Hunters appeared at Griffin’s command, six of them, two marching swiftly down each aisle. A Cadet, in his excitement, made the mistake of getting in the way of one of the Hunters. The Judge Hunter swept him aside without breaking his stride.
“Let the Betrayer of the Law be taken from our Courts!” Griffin read from the Book of Law, his voice resounding through the great hall.
Hershey gasped and stepped aside. The Judge Hunters clamped manacles on Dredd’s wrists. Dredd stared straight ahead. He didn’t seem to notice the Judge Hunters were there.
“Let the Freedom he stole from others be stolen from himself!”
One of the Judge Hunters pushed Dredd roughly in the back. Dredd tripped and sprawled on the floor. Two Hunters jerked him to his feet. Another tore off his armor and threw it aside. Still another clutched Dredd’s black uniform at his throat, and ripped it across his chest. Dredd didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, solid as stone, while the Hunters tore at his body, stripping him naked of his clothing, his honor, and his life.
“Let his armor be taken from him, and all his garb of Justice . . . Let his name be stricken from our rolls. Let his memory be erased from our minds . . . Let him live his life in dishonor and shame, and let him remember every day that he has not only betrayed himself, he has brought that shame and dishonor upon us. It is our regret that Judge Dredd cannot live a thousand lives in contemplation of his crime . . .”
Hershey was uncertain how long she had been standing there, alone. The Judges’ table was empty. The audience was gone as well—the Judges, the Cadets. The section reserved for the media was empty. The vultures had fed well; they had gotten even more than they’d bargained for today.
She wondered what had happened to Fargo. She didn’t remember seeing him after Griffin took his place as Chief Justice. A strong, commanding presence one moment, and the next a shadow, no one at all.
Hershey started down the aisle, hesitated, then stopped, and turned toward the side door that led to the small room off the Council Chamber. There would be people in the hallway, people she knew. Street Judges, maybe members of the news media. Cadet Olmeyer, probably. She couldn’t see Olmeyer now. He’d be mooning over her, offering his sympathy, unintentionally doing everything to make her feel worse.
The anteroom was empty. For a long moment, she stood there in the silence. It seemed a lifetime instead of only moments before since she and Dredd had waited there for the Council to consider its verdict. She couldn’t recall what they’d said to each other. Probably nothing at all. At that point, there was little they could say. Both of them knew that miracles only happened in legend, in the Way Back When. Not in Mega-City, not now.
She glanced at the two glasses on the table. A Cadet steward had brought them water while they waited. Dredd had taken one swallow. Hershey had finished hers.
She picked up Dredd’s glass. She was bone-tired, aching all over from the tension of the trial. The tissues in her mouth were parched. She raised Dredd’s glass, held it just below her lips. The faint, pleasant scent of lemon rose from the clear liquid, and she was struck by the sudden memory of dark, brown eyes and a soothing smile, a summer afternoon. Her mother had liked the taste of lemon, and often added it to the water at mealtime. Hershey hadn’t thought of that in years, and now her mother was—
Hershey stopped, stared at the glass and brought it closer to her nose. She set down Dredd’s glass and picked up her own. It was nearly empty, but there was enough there to smell. Nothing. No scent at all.
Judge Hershey’s hand shook as she set the glass down. The rage began to spread throughout her body, burning like a fire she could scarcely control. She clenched her fists in frustration, then grabbed up Dredd’s glass and threw it against the wall.
Hexxadol Nine! It wasn’t
“Let the Betrayer of the Law be taken from our Courts!” Griffin read from the Book of Law, his voice resounding through the great hall.
Hershey gasped and stepped aside. The Judge Hunters clamped manacles on Dredd’s wrists. Dredd stared straight ahead. He didn’t seem to notice the Judge Hunters were there.
“Let the Freedom he stole from others be stolen from himself!”
One of the Judge Hunters pushed Dredd roughly in the back. Dredd tripped and sprawled on the floor. Two Hunters jerked him to his feet. Another tore off his armor and threw it aside. Still another clutched Dredd’s black uniform at his throat, and ripped it across his chest. Dredd didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, solid as stone, while the Hunters tore at his body, stripping him naked of his clothing, his honor, and his life.
“Let his armor be taken from him, and all his garb of Justice . . . Let his name be stricken from our rolls. Let his memory be erased from our minds . . . Let him live his life in dishonor and shame, and let him remember every day that he has not only betrayed himself, he has brought that shame and dishonor upon us. It is our regret that Judge Dredd cannot live a thousand lives in contemplation of his crime . . .”
Hershey was uncertain how long she had been standing there, alone. The Judges’ table was empty. The audience was gone as well—the Judges, the Cadets. The section reserved for the media was empty. The vultures had fed well; they had gotten even more than they’d bargained for today.
She wondered what had happened to Fargo. She didn’t remember seeing him after Griffin took his place as Chief Justice. A strong, commanding presence one moment, and the next a shadow, no one at all.
Hershey started down the aisle, hesitated, then stopped, and turned toward the side door that led to the small room off the Council Chamber. There would be people in the hallway, people she knew. Street Judges, maybe members of the news media. Cadet Olmeyer, probably. She couldn’t see Olmeyer now. He’d be mooning over her, offering his sympathy, unintentionally doing everything to make her feel worse.
The anteroom was empty. For a long moment, she stood there in the silence. It seemed a lifetime instead of only moments before since she and Dredd had waited there for the Council to consider its verdict. She couldn’t recall what they’d said to each other. Probably nothing at all. At that point, there was little they could say. Both of them knew that miracles only happened in legend, in the Way Back When. Not in Mega-City, not now.
She glanced at the two glasses on the table. A Cadet steward had brought them water while they waited. Dredd had taken one swallow. Hershey had finished hers.
She picked up Dredd’s glass. She was bone-tired, aching all over from the tension of the trial. The tissues in her mouth were parched. She raised Dredd’s glass, held it just below her lips. The faint, pleasant scent of lemon rose from the clear liquid, and she was struck by the sudden memory of dark, brown eyes and a soothing smile, a summer afternoon. Her mother had liked the taste of lemon, and often added it to the water at mealtime. Hershey hadn’t thought of that in years, and now her mother was—
Hershey stopped, stared at the glass and brought it closer to her nose. She set down Dredd’s glass and picked up her own. It was nearly empty, but there was enough there to smell. Nothing. No scent at all.
Judge Hershey’s hand shook as she set the glass down. The rage began to spread throughout her body, burning like a fire she could scarcely control. She clenched her fists in frustration, then grabbed up Dredd’s glass and threw it against the wall.
Hexxadol Nine! It wasn’t
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