CHAPTER 2

Dereck Castillo arrived for work at the Food Logistics building early, as usual. He enjoyed the relative peace of an almost empty lobby. He walked to the elevator, and rode up alone to the tenth floor.

He emerged from the elevator and made his way along the catwalk to the 'Nutrient Monitoring Station'. The night shift tech wasn't there, but Dereck didn't find that particularly odd. He was probably out over the grow beds somewhere.

The first thing out of place that he noticed was the empty syringe still sticking out of the plastic feed tubes. What the hell, he thought. He bent down to examine it, perplexed. What had the night shift tech been up to? He straightened and headed for the computer console to check the logs. His unease turned to real alarm when he saw that the console screen was completely black. Turned off! He rushed to the console, and saw the power cord pulled free from its socket. He pressed it back in. He steamed as he waited for the console to reboot. The night shift tech had seriously breached protocol. He couldn't let something this big slide. He would have to report this.

The system completed booting up, and immediately began screeching and flashing a "WARNING: CONTAMINATION PRESENT" message across the screen. "Oh crap," Dereck muttered. An alarm blared across the entire floor. All valves slammed shut and the fogging nozzles dried up.

By now there were several techs out on the catwalk, going about their morning routine. They looked around in puzzlement.

Dereck typed furiously on the monitor, pulling up last night's data, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

In the buildings Control Room the day tech was lounging at his desk when his monitor buzzed at him. He pulled up the information, and then called up the Nutrient Monitoring Station on the tenth floor.

"This is Control. We are reading a contamination warning at your station. What are we dealing with?"

"Uh…hold on," Dereck's voice came over the speaker. After a moment he resumed, "It's definitely biological. Computer's still analyzing for an exact ID".

The Control Room tech scowled. Even the smallest delay brought ire from those above. "What's your estimated down time?"

Dereck's voice came out hesitant. "I don't know. I'm trying to determine the extent of the contamination. It could have gotten into the grow beds".

The Control Room tech sat up in alarm. He typed a few commands into his console and scanned the result. "Negative," he asserted. "We're showing that isolation protocols were followed as soon as the contamination was detected."

"The monitoring system was switched off."

The news stunned the Control Room tech. "What! Why?!"

"I don't know."

"How long was it off?" He gritted his teeth. Someone was going to lose their head over this screw up.

"The last system check was…" the tech could hear typing. "…seven hours ago."

The tech's blood pressure spiked. "Seven hours! With a biological! We could lose the whole batch." The tech drew in a breath, ready to launch into a tirade, but he was interrupted by a buzzing on his monitor. It showed another contamination warning on level 4. A second later another lit on level 8. The tech watched, stunned, as one by one all the floors lit up.

Dredd swiped through picture after picture on his wrist comm., looking for the man with dreadlocks. It had become his morning routine. He swiped as he stood in line at a food shack, waiting to get a morning cup of synthetic coffee. The others in line shuffled nervously, and cast furtive glances his way.

Grabbing his cup of synth, he took a seat at a nearby table. The patrons sitting at the surrounding tables bolted their breakfast and quietly slipped away, unnerved by his presence.

Dredd was accustomed to this reaction from citizens. He knew he made people uncomfortable. Ignoring them, he continued cycling through the pictures of arrests made the night before, studying each face before moving on. He eventually ran through all of the perps that matched the description he had inputted into his wrist comm. Finding nothing, he closed the file, the familiar twinge of disappointment tugging downward on his stomach. It had been six months since his search began, and each morning ended the same way. His musings were interrupted by an insistent beeping on his comm. His day had begun.

Dredd pulled up to the Food Logistics building. He'd been directed there on a Priority 1 call. Priority 1 meant directly from headquarters, and so Dredd wasn't entirely surprised to see the Chief Judge's vehicle already parked in front of the building. He parked his lawmaster and headed toward the lobby.

He entered the building, and saw a security guard approaching nervously.

"They're up on the top floor," the guard pointed toward the elevators. Dredd nodded and tried to walk past, but the guard blocked his way. He held out a datapad between them as if it were a shield.

"ID, please". The guard's voice was meek, and he looked like he expected to get assaulted for his trouble, but he was insistent. Dredd pulled off his riding glove, and placed his thumb on the datapad. It read and verified his print. Relieved, the guard stepped aside.

