Prog 2 : Hershey

With the high buildings to either side, little sunlight reached street level in the alley. Glowglobes were burned out, shattered or filthy. The headlights of the lawmaster illuminated an all-too-common tableau; a corpse lying on the ground attended too-late. The Judge eased her bike to a stop and dismounted. "What you got?" she asked.

The medi-tek barely glanced up. "Stung to death," he said shortly. "Some kind of wasp." He handed up an evidence bottle – it contained a narrow-waisted insect banded like the warning tape stretched across the mouth of the alley. It was as long as the Judge's thumb with a handsbreadth wingspan. She stared silently at the barbed, bloodstained stinger protruding from its tail and the over-sized interlocking mandibles beneath the faceted eyes. "Plenty of 'em lying around."

"All dead?" the Judge asked warily. The medi-tek chuckled.

"Yeah, I think so," he said, "but don't worry – I don't think they're fatal unless you're allergic."

The Judge nudged the tarp covering the corpse with her boot. "That what killed him?" she asked. The medi-tek shook his head and drew back the sheet. "Grud!" exclaimed the Judge, her hand flying to her mouth despite herself.

The victim was crimson and bloated, his flesh studded with pus-oozing welts. Here and there, the pressure of the swelling had grown too much and the skin had split, revealing jellied, liquified rivers of off-color blood. He was all-but unrecognizable as human – his face distorted into a shining, over-inflated balloon, blood leaking from every orifice.

"Can't even confirm his ID," said the medi-tek apologetically. He handed up an evidence bag containing the contents of his wallet. "Hands are too-swollen to take prints, and looking at his face is obviously no good."

"DNA?" asked the Judge. Her voice sounded very far away to her ears.

"Wouldn't like to promise anything," the medi-tek said. "The enzymes in the venom break soft tissue down. He's been stung so many times, so much poison in his bloodstream . . ." He stood. "I've got to get him in a body-bag before the liquefaction goes too far – I don't want to mop him off the floor."

The Judge looked blankly at the corpse for a few seconds. As she did, the overstretched skin on his cheek tore open and the bloody remains of his eye spilled out like uncooked ecks. Even inured as she was to violence and death, she turned away. "Just how many wasps attacked him?" she asked.

The medi-tek shrugged as he shook out the black plastic bag. "Hundreds?" he suggested. "Thousands? I'm no expert, but he's covered in stings."

"Any other victims?" she asked. The medic shook his head. "So, a swarm of wasps attacks him, stings him to death, doesn't touch anyone else . . . and then what? Flies away?" The medi-tek's attention was on his 'patient', but he spared the instant it took to blankly shrug. "We need animal control," the Judge decided.

"They say they're en route," the medi-tek told her. "They were advised before I called them."

The Judge looked at him askance. "Control called 'em for the 911?" she asked.

The medi-tek shrugged again. "No idea," he admitted. He pointed with his chin towards the end of the alley. "But you've got company – someone's talking to your witnesses."

The Judge's hand fell automatically to her lawgiver as she turned. Her bike's headlights were pointed in her face and she could not see clearly. The rubbernecking crowd behind the wasp-stripped warning tape was silhouetted against the morning light spilling into the alley from the street. There were a few obviously Judicial outlines – bulky in the armor, the stance unmistakable. She walked down the alley as the tallest of them lifted the barrier to let a smaller, clearly female, Judge duck underneath. "Hershey, sector two," the Judge said by way of introduction. The tall Judge reached up and took off his helmet, revealing a strikingly handsome face she recognized.

"Good to see you, Hershey," said Cornelius. He turned to the helmetless blonde woman by his side. "Cassie, this is Judge Hershey. Hershey, this is . . ."

Hershey had removed her own helmet. "We've met, Cornelius," she said shortly. She lifted her chin in brief greeting. "Anderson."

The psi grinned. "Not so bad, Babs – yourself?" Hershey hadn't exactly been smiling, but if she had it would have come off her face like she'd been slapped. She stiffened, affronted by the psi's informality, her face expressionless.

While not unattractive, Hershey was an imposing and even intimidating woman. She was taller than Anderson, long and lean even down to her midnight-black, daystick-straight hair and nose like a lawrod barrel. At a glance, she gave the impression of being predominately vertical – the upright stance, the almost-boyish figure, and the flat, even lank, locks of hair – but that was leavened by some striking horizontal elements. Her lips were very thin, her mouth very wide. She wore the bangs of her hair low over pencil-stroke eyebrows, both looking as if they were measured with a laser level. "What's PsiDiv's interest in my case?" she asked.

