see?"

"Sound off," Hershey commanded. Sweet Jovus, what was happening? She felt something running down one side of her face. The Chief Judge touched her cheek and felt a trickle of moisture. When she looked at her fingers, they were covered in blood. "In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," she whispered, remembering the quotation Bludd had been discussing over synthi-caf with Dredd just a few hours earlier. Already the room was growing dark, although she knew the lighting level had not changed.

"Hershey to Control. I am hereby instituting a total curfew over the entire city, effective from 1:00 am. All citizens are to remain indoors until further notice. Any caught outside their homes after one will be considered looters and may be shot on sight. Have that broadcast on every Tri-D channel in the city, jam their signals with ours if you have to." The Chief Judge broke off her transmission to cringe inwardly at what she had said. Shot on sight! That assumed there were still any Judges who could see to do the shooting. Hershey resumed her message. "Contact all offworld Judges within three days of Earth and tell them to return to Mega-City One immediately. Get all Council of Five members to stand by a vidphone. I'll be conducting a conference call meeting with them beginning in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"Yes. Call all Sector Houses and department facilities in the city. Find out how many sighted Judges they still have, we need to know just how bad our situation is. And send somebody who can see up to my office. I'm going to need them to be my eyes from now on. Make it Auburn." Hershey switched off the comms unit, her fingers fumbling for the controls.

In the time it had taken to reel off her orders, she had gone blind.

Giant was one of the lucky ones. When the yellow and green lights began dancing in the sky over Mega-City One, the Judge was stuck inside trying to prise a bottle of foul-smelling liquid from Smirnoff. The East-Meg Two delegate had somehow managed to smuggle it past all the security checks and was drinking himself into a stupor when Giant arrived to check on him just before midnight.

"It's not synthi-vodka, tovarisch, but it'll do in an emergency," Smirnoff slurred before holding the bottle out to Giant. "Would you like a taste?"

"Thanks." Giant accepted it but then tipped the remaining liquid out on the floor of the safe house. An acrid stench attacked his nostrils as the spillage sank into the floor covering. "What in the name of grud is that?"

"Metal polish, cut with a little lemon juice," Smirnoff replied. "Not my first choice, comrade, but you took that away too."

"Is there anything you won't drink? You'll go blind if you keep this up."

The East-Meg Two delegate shrugged. "Least I won't be alone."

"What do you mean by that?" Giant demanded.

Smirnoff hiccupped. "You'll see, my little black friend. You'll see." He tried to get up from the floor and failed miserably. "What time is it?"

"Twelve fifteen. Why?"

"Then it has already started. Soon he'll send for us."

"What's started? Who'll send for you? Ivan, you aren't making sense."

"I never do. It's part of my naïve charm."

Giant shook his head as he regarded the sprawled mess of the Russian on the floor. "How about I get you into bed so you can sleep this off? The Chief Judge will be expecting you at the next treaty session bright and early."

Smirnoff laughed hollowly. "There will be no more talk. You will see."

Before Giant could reply his helmet radio demanded attention.

"Control to all Judges. Do not, repeat, do not go outside or look at the lights in the sky overhead. If you have already seen these lights, stop whatever you are doing and report to the nearest Sector House or medical centre. All those already afflicted by blindness should remain where they are until further instructions are issued. The Chief Judge has announced a curfew for all citizens, effective from 1:00 am. Message repeats. Control to all Judges..."

Giant found the orders hard to understand. What lights overhead, what blindness? He almost went to the windows of the safe house to see what was going on before remembering the warning. Control would not have given such a directive without good reason. The Judge crouched beside Smirnoff and began slapping the semi-conscious delegate's face. "Ivan! Ivan, wake up! How did you know about this blindness?"

Callaghan was monitoring Dredd's condition when the first sightless Judge stumbled into the Grand Hall of Justice's medical bay. Farrow had been on patrol nearby when the lights began filling the sky. A few minutes later the young law enforcer realised he was bleeding from the eyes and immediately headed back to the Grand Hall. Farrow abandoned his Lawmaster by the front steps and stumbled into the building as his sight faded away. It had taken him another ten minutes to reach the medical bay, bumping into dozens of other stricken Judges along the way. "I don't know what the hell's happened," he said, blood dripping from both sides of his face. "One minute I could see fine, the next, nothing."

Callaghan examined Farrow's eyes. They were bloodshot and still weeping red, but there was no obvious sign of cause or contaminant. She gave him some drops to soothe the irritation and sent him to the nearby dormitories. "There's nothing else I can do for you right now. You may need an eye specialist or even bionic replacements if the condition is permanent."

"Bionic eyeballs?" Farrow asked uncertainly.

"Don't knock 'em till you've tried them," Callaghan replied. She jerked a thumb towards Dredd, then realised the pointlessness of her gesture. "Dredd over there had his eyeballs ripped out twenty years ago. After they fitted the bionics, he thought they were an improvement on the real thing - even said he should have had them fitted sooner!"

"Really?"

"Well, that's what I was told during training. Look, if your condition hasn't improved within a few hours I'll examine you again." Callaghan went out into the corridor and found an admin robot. "I need you to escort a Judge to the dormitories. He's been blinded and-"

The robot just waved her away. "Haven't you heard? Half the city's gone blind and most of the Judges with it!" The droid hurried away, muttering and shaking its head.

Callaghan realised she must have switched off her helmet radio to concentrate while treating Dredd earlier. She reactivated it and was hit by a blizzard of radio traffic, dozens of voices overlapping and shouting to be heard.

"Sweet Jovus, I can't see a-"

"Porter to Control, need medical assist. Vision went blurry and crashed my Lawmaster into shoppera window. Believe I may be bleeding-"

"It's madness out here! People screaming and crying, all the-"

"Can't face carrying on if I can't see. Have decided to-"

A gunshot punctuated the last message. It sounded to Callaghan like a Judge had committed suicide. What the drokk was happening outside?

One voice cut through the barrage, commanding the others to silence. "Control to all Judges! All unauthorised messages are to cease forthwith, in view of the current crisis. Keep this frequency open for emergencies only!"

Emergencies only? Callaghan wondered if anything wasn't an emergency in this city. She returned to the medical bay where Farrow was stumbling around, trying to find the exit. The Med-Judge led him to the door and put his hand against the left wall.

"Go straight ahead from here. You want the fourth door on the left, it will take you to the dormitories. You got that?"

Farrow nodded. "Sounds like one hell of a mess out there. I'm probably one of the lucky ones, made it back here alive. Well, see you on the..." His voice trailed away as the young Judge realised what he was saying. He sighed and stumbled away, keeping one hand on the wall as a guide.

Callaghan went back inside the medical bay to find Dredd trying to sit up on the hover-stretcher. "Are you determined to kill yourself?" she demanded. "We only just saved your life, Dredd. Don't undo all my good work straight away! We're going to need every able-bodied Judge we can from what I hear."

"What do you mean? What's going on?"

"Some kind of sudden blindness seems to have afflicted large parts of the city. More than half our street Judges have been affected," she explained.

"Where's my helmet?" Dredd demanded.

Callaghan retrieved it from a pile of possessions lying nearby. "Let me check your cranium first. We were forced to drill a hole into your skull to evacuate a blood clot on the brain." She moved to the end of the hover-stretcher and carefully peeled back one edge of the rapi-heal patch. This remarkable invention was capable of accelerating the body's natural healing ability by a factor of one hundred. Broken bones could be reset and harder than ever within a few hours instead of a few weeks.

Already the patch had knitted Dredd's skull back together across the hole left by the laser scalpel, and fresh skin was forming to cover it. Satisfied, the Med-Judge pushed the patch back into position and eased Dredd's helmet gently on to his head. "You'll be vulnerable there for days, until the skull has completely regenerated," she advised. "Tek-Judges repaired your radio mic while you were being treated."

Dredd touched a hand to the side of his helmet. "It's gone."

"The translucent disc?" Callaghan asked. "Tek-Division has that. They think it was some kind of relay device."

"Bludd's enforcer was using it to feed me instructions."

"That's why you attacked me, why you hijacked the med-wagon."

"I had no choice," Dredd replied. Wincing from the pain, he raised himself into a sitting position with Callaghan's aid and looked at the patchwork of rapi-heals covering much of his body. "I have to see the Chief Judge."

"You're lucky to be alive. At least give yourself a chance to heal properly."

"I haven't got time to heal. The city needs me."

After twenty-seven minutes the yellow and green lights over Mega-City One began to fade away, their dazzling display of movement and colour dissipating. But nobody still outside was disappointed to see the end of the pyrotechnics, because nobody outside could see anymore. The contents of the satellite had done their job. The Big Meg had become a kingdom of the blind.

