Judge Dredd: Cal-Hab

By McNulty

This story is dedicated to the writers and artists of Judge Dredd and Cal-Hab Justice, who gave me the inspiration for this story. Also thanks are due to Caliber, who inspired the landscape of this story and Wake for giving my story a place to be read. And I am also grateful for all the readers of this story who enjoyed it enough to tell me and those who were good enough to draw some images based on this story. Without any of these people, this story could not have been possible.

Prologue The winds howled around the Shrine, a turbulent maelstrom of nature and emotion. It had been like that since the creation of the Flux. In all that time, there had been no respite, save those times when Judge Buchan came to calm the storms. The sleek craft cut through the raging winds. It came to a halt half a kay from the Shrine. Inside, the scientists started to work with their machinery. If this worked, the Flux could be controlled, and its secrets would be theirs to discover. The pilot and the rest of the crew were apprehensive. They knew the stories of the Flux, how it was created and what happened to those foolish enough to stray too close to it. “It looks like things are getting worse out there,” said the pilot. His Brit-Cit Judge-Pilot’s badge identified him as Judge Bader. He had the look of one expert in the art of flight. For him to appear so nervous was a testament of how bad things were starting to look. “Calm down pilot,” said the head scientist, “We are about ready to begin. If this works, all will be calm in a moment.” He was Rutherford, one of the most venerable scientists of the Royal College of Brit-Cit. He had spent years working on this very experiment, and had no doubt in his mind that it would be successful. He turned to his American colleague. If not for his contribution, they would not be here today. “Are you ready, Judge Larter?” he asked. “Systems online,” the elderly Mega-City One Judge replied. Judge Larter had been surprised when his old colleague Rutherford had contacted him all those months ago, but the idea of controlling the Flux was too intriguing to refuse. Mega-City Justice Dept was similarly interested in the idea; the promise of such power under control was enticing. The Chief Judge herself personally gave her approval for Larter to join the mission. The others worked furiously at their stations. The crew of the ship was three strong, including the pilot. Four other scientists from Brit-Cit were also busy, each were the leaders of his or her field. Their nervousness was mixed with their confidence. The experiment would work, and the power would be theirs. “All right,” ordered Rutherford, “Let’s get started. Judge Larter, if you would?” Larter activated his console and started up the sequence. In response, a powerful pulse of energy came from the ship and came into contact with the primal power of the Flux. It writhed under the powerful forces of the new technology, affronted that any outside force would dare to challenge it. The other scientists activated their sequences, and the power of the ship increased intensely. The Flux faltered, as a powerful energy field held it tight restraint. In the ship, the scientists celebrated as the winds died down. “Excellent, excellent!” exclaimed Rutherford, “Now, let’s get the initial readings.” With that, the scientists went about getting the information they had so sorely longed for. It seemed that the mission was a complete success. The Flux was safely contained. The massive power was theirs to investigate! “Sir,” said Dr Fisher, “according to these readings, we have the potential to harness a source of energy far beyond our expectations.” “I’m sure that will please our friends in Mega-City One,” said Rutherford, looking over to Larter. Judge Larter showed a sense of satisfaction as he confirmed that the restraint field around the Flux was stable and steady. “Very well,” smiled Rutherford, “Pilot – prepare to land. We better get suited up. The winds may have died down but the radiation is still very high out there. As the ship slowly descended, the Flux struggled in its restraint. Enraged at its

confinement, it redoubled its efforts to free itself. “Sir,” Fisher warned, “The hold of the Flux is weakening. Somehow its drawing energy from the ship itself to increase its own!” “Impossible!” exclaimed Rutherford, “Larter, increase the restraining field! We’ll not be denied!” “I can’t!” the elderly Judge replied, “The power drain is too strong. We must withdraw.” Unhappily, the leader of the mission ordered Bader to retreat. Bader tried to pull up, but found he couldn’t. “Losing power….can’t hold her!” he shouted, as the ship started to writhe in the air. As they started to fly off course, the Flux at last broke free of its restraints. A terrible burst of power was unleashed, which turned into a violent energy wave, which tore across the ravaged landscape. The ship flew away erratically, no longer under any mortal control. Inside, Judge Bader desperately grabbed his com-mike and made a SOS call to Brit-Cit. “Emergency! This is Research ship Alpha Seven. We are out of control! Request immediate assistance, repeat…” The message died off as the power levels in the ship sank too low. The ship disappeared into the harsh and bleak landscape of the ruined countryside. The Flux screamed what seemed was a roar of triumph. It grew far beyond the confines of the Shrine.

Chapter One 12 hours later, in the New Old Bailey, the headquarters of Brit-Cit Justice Department. “Replay the message,” ordered Judge Wilmore to the Comm-Judge. “Emergency…Research…Alpha Sev..out of control…immediate assist…” crackled the recording. The senior Judge frowned. “That’s all we got?” he asked. The Comm-Judge nodded. “It’s obviously from the Alpha Seven Research Ship. They were supposed to contact us hours ago. What with all the radiation and the proximity to the Flux up there, we have to assume that something very serious has happened to them. It also might fit in with what’s been happening to flights in the north since the time we received this message.” Wilmore considered this. Why did this have to happen on his watch? A potentially quiet night ruined by this damn emergency! He never could see the point of going up into the wastes of the north anyway. Sighing with resignation, he reached for his commlink. “Control, get me Judge Barker. Tell him we have a problem with the research ship that went to Cal-Hab…” After it was positively ascertained that the research ship wasn’t coming back, things had to move swiftly. After all the Mega City Justice Department wouldn’t be pleased when they heard that their scientists were missing. The Deputy Chief Judge of Brit Cit himself became involved because of the seriousness of this situation. He sat in the conference room and looked at the assembled Judges. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he began, “As you know, the research ship that was to carry out some very promising experiments on the Cal-Hab Flux has been missing for six hours now. We have to assume that it has crashed. Now we also have an addition problem. Judge Bartlett, if you would.” A Tek-Judge stood up. “We detected a strong energy field emanating from the area of the Flux. It has the effect of disrupting all other energy patterns. Communication, already difficult in this area, is now impossible. As is powered flight. Already a search drone we sent north to find the research ship has fallen from the sky.” “Thank you Bartlett,” said the Deputy Chief Judge, “If we are to retrieve the scientists and crew of the Alpha Seven, we will have to send a manned expedition into Cal-Hab. No doubt our counterparts from Mega City One will be anxious to find out what happened to their people. We can expect an official reply from them soon.” “Sir,” one of the assembled Judges said, “ What about the Flux? If it is getting bigger, then surely stopping its growth must be our first priority.” “Stopping the Flux is of course important,” answered the Deputy Chief Judge, “That’s why we need an expert on the Flux to go with the expedition. We also need Judges with a good knowledge of the local terrain. Find these people gentlemen, and do it quickly. We don’t have much time.” Judge Buchan sat in front of her computer and put down her fifth synthi-caf of the day. Ever since the tragic events of the final days of Glascal, her Brit-Cit masters had kept her on a tight leash. She understood why of course. She alone was able to calm the primal forces of the Flux, and because of that, she had become invaluable. If she did not attend the Shrine at least once a year, the primal forces of the Flux, with all its rage and grief would threaten to break forth. He presence alone, and her reliving the