"Dunno yet," said Anderson shortly. "Hunch, I guess."

"What have you got?" asked Cornelius. Hershey, who'd been staring at Anderson, annoyed, turned to him.

"Drokked if I know," she said, "I just got here. Medi-tek says my slab was stung by wasps – he ain't pretty. Can't confirm, but his ID says he's . . . Hector Patton," she read from the cards in the evidence bag. "Thirty eight, employed by Greenfields Credit Union on Seven and Ryan." Cornelius noticed the bottle in her hand and reached out to take it.

"That one of the wasps?" he asked. He lifted the bottle to get a closer look. "Mean-looking thing," he remarked. "We called animal control – they'll be here soon enough."

Hershey looked at Cornelius and then Anderson. "What's PsiDiv doing here?" she repeated. "Is there something I don't know about this case?"

Cornelius laughed. "Plenty," he said, "but we don't know either. Jackie!" He called and beckoned. A teenaged Cadet detached herself from the crowd and approached. Even with half her face hidden by the helmet, Hershey noticed she was both beautiful and sickly-pale. She looked lightheaded as she started to duck under the tape, standing to regain her balance, her body wavering carefully. Hershey watched without comment as Cornelius reached out and lifted her easily over, setting her down on the other side. She snapped to attention and only broke it when he ordered, "Report."

"Interviews are ongoing, Sir," she said crisply, "but it's much like I saw – swarm attacked him on the slidewalk, he fled down here but it followed him. No-one else was attacked – leastways, no-one says they got stung. Witnesses didn't want to get too close – but a couple of them report seeing a figure bending over the victim."

"Robbery?" asked Cornelius. She shrugged.

"Dunno, Sir," she said. "The swarm was pretty thick, apparently – no-one could see clearly. But he was in the middle of it, and didn't seem to care." She peered into the depths of the alley, past Hershey's lawmaster. "That him?" she asked. Cornelius nodded. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said. Her sensual mouth turned down at the corners. "I was too late."

"Don't beat yourself up, Jackie," said Cornelius. "If it weren't for you we wouldn't be here at all." The Cadet didn't look convinced – she remained staring at the bagged corpse lying on the asphalt. "Hershey," said Cornelius, "Cadet Quartermain of Psi-Division. Jackie, Judge Hershey."

Hershey politely lifted her chin at Quartermain. "Cadet," she acknowledged curtly.

The young psi wasn't really listening, her attention focused either on the dreadful sight before her or some future only she could see – perhaps both. "Chief Judge," she muttered automatically.

In the dark, it was hard to tell if Hershey was gawping or glaring. Cornelius glanced at Anderson, thinking Let me handle this at her. He felt the weight of agreement dent the surface of his mind and Anderson led the younger woman down the alley.

"Your girl making a joke?" Hershey asked Cornelius tersely. He shrugged.

"She's a precog," he explained. "She sees things before they happen. And she's had a bad night," he added. "Cut her some slack."

"Precog." Hershey said the word like a slur. "So, what? She thinks I'm gonna be Chief Judge one day?" Her eager ambition was well-controlled, but clearly visible even to a man who avoided politics. "How accurate is that?"

"She's the reason I'm at your crime scene two minutes after you," he offered. "And I had to come halfway across the city and find a place to park a balloon. That's pretty good for a girl who was asleep when she called it."

Hershey stared for long seconds into the darkness of the alley, focusing on the dim shapes of Anderson and Quartermain without seeing them. She gave a shudder. "I'll be honest, Cornelius . . ." she began.

He shook his head. "Don't," he warned. "They're both my friends. You want her prediction to come true? Don't make enemies where you don't need 'em," he advised.

She squared up to him. "You can read my mind now?" she asked with a sneer. He chuckled and shook his head.

"You know I'm no politician, Hershey," he admitted. "But even I can help you climb that greasy pole – or knock you down a peg or two. It ain't a threat," he assured her. "It's just an observation."

Hershey glanced around as if to make sure they weren't overheard. "Who says I want it?" she hissed.