Callaghan sighed as she helped Dredd zip up the upper half of his uniform. "I still say you should remain here, under observation, at least until morning."

"I need a new Lawgiver," the wounded lawman replied.

Callaghan retrieved her own weapon and deactivated the self-destruct mechanism built into its grip. "You can have mine, but now anyone can fire it. If you want a Lawgiver coded to only your heat signature, you'll have to see the quartermaster in the Armoury."

Dredd nodded as he took the weapon, slotting it into his boot holster. The Med-Judge remained in front of him, blocking the way out. "Have you listened to a word I've said?" Callaghan asked.

"I heard you. Now get out of my way."

She stepped aside so Dredd could leave. "Fine. See how far you get."

He rose to his feet, swayed for a few moments and then sank back down on to the hover-stretcher. "Grud dammit," Dredd hissed in frustration. He glared at Callaghan, who rapidly removed the amused expression from her face. "You'll have to help me."

"I can't leave the medical bay unmanned. What if there's an emergency?"

"It's already happened," Dredd replied. "Now, are you going to help me to the Chief Judge's office, or do I have to crawl there?"

TWELVE

Hershey was sat behind her desk, listening to news reports from the bank of Tri-D screens in her office. Light from dozens of different images illuminated the room with a chaos of colours, but the Chief Judge was facing away from the monitors. Like other victims of the blindness, her eyes stopped bleeding soon after the light storm above the city faded away, but her sight had not returned. A cursory examination by Med-Judges confirmed she was suffering the same symptoms as everyone else affected, but none of the medics could offer any answers about when or even if Mega-City One's Chief Judge would get her sight back.

"Auburn, are you still here?" Hershey asked, trying to keep panic from her voice. To go blind gradually was one thing, you could prepare yourself for that. But to suddenly have vision torn from you, that was a shock. Hershey had never been afraid of the dark as a child. Now she found herself surrounded by it and the sensation was chilling.

"Yes, ma'am," the auxiliary Judge replied. Balding and over fifty, Auburn had never cut it as a law enforcer on the streets. Transferred to the Justice Department's administrative section, he had discovered a talent for strategic planning and implementation that more than compensated for his other failings. Auburn's reforming zeal had streamlined the department's systems and freed up valuable resources for upholding the Law.

"Well, make a bit more noise, for the love of grud. Then at least I'll know you're still in the room!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you tabulated the numbers yet?" Hershey asked grumpily. She hated being blind, hated being so dependent upon others. The Chief Judge hadn't felt this out of her depth since that first day as a cadet. She could still recall bursting into tears as a five year-old when her mother left her with the Judge-Tutors at the Academy. Helpless and alone, that was how Hershey had felt then. Well, at least she wasn't alone this time.

"Pulling them together now. They'll be ready in time for the conference call," Auburn assured her.

"And how long until that?"

"A little over a minute, ma'am."

"Good." A knock at the office door startled Hershey. "Who's there?"

"Dredd."

The Chief Judge smiled despite herself. No, she wasn't alone anymore. Hershey swivelled her chair round to the desk and switched off the wall of Tri-D screens. "Come in and shut the door after you. I don't want to be disturbed for the next fifteen minutes." She listened intently to the sounds approaching her. There were two sets of footsteps: one heavy and shuffling, the other awkward and staggering slightly. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better," Dredd replied.

Hershey gestured to where the nearest chair should be. "Have a seat." Someone lowered into the chair, grunting in pain.

"I'll be getting back to the medical bay, ma'am," a woman's voice said.

"Can you stay, Med-Judge...?"

"Callaghan, ma'am. If you wish."

"I do. Your input may be of value."

"Yes, ma'am."

The Chief Judge smiled. Callaghan sounded nervous. Probably never been in this room before. "I understand your prompt actions outside the Grand Hall saved Dredd's life."

"Just doing my job, ma'am."

"Nevertheless, you Med-Judges will bear the brunt of our difficulties in the coming hours and days. I'm glad to have the chance of thanking you. I may be needing you-" Hershey was interrupted by Auburn clearing his throat.

"Excuse me, ma'am. The Council of Five is ready for your call."

"Put them on audio only," she responded. No need for the other council members to see their leader blind and helpless. There was a click and the five council members announced their presence online. Hershey summarised what had happened since midnight. "I've asked Auburn to join this meeting. He has compiled statistics for the status of each division that will be useful in determining the way forward. Auburn?"

"Thank you, ma'am. The blindness has afflicted different departments to varying degrees. Med-Division has about half its Judges affected. They were either out in the open on duty when the lights first appeared in the sky or else responded to medical emergency calls before the danger was realised. Tek-Division got off lightly, only one in eight affected. Psi-Division's Judges were still recovering from the sudden shock of what happened at Joe Chill, so most escaped the blindness - only one in five are blind. These ratios are all rough estimates, I must stress. We won't know exact numbers for some days."

"What about street Judges?" Hollister asked. "I caught a dose of whatever this stomm is, but how many others are out of action?"

"Nearly eighty per cent have been blinded. Only one in five street Judges can still see. Most of them were asleep in dormitories or on sleep machines when this began. But they are trapped indoors until the all-clear is given. As of this moment the only Judges out on patrol are those with bionic eyes as they were not hurt by the light storm. Instead of more than ten thousand Judges on the streets, we currently have only a few hundred."

"Sweet Jovus," a voice whispered. Hershey recognised it as Buell, head of the SJS. "It must be anarchy out there!"

"Of a sort," Niles agreed. "Fortunately the PSU's cameras were not affected, so we've been keeping a close watch on the skedways and pedways. There's no looting or rioting yet as potential perps have seen what happened to anyone who went out in the light storm. But there are tens of thousands of blind citizens wandering the streets, lost and panicking, not knowing what's happened to them. Fires are raging out of control in dozens of sectors where hoverpods collided with buildings. Three stratbats crashed within the city after the pilots went blind. Robotic emergency services have been sent to deal with the aftermath of those incidents, but they can't cope for long."

"We need to get back out on the streets," Hershey said. "Suggestions?"

"Bring offworld Judges back," Buell urged.

"Already set in motion," Auburn replied. "Most are days away from Earth."

"Mobilise cadets from the Academy along with all their Judge-Tutors," Hollister said. "We'll lose some but most will gain from the experience."

"Feasible but risky," Hershey conceded. "That might solve our short-term problem but putting the next generation of law enforcers in harm's way too soon could cripple the department for decades. What else?"

"All auxiliary Judges can be put on patrol along with specialists from the various divisions. That would significantly swell our numbers." The suggestion came from Ramos, the other street Judge representative on the council. "They're more experienced than the cadets, too."

"Blind Judges could be fitted with bionic replacements," Tek-Division McTighe said. "We will need to institute a massive programme of surgery."

"I have a Med-Judge with me," Hershey announced. "Callaghan, what's the feasibility of that last suggestion?"

"It won't work - at least, not in the short-term," she replied.

"Why not?" McTighe demanded. Hershey could sense his umbrage at having the idea dismissed so summarily. Pompous ass, she thought.

"The operation takes six hours, with another eighteen for recovery. You need another six days for the subject to get used to their new eyes. That's a week before any of the subjects would be of any use. Plus the department does not have an unlimited supply of bionic eyes and the replacement optical devices are expensive. Not to mention many of the surgeons skilled in fitting them have probably been blinded since midnight. To get ten thousand blind street Judges back on patrol could take months or even years. It's a long-term solution, at best."

"Any other suggestions?" Hershey asked. "Comments?"

"Until the streets are safe, few of those suggestions do you any good," Dredd said sourly. "There's no point sending cadets, auxiliaries or anyone else outside until you know they won't be blinded too."

"Then what do you suggest?" McTighe asked huffily.

"Reactivate the Mechanismo programme," Dredd replied. "I'm no great supporter of using Robo-Judges to dispense justice, but in this situation it's the only feasible solution for the short-term."

Hershey was amused by Dredd's power of understatement. He had been utterly opposed to the plans of a previous Chief Judge to introduce mechanical lawmen to the Big Meg, even falsifying evidence to get the Mechanismo programme shut down. Dredd was sentenced to twenty years on Titan for his crime but that was commuted after flaws in the Robo-Judge technology were revealed. Hershey had revived the programme since becoming Chief Judge, but most of the units were used offworld on department spaceships. A few hundred remained in storage on Earth, deactivated.

"Dredd's is right," Hershey said. "You should have thought of that, McTighe. The Mechanismo programme falls under the jurisdiction of Tek-Division. Get those robots active and out on the streets now. That's an order!"