"Thank you," he said.

Dredd gave him a respectful nod and headed for the elevator.

The doors opened on the tenth floor to reveal an army of forensic techs scouring the catwalk. One looked up when Dredd stepped out. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the Nutrient Monitoring Station and said, "The Chief's waiting for you."

On his way there, Dredd passed a group gathered near the edge of the catwalk rails. Several of the techs were actually in the pool below, the water reaching up to their chests. The men below were pulling something out of the water and lifting it up to their comrades above. It was the body of the night shift tech. His body was limp and soggy like a noodle. Even from the catwalk Dredd could see the hand marks around his neck.

Dredd noticed something else. The algae pool below had a large, sickly patch of yellow spreading out along its surface, as if it were being overtaken by a disease.

Dredd arrived at the station, and saw the Chief Judge grilling the head tech of the facility. He could see she was agitated, and Dredd knew it took a lot to make her break her usually calm demeanor.

"You're telling me that the entire crop is affected? For all ten grow beds?" she demanded.

"It looks that way, ma'am," he stammered. He waved his hand toward the yellowing algae. "Sending any of this out would just make people sick."

"How did this spread so fast?"

"Whoever did this used our own system against us," he explained. "The growing pools are designed to provide optimal flourishing conditions for our algae. Unfortunately this also applies to our biological contaminant, which happens to be a particularly nasty strain of Trachnoid locidia." He glanced up at her, as though hoping that this small victory of identifying the biologic would earn points. She remained stone faced. He hastened to add, "We can have the pools emptied and scrubbed by the end of the day."

"Do it," she ordered. She spotted Dredd and gestured. "Come with me."

She got back into the elevator, Dredd in tow, and as it descended she filled him in on the situation.

An unidentified saboteur had gained entrance into the building, managed to contaminate all ten grow beds, and then left without raising any alarms.

At the ground floor they headed toward the Control Room.

"We lost all ten, Dredd," she stated. "That's a full week's food supply for this entire sector. And it gets worse."

"How?"

They arrived at the Control Room, and strode inside. It was surprisingly cramped. One wall was covered completely by monitors showing the status of all the building's systems. A man dressed in a HOJ tech uniform sat comfortably at the room's only desk with his feet up on the console.

On the main monitor footage was playing of the impostor from last night. The Chief Judge pointed to the image. "Here is our perpetrator."

Dredd grunted in surprise. "A judge? Who is he?"

The Chief turned toward the HOJ tech sitting behind the console. "Have you ID'd him yet?"

The tech's name badge read 'Perry'. Perry cleared his throat and stated, "The perp's shield identifies him as Judge Harrington, stationed at this sector. But this guy isn't Harrington."

"Why do you say that?" Dredd asked.

"Here, take a look." Perry rewound the clip that was currently playing to a point where 'Harrington' was walking down the corridor. He typed a command into the computer. The footage slowed to a frame by frame, and a series of reference points appeared overlaying the image.

"I set and measured these reference points myself just a few minutes ago." A summary of the computers analysis was displayed on the corner of the screen. Perry pointed to the data. "First off, his height is wrong. He's shorter than the real Harrington by a good three inches. I also ran an analysis of his gait and mannerisms against existing footage of Harrington, and the computer determined that there were significant divergences. Also, check this out." He manipulated the controls, and the image on the monitor zoomed in toward the perp's back. It kept zooming in until is showed just a small area on the back of his uniform jacket. The image showed three tightly grouped holes in the jacket. Each hole was approx. ¼ inch in diameter.

"Bullet holes," Dredd stated.

"Without a doubt," Perry confirmed. There are three matching holes in the front. The bullets passed right through. Obviously whoever did this ambushed Judge Harrington and used his uniform to gain access."

"Is there anything we can use to identify him on the tapes?" the Chief asked.

"I haven't found anything. But you'll want to see this." Perry fiddled with the controls, pulling up another clip. It showed the impostor walking down another corridor. He stopped, looked directly at the security camera, and gave a sarcastic salute.

"Son of a bitch," the Chief growled.

"He's not done."

The imposter pulled what looked like a pouch from his pocket, dipped his hand inside it, and then scribbled something onto the wall. The angle of the camera didn't allow them to see what it was.

"Where is that?" Dredd demanded.

"Just down the hall and around the corner. It was the last thing he did before he left," Perry replied.