final moments of Psi-Judge Schiehallion, was all that could lessen the force of the Flux. But it had come at a heavy price. The emotional strain it had on Buchan was heavy. She had become prone to bouts of depression and anxiety. The Med-Judges had put her on anti-depressants, but they were proving ineffective. It was if her very soul, not her body was ailing. Put on reduced duty, working a computer all day on some unimportant task, she found no solace. She almost didn’t hear her commlink when it activated, she was so distracted. “Control to Buchan. You are ordered to Judge Bartlett’s office immediately.” Half a world away in the Radback of Oz, a man stood and watched the sunset. He wore a Judge’s uniform, but it was so faded, it could have been anything. Even his badge was so tarnished, it was unreadable. He looked out at the sky, with all its reds, yellows and browns, and gave a half-smile. The Radback was a place a man could lose himself. The almost endless kays stretched out in front of him. Here at least, he had a respite from his pain. He gunned his Lawmaster on and continued on his latest mission. The Kelly Gang was infamous among the farming community of the Radback. In the old Oz tradition, they would ride into isolated farmsteads and take anything that wasn’t nailed down, and sometimes those that were. Their leader was always called Ned, and he alone was allowed to wear the armoured helmet that signified him as their leader. The Kelly Gang’s latest raid was one too far in the minds of the local population. Up to now, they had held the gang in a kind of esteem, considering them as folk heroes, despite their robberies. Ballads were even sung about the gang in the pubs of the local towns and villages. But their latest act had ended all that. The Judge entered the township barely an hour after the gang had made their escape. The mayor of the community met him, barely able to contain his rage. “So fit did they tak this time?” the Judge asked. “What did they take!” the mayor exploded, “Strewth! I can scarcely believe it man! They only went and stole the town’s supply of FiveX!” The news even took the Judge aback. He knew of many atrocious things, but to deprive an Oz of his beer was a cardinal sin! Not waiting any longer, he raced out of town. It was a few hours before the Judge tracked them down. The entire gang had set up camp by a watering hole and was preceding to empty their ill-gotten barrels. Most were so drunk they were incapable of upright movement, let along resistance, but the Ned, their leader sat impassively by the fire. The Judge decided to make his move. “OK lads, let’s see those hands!” he shouted, lawgiver at the ready. Those of the gang still capable of intelligent thought looked around for the source of the order. The Judge came into the campsite. Ned turned to face the Judge. “My boys were just having a little fun, Judge,” he said, “Surely you can understand that.” “The toonsfolk of Atom Ridge dinnae agree wi’ ye,” the Judge answered, “Noo come quietly.” “I don’t think so,” said Ned, and dived for his gun. He just had his hand on it when the Judge’s lawgiver fired. Ned screamed in pain, and grasped his hand, now furnished with a brand new bullet hole. Some other gang members, suitable foolhardy rushed the Judge, only to fall unconscious to the ground seconds later. “I warned ye,” said the Judge, as he bandaged up Ned’s wounded hand. Later, the gang was brought back to the scene of their crime. The townspeople had all

turned out. For a moment, it could have turned into a lynching! “But they drank almost all our supply!” the mayor argued. “It disnae matter. There’s nae death sentence on stealing beer, even in the Radback! Noo if ye’ll excuse me, I hae tae get them tae the jail. The circuit Hoverwagon will pick them up in a few days.” Getting the gang back to the jailhouse was not easy, but the Judge was determined. He was just about to leave the township, when a messenger came after him. “Judge,” he said, “This just came in over the wire.” The Judge took the message and opened it. He face turned to stone as he read. “Damn they a’ tae Hell” he stormed and marched back to the jailhouse. The messenger picked up the discarded message. His curiosity taking over, he began to ready. “To Judge Jamieson, Radback Division, Oz Justice Department. You are hereby transferred back to the Brit-Cit Justice Department pending successful completion of an urgent mission. A Hoverwagon will pick you up at 7.00am.” Mega-City One. The Chief Judge’s Office. Dredd was called into the Grand Hall of Justice shortly after he successfully ended a siege at the Temple of the Holy Hottie. Chief Judge Hershey knew the lawman well enough not to mention the sauce stains on his uniform. Besides, there were more serious matters to discuss. “It’s about Judge Larter. He was in on a mission with some Brit-Cit scientists in the wastes of Cal-Hab and his ship has gone down. I believe you know Larter, Dredd?” asked Hershey. “That’s right,” said Dredd, “But I haven’t seen him in years, not since the mission to the Antarctic, when we went there to fix the Ozone replacement shield generators.” “He was working on a joint Brit-Cit/Mega City operation in Cal-Hab, trying to harness the energy of a powerful phenomenon called The Flux. Now we’ve lost him, as well as Brubaker and Washington, two of his assistants. Dredd, I’m sending you to Brit-Cit. I want you to bring them back, or at least find out what happened to them. You leave immediately.” The hardened street Judge nodded. When an old colleague was in danger, Dredd didn’t need telling twice. The New Old Bailey, twenty-four hours later. The assembled Judges waited as the Deputy Chief Judge came into the room and had the briefing come to order. “Good afternoon everyone,” began the Judge, “I will be brief, as time is of the essence. As you know, a joint Brit-Cit/Mega City One scientific expedition has become lost in the Cal-Hab wastes. Apart from our guest from Mega City One, you have all been ordered here to carry out this special mission. I hand you over to Judge Bartlett.” “Thank you sir,” said the Tek-Judge, “Your mission will consist of two parts. Firstly, you will be required to travel to the focal point of these recent disturbances, the Shrine. There Judge Buchan will hopefully use her influence to calm the Flux, bringing its devastating psi-energy field to more acceptable levels. After that point, your mission will consist of locating the crashed research craft and finding out what happened to the scientists and crew. As the recent disturbance of the Flux has made flight impossible in the north, you will have to do all your travelling by land.” The Tek-Judge motioned to a vid-screen. It came on, revealing a map of Brit-Cit and Cal-Hab.

“The disturbance has not yet reached the border outpost of Berwick, so we will be able to transport you there by air. From there, you will be on your own.” Another image came onto the screen, this time of their transport. “This will be your primary mode of transportation in the Cal-Hab wastes. It is essentially a modified Flak-Mac Tank.” The Tek-Judge smiled, as he looked at Dredd. “I know it is not the same as a Killdozer, but I’m sure it will suffice. This particular machine was designed for the rough terrain of the Cal-Hab countryside. The armour is completely rad-proof as well as bullet proof and acid resistant.” The Tek-Judge turned to the people of this mission. “You have all been picked for this mission for various reasons. Our colleague from Mega-City One is here because the Mega City One Justice Department insisted on sending a representative on this rescue mission. We are indeed fortunate that Judge Dredd has such experience in travelling in hostile terrain, and has even visited post Flux Cal-Hab on a previous occasion.” “That’s true,” confirmed Dredd. “I had to go into the Strathmeg Wastes to retrieve some Mega City citizens who crashed there.” “Judge Buchan, as the only person who seems able to influence the Flux, your role in this mission is absolutely essential. If you fail, the Flux may become so strong, we might not be able to stop it at all.” “I make no promises,” returned the Judge, “It may already be too late. I warned you not to interfere with the Flux, but you were so blinded by the potential rewards, you ignored me!” “That is in the past, Judge. We need to be concerned with the present,” responded Bartlett. “Judge Jamieson, we retrieved you from the Oz Justice Department because of your specialized local knowledge of Cal-Hab.” Bartlett turned to another Judge, “And you, Judge Connolly, as another former Cal-Hab Judge, also an emigrate, this time from the Emerald Isle, your knowledge is also valuable to this mission.” Bartlett turned to another two members of the mission. “Tek-Judge Wilberforce will be your driver. She has been handpicked for his skill. And leading the mission is Judge Hastings, he will be in overall command of the group.” The former Cal-Hab Judges looked at the two Brit-Cit Judges with a mixture of distrust and contempt. Dredd looked at his comrades; this mission would not be easy. “Finally, to complete this group, we have one final member,” said Bartlett. The doors to the briefing room opened and a massive robot entered. Dredd recognised the markings on the robot immediately. “That’s one of the old ABC Warriors,” he said, “What’s the idea sending that hunk of antique junk along with us?” “Ah, but Judge Dredd, the ABC Warriors were built to last. And in the environment you and your team are going into, you are going to need some serious back up. This droid was part of a lot Brit-Cit Justice Department acquired years ago. Since then, we have extensively updated its programming, so it will be a valuable member of the team.” “I don’t have any time for robots, so keep it out of my way,” said Dredd. “Of course,” said Judge Hastings diplomatically. “What kind of reception can we expect in Cal-Hab?” asked Judge Wilberforce, trying to change the subject. “We really can’t tell you much,” answered Bartlett. “Ever since the Song in the Sky satellite was destroyed, the Flux was created and Brit-Cit officially pulled out of Cal-Hab, there has been a state of anarchy in the land. The mass regression that occurred has been felt throughout Cal-Hab to varying degrees, from near civilised behaviour in

some cases, to outright savagery in others. We know that the Pagan Bull Cults and the insane Knights Templar still war with other in the West, and we keep infrequent contact with the larger populated areas such as Megaburgh and Ness, but the rest of Cal-Hab is unknown to us. “So basically, ye cannae tell us if onyone there will gi’ us ony help,” retorted Judge Connolly. “Unfortunately correct,” conceded Bartlett, “We know that many Cal-Hab Judges opted to stay in Cal-Hab after we officially disbanded the Judiciary, but as to their fate, we have no idea. As I said, you will be essentially on your own.” “If that’s everything,” said the Deputy Chief Judge, “You all had better get over to the Hover pad. The Hoverwagon that will take you all to Berwick is waiting.” With that, the briefing was over. It was a desperate mission; six Judges and a war-droid to rescue a team of Judges and scientists lost in one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. Judge Jamieson sighed as he walked out of the room; he had a deep sense of foreboding about this…

