Judge Dredd

Lawmaster half an hour before.

That’s another thing I’d better do. I’d better start thinking how I’m going to write this sucker up.

She kicked a piece of blackened chrome and sent it clanging along the street.

“It better be one hell of a report,” she said aloud. “Some jerko at the Hall has a real bad day, I’ll be buying this wreck for the rest of my natural life…”

If the Hall of Justice is the heart of Mega-City, the Chamber of the High Council of Judges is its soul. It has been said that if a priest (formerly, a religious practitioner) from the fourteenth century were suddenly transported to this great chamber, he would be struck by the majesty, the size, the stark and unworldly beauty of the place. He would gaze in disbelief at the vaulted ceiling sweeping nearly four hundred feet overhead, its graceful span of arches broken only by shimmering planes of cobalt-blue, lit by artificial suns.

This priest would likely fall to his knees and clasp his hands in prayer, certain that here was the Cathedral of Heaven, that he was, indeed, in the presence of his mythical Creator. He would soon learn he was wrong. He would find neither “love” nor “forgiveness,” or the debilitating emotions of compassion and understanding, so often associated with the “tragedy of the misguided lawbreaker.” He would learn that these false values which weakened society for centuries have been cast aside in favor of the more practical and realistic standards of our time. He would learn that our world has its own definition of Judgement Day. That we have given new meaning to the ancient concept of “the quick and the dead.” He would learn that the god worshipped here is named Law…

—History of the Mega-Cities

James Olmeyer, III

Chapter VII: “The Chamber”

2191

EIGHT

The room was small.

The walls were painted a rich shade of blue. There were three comfortable chairs, an antique glass table and a video screen mounted on the wall. The room was just off the hallway leading to the Chamber of the Council of Judges. It was used as a waiting room for those occasions when the Council allowed officials, high administrators, and prominent Citizens to bring their business before them.

This was not such an occasion. The session that was about to begin was closed to all but the Council members themselves. And, though no one would admit where they’d heard such information, it was said that this meeting was an emergency session of the gravest order. Even those who had no reliable source in high places had reason to believe this was so. There was only one topic of note in Mega-City at the moment, the only subject covered on the video news: Terror was loose in the streets, and the city was caught in a web of fear.

“This is Vardis Hammond, and I’m standing in front of the ruins of Heavenly Haven Block. As you can see behind me, city workers are still busy sifting through the burned and twisted debris from the savage battle that took place earlier this evening. Fifty-three Citizens have been hospitalized… five of them children. The death count is nineteen so far, and many victims are still on the critical list. The perpetrators themselves are among the dead. They have tentatively been identified as ‘crazed squatters’ who were allegedly killed in Summary Execution by Judge Dredd himself. The number of squatters involved has yet to be determined, due to the difficulty in separating the individual bodies…”

Judge Dredd looked at the video screen, but paid little attention to what he saw. He stood in the center of the room, his helmet under his arm. He did not consider sitting in one of the chairs. It made him uncomfortable to place his body in a position where precious seconds might be lost if he were called upon to act quickly. This was how Judges lost their lives, by letting their guards down for that one single instant when they should have been fully alert. This was why Rookie Briscoe was dead. He had taken his mind off his business for the blink of an eye. It seldom took longer than that.

Dredd turned as the door to the hallway slid aside. He came to attention and nodded his head in respect as Chief Justice Fargo walked into the room.

“Joseph, Joseph, no formalities, please.” He smiled warmly at Dredd. “You make me feel like an old man. Which is precisely what I am, by the way.”

“If we had a hundred men like you, sir, we could clean up Mega-City by morning.”

Fargo shook his head. “I’d call that blatant flattery if it came from any other man. Coming from you, I take it as a sincere compliment. A great exaggeration, but a compliment all the same.”

The Chief Justice sighed and lowered himself into a chair. “Sit down, Joseph, please. I appreciate you coming.” He glanced at his watch. “This won’t take long. I have to be in session in a few minutes.”

Dredd knew better than anyone else how serious the situation was becoming in the streets. He had been there and seen it, and he had an idea what this session was all about. Even if he hadn’t been aware of the meeting, he could not have missed the lines of fatigue around Fargo’s eyes, the deep sense of concern that seemed to slow his steps and weigh him down.

For the first time in a lifelong association with Fargo, Dredd saw past his image of a man who was indestructable, as strong and enduring as Mega-City itself. Now he saw a man who seemed even older than his seventy years, a man dragged down by the hounds of adversity that forever snapped at his heels.

Dredd had trained himself to bury those feelings that might intrude upon the task he had set himself to do. He did not want to experience love or hate. He did not wish to want or need anyone or anything. Yet, when he saw what was happening to Fargo, how the man was disintegrating before his eyes, Dredd felt a mix of sorrow, rage, and despair that he couldn’t cast aside.

“I think you know I have always taken a special interest in your career, Joseph. I also know there are certain others who—very much resent the fact. I do not regret my actions, and I do not apologize. I have always tried to do what is best for the cause that I serve.”

Dredd sat on the edge of the chair, his back straight. “I know what you’ve done for me, and I greatly appreciate it, sir.”

Fargo looked intently at Dredd. His body might be aging, but his eyes still mirrored the strength and power that had inspired two generations of Judges.

“Tell me, Joseph. The… Summary Executions at Heavenly Haven. Were they… absolutely necessary?”

“Unavoidable, sir.”

“Unavoidable…” Fargo glanced away, lost in thought for a moment. “We make our own reality, don’t we Joseph? The severity of those executions. Were they unavoidable, too?”

Dredd felt the color rise to his face. “With all due respect, sir, a Rookie Judge died out there today, too. Times have changed in the city. Life doesn’t mean much to some people anymore. You’d be able to see that if you weren’t—”

Fargo raised an eyebrow. “If I weren’t what, Joseph?”

“Always at the—Academy, sir.”

Fargo allowed the beginning of a smile to crease his features. “Don’t you mean at the Academy wiping Cadets’ asses? That’s what they say in the squad room, isn’t it?”

Dredd cleared his throat. “That’s irrelevant, sir. You set the standards, Chief Justice Fargo.”

“No, that’s not true.” Fargo wet his lips. “Now, you do… to the young Cadets you’re a legend.”

“I don’t feel much like a legend, sir.”

“We don’t decide what we are. They do… Do you remember your time at the Academy, Joseph?”