Cornelius shrugged. "No-one," he said easily. "But Jackie says you're gonna get it, and that's all that matters to me. I've never cared about what people want – I care about what happens." Hershey snorted in derision.

"Yeah, right," she mocked. "Next you'll be telling me you didn't want level seven clearance less-than six-months out of the Academy – it just kind of happened."

The credit-chip dropped for Cornelius; so that's what this was. "You really want to do this?" he asked. "Here?" Hershey folded her arms and remained obdurate. "Alright then," he said, "let's get down to the bronze. You're ambitious – but it's the good kind of ambition; what keeps Dredd on the streets'll get you off 'em. But now's not the time to worry about jurisdiction; Jackie picked up on this before it happened, something told Cassie we should investigate. This isn't some wacky case you can write off as a single line in the report and just one more open investigation that goes nowhere – this is more than that, and you know it."

"So that's the deal, DepDivChief?" she asked scornfully. "Fine – take the damn case." She tabbed buttons on her lawscreen. Cornelius caught her wrist in one massive hand before she could bang her forearm against his.

"What's your clearance right now, what's your rank?" he asked.

"Deputy shift-chief, level four," Hershey said tightly.

"So I could take the case, without consulting your SectComm," he agreed. "I'm not going to – PsiDiv isn't here to throw our weight around or steal your collar; we're here to help. You got here first – your case, your lead." He let go of her arm. "Okay?" he asked.

Slowly, she nodded, grateful for his kindness yet embarrassed by it. "Yeah," she said. "Thanks."

At that moment, a J-Dept van pushed through the crowd and eased to a stop. The door opened and a cit-auxiliary hopped out, jumping energetically over the tape rather than ducking under it. "Harmon, animal control," he said pleasantly. "Got here quick as I could – who's in charge?"

Cornelius pointed at Hershey, but she spoke quickly. "Joint lead, Officer Harmon – Psi and Street. I'm Hershey and this is Cornelius. Thanks for coming."

Harmon grinned. "No worries," he said. "Report said a victim killed by wasps?" Hershey nodded. "Any idea what kind?" Harmon was fresh-faced and boyish, looking barely old-enough to drive and with a mop of straw-colored hair. He wore the uniform of animal control – a green jumpsuit with paw-prints on the epaulettes – complete with shoulder-length gauntlets. The gloves were thick leather, quilted and padded with foam and banded with plasteen to protect against bites and scratches. Cornelius handed the evidence bottle to him. "'Crete-wasp," he said shortly. "Sting hurts like hitting your thumb with a hammer, but one shouldn't kill a human."

"What about a few hundred?" asked Hershey. Harmon's hazel eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah, that'd do it," he admitted. He shook his head. "Grud, what a way to go," he said with feeling.

"You get a lot of 'em in the city?" asked Cornelius. Harmon shrugged.

"They're fairly common," he admitted, "but you don't see many this time of year – most colonies hibernate, they only stay active if the nest's in a warm location. A furnace room, near a generator, something like that." He shook the bottle, agitating the wasp's corpse. "The cold probably killed this one – if something destroys the nest, the colony will swarm. If they don't build a new nest quickly, they start dropping like flies." He grinned and laughed a little at his own joke.

"You think that's what happened?" Hershey asked. "They swarmed and attacked this guy?"

Harmon shook his head. "They swarm to defend the nest, that's it. They don't attack, they're not predatory. They eat a fungus; they build little farms inside their nests to grow it on garbage they haul in. They'll attack if threatened, but – like I said – the sting's painful as Hell. One's enough to make a klegg run away."

"Eyewitnesses say the swarm chased him," said Cornelius. "Followed him down the alley, didn't bother anyone else." Harmon actually gaped. "Hey, I'm not telling you it makes sense," Cornelius said sympathetically.

"But you are telling me to make sense of it, huh?" Harmon asked with a wry grin. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Let me see the body."

The two Judges led him down the alley. Anderson and Quartermain were standing with the medi-tek over the bagged corpse, Brufen walking down the alley from the other direction. "I canvased around the block," he explained. "Couple of witnesses say someone ducked into the alley from this side around the time our victim died. He left a minute or so later – surrounded by the insects."

"Where'd he go?" asked Hershey. Brufen glanced at her askance but only answered when Cornelius nodded.

"No-one could tell me," he said. "They didn't want to get too close – a swarm of wasps can be quite frightening."