Chapter Two The Hoverwagon sped swiftly over the blocks of Brit-Cit. Soon the vast Metropolis gave way to the ravaged lands that once was the north of old England. The sun dipped slowly over the horizon, and a greenish-red sunset bathed the land. In the Hoverwagon, the team had lapsed into silence. Judge Wilberforce was pouring over the schematics of the modified Flak-Mac Tank it would be her job to drive. Judge Hastings was reading all the most recent reports gleaned about Cal-Hab. The Mega City Judge sat impassively by himself, seeing no need to speak with anyone. Judge Connolly faced up to the upcoming mission by going into his holdall and retrieving several cans of Guinness he took with him from the Emerald Isle. Judge Buchan was visibly more despondent the nearer they got to their destination. Visiting the Shrine was never easy for her, and under these circumstances, she was barely keeping her emotions under control. Judge Jamieson listened to the quiet engine of the Hoverwagon. He was already terribly jet-lagged from the flight to Oz, and the near silence of his surroundings lulled him into sleep… It was 2116. Cal-Hab was tearing itself apart. Ever since the rogue Psi-Judge Schiehallion destroyed the Song in the Sky satellite, and broke the control that Brit-Cit had over the people of Cal-Hab, the entire land was undergoing a mass regression. Seemingly normal people threw off the trappings of civilisation and embraced their bestial natures. During the last days of Glascal, Judge Richard Jamieson was on the streets of the city constantly battling the insane citizens he was once sworn to protect. Riots and atrocities became more and more common. The already undermanned and demoralised Cal-Hab Judges did all they could, but many felt they were fighting a losing battle. For forty-eight hours straight, Judge Jamieson fought with his comrades to quell the violence. Even when Brit-Cit declared Marshall Law and sent a detachment of riot squad Judges, led by the feared SAS Judge Newt, there was little to be thankful for. Utterly exhausted, Jamieson was ordered home for five hours mandatory rest. He was at least glad to get home to see how his wife was doing. He arrived at his block to find the entire area utterly quiet. After so long in the chaos of the mob, this was heaven-sent. Opening the door to his habitation, he noticed the room in darkness. “Eilsa, are ye here?” he asked. There was no answer. Turning on the lights, he saw that the walls were daubed with what looked like pictograms, all depicting terrible battles. Looking closer, he realised that they were painting in blood. With a rising panic, he started frantically searching for his wife. He should never have let her stay, but she had begged him to remain. She wouldn’t leave, not without him. “Eilsa, Eilsa!” he shouted, “Whaur are ye!?” He rushed into their bedroom and saw a crouched figure silently waiting in the darkness. “Eilsa, is that you?” he asked. The figure moved slightly, so her face could be seen in the light coming in from the living room. It was Eilsa, but somehow, it wasn’t. Her clothes were torn and ragged, and her face was covered in markings made in her own blood. “The Goddess sees ye as an affront tae her!” she shrieked and lunged at him. He barely felt the knife go in, he was so shocked. Twice more his wife plunged steel into his body, shouting in hate and rage at her former love all the while. As he collapsed onto the floor, the darkness engulfing him, he could just make out Eilsa running towards the door.

He regained consciousness in a hospital on the outskirts of Glascal. Apparently, he had somehow managed to activate his personal alarm before he passed out, more by his training than by any conscious thought. He had been found by the already overwhelmed emergency services and airlifted to the hospital along with many others. He was only there barely a day before the massive psi-explosion rocked Glascal. Most of the city was utterly destroyed by the blast, turning cityblocks into a radioactive desert. Judge Jamieson was luckier than most, the hospital was just outside the blast area. The Judge, along with the other survivors, was transported to the relative safety of Brit-Cit, where he spent his recovery. He was told the news that Cal-Hab was no more, and was to be abandoned by the Brit-Cit Judiciary. When he was strong enough, he returned home, to find it destroyed. Of his wife, there was no sign. After a year of fruitless searching, he eventually accepted that the woman he loved was lost to him forever. Wishing to lose himself, he requested a transfer as far from Brit-Cit as he could. He went to Oz and tried to forget. It was a fool’s errand. The Judge was roused from his slumber by Connolly. “Wak up man, we’re almost there.” Judge Jamieson and the others of the mission looked out of the viewing ports to see the lights of Berwick coming into view. Each of them knew that from this place they would be travelling by land, with only themselves to rely on. The Hoverwagon’s landing was quite turbulent, as the effect of the Flux on flight had reached the outskirts of the Berwick outpost. The team disembarked from the Hoverwagon and came out into the bleak muddy morning light. Wilberforce and Hastings emerged first, followed by Dredd. Then the Cal-Hab Judges exited the Hoverwagon. “What are you doing?” asked Hastings, looking at the Judges, “Who gave you permission to put on Cal-Hab Judge uniforms?” True enough, Jamieson, Buchan and Connolly were all attired in their old Cal-Hab Judge uniforms. Connolly and Jamieson both wore the kilt, while Buchan wore her preferred tartan trousers. All three had their claymores at their sides, just as the warriors of old Scotland. “Naebody did,” said Connolly, “But whaur we’re gain’ it’ll be better if we’re dressed like this. The locals will nae help us if we a’ dressed like you.” “He’s right sir,” conceded Wilberforce, “We stand a better chance if they wear the Cal-Hab uniforms.” “Very well,” accepted Hastings, “But in future, do nothing unless I authorise it.” Turning to Dredd, Hastings said, “And that goes for you too, Dredd. Remember that I am in charge of this expedition.” Dredd didn’t even bother to answer. The large Flak-Mac Tank was driven down from the Hoverwagon’s storage area, followed by the ABC Warrior. The commander of the Brit-Cit Judge detachment arrived to see them off. “You have a daunting mission ahead of you,” the aging Judge said, “Since we closed the border, we have had five incursions from the north. They’re nothing but savages now.” “Nevertheless, we have a mission,” answered Hastings. The wardroid was loaded on to the tank and the rest of the team entered. “Very well,” Hastings ordered, “Wilberforce, let’s get going.”

The driver activated the powerful engines and the huge tank drove towards the massive city gates. The sentry Judges activated a switch and the gates swung open. Beyond them lay Cal-Hab; home for some, hell for others. “As for our initial plan, we shall head north-wards,” ordered Hastings. Travelling to Megaburgh should be the safer option for now. We know that they have fought the regression that has affected others in Cal-Hab, and still maintain a form of civilisation. “Agreed,” said Dredd, “Megaburgh has been classified as relatively safe by my Justice Department, and we allow our citizens to travel there, for the events held there annually. Hopefully, they should be able to provide us with more recent information as to what’s happening in Cal-Hab.” “It winnae be an easy journey tae Megaburgh by land,” warned Connolly, “Ah wis stationed there before the Flux. We hud awfy trouble wi the Border Reivers. Noo that Cal-Hab’s gone tae pot, ye can be sure that they huv taken advantage o’ it. And fa kens fit else we will hae tae deal wi?” The first day travelling Cal-Hab passed without incident. It allowed the team to familiarise themselves with their surroundings and each other. Buchan was becoming more and more introverted as they journeyed; she barely said two words the entire day. The midday meal consisted of ration-packs and rad-pills, even for the Cal-Hab Judges, who were genetically predisposed to be radiation resistant. “>From now on, no-one leaves the tank without a rad-suit, unless authorised by me,” ordered Hastings, “Wilberforce, what’s the rad-count out there?” “High and getting higher the further north we go, sir. I don’t see how anyone can survive in these conditions.” “Never underestimate the human drive to survive,” said Dredd, “In the Cursed Earth, we have found people living in the most hostile environments imaginable.” “Ah estimate aboot two days until we reach Megaburgh. It’s nae that far, but we dinnae ken fit we’ll meet up wi.” “Unacceptable. I want us to reach Megaburgh by tomorrow. This tank is capable of such a time, is it not?” “Well, yes sir, but it’s not advisable to travel at those speeds in unfamiliar terrain,” answered Wilberforce. “Nonsense, the sooner we arrive, the sooner we can get to the Shrine and find out what happened to the Alpha Seven.” Hastings seemed supremely confident in his leadership abilities. Wilberforce obeyed the order and gunned the engines faster. The tank now sped over the wasted countryside, drawing ever closer to their initial destination. The Flak-Mac travelled quickly over a ruined roadway, its tracks making easy work of the cracked surface. With all the radiation, they could not know that they were being watched. From just under a nearby ridge, a pair of figures looked on at the tank with great interest. Examining their prey through powerful binoculars, they could make out the Brit-Cit markings on the side of the tank. One of the pair smiled. “A Brit-Cit Judge vehicle,” he told his partner, “That means new weapons, and supplies. A difficult target, but a rewarding one.” “What are Brit-Cit doing up here anyway,” asked the other figure, “I thought they had abandoned Cal-Hab.” “Who cares,” the first one replied flippantly, “The boss will want to know about this. Let’s go.”