"Yes, ma'am!" McTighe replied, going offline to do her bidding.

"Chief Judge, I may have our first piece of good news tonight," Niles said. "My analysts report looting has just begun in Southside Sector 41."

"They're never slow to start trouble there," Hershey noted dryly. "And how is this good news?"

"The looters are going outside but not going blind, and none of them appears to have bionic eyes or any other optical protection we can see."

"So the blinding seems to have stopped with the light storm," the Chief Judge deduced. "Hollister and Ramos, mobilise the sighted street Judges and get them out on patrol. Buell, your duties as head of the SJS will be temporarily suspended. I'm putting you in charge of drafting the auxiliaries and cadets on to the streets. We can count ourselves lucky the majority of citizens are asleep and unaware of any of this, but that won't last long come sunrise. The curfew officially starts in a few minutes and it's your job to help enforce that."

"Yes, ma'am!" Buell responded before he and the others disconnected.

"Niles, you still with us?" Hershey asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the head of PSU replied.

"You never reported how badly your division was affected."

"We escaped the worst of it. That's what comes of never going outside."

"I was sorry to hear about Justice Seven."

"Thank you, ma'am. Justice Four is returning from a visit to Hestia. Might I suggest you have it act as replacement until a new orbital platform is ready?"

"Good idea," the Chief Judge said. "It's a Rumsfeld class spaceship?"

"Yes, ma'am. Heavily armed and armoured, just itching for a fight."

"Excellent. If we ever locate Bludd's orbital headquarters then Justice Four can blow the drokker out of the sky. More than a thousand people died in those stratbat crashes, not forgetting the thirty-three thousand who were inside Joe Chill. Bludd must be made to pay for his crimes when this is done."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll pass on your orders to Justice Four . Niles out."

Hershey sank back into her chair. "Med-Judge Callaghan, you can return to your station now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Auburn, can I ask you to leave too? I wish to speak with Dredd privately."

"Of course, ma'am."

Hershey waited until both Judges had departed before speaking again. "What do you think?"

"You've made a good first response to the problem, but this is tackling the symptoms, not the cause. We still don't know why Bludd has done all of this or why he's done it now."

"Why try to blackmail the city if he always intended to unleash a plague of blindness upon it?" Hershey said with a sigh. "Too many questions, not enough answers. Now, we've potentially a much greater threat to this city than Bludd. Unless a cure can be found for the blindness, the Big Meg is going to wake up in the morning with half its citizens permanently disabled. How are we supposed to cope with that?"

"In the kingdom of the blind..."

"The one-eyed man is king," Hershey said. "But what was Bludd driving at?"

"He was teasing us, taunting us with hints of what was to come. Bludd kept saying we were fighting a losing battle against crime, that the city was only ever one step from descending into anarchy. Now he's taken that step."

Hershey found herself nodding. "We've been reacting instead of acting. We need to take the initiative, seize control of whatever game Bludd is playing."

They were interrupted by Hershey's comms line. "Control to Chief Judge, urgent message for you."

"I told you, emergencies only Control!"

"It's from Judge Giant. It's about the extradition treaty delegates..."

"Grud," Hershey said. Amidst all of the chaos of the past few hours, she had pushed the five foreign visitors to the back of her mind. "If any of them were out in the light storm and got blinded, we'll never hear the end of it!"

"And Jesus Bludd," Control concluded.

Giant had regained his senses with a splitting headache, blood down the front of his uniform and broken glasseen on the floor by his face. The stench of cheap perfume hung in the air like a lynching victim, dead and repulsive. The last thing he could remember was helping Smirnoff into the bedroom of the safe house. The East-Meg Two delegate had been slurring his words, but the secrets revealed were all too clear.

"This Jesus Bludd, I have never met him, but he calls me at treaty talks, during one of the breaks between sessions. He offers the people of East-Meg a deal," Smirnoff had said, placing one foot in front of the other with all the exaggerated care of a drunken man.

"What kind of a deal?"

"He calls it protection. I call it extortion, tovarisch. We have seen his like before in my state; gangsters and nogoodniks, always greedy, always wanting more from you. Blackmailers, they are all the same."

Giant had eased Smirnoff on to the bed and stood over him, trying not to lose patience with the Sov's elliptical style of speaking. "What kind of a deal?"

"This Bludd, he says he will protect us, keep us safe from ancient weapons that still circle the globe. All he asks is the chance to meet with us and discuss his terms. I was sceptical, at first, until I speak with Chang and the others. They, too, have been contacted by this man. All have the same doubts and worries as I, but we put aside our differences to agree on one thing. No matter what happens, we shall - oh, dear!" Smirnoff clasped a hand to his face, blushing with embarrassment. "I was forgetting our agreement."

"You're not making sense," Giant said. "What agreement? What deal?"

The man from East-Meg Two had patted the bed beside him. "Sit, sit!"

"Ivan, what's going on?"

Smirnoff kept patting the bed. "Sit and I will tell you everything. I will - how do you say - spill my guts, yes?"

Against his better judgement, Giant had sat beside the Russian and listened to what followed. It was only when Giant tried to call Control that Smirnoff's face hardened. "I'm sorry, tovarisch, but I can't allow you to tell anyone else about this yet. My new found comrades would be most upset."

Then all was darkness until Giant regained his senses, surrounded by the fragments of a broken perfume bottle. Fortunately, his helmet radio was still working. Giant called Control while searching the safe house for Smirnoff. The East-Meg Two delegate was gone, along with all his possessions. "Control, put me through to the Chief Judge. Believe me, she'll want to hear this."

Hershey took the call from Giant. "What's all this about the visiting delegates?"

"During breaks in yesterday's negotiation sessions at the Grand Hall, Bludd individually contacted each of the representatives. I guess he must have hacked the secure comms lines in their private offices," Giant said.

"When this is over we need to seriously review our security protocols," the Chief Judge observed. "What did our friend Jesus say to the delegates?"

"That he had taken possession of a command and control system for all the US orbital weapons satellites from the late twentieth century still in the sky. He was willing to offer their cities protection from these weapons, at a price."

"The same scam he tried to pull on us," Dredd grimaced.

"What else?" Hershey asked.

"Smirnoff and the others hadn't heard of Bludd and didn't believe him," Giant replied, "until the destruction of Joe Chill Block. Bludd gave them advance warning about what would happen to the building and suggested they watch local news channels to see he wasn't bluffing. Afterwards Bludd contacted all the delegates again, just before he left the city, I guess. He warned them not to go outside at midnight or look out of any windows when the light storm began."

"So everything that Bludd has done today, it's been a demonstration of power, nothing more," Dredd said. "Mega-City One has been blinded and tens of thousands murdered so Bludd can launch a global extortion scheme."

"That's what it sounds like," Giant agreed.

"There's another possibility," Hershey said. "He could offer his newly acquired arsenal of orbiting weapons to the highest bidder, so they can unleash them against their enemies."

"Either way, Bludd just stepped up from being a significant crime boss in the Big Meg to a global terrorist," Dredd snarled. "No one can doubt he is willing or capable of carrying out his threats. He must be stopped at any cost and by any means necessary!"

"You're right," Hershey agreed. "This isn't a citywide problem anymore. It's about the future of everyone on the planet. Dredd, you have to find Bludd and stop him. I am authorising the use of lethal force. Do whatever it takes."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"There was something else," Giant interjected. "All the delegates have disappeared from their respective safe houses. Before knocking me out, Smirnoff hinted Bludd wanted a face-to-face meeting with them. If they haven't already left the city, the delegates could be your lead to finding Bludd."

"Very good, Giant," Hershey said. "That will be all." She deactivated the comms line. "Can you find the delegates, Dredd?"

"That should be simple," he replied. "When they came through Customs yesterday I planted homing devices on several of the visitors so we could keep track of them in case of emergency. Most were found and destroyed within hours but one is still active - Brit-Cit representative Warner."

"Why didn't he locate the homing device like the others?"

"It was inserted during a cavity search. Warner's close encounter with that pleasure mech probably pushed it even further up inside him."

Hershey smiled. "Maybe he was hoping the pleasure mech might dislodge it?"

"I'll be on my way." Dredd stood slowly, unable to disguise the pain from his injuries.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Hershey asked.

"I'll survive, unlike Bludd."

"Before you go, there's something you should know about a secret weapon you can use against him. We've been keeping this in reserve, to be activated as a last resort. It will only work face-to-face. Once that happens, it cannot be reused again. You only get one chance, Dredd."

"I understand," he said. "What is it?"