"You take a look at it yet?" the Chief asked.

"Nope. Been waiting for you." Perry stood up and led them out the door.

"What the hell?" Perry blurted.

The three of them stood, staring at the strange symbol that had been scrawled on the wall in blood. Perry leaned in and scraped a sample, feeding it into his DNA profiler.

"Have either of you seen this symbol before?" the Chief turned to Dredd and Perry. Perry shook his head.

"Me neither," Dredd admitted. "Could be a gang symbol."

"Maybe." Perry said, unconvinced. The symbol had a kind of arcane quality. Especially painted in blood, it seemed to be trying to convey some cryptic meaning.

The DNA profiler chimed. Perry pulled up the results.

"Wanna guess who's blood that is," he challenged.

"Harrington's" Dredd answered.

"Bingo."

The Chief turned to Dredd, he eyes blazing. "I want whoever did this in resyk by the end of the day."

Dredd nodded. "I'll need help."

"Perry will act as your tech support for the duration."

"I mean another gun. Someone to watch my back," Dredd insisted.

"I'll have control assign you a temporary partner," the Chief assured.

"I have someone in mind," Dredd countered.

The Chief paused, realizing what Dredd was saying.

"She's suspended, Dredd."

Dredd shrugged. "You want this done fast? She's our best bet."

The Chief mulled this over. Six months ago Dredd had stormed into her office demanding to know why his partner had been suspended. He had left dissatisfied. Now he was using this opportunity to try to leverage a lifting of the suspension. The Chief weighed the options. There were things Dredd didn't know about his partner's suspension. Things that might make him reconsider. But he was also probably right in his assessment. She might be vital to solving this case quickly. And the Chief could practically feel the council breathing down her neck already. She came to a decision.

"All right, Dredd. It's your call. Just get me results. I need to get back and report this mess to the council." She walked brusquely past him, and out the lobby doors. Her pace was hasty, as though trying to leave behind the dirty feeling that suddenly plagued her.

Outside the building, Dredd and Perry descended the steps toward the street. "What was the last call Harrington was sent out on?" Dredd asked.

Perry pulled up the information on his datapad. He read aloud, "Harrington checked in with control last night at 11:30. He said he was going to investigate a 320." Dredd nodded. Code 320 meant a report of a dead body. Harrington hadn't been assigned the 320 by control, which meant that a local civilian must have reported it directly to him.

"You have the address?"

"I'm sending you the location now," Perry said, typing a command. A moment later Dredd's wrist comm. dinged with the new information.

"Did Harrington say who reported the body to him?" Dredd asked.

"Nope. You thinking he was killed on that call?"

Dredd ignored his question. "How long will it take you to track down that symbol painted on the wall?"

Perry shrugged. "It's hard to say. For all we know it doesn't mean anything. I'll get started on it as soon as I get back to my lab."

"Then get back to your lab," Dredd ordered, as he mounted his Lawmaster.

Perry's face took on an exaggerated humble expression. "As you wish, master." He bowed deeply with a sarcastic flourish. Dredd bit off the retort that came instinctively to mind. Instead, he gunned his Lawmaster's engine, leaving Perry in a cloud of burned rubber. Perry chuckled as he watched Dredd's receding figure. Judge's were all the same. Ornery, demanding, and no sense of humor.

Anderson opened her eyes. She was lying on her couch, alone in her apartment. She tried to remember what had happened. A confusion of thoughts and memories jumbled in her head. The mutant. Hadn't she brought him back to her apartment? Slowly the confusion passed, and she remembered the attack.

She sat up, and her head threatened to explode. She pressed her hands gently against her temples, cradling her tender brain. She waited until the storm inside her head waned to a dull headache. Then looked around. She saw no sign of Charley or Muto. Charley had undoubtedly returned to his own apartment. Perhaps he had taken Muto. Or maybe my little fit scared him off, she thought.

Sitting there, feeling sorry for herself, the need hit her with sudden force. She stood with some effort, and shuffled across the room to the safe. Her hand was shaking as it turned the dial. She jerked the door open and reached into the back, spilling her uniform onto the floor. Her fingers found what she was looking for, and her fist closed around it like it was a lifeline. She pulled it out. In her hand was a clear baggie of small white pills. She stared at them with hunger, her craving mounting by the second.