With that, they got on their nearby ancient, beat-up motorcycles and headed off. “And you say that it’s by itself?” the boss asked. “Yes sir, it will be difficult to take, but if we do, we will be the strongest band in the area,” answered his underling. The boss of the Border Reivers sat in his court and contemplated this. As the leader of the Leslie Reivers, he had already a great power in the area. The Judges from Brit-Cit hadn’t been this far north in years, and the remaining Cal-Hab Judges didn’t bother him either. The only ones who could challenge him now were the rival Reivers; the Percys and the Douglasses. With a powerful tank and the firepower it would undoubtedly contain, he could wipe out his opponents and rule the Borders alone. “Very well,” he said rising from his makeshift throne, “Call the men to arms; we attack at dawn!” The Flak-Mac had made such good time, that Hastings allowed it to stop for the rest of the night. Wilberforce was allowed a much needed rest and the other Judges began the procedures for setting up for the night. Hastings went into the cargo bay and approached the inert ABC Warrior. “Warrior activate,” he ordered. The massive robot slowly came to life, standing to attention. “Status?” it asked mechanically. “Sentry duty,” ordered Hastings. With that, the wardroid walked out of the Flak-Mac and took up position outside, on the south side of the tank. Dredd entered the cargo bay and got on his Lawmaster. He drove it outside and took up position at the north side. He turned on the Lawmaster’s computer and set it to sentry as well. Now they had protection on both sides. The Judge walked back to the tank, giving the wardroid a withering look as he passed it. He re-entered the tank and went back into the control area, where the rest of the team was. “Jamieson and Connolly, you have the first four hour shift. Stay alert to any danger. The rest of us will sleep until your shift change. Buchan and Dredd will relieve you at 0400 hours. With that, the rest of the Judges headed for the bunks, leaving the two Cal-Hab Judges to remain at watch. “Ah notice Hastings willnae be takin’ a watch the nicht,” observed Connolly. “Ah dinnae think much o’ him onyway,” agreed Jamieson, “He disnae ken whit’s oot there, but he disnae seem tae care. A’ that matters tae him is the mission.” “We shouldnae be gaen this fast,” warned Connolly, “I kent this area. This is Reiver country.” “Aye, but try telling him that!” said Jamieson. The night wore on. The ABC Warrior kept sentry as it had been programmed to do. In all the radiation, even the Warrior’s sensors were limited, as was the more advanced scanners of the Mega-City One Lawmaster. They failed to detect the people skulking just out of range. The leader of the Leslie Border Reivers looked down at his target. It was just as his men had told him; a great prize. In daylight, with it speeding along the ravaged roadway, it would be a far more difficult prey, but now, stationary and in darkness, it was more attainable. “Screw waiting for dawn,” he said to his lieutenants, “Get the men into position now. We attack in an hour.”

The Reivers hurried into position. Only when the tank was completely surrounded, did they feel confident enough to strike. “We take out the robot and the bike first,” ordered their leader, “We can’t use the robot and the Judge’s bike no doubt be programmed to resist us if we go near it. Two men with rocket launchers chose their targets, listening intently on their com-links, they waited for the order. “Now!” shouted David Leslie Two rockets screamed at terrific speeds at their targets. The Lawmaster was blown into the air, as the rocket exploded, while the ABC Warrior was blasted backwards by its rocket. The Reivers came racing towards Flak-Mac, shouting and jeering at their prize. From the Lawmaster there was no response. The ABC Warrior was similarly still, but only for a second. It slowly managed to raise itself to its feet and raised its gun arm. “By order of Brit-Cit Justice Department, you are ordered to cease and desist your illegal act,” it rattled out in a pre-programmed manner. The Reivers answered this ultimatum by opening fire at the Warrior. Inside the Flak-Mac, Connolly and Jamieson were rocked by the dual explosions. “Quick man!” said Jamieson, “Get the weapons on-line. Ah’ll get the ithers!” Connolly, the only other member of the team with Flak-Mac driving experience, raced to the controls and activated them. In the dull light, he could barely make out the multiple figures racing around them, but as soon as he activated the image intensifier, they were much clearer. Hastings and the others came running into the control area. “What is it?” he demanded. “Reivers! It has tae be!” said Connolly. “There has tae be thirty o’ them oot there!” “Wilberforce! Take the weapons!” ordered Hastings, “Connolly get us moving!” “Sir, ah dinnae think…” Connolly started. “Don’t think, just do it!” shouted Hastings. Wilberforce got into the weapons controller seat and turned on the target sights. Even now, those inside the tank could hear the dings and clangs of shots hitting the tank. “Move it” shouted Hastings to Connolly. The tank lurched forward and started to pull away from the Reivers. The Flak-Mac’s impressive defences came into play, with the machine guns on both sides bursting forth and spraying the Reivers with deadly fire. “Take that you savages!” exclaimed Hastings. Dredd activated his helmet-mike. “Dredd to Lawmaster, respond.” There was no reply; the Reivers rocket had knocked out its computer. The Flak-Mac raced along the roadway, but the huge cumbersome tank was no designed for speed. The Reivers, on their motorcycles caught up with them in seconds, now carefully dodging the machine gun emplacements on the tank. Without waiting for Hastings order, Dredd climbed the ladder to the roof of the Flak-Mac and grabbed the machine gun mounted there. From this point, he had a line of sight all around him. “You creeps are starting to annoy me,” he snarled, and fired a withering line of death into the Reivers. Two motorcycles exploded, taking their riders and two others with them. The Reivers directed their fire at Dredd, but the Mega City lawman easily dodged it. “Sir,” said Connolly, “The Reivers are nae trying to surround us. They seem tae be driving us forward.” Up ahead the answer came into view. The Reivers had built a huge barricade across

the roadway out of debris and rubble. “Don’t slow down. Just drive straight through!” ordered Hastings. The Flak-Mac accelerated towards the barrier. Dredd saw the danger from his vantage point and hurried back inside the tank. “Stop!” he shouted, the barrier isn’t the real trap!” But it was too late. The tank burst through the barricade at full speed, easily smashing aside the barrier. It came out the other side, and too late the team saw what Dredd was trying to warn them about. A deep trench was dug on the opposite side of the barricade. Connolly slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The Flak-Mac dove headfirst into the trench and slumped to a halt. After a moment’s confusion, Dredd shook off the shock of the sudden impact. “Is everyone alright?” he asked. “Jist aboot,” said Jamieson, “Man it wisnae like this in Antarctica wis it?” Connolly threw the engines into reverse. The tracks useless kicked dirt high into the air. They were going nowhere. “Nae use, and the Reivers’ll be a’ o’er us in a minute!” said Connolly. “Are…are the weapons still working?” asked a groggy Hastings. Wilberforce was slumped over the controls. Buchan raced over to her and checked her out. “She’s unconscious,” Buchan said, “She looks like she hit her head.” “Never mind that,” said Hastings, “What about the weapons?” Buchan looked at the screen. “Still on-line, but from here, they can’t be used. We couldn’t hit anything from this angle.” The crew of the Flak-Mac suddenly heard banging coming from outside. The Reivers had arrived and were obviously clambering all over the tank, trying to get in. “Hey Judges!” came the voice of Big David from outside, “Come out and we won’t hurt you.” “He’s gotta be joking,” said Dredd, taking out his lawgiver. “We can’t stay here, and sooner or later, they’ll get in,” said Hastings, “Open the top hatch. I’ll negotiate with them.” “Ye cannae be serious!” exclaimed Connolly. Jamieson and Buchan looked similarly shocked. “You open that hatch and we’re a’ deid!” “Don’t take that tone with me!” shouted Hastings, “I am in charge here! Open that hatch!” A few miles back, the ABC Warrior stood jerkily to its feet. After a brief exchange of fire with the Reivers, it had toppled over and went offline, still reeling from the rocket explosion. Only now had its self-repair system managed to get it on-line once more. “Systems damage report,” came a report in front of its eyes, “Armour damage 42%, damage to internal systems 23%, Damage to programming 89%. Initialising backup programming…” The wardroid waited impassively as its CPU uploaded a backup file and reinitialised its memory banks. The robot seemed to blink with its blue shining eyes. “What the Hell’s going on?” it said, “Where am I?” Taking stock of the situation, the ABC Warrior looked around. It saw a disabled Judge’s Lawmaster, several human bodies and a lot of battle damage. It also saw several recently made tracks heading away from it. Realising that the answers led that way, it started to run… “For the last time, open that hatch!” ordered Hastings. The man was near hysterical with rage. So great was his anger, he didn’t see Dredd approach from behind, spin