After Hershey told Dredd, he nodded. "I can't wait to see the look on that punk's face when it happens. He won't know what hit him."

Once Dredd was gone, the Chief Judge called Control. "Relay this message to all helmets in the city. Dredd is on a mission of vital importance. He is to be given every assistance by all Judges, without exception. Hershey out!"

Dredd's first call was to the PSU. "I need a current location on Judge Jago Warner from Brit-Cit," he said while waiting for a turbolift. "You should find a homing signal on frequency 212.7 kHz."

"That's a roj. Checking now," PSU replied. "He's on the move, approaching Mega-City One Spaceport. Will cross-reference it with our spy-in-the-sky cameras, see if we can get a fix on the vehicle he's in. PSU out."

Dredd stepped into the turbolift and sent it hurtling to the Grand Hall's motorpool and garage. When he emerged there was a Lawmaster already fuelled and waiting for him. A Tek-Judge was by the motorcycle, loading extra ammunition into the panniers. "Dredd, I heard your own bike was still buried under rubble near Joe Chill. Take this one. It's been turbo-charged and should give you an extra fifty an hour in speed."

Dredd nodded his thanks and climbed onto the Lawmaster. As he roared out of the garage PSU called again. "Looks like Warner's in a hoverpod with four other occupants, judging by the heat signatures. They are just arriving at the spaceport."

"The rest of the delegates," Dredd deduced. "Any scheduled flights due out in the next hour?"

"Checking for you... No. One private charter, craft registered to Red Inc. Do you want it grounded?"

"Not yet. If I can reach the spaceport in time, I want to be on the shuttle with the delegates. They can lead me straight to Jesus Bludd." Another voice broke into the conversation.

"Dredd, this is Niles. I'm coordinating with Control, clearing a corridor between you and the spaceport. Judges on patrol are being ordered to get any blind citizens still wandering the streets out of your way. If you hurry, you might still make it to the spaceport before those shuttles leave."

"That's a roj. I'm en route now. Dredd out!"

Bruce was bored and nervous, two things he disliked intensely. Yesterday's treaty negotiations had been tedious beyond belief, an arid wasteland of serious-minded talk and discussion. Strewth, it was enough to drive a bloke to drinking! But the monumental hangover from his escapade with Smirnoff had dissuaded the Oz delegate from revisiting the bottle.

Then came the mysterious call on his secure comms line urging him to watch Mega-City News and the warning about what was to happen at midnight. It had all sounded a mite far-fetched to Bruce. Indeed, he had only stumbled upon the news channel while searching for a little adult entertainment on the Tri-D set in his private quarters. It was only natural; he was away from home, looking to relieve a little tension. Any bloke's mind would start to wander south of the old waistline. But triple-breasted mutants munce wrestling was not Bruce's idea of erotic thrills, so he kept flipping through the channels until he saw what was left of Joe Chill Block. That got his attention.

Crikey, Bruce thought to himself, that Bludd fella hadn't been joking. A whole city block, flattened like somebody had dropped Uluru on it. No survivors, the reporters were saying. Gas explosion got the blame, but Bruce knew the truth. Bludd by name, blood by nature. That was when the Oz delegate got nervous. This trip to the big smoke had been a walkabout on the wild side up until then. Suddenly it was getting a bit serious. Bruce had closed all the curtains, locked the doors and waited for midnight. He had heard the delight of those outside watching the lights in the sky turn to fear and anguish as they went blind.

Then came the knock at the door. The hoverpod was outside, waiting to take him and the other delegates to see Bludd. Bruce had clambered in, looking round at the faces of Chang, Warner, Belgrano and Smirnoff. Ivan stank of cheap perfume, so got a corner to himself. Belgrano and Warner were ashen-faced during the journey, while Chang observed everything they passed with clinical detachment. Finally, Bruce had snapped and asked her what was so bloody interesting outside.

"I am observing the effectiveness of these weapons. Should Sino-Cit agree to meet our host's terms, such information will prove most beneficial."

"Well, whatever you say, Ms Chang."

"Representative Chang. Please call me by my correct title," she said blandly without turning her head.

"Yeah, yeah."

They had reached the spaceport without incident and were now waiting in a first class lounge until their shuttlecraft was ready for boarding. Nobody was talking, everyone apparently deep in thought. After all he'd seen and heard in the past few hours, the Oz Judge was in no rush to meet this Bludd bloke. But hanging around waiting was even worse because it only amplified his boredom and fear. Finally, he stood, unable to take the silence any more. Everyone looked at him. Bruce smiled and shrugged.

"Just gonna..." He spotted the toilets across the room. "Just gonna let the weasel see the porcelain, alright?"

The others turned away or regarded him with disdain, except Chang. "Excuse me please. What does that mean?"

Bruce looked at his crotch, then at the Sino-Cit woman's inquiring face. "Tell you what, why don't you ask Ivan? I'll be right back." Bruce hurried towards the toilets, happy to have avoided explaining his vernacular vulgarity. He entered the male restroom and began relieving himself at a urinal.

"Going somewhere?" a deep, gravelly voice asked.

"Flamin' Nora!" Bruce shouted in surprise, fleetingly forgetting what he was doing. Dredd was standing inside one of the cubicles, tapping a daystick against the palm of his left hand. By the time Bruce recovered his wits there was a fine spray of urine down the legs of his uniform. "Now look what you made me do, you bloody Gallah!"

"You didn't answer my question. Where are you going?"

Bruce finished his business at the urinal and hastily zipped himself back up before moving to the sinks. "A little outing for all the delegates. Didn't your Chief Judge tell you? Something to keep us all occupied." He wiped clean the legs of his uniform before washing his hands vigorously.

"Try again," Dredd replied. "Where are you going?"

"I told you. A little outing, that's all." Bruce dried his hands before facing Dredd. "Now, if you've got a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with Hershey. In the meantime, get out of my way or else I'll have to-"

Bruce saw a blur of movement out the corner of his eye, felt an intense pain at the back of his head and then all was darkness. A few words fell after him as he plunged into unconsciousness.

"Bruce! Are you in there? It's time to leave!"

All the other delegates were already clambering into the shuttle when the last representative hurried from the restroom, still adjusting his uniform. "Sorry I'm late," he said gruffly after boarding the spacecraft. The latecomer took a seat at the front of the shuttle where none of the other passengers could see his face. "Got bogged down with the, err, paperwork. You know how it is, mate."

Chang was not impressed. "Please, be silent. We have all heard quite enough about your weasel and its problems. Representative Smirnoff has explained the situation."

Once they were all seated, a droid sealed the external door and the shuttle began rolling towards its launch pad. A Tri-D screen at the front of the cabin came alive, revealing two faces. Bludd was at the centre of the image, smiling at his guests. Behind him and to one side Kara could be seen concentrating on another task, jet black hair shining beneath overhead lights.

"Welcome to my private transportation, lady and gentlemen. I will be your host for the short trip to my new orbital headquarters. For security reasons the crew cannot divulge your exact destination. But the journey should take less than two hours and G-forces will not exceed four gees. So sit back and enjoy the hospitality on offer. Loyal customers of the Bludd Group are amply rewarded for their support. Once we become business partners, I will let you sample a few of those rewards too. Good morning to you all."

The screen blinked off again and the shuttle flung itself into the sky.

Judge Bruce regained his senses while slumped over a toilet bowl, not an unfamiliar situation. His head was pounding, he stank of urine and had lost all his uniform except for the lucky pair of u-fronts he always wore while away from Oz. Then he remembered the close encounter with Dredd. The Big Meg bully had caught him cold and stripped his clothes but why? Bruce got to his feet and staggered out of the cubicle to find a Mega-City One Judge's uniform carefully hung from a hook by the mirrors.

"The bloody cheek - he's nicked my flamin' identity!" Bruce realised. "I'll murder the drokker when I get my hands on him!"

At PSU headquarters Niles watched the shuttle leave Mega-City One airspace. Soon after it reached the outer limits of the atmosphere the craft disappeared from the PSU's screens. "Switch to the frequency Dredd gave us earlier. Even if Bludd's got some sort of stealth technology masking his shuttle, we can still follow the bug inside Warner."

Judge Sharp was back on duty, having been called in from a day off to cover for those affected by the light storm. She located the homing device's signal and displayed its location on her Tri-D monitor. "Looks like the shuttle is headed over the North Pole. Plotting course projections in case we lose the signal."

"Transmit them to Justice Four ," Niles said. "If Dredd can't stop Bludd, Taschen and her crew will have to finish the job."