"These ones certainly are," Anderson remarked dryly. "You're animal control?" Harmon nodded and quick introductions were made. "What do you make of it?"

Harmon gave the careful shrug of an expert unwilling to commit. He crouched by the bag and unzipped it. "Grud have mercy," he muttered. "That's completely atypical 'crete-wasp behavior," was all he would admit.

"'Crete-wasps?" asked Brufen. "The ones that produce silicatase?" Harmon nodded and handed the bottle up to him. "Their saliva softens rockcrete enough for them to chew it up," he explained to the other Judges. "They build nests out of it – an array of hexagonal chambers. Mathematically perfect, incredibly precise tolerance, all by instinct. Amazing."

"Wait," said Cornelius. "These bastards will eat through a drokking wall?"

Harmon chuckled. "Well, them and a few dozen of their mates, Judge," he explained. "Colonies normally number a couple of hundred. An individual wasp can process about a cubic inch of rockcrete a day. Normally, as Judge Brufen said, they build nests anchored near a source of garbage and 'crete; underpasses are popular – the homeless population gets stung a lot in the spring when they wake up and start swarming."

"The wasps or the vagrants?" asked Anderson with a smirk. Harmon laughed again and acknowledged her joke with a wink and pointed finger.

"But they'll also burrow into a wall and build their nests inside a void," he said. "Bad infestations can impact the stability of a structure – that's what I see most. We get called out to destroy a nest."

"So you can kill these things?" asked Hershey.

"Oh, sure – chem sprays'll do it," said Harmon. He jerked his thumb towards the end of the alley. "I've got some in the truck, but you can buy 'em at any hardware store. They're more a nuisance than a serious threat – they're not dangerous."

"Tell that to Hector," muttered Anderson with feeling.

Harmon made a frustrated noise; Anderson could taste his worry like mustard on a slopdog – he was afraid the Department was one stung Judge away from bathing the city in insecticide. "They don't normally behave like that, Judge!" he exclaimed. "There has to be some explanation – some pathogen or parasite, hormonal imbalances. Magnetic fields might have driven their nervous systems haywire!" He was reaching, and everyone knew it.

"And we need to know that before more citizens turn up dead," said Hershey. Harmon nodded glumly; he didn't look very confident about providing an answer.

"What are these lesions?" Brufen was crouching by the corpse, pointing at a series of long, parallel slashes on its forearm. The medi-tek barely glanced at them.

"Venom causes swelling, fluid build-up," he said shortly. "Enzymes weaken the cellular structure – when the pressure gets too much, the flesh tears." He gestured vaguely at the body. "You can see it all over him."

Brufen shook his head. "No, these are different – look. The edges aren't ragged, they're straight. The muscle fibers were cut, not torn. They go to the bone – do you have retractors?" The medi-tek held the edges of the wound open while Brufen peered inside. He pulled a probe from his belt and pointed. "Do you see?" he asked.

The others looked. They couldn't make much sense of what they were seeing; long strands of reddish muscle and white cords that could have been nerves or tendons. Here and there blood pooled. The bone was pinkish-white, and Brufen was pointing to a small metallic plate clamped to it. "What am I looking at?" asked Cornelius.

"Biophilic osteo-mount for an RFID chip," said the medi-tek. "It's a fairly common enhancement."

"Yeah," said Quartermain, "I had mine installed last year. What's his chip for?"

"He's a banker, Cadet," said Hershey. "Usually, theirs are keychips – access to the vault or computer terminals."

"The chip's missing," said Brufen. "I think we have motive."

"And a place to be," said Cornelius. "Harmon, you run whatever tests you need to on the body before it goes to resyk. Brufen, you have the scene. The rest of us . . ." He glanced at Hershey. She nodded.

"Seven and Ryan," she said crisply. "Greenfields Credit Union. Doubletime it, people."

A/n : Hershey is a comics character – she's mentioned in on-screen text in the movie. I've mentioned here before (in "Highway Don't Care" and "Gunpowder & Lead") and she has / will have a major role in my "Return of Rico" story. She's an ally of Dredd's and does, in the comics, rise to be Chief Judge. Quartermain seems to know something here, too!

It's a fairly slow build, but I am trying to word-build here too. Tell me what you think – review box is right there! I always reply to reviews and return the favor!