him round and hit him squarely in the jaw. Hastings crumpled to the floor unconscious. The Cal-Hab Judges looked at Dredd in disbelief. “Prone to panic,” the Mega-City Judge said simply, “Someone should have seen it in the Brit-Cit Academy of Law.” “Noo fit dae we dae?” asked Judge Jamieson. “We use what we can to repel the attackers,” answered Dredd Buchan looked over the weapons controls. She noticed a button with a lightning symbol on it. “What does this do?” she asked. Connolly came over and smiled. “This!” he said and pressed it. Outside, the Reivers were all over the stricken tank. Many had iron bars and similar weapons and were trying to prise open the hatch. Nearby, Big David ordered his men from the relative safety of the lip of the trench. “Get down in there. We’ll use the torches if we have to. I want that tank!” Suddenly, the entire hull of the Flak-Mac crackled with energy. The entire surface of the tank was instantly electrified; killing all who were unfortunate enough to be working with metal weapons. The rest were merely stunned, and quickly jumped off the tank. “What the…!” gasped the leader of the Reivers. His rage took over. He would not be so thwarted! “Right then!” he yelled, “If we can’t get in, we’ll blow the damn thing up. We can still salvage some weapons and supplies from the wreckage! Get the rocket launchers!” Those nearest to Big David ran off to answer his order. Soon, two men with the rocket launchers arrived. The leader motioned for them to hurry to the trench and get on with it. “Hey Judges!” he called down, “This is where you get off!” The rocket launcher operators took careful aim and got ready for their leader’s order. David Leslie stood and smiled; things hadn’t quite gone his way, but he was the eternal optimist. At least he would get something out of this day’s work. “Drop your weapons and put up your hands!” came a mechanical voice. David spun round to see the ABC Warrior standing a few yards away, holding up its gun arm directly at him. The wardroid had arrived and reasoned that this band of scum was the enemy. A moment longer and it had determined who their leader was. Its duty was clear. “What the Hell…?” said Big David, “Trash that thing!” The rocket launcher operators turned their attention to the wardroid and fired twice at it. But this time, it was ready. With a grace that defied its massive bulk, it dodged both rockets and leapt to safety from the explosions. Before it hit the ground, it had opened up with a devastating volley of gunfire at the Reivers. Big David leapt out of the way, but several slower members of his band were not so quick and were cut down. The Reivers concentrated their fire, and their attention at this new deadly threat. Inside the tank, the Judges heard what was going on through a com-mike. “The wardroid’s takin’ care of them!” said Connolly. “Don’t you believe it,” answered Dredd, “That thing will be junk in seconds. But it has bought us the time we need. Let’s go!” With that, Dredd led the Cal-Hab Judges up through the hatch and out into the open. The Reivers were still totally focussed on the ABC Warrior, and did not see their approach over the trench.

“Alright punks, this is where you meet the law. And I am the law!” shouted Dredd. The four Judges opened up and caught the Reivers in a deadly crossfire. With bullets coming in from both sides, the Reivers fell under the deadly fire. Big David saw how this was going and dropped his gun. The others did likewise. “Okay, we’ve had enough. We surrender!” he shouted. Out of a band of over thirty Reivers, barely five remained alive. The Judges made their way forward. Picking up the fallen weapons, the Judges looked at their prisoners. They were not up to much, nothing more than common thieves who thought they could take an easy target. They had thought wrong. “Aye, I ken this ane,” said Judge Connolly, “He ca’ed Big David of the Leslie Border Reivers. He’s been wanted by us fer mony years.” “Stinking Judges,” spat Big David, “What are you doing here anyway? Why can’t you mind your own business?” Dredd came over and looked directly at Big Dave. “Our business has always been bringing justice to scum like you!” “Take the prisoners back to the Flak-Mac,” said Dredd to the other Judges, “They can help us get the tank up from the trench they built, and then we can show them the cells the tank is equipped with.” “Ah, Judge Dreed,” said Jamieson, pointing at the ABC Warrior, “Ah think we might hae a wee problem here.” The ABC Warrior looked at the Judges, and it seemed to reach a conclusion. Dredd slowly raised his lawgiver and set it to High Explosive. “The ABC Warriors fought against the Judges in Booth’s Civil War,” explained Dredd, “I didn’t trust this thing from the start.” “But Brit-Cit reprogrammed it” said Buchan, raising her own Skean-Dhu lawgiver. “Looks like it’s reverted to its original programming” said Dredd as it approached, still holding up its gun-arm. “Hold your fire, humans, there is no need for alarm,” said the ABC Warrior, lowering its gun-arm, “I am Corporal Phoenix, late of the 33rd US Mechanised Infantry. I am not quite sure what’s going on here, but I know scum when I see it, that’s why I helped you take them out. I assume the Volgs aren’t invading again; can someone tell me what’s going on here?” “Volgs?” said Connolly, “Fit’s he tak’in aboot?” Dredd eyed Phoenix suspiciously. “What’s your last memory, robot?” he asked. “The last thing I remember was the Victory over the Volgans celebrations after we defeated them. I was demobbed and was just having my last physical with the mechanics. Then nothing,” the wardroid answered, he was still for a moment, as if he was trying to remember something, but couldn’t. “It must have been deactivated at that time, and not reactivated for years. Not until Brit-Cit Justice Department bought it and reprogrammed it,” said Dredd. “So fit dae we dae wi’ it?” asked Jamieson, “It saved us just noo, and it still could be useful oan this mission.” “Very well,” conceded Dredd, “Robot, you have been offline a very long time. There has been an Atomic War on Earth and the order of the World has changed considerably. Most areas have city-states running things now, and we Judges run those Mega Cities. I am Judge Dredd, from Mega City One, what you knew as the east coast of America, and this is Judges Jamieson, Buchan and Connolly, all under Brit-Cit jurisdiction. We are on a mission to rescue lost scientists and Judges in this land. You are also part of this mission.”

Phoenix considered this information. It was a lot to take in, but the ABC Warrior seemed to decide on the best course of action quickly. “Very well Judges, if what you are saying is true, then I will join your mission. An ABC Warrior doesn’t run away from a fight. I will however, need a full explanation of what is going on.” “Agreed,” said Dredd, “As for now, we need your help getting our transportation out of a trench. Coming?” And so, the team returned with the wardroid and their prisoners to the Flak-Mac. The job of getting the tank out was long and difficult, but eventually it was done. There now remained only one more matter to be dealt with. The Judges got back into the tank and went to see how the Brit-Cit Judges were doing. Wilberforce was just coming to, but Hastings was still not moving. “He’s still out,” said Jamieson, examining the Judge Hasting. He got the smelling salts out of a med kit and held the container under the nose of the unconscious Judge. A quick sniff of the salts and Hastings blinked his eyes and was coughing. “What the…Dredd!” he shouted, seeing the Mega City Judge. “I’ll have your badge for this! I’ll see you sent to Titan, I swear! Striking a commanding Judge is a serious offence!” “By leading us all into that trap, and then further endangering us by ordering the hatch to be opened, you showed yourself unfit to lead this mission Judge Hastings. As the senior Judge present, it was my duty to assume command,” answered Dredd. “Ridiculous!” said Hastings, “I did everything by the book. You had no right, no jurisdiction to take command, and certainly no right to hit me.” “Outside the cities, the book sometimes doesn’t work,” said Dredd, “If you had spent more time outside Brit-Cit you might have learned this. You are unfit to lead and therefore, I have taken command of this mission. You have two choices; either stay with us and take my orders or we’ll take you as far as Megaburgh and leave you there to make your own way back.” “You can’t be serious, this is nothing short of mutiny!” exclaimed Hastings. He turned to the other Judges, “Arrest him! Throw him in the brig!” The other Judges looked at each other, their faces told them what they thought. Judge Jamieson stepped forward. “Ah follow Dredd in this mission.” The other two Cal-Hab Judges fell in line as well. Hastings desperately looked to Wilberforce for support, but the dazed driver just stood there. Realising his orders would no longer be followed, he admitted defeat. “Very well, I see that it is useless to ask for loyalty from Cal-Hab Judges. I will stay with you until we reach Megaburgh, and then report back to Brit-Cit.” “Do I need to take your weapon?” asked Dredd. “I won’t give you any trouble,” answered Hastings. “Very well,” said Dredd. He turned to his new team. “Now that the wardroid and the prisoners are on board, we can get going. Connolly, until Wilberforce is well enough, you will drive. Let’s get going.” And so the Flak-Mac began its journey again, this time under new leadership.