Once the shuttle's trajectory had levelled out, Bludd reappeared on the Tri-D screen. "I'm sorry to say one of you is not abiding by my preconditions. Onboard scanners indicate there may be an impostor among you. I did ask for the surrender of all weapons and electronic devices. Please remain in your seats, my robot crew will find and deal with the culprit."

Dredd reached towards the Lawgiver holstered in his boot, but before he could draw it a robot was already standing over him. The droid was holding a powerful laser close to Dredd's face, electricity crackling about its end. "Surrender your weapon now or there will be... trouble."

THIRTEEN

Dredd pulled the Lawgiver from his boot and aimed it at the robot. "What if I shoot? The bullet will puncture the hull of this shuttle, causing a massive decompression. Everybody on board would die within seconds."

"Humans die. We are droids; we would simply become inactive. Commit suicide if you wish but your death remains inevitable unless you surrender the weapon - now."

"No worries, mate," Dredd replied, attempting an Oz accent. "Strewth, I just wanted to check you blokes were up to the job. Don't get your tin knickers in a twist, cobber."

The robot ran a scanner over Dredd's body, but found no other weapons. "Very well. This infraction of Mr Bludd's preconditions will be noted, but you shall be permitted to continue on this journey."

"And if I wasn't?"

"This shuttle has its own airlock. All those who displease Mr Bludd are asked to step outside." The droid gestured to one of the shuttle's windows. Part of a corpse was floating past outside, the face frozen in a screaming rictus of fear. Other body parts were visible, all preserved by the vacuum of space. "This vessel had a human crew until a few weeks ago. Mr Bludd discovered they had a Justice Department informant among their number so he dispensed with their services permanently."

"Crikey, guess it doesn't do to cross Mr Bludd," Dredd said.

The droid moved on to the other passengers. "There is still one among you hiding something. Admit your guilt and death shall be quick."

The four remaining passengers looked at each other, all wondering who the impostor could be. None volunteered a confession. The robot tired of waiting and began scanning each of the delegates. Chang and Belgrano were adjudged innocent but the scanner gave an electronic squeal as it passed over the body of Jago Warner. The Brit-Cit Judge protested his innocence but two more droids were already moving towards him.

"Please, there's been a terrible mistake. I would never do anything to breach Mr Bludd's rules. The Mega-City One Judges, they tried to blackmail and coerce me into helping force through that treaty, but I resisted their threats!"

By now Warner was being dragged along the centre aisle of the shuttle to a separate compartment at the rear. Once inside, a curtain was pulled shut, blocking the others from seeing what was happening. But the noises escaping from the compartment made it all too clear.

"Please, no, you've got to believe me. I would never-" Warner's words were overwhelmed by the sound of tearing leathereen. The Brit-Cit Judge yelped in embarrassment and terror as his uniform was ripped from him for the second time since arriving in the Big Meg. "Oh grud no, not that not again!"

"Bend over!" a robotic voice commanded.

"Please, don't do this. Don't put that... Ar-rrggghhhhh!" Warner's voice was replaced by a scream of pain. After several more anguished cries there was a whirring noise and a wet plop. The scanning device was briefly reactivated, repeating its electronic squeal.

Warner could be heard pleading for his life in a pathetic whimper. "You must believe me, I don't know how that got up there. I would never... It must have been Dredd or his Med-Judges! I was given a full cavity search when I arrived in Mega-City One. They must have implanted that device then. I'm innocent, don't you see? Completely innocent! Please, grud, believe me..."

The curtain was pulled brusquely aside, allowing the lead droid to re-enter the main cabin. The other delegates got a glimpse of Warner, naked and tear-stained, before the curtain was drawn again. The lead droid was clutching a tiny metallic sphere. It marched to the front of the cabin and stood before the Tri-D screen, activating the link to Bludd. "We discovered this tracking device secreted inside the Brit-Cit delegate's body."

"Destroy it, now!" the crime boss commanded.

The robot snapped its fingers together, crushing the sphere between them. "The delegate claimed no knowledge of the device's presence. He suggested it had been implanted by the Justice Department."

"More than likely, but he should have detected it himself and had the device removed before boarding the shuttle. You know what to do."

"Of course," the droid replied. A scream of pure terror filled the cabin before being abruptly cut off. The droid punched a button beneath the Tri-D screen. "Opening airlock now." The shuttle swerved sideways momentarily before resuming its journey. "Airlock is empty. Closing doors."

Smirnoff was peering out the window by his seat, looking backwards. "Warner's out there, I can see him! He's still alive, he's still..." The East-Meg Two delegate turned away from the window hurriedly, his face filled with dismay and disgust. "Bulgarin's ghost! That's no way to die..."

The droid stepped aside to let Bludd address the four remaining passengers. "An unfortunate incident but necessary to ensure our safety and security. We don't want the Justice Department gate-crashing our meeting. For now, sit back and enjoy the rest of the flight. I will see you all soon. Bludd out."

"Stomm!" Sharp cursed. "We've lost it!" She had been monitoring the progress of Bludd's shuttle via the tracking device hidden inside Warner. As the tiny sphere was destroyed, the last method of tracking the spacecraft was lost.

"How long had they been in the air?" Niles asked.

"More than an hour. If Bludd's HQ is in a standard orbital, the shuttle can't be more than a few minutes from its destination."

"Transmit the final trajectory extrapolations to Justice Four . If anybody can find Bludd, it's Shona Taschen."

The commander of Justice Four was smiling at last. The round trip to Hestia had taken months instead of weeks, thanks to a fault in the propulsion drive. The emergency recall signal had hastened their return journey until fresh orders arrived only an hour later. Justice Four was to replace Justice Seven as Mega-City One's orbital platform, becoming a conduit for Control messages and PSU surveillance systems. "A glorified relay station!" Commander Taschen fumed after reading Hershey's request. "Grud on a greenie. Why don't they ask us to organise duty rosters while we're up here!"

"It's just temporary," Judge Tyler had said, trying to placate her. He was Taschen's deputy and rightly terrified of her fiery moods. "Until they can get another orbital platform into position."

"There is nothing so permanent as a temporary position!" Taschen snarled back.

It was only after she received permission to go after Bludd that a smile appeared on her face. "Have you got the final course projections from PSU plotted in yet?" she demanded, impatiently drumming her fingers against the arms of her chair on the command deck.

Tyler nodded hurriedly. "They're coming up on the main screen... now."

Taschen leaned forward to see the results appear on the Tri-D screen that dominated the command deck's far wall. A red line marked the path followed by the tracking device that was inserted into Judge Jago Warner. From where the red line terminated three dotted yellow lines continued onwards, indicating the most likely paths taken by Bludd's shuttle. All of this was overlaid on a celestial map of known satellites and other material orbiting the Earth.

"We know Bludd's HQ and shuttle have stealth protection, so our systems can't directly detect either of them," Taschen said, thinking out loud. "The shuttle is too small to be obvious by other means, but perhaps we can find the orbital HQ from what isn't visible..."

"I'm not sure I understand, ma'am," Tyler said.

The commander pointed at the middle path from the three dotted yellow lines. "None of the projected shuttle trajectories go near a known satellite. However, the central extrapolation does pass through a patch of empty space." Her finger indicated a blank section of blackness where no stars were visible. "Our sensors can't see Bludd's HQ, but they can't see past it either. The computers think literally, not laterally. They can't escape their programming."

"So where they see nothing-"

"Should be where Bludd is hiding his HQ," Taschen concluded. "Begin a search pattern, starting from where the tracking device was destroyed. Let the drokker think he's fooled us, but keep a fix on that patch of empty space. If Dredd can't stop Bludd, we'll have to blow both of them out of the sky."

Only after the shuttle had docked with the crime boss's satellite did the orbital HQ become visible to Dredd and the delegates. It was shaped liked a hoop, with support struts radiating outwards from a central hub. The droid crew opened the hatch to reveal Kara standing outside in the docking bay, her body encased in revealing strips of shiny black rubbereen. "Welcome to Mr Bludd's new home. If you'd all like to follow me, I will introduce each of you to him personally." She stood aside so the four passengers could alight, then led them round the outer hoop to one of the support struts. Dredd stayed at the back of the group, keeping his face hidden from Kara's view and his thoughts a blank. A turbolift transported the quintet to the centre of the satellite.

"A most remarkable structure," Chang observed. "How was your master able to keep its construction and location a secret from the Judges?"

"Mr Bludd is most resourceful," Kara replied with a smile. "Once you have become a loyal customer of his organisation, I'm sure he will be more than happy to share such secrets with you and your city."

"But at what cost?" Belgrano asked. "Cuidad Barranquilla is not rich like other mega-cities..."

