Read Online Dredd VS Death by Gordon Rennie - Free Book Online
Authors: Gordon Rennie
Tags: Science-Fiction
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for Grud's sake, in command of a force of hundreds of Street Judges and responsible for the safety of the millions of inhabitants of an entire city sector - and she still had an experienced Judge's training and instinct, so no way was she just going to turn and walk away, leave it for someone else to deal with like a good little cit was supposed to.
Besides, she reminded herself, she was a Private Investigator, and she had a job to do and a responsibility to her client. And to her client's daughter, the still-missing Joanna Caskey.
DeMarco had gone to town on one of these "Friends of Thanos" creeps at Joanna's college, and, after searching his apartment (illegal entry: minimum five-year sentence, the Judge part of her mind dutifully reminded her) and finding a large stash of highly illegal narc-stims there (failure to report a crime: automatic minimum five-year sentence) she was fairly sure that the girl was here, and probably being held against her will. Apparently, her unwilling informant had told her, there was something special about the Caskey girl's aura, and she had been chosen for some unspecified "special purpose".
None of which DeMarco much liked the sound of at all. She told herself that even if she called it in now, the Judges might still not arrive in time to stop whatever was going on in there.
No, she decided, she had to get in there herself, find the girl and discover what exactly these creeps were up to. Then, she promised herself, she'd put in a call to the Judges, once she had done her duty to her client and got the Caskey girl safely out of there.
There was a guard left at the still-open loading doors. He was wearing robes with identifiable Church of Death markings (membership of an illegal organisation: five years), was openly carrying a well-worn pump-action stump gun (possession of an illegal weapon: two years) and, even as DeMarco watched, paused to light up a cigarette (illegal smoking in a public place: one to three years mandatory).
"Creep sure is racking up the crime count," DeMarco murmured to herself. "At this rate, he'll probably be catching up with me soon."
The guard was standing with his back to her now, looking along the street while taking a long draw on his cigarette, although DeMarco wondered why he even bothered smoking the thing down here. If he wanted to dramatically cut his lifespan and pollute his body with lethally toxic substances, then a few good big lungfuls of the stuff that passed for air down here would do the job just as easy.
Reaching into her pocket to make sure that her pistol with its add-on stun beamer (unregistered modification of a licensed firearm: six months to a year, that little Judge voice reminded her) was still there, she slipped quietly from her hiding place and began sneaking across the street towards the guard's unprotected back.
The first plan had been a bust, she told herself, so let's see how this one worked out.
FOUR
Anderson was revving up her Lawmaster, before pulling out onto Tinto Brass Memorial Expressway for a long, looping, random patrol circuit of the inner sectors of MegEast, when her bike radio crackled into life.
"Anderson - Control. Chief Judge Hershey wants to see you. Report your position; we're sending an h-wagon to pick you up and take you to the Grand Hall of Justice."
"Not necessary, Control. I'm a big girl now, I can get there on my own."
She broke off communications before she received Control's no doubt exasperated repeat of the instructions they had already just given her. Even though she was a telepath, she didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what was probably going through the mind of an anonymous Comms Judge back at the local Sector House Control.
That Anderson. Always making trouble, always thinking that normal regs don't apply to her. Grud knows why she's still even a Judge.
To be honest, Anderson asked herself the same thing a dozen or so times a day at least. She thought she'd left the Justice Department
Besides, she reminded herself, she was a Private Investigator, and she had a job to do and a responsibility to her client. And to her client's daughter, the still-missing Joanna Caskey.
DeMarco had gone to town on one of these "Friends of Thanos" creeps at Joanna's college, and, after searching his apartment (illegal entry: minimum five-year sentence, the Judge part of her mind dutifully reminded her) and finding a large stash of highly illegal narc-stims there (failure to report a crime: automatic minimum five-year sentence) she was fairly sure that the girl was here, and probably being held against her will. Apparently, her unwilling informant had told her, there was something special about the Caskey girl's aura, and she had been chosen for some unspecified "special purpose".
None of which DeMarco much liked the sound of at all. She told herself that even if she called it in now, the Judges might still not arrive in time to stop whatever was going on in there.
No, she decided, she had to get in there herself, find the girl and discover what exactly these creeps were up to. Then, she promised herself, she'd put in a call to the Judges, once she had done her duty to her client and got the Caskey girl safely out of there.
There was a guard left at the still-open loading doors. He was wearing robes with identifiable Church of Death markings (membership of an illegal organisation: five years), was openly carrying a well-worn pump-action stump gun (possession of an illegal weapon: two years) and, even as DeMarco watched, paused to light up a cigarette (illegal smoking in a public place: one to three years mandatory).
"Creep sure is racking up the crime count," DeMarco murmured to herself. "At this rate, he'll probably be catching up with me soon."
The guard was standing with his back to her now, looking along the street while taking a long draw on his cigarette, although DeMarco wondered why he even bothered smoking the thing down here. If he wanted to dramatically cut his lifespan and pollute his body with lethally toxic substances, then a few good big lungfuls of the stuff that passed for air down here would do the job just as easy.
Reaching into her pocket to make sure that her pistol with its add-on stun beamer (unregistered modification of a licensed firearm: six months to a year, that little Judge voice reminded her) was still there, she slipped quietly from her hiding place and began sneaking across the street towards the guard's unprotected back.
The first plan had been a bust, she told herself, so let's see how this one worked out.
FOUR
Anderson was revving up her Lawmaster, before pulling out onto Tinto Brass Memorial Expressway for a long, looping, random patrol circuit of the inner sectors of MegEast, when her bike radio crackled into life.
"Anderson - Control. Chief Judge Hershey wants to see you. Report your position; we're sending an h-wagon to pick you up and take you to the Grand Hall of Justice."
"Not necessary, Control. I'm a big girl now, I can get there on my own."
She broke off communications before she received Control's no doubt exasperated repeat of the instructions they had already just given her. Even though she was a telepath, she didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what was probably going through the mind of an anonymous Comms Judge back at the local Sector House Control.
That Anderson. Always making trouble, always thinking that normal regs don't apply to her. Grud knows why she's still even a Judge.
To be honest, Anderson asked herself the same thing a dozen or so times a day at least. She thought she'd left the Justice Department
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