Chapter Three With Dredd in command, the tank continued to make its way to Megaburgh. In control cabin, Dredd sat at the weapons controls and monitored the scanners for another possible ambush. Connolly still was driving, as Wilberforce was ordered to rest until her concussion healed. Hastings sat in silence at the back of the cabin, writing his report for his Brit-Cit superiors back home. Jamieson and Buchan were sitting on the bunks in the sleeping area. Buchan was visibly shaking, as the full shock of the events of the night hit home. “Are ye a’richt Buchan?” asked Jamieson to his comrade. “Just then, when we were in the fire fight with the Reivers,” she explained, “That was the first time since the Flux I have killed anyone.” Judge Jamieson nodded solemnly, “Ah see. We hud nae choice in the matter; it wis them or us.” “I know,” she said, “It’s just…ever since the Flux, ever since Cal-Hab went to Hell, its been hard for me, and its getting more difficult. Brit-Cit have kept me on a short leash all this time. I never get out, except when they take me to the Shrine and make me relive the nightmare over and over again.” “And ye dinnae ken why the Flux spared ye, when it took a’body else?” Jamieson asked. “No, no,” Buchan said. Obviously just talking about it was very difficult for her. “In an instant, everyone I ever cared about was taken from me. Ed, the CI, and so many innocent people, all because of Schiehallion and what Brit-Cit made him.” Judge Jamieson knew all too well the destruction and loss the Psi-Judge had caused, as his own thoughts went back to the story of Schiehallion... Psi-Judge Schiehallion believed that he had a special link to the land and the Spirits of the Moors, those unborn because their parents never had a chance to have them. His powers in empathy, and telekinesis were impressive and as he was the only Psi-Judge that the Cal-Hab Judiciary had, he was considered invaluable. He was assigned to a few missions with Judge Ed MacBrayne and soon the two became fast friends. However, Schiehallion soon demonstrated a great need to father a child. After many unsuccessful attempts with his wife, Sam, he suspected that something was wrong. He soon found out about the Beta-File, a report that detailed who Brit-Cit had ordered Sam’s sterilization to prevent Schiehallion from reproducing and losing his uniqueness. The shock led to Schiehallion bringing about the Spirits of the Moors Incident, where his massive psi-powers brought forth many of the spirits of the dead. Dozens died in the following chaos and MacBrayne had to fight his friend to end it. He told Schiehallion that his memories of Cal-Hab folklore were not the Spirits but false memories implanted at birth. In their battle, MacBrayne was forced to kill Schiehallion. However, at his funeral, he rose from the dead, promising that he had accepted that he could not be a father and was sorry for what he had caused. He was later declared fit to return to duty, but soon after he showed his true colours. His powers were increasing all the time. He murdered his guard and put his wife into a coma-like trance. He sought out his creator, Professor Baxter, and had him reveal the story of his origins. He told him about the Baxter Genepool, of how he, MacBrayne and CI Bryson were the result of that experiment. After that, he killed him. Driven by his desire to reproduce, he impregnated Marie-Theresa Anderson, a nurse at Baxter’s rest home, before removing that memory from her. He made sure

that Sam was linked to him at the time, so she could perceive his adultery. Speeding up M.T.’s pregnancy to days instead of months, Schiehallion paused only to destroy the Song in the Sky Satellite, an orbiting satellite that sent subliminal messages to the people of Cal-Hab in an effort to make them more controllable, thereby plunging Cal-Hab into chaos. He also kept the CI, another of the original Baxter Genepool clones in a coma. Brit-Cit tried to defeat Schiehallion using three Psis of their own, but he killed them easily. The other man they sent, SAS Judge Newt, the Brit-Cit Brute fared no better; Schiehallion burst an ulcer in him. He declared that he would surrender himself only if he could be present at the birth, alongside MacBrayne, Buchan and Judge Newt. M.T. had the child but it was stillborn, the genetic makeup was just too flawed. His emotional state was magnified with his increasing psi-powers. He allowed the CI to die and MacBrayne to confront him. MacBrayne’s own increasing pressure acted as a catalyst and when they connected, it unleashed a tremendous psi-blast that destroyed most of Glascal and created the Flux. Everyone in the maternity room, as well as many others disappeared in that blast. Judge Buchan alone was spared. As for Schiehallion, it is believed that his consciousness, or at least his emotional state, makes up at least a part of the Flux. “Why I was spared, I have no idea,” said Buchan sadly, “It was discovered that I alone can approach the Shrine to Schiehallion’s son, and enter the Flux. When I do, I relate the story of how it came into being. I relive those terrible final days of Glascal. Every time I go there, I feel that a part of me dies. It gets harder and harder to get through it. And now, with the Flux so powerful and getting stronger all the time, I don’t know how I will manage.” Jamieson comforted his team-mate as best he could but it was useless. For he had lost so much in the creation of the Flux as well, and he had spent all the subsequent years in trying to get away from his pain, he knew little of how to help another. He eventually left and went to the cargo bay to check on the prisoners. “Here ye are. It mair than ye deserve,” he said as he threw in some packets of rations into the brig for the Reivers. He turned and went over to Phoenix, who had removed his breastplate and was busy hammering the dents out of it. “Howitgain?” he asked the wardroid. “Nae bad,” replied Phoenix. The Cal-Hab Judge was momentarily taken aback. “I didnae ken ye could speak like us,” he said. “I learned your way of speaking from your countrypeople when I helped liberate Scotland during the Volgan War,” Phoenix explained. “Ye fought in Scotland against the Volgs?” asked Jamieson “Oh yes,” said Phoenix simply, “I came in with the 33rd from Norway and we headed South, while the rest of the Allies invaded from Normandy. I found that the Scottish dialects were just as perplexing as other British accents. I remember a resistance leader who spoke with a similarly strange manner, but he was from London.” The Judge was silent. He knew that the ABC Warriors had done a lot to help his country in the past, and for them to be simply switched off when the war was won was hard for the Judge to accept. He remembered the stories of what happened to the ABC Warriors after the war; many were reassigned, given jobs that they were suited for. But for most, what do you do with an army of robots programmed to kill when the enemy was defeated? Many were sold as army surplus, but there had been rumours

that the most dangerous, the ones that probably couldn’t be reprogrammed, were melted down. Jamieson remembered Dredd’s orders to the team, “If the robot is coming with us, we say nothing of what happened after the Volgan War, and we definitely tell it nothing about the Battle of Armageddon. The last thing we need is that wardroid deciding that Judges are its enemy and come after us guns blazing!” “Well,” he said to the wardroid, “Ah’m sure they’ll be mony battles tae come yet.” By the dawn of the second day, the Flak-Mac had made good time. Connolly rested and Wilberforce was reassigned as the driver, as the medical computer had diagnosed her as fit for duty. The Flak-Mac entered a dreary landscape of grey earth. “Welcome tae the Lothian Wastes,” said Connolly to the team, “This hale area his bin used as a dumping groond fer sae mony years, not much lives here noo.” “The rad-count has increased considerably since we entered this zone,” said Wilberforce, “I wouldn’t advise going out there if we can help it.” “There should be no need,” said Dredd, “Just keep on course for Megaburgh.” The tank continued through the desolate landscape. The Lothian Wastes were rarely traversed, but since flight was out of the question, there was no other way to get to Megaburgh quickly. “This area reminds me of the site of Glascal,” remarked Buchan gloomily. Most of the former capital city was transformed into a psionic rad-desert, where nothing could live. Looking out onto the desolation, Buchan could not help but think where they were all heading. She was suddenly shaken from her thoughts by an impact on the windscreen. A large mess had collided with the tank. Seconds later, several other impacts could be felt. “What’s going on?” asked Dredd. Connolly examined the mess on the windscreen. “Lothian rad-beetles, aboot the only thing that can live here,” he said. We must have come across a swarm o’ the beasties. We’d better stop.” The tank came to a halt and the windscreen was soon covered with the foot-long insects. “The Rad-Beetles feed aff the sludge dumped here. Somehow they developed the ability tae live in this radioactive land. They cannae fly, so we must o’ kicked a lot o’ up wi’ oor tracks. Give them a while and they’ll move oan.” The beetles scurried over the tank in their hundreds. It was more than a little disconcerting to have them there, but eventually, they started to move on. “Scientists realised that they could use the beetle’s immunity to radiation and started to breed them in great numbers. They grind them up and mak’ them intae the rad-pills we a’ take,” explained Connolly, smiling at the team’s reaction to this news; they had been taking those pills since the start of the mission. “No people live here?” asked Dredd. “There are a few Beetle farms here and there, but they keep themselves tae themselves,” answered Connolly, “Like ah said, maist folk dinnae come into the Wastes if they can help it.” The beetles had moved on, and the tank was free to get going once more. Dredd gave the order, and Wilberforce gunned the engines. They were soon off. The journey out of the Lothian Wastes was uneventful. By late afternoon, the grey landscape gave way to the browns and the greens that made up most of Cal-Hab’s countryside. As the sun started to set, the team could see the lights of Megaburgh. The huge dome with its rad-shields were still intact even after the Flux. The tank came up