"Perhaps not in conventional terms, but your department controls a majority of the world's sugar and coffee supplies, along with many other illegal stimulants. Mr Bludd would be more than willing to make an equitable trade," Kara replied.

She was interrupted by the turbolift arriving at the central hub. Kara emerged first and led the others into a vast circular chamber, luxuriously furnished. She waved a hand at the many sofas and chairs gathered in a ring. In the centre of the circle was a low table laden with bowls of coloured candies and bottles of clear liquid. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Feel free to sample the Umpty Candy or vintage vodka - nothing synthetic here. If anyone is in need of a boost, the black pills are pure Adifax, guaranteed to add a month to your natural lifespan. Mr Bludd will be with you shortly." Kara smiled and withdrew from the chamber, the door sealing shut and locking behind her.

Belgrano hurried to the table and began popping pills while stuffing his pockets with Umpty Candy. Smirnoff tore the stopper from one of the bottles and sniffed the contents. "This must be fifty proof, comrades! Will anyone join me in toasting our host?"

Dredd shook his head while Chang also demurred. "We are keeping a clear head for the negotiations," she replied stiffly. "Before then we have another problem to resolve - what to do with this impostor." Chang pointed a finger accusingly at Dredd. "This is not Judge Bruce. We noticed him after boarding the shuttle. We must denounce him, otherwise all our lives may be forfeit."

"Dredd!" Belgrano hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Bringing Bludd to justice. Get in my way and you'll die too."

Smirnoff sank back into one of the plush sofas, clutching his vodka bottle. "Snekov's beard! Is there no escape from you, Dredd?"

"Apparently not," another voice replied. Bludd was standing behind Dredd in an open doorway, clad in his usual smart garb and flanked by Kara. "It seems I will have to replace the robotic shuttle crew yet again. Droids are useful but so tiresomely literal in following orders. No imagination, you see. My beloved Kara here has no such difficulties. She can be quite inventive in the bedroom, but it's inflicting pain where her true talents lie."

"I detected your presence the moment the shuttle door opened," Kara told Dredd. "Your attempt at subterfuge was doomed to failure." She produced the confiscated Lawgiver. "As was your feeble attempt to smuggle a weapon on board."

"So shoot me," Dredd replied, "and spare me the gloating."

"Each Lawgiver will fire only for its designated Judges, as you well know," Bludd said. "Should anyone else try to use the weapon, it self-destructs. Besides, why hurry? I want to savour your death, Dredd. It's not every day I get to kill a living legend, and a little gloating is so very satisfying." Bludd gestured for Dredd and those still standing to sit down. "First we have to conclude the negotiations. Business before pleasure, as it were."

Once all Bludd's guests were seated, he began walking around the room, slowly circling the chairs and sofas. "You have all witnessed the power I now wield. At the touch of a button I was able to reduce an entire city block to rubble within seconds. Imagine having such power at your command! Imagine what it could do to the cities of your enemies."

"The satellite from where that weapon was fired has been destroyed," Dredd interjected. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"Since Mega-City One has chosen not to partake of the Bludd Group's generous offer of protection from such incidents, I must request you remain silent," Bludd warned. "Otherwise Kara will strike you dumb for life."

Dredd folded his arms, a sour expression set on his mouth.

"That's better," the crime boss said. "As our unwanted guest has noted, that particular weapon is no longer available. But be assured that I have direct control over more than three dozen other weapons. One of those was the chemical and ultraviolet radiation weapon that blinded much of the Big Meg after midnight. Normally the effects of such weapons are permanent, if properly dispersed. Alas, Justice Department meddling limited the scope and scale of the weapon. I believe all those affected should recover within a week but the plague of temporary blindness is creating a chaos unseen since the days of Block Mania and the Apocalypse War." Bludd paused behind Smirnoff. "I imagine you must have especially appreciated that, comrade?"

The Sov delegate nodded. "Just like the good old days, tovarisch."

"Those two weapons were among the least powerful in my recently acquired arsenal," the crime boss said, continuing his stroll around the chamber. "I could destroy all the surviving mega-cities ten times over should I wish to, but why would I? Far better to offer you the Bludd Group's protection against such unnatural disasters."

"This is extortion backed by the threat of terrorism," Chang said. "Why should we agree to your terms?"

"You may bow out of the bidding if you wish, but the consequences for Sino-Cit could be cataclysmic. Suppose East-Meg Two decided to expand its sphere of influence and wanted some of the valuable resources your citi-state so jealously guards? Judge Smirnoff need only place one call to the Bludd Group and your people could be decimated within minutes, your land ripe for the plucking, your glorious history and culture but a memory." Bludd stopped walking. "Let me be plain. Sino-Cit, East-Meg Two and Cuidad Barranquilla are being offered a unique opportunity. Align with my organisation and you will hold the balance of power for decades to come, no longer living in the shadow of super-states like the Big Meg. If you refuse, I will make the same offer to others. I do not doubt I will find sufficient takers to satisfy my greed."

Chang said nothing in reply, her face a mask of concentration. Belgrano was nervous and sweating profusely, while Smirnoff just took another swig of vodka. Dredd glared at the trio. "Give in to Bludd now and he'll suck you dry. Blackmailers are never sated and greed can never be satisfied."

Bludd tutted to himself. "Kara, ensure Dredd does not speak again until I allow it." The psyker approached the lawman who rose from his seat, tensed for her attack. But she stopped short, holding up an open hand before her. All of a sudden Dredd felt a mental tightening that left him virtually stunned. It was like a metal vice had clamped around the area of his brain that controlled his vocal chords. He couldn't form a single sound, not even a muffled "mmmmm".

"That's better," Bludd smirked. "Disturb me again and I'll have Kara finish you."

The crime boss pointed at the door through which he had entered. "If my three invited guests would go into the next room, they will each find a secure, scrambled comms link to their respective leaders. Consult with your masters and decide how much you are willing to pay for my services. Let's say the minimum offer must be at least one hundred billion credits."

That brought a gasp of shock and dismay from the trio. "But that's impossible!" Belgrano protested.

"You go too far!" Chang shouted.

"We cannot afford such sums," Smirnoff added.

Bludd silenced them with a gesture. "You will find a way, I am sure. The lowest bidder will be made to suffer as the Big Meg now does, to prove I am a man of my word. The other two bidders shall become valued clients of the Bludd Group and reap all the benefits that entails. Now, off you go."

The three delegates stumbled from the room, muttering between themselves as the door sealed behind them. Bludd joined Kara in front of Dredd. "I think you can let the good Judge have back the use of his tongue."

Kara waved dismissively at Dredd and his vocal chords were set free. "Jesus Bludd, you're under arrest!" were the first words he spoke.

The crime boss smiled and then began to giggle, his laughter becoming louder and louder. It took him most of a minute to recover, one hand resting on Kara's shoulder for support. Bludd wiped tears of hilarity from the corner of each eye. "I never knew you were a comedian as well as a lawman."

"I'm deadly serious," Dredd maintained.

"I don't think so. This satellite is somewhat beyond your jurisdiction so you can't legally arrest me. Even my guests have full diplomatic immunity in Mega-City One, granted by your own Chief Judge I believe."

"Immunity is only proof against prosecution, not death. I don't care about jurisdiction, I only care about justice and that's what you're going to face."

Bludd raised an intrigued eyebrow. "And how will you administer this justice, I wonder? You have no weapons. You can't call for back-up. And Kara could and would have you in a comatose state long before you ever laid a hand on me. You are hardly in a position to make threats."

"Wrong. By now Justice Four is probably closing in on this satellite. The commander will have orders to destroy this place unless I give an all clear in the correct code."

"You're bluffing, Dredd, and you're not very good at it."

The Judge scowled. "Check your instruments if you don't believe me."

Bludd rolled his eyes but nodded to Kara. She strode to a console set into one wall and called up the satellite's security sensors. "He's right, there is a Justice Department attack ship approaching."

"Coincidence. No doubt they extrapolated the shuttle's trajectory from that tracking device. But they still can't see past our stealth tech-"

"Justice Four to Jesus Bludd!" a stern voice announced via the satellite's comms system. "We have weapons lock on your satellite. Surrender within two minutes or we will open fire on your position."

"Now who's bluffing?" Dredd asked.

"No reply, ma'am." Tyler was hunched over his console, listening intently for any response from the hidden satellite. Justice Four had closed in on the void among the stars until Taschen was convinced she knew the location of Bludd's satellite. The commander resisted the urge to bite her nails, a childhood habit that recurred in times of extreme stress.

"Either they heard us and don't believe us, or else they are trying to pretend they're not there," she muttered.