She desperately shook one out onto her palm. Hypocrite, weakling, pathetic addict, a small voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, but it was drowned out by the surge of her heartbeat in her ears. Just this last one, she lied.

And then she noticed her judge uniform crumpled on the floor where it had spilled out. She was suddenly overcome with self-loathing. She wanted to scream. She had lost control of her life, and now it felt like her fate was as predetermined as a doomed cart riding along tracks that ended at a cliff. I was a judge!

In a sudden fit of determination she rushed to the bathroom. She ripped the baggie and dumped the contents into the toilet. The pills tumbled down, plopping into the water, and were swept away when she jammed down on the handle.

She stared at the swirling waters in disbelief; shocked, horrified, and relieved all at once by what she had done. And then she realized that in her fist she still held the original pill. It had escaped her attention, and now sat like a stowaway on her palm. She tossed the last pill into the toilet bowl. Or at least she tried to. She willed her hand to move, but it refused. Her body stubbornly resisted this final act needed to set herself free.

A sudden beeping sound from the living room interrupted her struggle. As if on its own, her hand slipped the final pill into a pocket in her bra as she headed out the door to track the noise down. To her surprise it was her judge's wrist comm. She picked it up off the floor and saw a message displayed.

'Medical suspension lifted. Report for duty'.

She read through the terse message, less than thrilled. For a brief moment she considered ignoring the summons, but then she activated her comm.

"Control, this is Anderson. Reporting in."

"One moment…" came the speedy reply. She waited patiently until the voice returned. "Anderson, you've been put on case assignment. Active number 39741. Your senior partner has already been assigned to the case and begun the investigation."

"Understood. Send me his location." Just like that, Anderson mused as she cut the channel. She couldn't fathom what must be happening at headquarters for them to lift her suspension. And their assumption that she would simply come to heel at their snapping fingers irritated her. Yet despite this, she was already picking up her uniform.

Her comm. chimed as control sent her the current location of her assigned partner. Looking at the map, she realized with alarm that he was right outside her building.

"Oh crap."

She threw on her uniform. Hurrying toward the door, she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. It had been a while since she'd seen this woman. She ran her hand over the bronze shield on her chest. She pulled her lawgiver (it felt so right in her hands), jammed a clip into it, and shoved it back into her holster. Then strode out the door.

Before leaving the building she stopped at Charley's door. She knocked first, but had a key and let herself in. Charley was in his living room, sitting in front of his unresponsive mother. He was feeding her mashed fruit, wiping away the saliva and fruit that escaped her mouth and dribbled down her chin. He looked up as she entered.

"Hey Charley," she greeted him.

His eyes went wide with surprise. "Why are you dressed as a judge, Cass? You feeling okay?"

"I'm good. I stopped by to ask about the boy I was with earlier. Did you see him?"

"You mean Muto? I put him in the shower. That guy was ripe." Charley waved his hand in front of his nose in an exaggerated way.

"Are you okay with him being here?" Anderson asked.

"Yeah, he seems alright."

She nodded. "I've got to go. There's food at my place if you get hungry. And tell Muto he can stay there until I get back."

"So you're not going to tell me about your judge getup?" Charley called after her, but she was already closing the door.

As she marched down the hallway in her uniform the usually indifferent junkies scrambled to their feet, ducking into open doorways or just pressing themselves into the walls, hoping to not be noticed.

Exiting the building she immediately spotted the Judge Car parked at the curb. Anything not rusted or broken down stood out plainly in this dilapidated neighborhood. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, wishing she'd had more time to prepare. She reached the car. She opened the passenger seat and lowered herself into the leather seat without bothering to glance at the driver. She knew who it was. She had known the moment control told her a partner had been assigned.

She eyed the car's interior, admiring its sleek design and numerous gadgets. "New model. Nice." The driver said nothing. She finally turned toward him. "Nice to see you, Dredd."

Dredd eyed the shabby building. "I didn't know you'd moved."

"Yeah. This new place has its charms," she remarked. She reached forward and turned the AC vents toward her, enjoying the cool air. She could feel Dredd pondering the building, as though he wanted to ask her something, but she wasn't ready to answer any private questions.

"So what's the case?" she asked.

Dredd hit a button on the monitor in front of her, and it lit up with the current case file. "You can catch up on the way," he said as he pulled out into traffic.