to the massive gates of the city. They swung open and they entered the new capital city of Cal-Hab. Inside a squad of Cal-Hab Judges waited, their guns drawn in case of trouble. Dredd opened the Flak-Mac’s hatch and disembarked, followed by the Cal-Hab Judges. “Who are you and what business do you have in Megaburgh?” asked the leader of the squad. “I’m Judge Dredd from Mega-City One and I lead this team in search of a missing research craft that went down near to the Flux,” answered Dredd. “Is this something to do with why no craft can fly now?” asked the squad leader. “Yes,” confirmed Dredd, “The Flux is interfering with powered flight. We are also going to stop that.” “I better take you to the Chief Inspector, come with us,” said the squad leader, whose badge identified him as Judge Macintyre. The Judges organised what they were to do. Dredd, Jamieson, Hastings and Buchan were to go to speak with the Chief Inspector of Megaburgh, while the Border Reivers were taken to the cubes. Connolly and Wilberforce were to remain with the Flak-Mac. “What’s bin ga’ing oan since Brit-Cit disbanded the Cal-Hab Judiciary?” Judge Jamieson asked Judge Macintyre. “Man, we were in chaos in those years,” he said, “The people went crazy when we lost the Song in the Sky Satellite, not as bad as in Glascal, by all accounts but still bad. After Glascal was destroyed and Brit-Cit pulled out, no one really knew what was going to happen next. Some of us weren’t willing to just leave, so we remained in an unofficial form, still doing what we could. But we didn’t have a leader. The rich people of the luxury-blocks demanded that something was to be done, so a local laird, called Dougal McDuff was placed in charge. He claims that he is related to the Brit-Cit Royal Family and is holding Megaburgh until the return of the one true King.” “And ye allowed this?” asked Jamieson, shocked. “We had our hands full dealing with the regressed citizens of the city. We really didn’t have a lot of time for that kind of politics,” explained Macintyre, “Anyway, after McDuff took control, the people of Megaburgh started to come down from their insanity. Within a few weeks, it was like we never lost the Satellite at all. We later discovered that McDuff and the local elite had built a transmitter that did the same job as the Song in the Sky Satellite, called a Chorus. They used it to combat the regression of the people in Megaburgh.” “I wis wondering why the people of Megaburgh didn’t seem as badly affected as the rest o’ Cal-Hab,” remarked Buchan. “Well, the people of Megaburgh see McDuff as the rightful leader of the Megaburgh Executive now, and we can’t oppose him. He has the backing of all the most influential sectors of Megaburgh’s society. We Judges simply do our duty, we stop crime and we protect the people.” Dredd gave the Judge a grudging look of respect. They were of the same character; they were Judges because they could not be anything else. Their duty to justice was all that mattered to them. Punish the guilty and protect your citizens whatever the circumstances. They arrived at Megaburgh’s Sheriff’s Court, a far cry from the Grand Hall of Justice in Mega-City One. In the distance a foreboding castle could be seen. “That’s Megaburgh Castle, McDuff’s fortress. There are no Judges there, only his loyal Clansmen retainers. Don’t expect an invitation,” said McIntyre. They entered the Sheriff’s Court and arranged a meeting with the CI. On entering his office, they saw that he was an elderly Judge, obviously burdened by the weight of his

job. He greeted them politely enough. “Welcome to Megaburgh,” he said to the assembled Judges, “I see many different uniforms here. To what do I owe this visit?” Dredd explained the purpose of their visit; supplies for their journey and any information they might have received about the Alpha Seven. “As for the supplies, whatever we can spare you can have,” answered the CI, “As for the craft, all I can say is that we picked up the same distress call your Brit-Cit Comm-Judges got, but we couldn’t do anything. We don’t have the resources here to mount such a rescue mission, and the civil authorities were not interested.” Judge Jamieson bristled at such news, but knew it was understandable. The CI was in a bad position; leading a force of volunteer Cal-Hab Judges who were understaffed, under-funded and demoralised, while the richer citizens of the city relied on private security firms for their protection of their privileged status. He was certainly unhappy at the news that the local Laird considered himself only a caretaker for his Brit-Cit masters. The one good thing for Cal-Hab in recent times was Brit-Cit releasing its hold over the land, but it seemed that some were not willing to rule themselves. “Chief Inspector,” said Hastings suddenly butting in, “I must speak with you. This Mega-City Judge illegally took the leadership of this mission. Aided by these mutinous Judges, he struck me and seized control away from me. I demand that you arrest them all.” The CI looked at the Brit-Cit Judge, and sighed. He certainly didn’t need this. “I’m sorry, but the affairs of Brit-Cit are no longer under the jurisdiction of the Cal-Hab Judiciary. We have no authority to interfere in such matters. If you want to bring charges on Judge Dredd, you will have to take it up with his Lairdship.” “And by the time ye dae that,” said Jamieson, smiling, “We will be alreedy oan oor way.” Hastings stormed off, obviously upset. He had expected the Megaburgh Judges to simply fall in line, but he was wrong. “He’s trouble that one,” said Dredd to the CI, “Inexperienced, arrogant and ignorant.” “Ach, I’m sure he’ll find friends among the elite,” the CI said, “Now, are you going to stop this interference to flight? The Hoverport’s been useless for days now and Megaburgh needs its tourist cash to survive. We have the Megaburgh Fringe next month.” “If all goes well, the effect of the Flux should dissipate after we go there,” assured Dredd, “Otherwise, we all will have a long ride back home.” Dredd and the Cal-Hab Judges declined the CI’s offer to stay the night in Megaburgh. They had a long way to the Shrine and time was of the essence. With the prisoners and Hastings left behind, and new ammunition and supplies taken on board, the Flak-Mac left Cal-Hab’s capital and headed directly towards the site of Glascal. Wilberforce drove the Flak-Mac steadily through the night. They had entered the Tay Wastes, on the outskirts of Megaburgh some hours ago, and had seen no sign of life the whole time. Connolly and Dredd were in their bunks. Even the Mega City Judge had to sleep eventually. Buchan couldn’t sleep, even if she wanted to. The dark rings under her eyes attested to that. All she could think about was the Flux and how she was going to have to walk into that chaos of energy and raw emotion and try to calm it. Judge Jamieson also was having trouble sleeping. Not knowing how to comfort Buchan, he had decided to while away the night hours in the control cabin. Sitting in the weapons

operator’s chair, he spoke with the remaining Brit-Cit Judge. “So ah wis wonderin’ why ye didnae side wi’ Hastings when Dreed took o’or the mission,” he said. Wilberforce didn’t take her eyes off the windscreen. “We have an important mission to accomplish, and I came to the realisation that Dredd is the best one to lead it. Hastings was too inexperienced to have command. Sometimes, in the Brit-Cit Judiciary, it matters more who you know than what your abilities are. I suspect this was the case with Hastings.” “Oh, he’s well connected is he?” asked Jamieson. “He has links with some of the more influential section chiefs in the department, and is favoured in Masonic circles, or so I hear,” she answered. “Soonds like ye’ll be in trouble when ye get back hame,” observed Jamieson. “Unlike Hastings, I know my duty. And one of the missing Judges, Pilot Judge Bader, was assigned as my tutor in air/space flying skills. I owe him,” said Wilberforce firmly. Judge Jamieson found that he was developing a healthy respect for the Brit-Cit driver. Unlike most Brit-Cit Judges, Wilberforce had the courage of her convictions and didn’t treat her Cal-Hab counterparts as barbarian thugs. He knew that Wilberforce would need all her skills tomorrow; they would reach the site of Glascal soon.