"Or we could have got it wrong and be threatening a hole in space," Tyler added, getting a glare of disapproval from his commander.

"The next time I want your opinion I'll ask for it," she snarled.

"Have they got weapons lock?" Bludd shouted at Kara. His enforcer was still processing streams of data hurtling across the console. Finally she smiled.

"No," she replied. "If they opened fire now, they would miss us - just."

"It seems the game is still afoot," the crime boss said, smiling once more. "Kara my dear, activate the nearest weapons satellite we control and begin targeting Justice Four . Two can play at this game."

"What happens if you lose?" Dredd snarled. "You got lucky, Bludd. You realised the exhibit at the Dustbuster was the real thing, not a replica. But even with all those ancient weapons under your control, you're still just one man. What was it you said to me at the diner? Some perp would get the drop on me one day and I'd die, face down in a pool of my own blood. No glory, no fanfare. Just another dead Judge. Well, much the same will be true about you, Bludd. If I get the drop on you then you'll die too, just another dead perp. You told me you wanted to be the best at what you do." Dredd laughed hollowly. "I've seen creeps like you come and go, and I've outlived them all. I'll outlive you too, punk."

"Really?" Bludd asked, a smile on his face.

"You better believe it," the lawman replied.

Bludd turned to his lover. "Kara, do you still have Dredd's Lawgiver?"

She produced the handgun from a holster tied round her waist. Bludd pointed at the Judge. "I want you to make Dredd kill himself. Plant a suicidal impulse into his head and then hand him the Lawgiver. I want to see him take his own life. I want to savour the final moments of his meaningless existence. I want to witness him losing the hopeless war against crime he has been fighting all his career."

Kara closed her eyes to concentrate. After a few seconds she smiled and then tossed the weapon to Dredd. He caught it and aimed the gun at Bludd. "Now kill yourself," Kara commanded.

"Not before I kill you both first," Dredd spat back through gritted teeth. But no matter how he fought the impulse, the barrel of the Lawgiver was slowly twisting round in his hands, moving ever closer to his head.

"You want to die," the psyker said, licking her lips in anticipation. "You want to end it all. You've had enough, you can't go on any more."

"Drokk you!" Dredd cried out, but his hands kept moving the Lawgiver closer and closer. Soon the end of the barrel was resting against the side of Dredd's helmet.

"Justice Four to Jesus Bludd, you now have one minute to comply!"

"Pull the trigger," Kara ordered. "End your useless, pathetic, loveless life."

Dredd's fingers opened outwards and then one slipped itself around the trigger. Sweat trickled down his face as he battled the overwhelming psychic impulse to fulfil Bludd's prophecy.

"That's quite some resistance you're displaying," Bludd said. "But even one as strong-willed as you cannot hold back my beloved for long. Kara can make almost anyone do anything she desires. Some are able to resist her fleetingly, but all crumble before the might of her mind eventually. Even you, Dredd."

"I know," the Judge replied. "That's why she was chosen for you."

"What do you mean? Chosen for me - how?"

"Kara is a sleeper, a Justice Department operative implanted into your organisation more than a year ago. She's been so deep undercover, you've never suspected her. It never occurred to you she could be a Judge."

Bludd was shaking his head in disbelief. "Nonsense! You'll have to do better than that. She's killed half a dozen undercover Judges on my orders!"

"Volunteers," Dredd said, still fighting against the impulse to blow his own brains out. "Brave Judges who willingly sacrificed their lives to prove Kara's worth to you. Ryan and the others, they knew the risk they were taking."

"You're wrong!" Kara shouted. "Now pull the trigger!"

"Your entire personality is fake, another implant," Dredd replied, "written over the top of your real persona. Psi-Division did a real job on you, wiped away almost every trace of who you used to be, the woman you were. They buried that person where you could never find her and concocted Kara in her place, a psyker capable of doing anything to anyone, all in the service of Jesus Bludd. Before today only two other people knew about you: Chief Judge Hershey and the head of Psi-Division. Everyone else involved in creating Kara had their memories erased to prevent your real persona being divulged. Hershey told me about you before I came here. She gave me the one word that will kill Kara forever and reinstate your true persona. The trigger only works if I say it to Kara in person, face-to-face."

"Lies, all lies!" Kara screamed. "You'd say anything to save yourself."

"I don't need to say anything more except one single word."

"Justice Four to Jesus Bludd. You now have thirty seconds!"

"Kill him, Kara!" Bludd commanded. "Finish him off, now!"

Dredd looked her in the face before speaking. "Janus."

Kara staggered backwards, twitching and flinching as if under attack from unseen insects. Her body went into spasm and she collapsed to the ground, writhing uncontrollably. The jet black wig fell to one side, revealing the bald scalp underneath.

"Her true personality is cascading back into place," Dredd said. "Kara is being wiped away and the real persona restored."

Bludd watched his lover's contortions with horror and amazement. "This isn't possible, this can't be happening," he insisted weakly.

"But it is," Dredd replied, shifting the barrel of the Lawgiver away from his head and pointing it at the crime boss.

The woman that had been Kara sat bolt upright, blinking and dazed. "Where the drokk am I? What happened?" She looked down at the wisps of rubbereen wrapped round her body. "Sweet Jovus, who's been dressing me?"

"Meet Psi-Judge Judy Janus," Dredd said.

"No, it can't be," Bludd whispered.

"Justice Four to Jesus Bludd, you have less than ten seconds!"

Dredd jerked his Lawgiver towards the console set into the wall. "Janus, you'd better call off Taschen and her crew before they blow us to bits." While the Psi-Judge was contacting the nearby spaceship, Dredd advanced on Bludd. The crime boss sank slowly into a chair, still shaking his head at how quickly everything had unravelled for him.

"But I still don't understand. How could you know what I was going to do? How could you have anticipated? I didn't know about the command and control system until long after I acquired Kara."

"We didn't know the details," Dredd replied, "but our precogs foresaw you would become a significant threat to Mega-City One and others in years to come. It was decided to implant a sleeper beside you, someone who could gain your absolute trust. Then, when you did become a threat, we always had a weapon to use against you; your own enforcer, the only person you ever cared about besides yourself."

"You're forgetting my mother."

"So did you," Dredd said. He aimed his Lawgiver at the crime boss's head. "Jesus Bludd, I hereby find you guilty of numerous capital crimes against Mega-City One and its people, and therefore sentence you to death. Sentence to be carried out immediately."

"No, please, wait!" Bludd begged. "I demand a trial! You can't treat me like a common criminal, I deserve better than that!"

"You're just another perp with delusions of grandeur," Dredd replied before pulling the trigger. The bullet smashed through Bludd's forehead and exploded out the back of the skull, taking most of the crime boss's brains with it. The body twitched for a moment, then lay still. "Case closed."

Janus watched Dredd pass sentence on her former lover, hugging her arms across her chest. Once Bludd was dead, she spat at the corpse. "That's for everything you made me do," she whispered.

Dredd approached the Psi-Judge. "We need to disable the command and control system, take it offline. Do you still remember how to do that?"

Janus nodded. "I remember every moment of my time as Kara. I'll go and deactivate the system. Then I need to find some proper clothes."

"I'll tell the three delegates they're off the hook." Dredd and Janus departed the chamber, leaving the cooling corpse of Jesus Bludd behind them. The crime boss had died without glory, without fanfare.

Now he was just another dead perp.

EPILOGUE

Chief Judge Hershey presided over the memorial service on the site where Joe Chill Block had stood. Four months had passed since the crisis engineered by Bludd, and for most of Mega-City One, the incident was already passing into memory. Soon it would become just another disaster in the long line of tragedies that seemed to plague the Big Meg. Give it another four months and the night half the city went blind would be more legend than reality. Everyone affected had their sight back within a week. All received regular check-ups from optometrist droids to monitor on-going side effects but the results remained positive. The crisis had passed and order was restored.

Dredd was among those attending the ceremony in Southside Sector 41. Thirty-three thousand people had died as a demonstration of power by Jesus Bludd, not to mention the thousands more who perished after the light storm. In place of Joe Chill a small park had been erected, with real trees and grass. Normally such luxuries were unfeasibly expensive and beyond contemplation, but the Justice Department's Accounts Division had seized all of the Bludd Group's assets as compensation for the crimes of its leader. Some good had emerged from the failed power play.

Hershey stepped forward to begin her speech. "This city has suffered through many traumas, many tragedies. The death of Joe Chill Block and all who were inside it at the time is one such tragedy. No doubt there will be others. Life is never simple or straightforward, the future never easy to foresee, the present always a headlong rush towards tomorrow. But hopefully we can learn from our past and honour those who have fallen so that others might live."

"How's she doing?" a female voice asked from beside Dredd. He turned sideways to see Janus, restored to her full Psi-Judge uniform, helmet in hand.

"Good," he replied quietly. "And you?"

Janus shrugged. "Still in therapy. They let me out for the morning to come here, so that's a positive sign."

Hershey's voice drifted across the crowd towards the two Judges. "Southside Sector 41 has had a long history of problems and extreme violence. Joe Chill Block was the scene of more murders than any other residential building in the entire city. Perhaps its destruction, however wrong, however traumatic, could still have some positive effects. Perhaps the people of this sector can draw a line under the past and start afresh."

"How much do you remember?" Dredd asked.

"All of it," Janus said, bitterness in her voice. "The undercover Judges I had to kill. The murders I witnessed. The sex acts Bludd made me commit with him and with others. How I used my psi powers to persuade Dr Swanson she was in love with me and then used that to twist her inside out, ruining her life. The moment when Ryan died, pleading for his life, all of it. I remember all of it."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," the Psi-Judge agreed.

"Finally," Hershey concluded, "I want to dedicate this garden to the lost souls who died here and elsewhere on that fateful night. May they find a way to happiness and may this oasis of green flourish in their place." Polite applause rippled through the crowd as the Chief Judge cut a ribbon, her action recorded by dozens of news channel hover-cams.

Dredd and Janus strolled back to their Lawmasters. All the motorcycles of Judges attending the event were parked in the space where the Nothing Could Be Finer Diner once stood. Janus rubbed a hand across her forehead. "It's all locked inside here, going round and round. Psi-Division offered just to wipe everything away but I couldn't cope with losing more than a year of my life, even one as bad as that. It would be denying it had ever happened. I want to remember those people I murdered, just as I'd want to be remembered if I had been one of the victims. I owe them that much." Janus looked at Dredd. "Does that make sense?"

"Your own personal memorial."

The Psi-Judge smiled. "Something like that." She found her motorcycle from among the many and began pulling on her helmet. "Were you there when Tek-Division dismantled the command and control system? The head-shrinkers had spirited me away before that happened."

Dredd shook his head. "It wasn't dismantled."

"Why not?" Janus paused. "Grud on a greenie, they didn't take it back to the Dustbuster, did they?"

"No, it's still up there. The department claimed all those old weapons satellites for itself. The other mega-cities know we have them now and they'll think twice before taking us on."

"After everything that happened? After everything I did to help stop Bludd? What motherless drokker thought up that bright idea?" Janus asked in disgust.

"I did." Dredd mounted his Lawmaster and gunned the engine into life. "See you on the streets, Janus."

THE BIG MEG GLOSSARY

Allspeak: The universal language adopted by most aliens when communicating to each other.

Black Atlantic: Formerly the Atlantic Ocean, the new name indicates how heavily polluted and toxic the waters have become, so much so that it often catches fire.

Block: Giant skyscrapers that make up most of Mega-City One. The inhabitants of blocks are known as 'blockers'. Sometimes the pressures of living in such cramped high-rise conditions lead to 'block mania', which may spark a block war.

Brit-Cit: British counterpart of Mega-City One located in south-east England.

Citi-Def: The City Defence Force (a civilian militia): a voluntary civilian army organised on a block basis that saw action against the Sov-Bloc invaders of the Apocalypse War in 2104.

City Bottom: The pre-Atomic rockrete foundations of Mega-City One, littered with the architectural, human and sub-hume refuse of the city. Also known as 'The Pits', this area is not recognized as one of the three city levels, and is often the last stop for Slummies who do not wish to live within society.

Control: The nerve centre of Mega-City One that relays information to Judges on the streets.

Council of Five (The): The central ruling council of Judges, consisting of the heads of the main divisions of the Justice Department, that acts as the Chief Judge's advisory body.

Cuidad Barranquilla: Located in the former Buenos Aires, 'Banana City' is considered to be one of the poorest and most corrupt cities in the World.

Cursed Earth: A vast, radioactive wasteland that stretches across North America, populated by mutants, freaks and wild creatures.

Daystick: The Judge's favoured truncheon.

Dust Zone: Sector in the city dedicated to industrial use and off-limits to pedestrians.

H-Wagon: A heavy, Justice Department hover vehicle, usually well armoured and armed.

Hotdog Run: An expedition/test into the Cursed Earth for trainee Judges in their twelfth year.

Iso-Cube: The standard imprisonment for criminals; a huge block full of very small, plasteen, isolation cubes.

Lawgiver: The standard issue automatic, multi-shell handgun for Judges whose ammunition ranges from armour-piercing to ricochet rounds.

Lawmaster: The Judges' standard issue computer controlled motorbike - extremely powerful, intelligent and heavily armed.

Luna-City: Also known as Luna-1, Luna-City is a colony on the moon established and maintained by the American Mega-Cities.

Manta-Tank: The shortened term for the Manta Prowl Tank, an anti-grav tank that is fully capable of dealing with serious riots by itself.

Med-Division: The medical division of the Justice Department that provides, controls and maintains medical care for the Judges.

Med-Judge: A medical specialist usually in support of a meat wagon. Med-Judges work within a Med-Squad for Med-Division.

Med-Wagon: A fully-equipped ambulance manned by Med-Judges, also known as a Meat Wagon.

Mo-Pad: Slang term for mobile homes which are constantly on the move along more than 1000 million miles of roadway around Mega-City One. There are approximately 18 million mo-pads in the city, and can sometimes be quite luxurious.

Pedway: A pedestrian-only pathway found all across Mega-City One at all levels. Motorised pedways are known as slidewalks and eeziglides.

Perp: The Judges' term for a perpetrator or criminal.

Pre-Cog: A special type of Psi-Judge with precognitive powers, able to predict the future to a limited degree.

Psi-Judge: A Judge with psychic abilities from the Justice Department's Psi-Division.

Public Surveillance Unit: The organisation which controls and maintains the city's millions of street cameras and 'spy-in-the-sky' units. The PSU is housed within the head of the Statue of Judgement found in Sector 44.

Shoppera: A block constructed into a massive shopping centre, also known as a shoplex.

Sino-Cit: Chinese counterpart of Mega-City One. Shrouded in secrecy, few visitors have ever returned from this forbidden citadel.

SJS: The Special Judicial Squad act as the Judges' police, seeking out corruption and crime within the Law with extreme prejudice. They answer directly to the Chief Judge herself.

Skedway: A minor roadway; smaller than a megway but larger than an overzoom.

Statue of Judgement: A massive rockcrete statue of a Judge erected for the second time in 2117, found in Sector 44. Unbeknownst to the public, the Public Surveillance Unit is housed within the statue's head.

Street Judge: A Judge on the beat who tackles crime and issues sentences.

Sub-Atlantic Zoom: A high-speed rail link between Mega-City One and Brit-Cit via a tunnel built along the base of the Black Atlantic.

Synthi-caf: A popular beverage similar to the now illegal coffee.

Tek-Judge: A technical and engineering specialist whose skills range from advanced forensic analysis to the repairing of vehicles, weapons, etc.

Titan: A small moon orbiting Saturn where a maximum-security prison for Mega-City One's most dangerous criminals is located.

Tri-D: The shortened term for three dimensional holovision; thousands of both legal and pirate channels are available in Mega-City One.

Wally Squad: A group of undercover Judges who dress like ordinary citizens and often adopt false identities. Wally Squad operatives are not always respected amongst street Judges, as they are sometimes prone to becoming perps themselves.

Weather Control: Also known as Mega-City Atmospheric Control, the weather of Mega-City One is artificially manipulated and maintained by huge floating platforms above the city. The Weather Congress determines daily weather and the Justice Department regulates it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

David Bishop was born and raised in New Zealand, becoming a daily newspaper journalist at the age of eighteen. He emigrated to Britain in 1990 and became sub-editor of the Judge Dredd Megazine. He was editor from 1992-1995, a period when the title was voted Britain's best comic every year. He edited 2000 AD weekly from 1996 to 2000 before becoming a freelance writer. His previous novels include three starring Judge Dredd (for Virgin Books) and four featuring Doctor Who (for Virgin and the BBC). He also writes non-fiction books and articles, audio dramas, comics and has been a creative consultant on three forthcoming video games. Bishop has contributed to Black Flame previously with Judge Dredd: Bad Moon Rising to critical acclaim. If you see Bishop in public, do not approach him; alert the nearest editor and then stand well back.

Extract

Other Titles

Indicia

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Glossary

Author Biography