Chapter Four The sun rose to light up the dreary landscape of the Tay Wastes. The Flak-Mac was almost out of this unpleasant area, and the shifting sands of what used to be the capital city of Cal-Hab could now be seen. The site of Glascal had changed little in all that time since it was transformed in that instant that gave birth to the Flux. The sands had claimed what areas of Glascal had survived the initial transformations, and buildings could be seen half buried in the psionic rad-desert. “That’s the hospital ah wis sent tae after ah wis stabbed,” said Jamieson sadly, pointing to a barely visible ruin. It had escaped the devastation only to be swallowed up in the years afterwards. “The rad-count is nearly off the scale. Even with the rad-pills and the rad-suits, I wouldn’t advise more than a few hours exposure at any one time,” warned Wilberforce. “How far are we from this Shrine?” asked Dredd. “It should be forty Kays to the north west,” said Wilberforce, “But according to the initial data Brit-Cit observation satellites were able to get before we left on the mission, the Flux was growing at a rapid rate following the failure of the experiment. It is likely we will come across the Flux much sooner than before. Already the effects felt by the Flux are much stronger than usual. The electrics and the communications are already playing up.” “Very well,” said Dredd, “Keep us on course.” Buchan was visibly distraught when Dredd walked into the bunks area. “Just keep it together Judge Buchan,” said Dredd, “We’re almost there.” “I know,” she replied, “I feel the Flux, even from this distance. It’s enraged, strong, and much stronger than before. I always felt like a moth in a hurricane when I went into that thing. It’ll be much worse this time.” “We’ll back you up as much as we can,” the Mega City lawman assured her. “You won’t be able to get near it. No-one can, except me. You don’t know what it’s like do you? To be the only survivor of an event that took millions of lives? Out of most of the population of Glascal, I was spared when the Flux was created.” “I’ve seen my share of massacres,” replied Dredd, “Wars, disasters, accidents, plagues, I’ve seen it all. I’ve waded waist deep in bodies and still kept going. We’re Judges, Buchan, it’s what we do, it’s what we are. We took and oath to protect the innocent and punish the guilty. For that, we have to deal with the worst aspects life can throw at you.” “I wish I could be like you Dredd,” said Buchan, “Nothing touches you.” “Wrong,” said Dredd, “I just don’t show it. I deal with it and get on with my duty.” The silence that followed was broken by Judge Wilberforce on the Comm-mike. “Dredd, Buchan, you had better come and see this.” The two Judges entered the Control Cabin and looked at the view-screen window. About a mile ahead, the view was completely swallowed up by the Flux. It had grown to a hundred times its normal size, putting out massive forces of energy and gale force winds. The Judges watched as the twisting maelstrom churned. “Jist how safe are we here?” asked Judge Connolly. “The instruments are practically useless,” answered Wilberforce. “That thing’s putting out so much distortion waves, we can’t get any usefully readings on it. The communications are down, as is the computer. I wouldn’t trust the engines to take us

much further either.” “Well, whit dae ye suggest we dae then?” asked Connolly, “We certainly cannae go oot in that. We’d be whipped aff oor feet in a second.” “We’ll be alright,” said Buchan quietly, “As soon, as I approach it, it will make a safe passage for us to go to it. It always has.” “Things are different this time,” warned Jamieson, “Judge Buchan, are ye sure that ye want tae dae this?” “It’s not a question of want,” said Buchan, turning to face Dredd, “It’s a matter of duty.” The Flak-Mac stopped and the team of Judges walked out unsteadily into the sandy landscape, the whistling winds beating them every step of the way. The ABC Warrior walked at the rear, his electrics safely armoured against the Flux’s disruption. Dredd turned and waved to the Flak-Mac to indicate they were alright. Through the view-screen, he could just make out Wilberforce waving in return. The team made painfully slow progress as they neared their destination. Dredd led the way, with Buchan a close second. She drew strength from the Mega City lawman’s determination not to give in to the winds. Jamieson and Connolly came up behind her, with Phoenix steadily marching at the back. It was Buchan who started to notice the change. Slowly, imperceptivity, the winds around them started to die away. While at each side of them, a huge wall of swirling sands was all they could see, where they walked, a channel had formed, safe and still. Buchan knew what must be done. She turned to her team-mates. “I have to go the rest of the way myself,” she said to them, “Wait here for me, I will return if I can.” The team stopped and watched her walk off. Unsteady, despite the stillness now all around her, Buchan walked slowly to the Flux. As she got closer, Dredd and the others saw that the winds around them were also dropping, as if the Flux was concentrating its focus on the female Cal-Hab Judge alone. Buchan walked into the Flux and slowly vanished. “Whit happens noo?” asked Jamieson, concerned. “No idea,” answered Dredd, “I guess we wait to see if Buchan can calm that thing.” Inside the Flux, Buchan could feel the ground beneath her melt away. Time and reality meant little in this phenomenon so this was not entirely surprising to her. It also went a long way to explaining her declining physical and mental health in recent years. She slowly removed her rad-suit’s helmet, knowing it would not be needed here, and steeled herself for what was to come. She was in Glascal once again. She had just discovered Schiellian had murdered his guard and left his wife in a comatose state… She was in the streets, as the citizens she had fought to protect, now bayed for her blood, a sacrifice to their Pagan Gods… She was standing in a hospital maternity room, as a young woman was forced to give birth to Schiellian’s son, a son she had no memory of conceiving. All around her stood Judges, doctors, nurses and some familiar faces. Ed MacBrayne was there, beaten, broken after his battle with the SAS Judge Newt. Newt stood, slowly dieing from an ulcer Schiellian had burst inside him. And there she was in amongst all this, a witness to the birth of the son of a psi-Judge, genetically engineered on orders of Brit-Cit to have these remarkable powers. But when man plays God, God pushes back. The baby is born…stillborn. Schiellian is crushed, his dream of fatherhood robbed

once more. The emotions run high; MacBrayne attacks, and his own anger, his own genetically engineered chemistry, causes the catalyst that allows Schiellian to become the Flux. In an instant, the maternity room, the hospital and most of Glascal simply ceases to exist. All that remains is the Flux, contained in the Shrine, the memorial to a man’s unborn son, a monument to grief, anger and suffering… “How long’s it been?” asked Dredd. “She’s bin awa’ aboot an hoor,” answered Connolly, “Grud kens when she’ll come oot o’ that, if she ever does.” “It’s hard tae believe that this used tae be my hame,” said Judge Jamieson sadly, “Where these dunes and ruined blocks once stood, wis ma’ streets. I wis a Judge, a family man, loved by a wife and daein’ a job that seemed richt. Noo ah’ve nothing, ah’ve lost it a’” “Ah never thought ah wid be back either,” said Connolly, “Efter Glascal wis destroyed and Brit-Cit pulled oot of Cal-Hab, ah thought ah wid live in the Emerald Isles wi’ ma cousins fir the rest o’ ma life. I didnae think that I wid ever come back here.” Buchan soared in the currents and eddies of the Flux. All around her images from her past flashed in front of her; she was a young girl, she was in battle with a Clansman, she was sitting at a desk, crying. The images changed and it was Schiellian’s life she now saw: his battles, the good times with his wife, with Ed, with her. How it all changed, how he changed and cease to care for those around him. How Ed had to kill his former friend during the Spirits of the Moors Incident. How Schiellian rose from the dead and deceived his masters by telling of his reform. All this she saw. The Flux, was caught, the intelligence, the emotions that drove it, was caught, and Buchan was the only one capable to calm this storm. “Ah think she’s daein’ it,” said Jamieson, “The Flux, is it getting sma’er?” The Flux was indeed shrinking, as the powerful emotions were calmed by Buchan’s presence. The Judges and the wardroid watched, as it seemed to pull away from the group, and retreat towards the Shrine. A smile of hope crossed Judge Jamieson’s face. Inside, Buchan could also sense the calming effect she had on the Flux. As had happened before, she could feel herself starting to be released. Soon she would feel the ground beneath her feet once again. But then, something else was happening, some other force she had not been aware off was acting on her. She felt a sharp tug, as if she had suddenly been snatched from one force by another. She was helpless as she felt herself being pulled, pulled directly into the centre of the Flux. The Judges looked in horror, as the Flux suddenly changed before them. In an instant, it had changed from an almost serene sight, to one of a force outraged, furious and terrible. The winds suddenly were whipped up to fever pitch and it raged, screaming towards the team. “Back to the tank, now!” ordered Dredd, but it was far too late. With a speed that defied reason, the Flux tore across the sands and enveloped the running figures. All disappeared in the whirlwinds and screaming sands. From the relative safety of the Flak-Mac, Wilberforce looked on in horror, knowing that there was nothing she could do.

Buchan struggled in vain against the powerful force that dragged her ever closer to the core of the Flux. She was lost in a sea of swirling images, all chaotic. She seemed to reach a barrier, a wall within the Flux that served to separate the centre from the rest. The force pulled harder, and harder. Buchan thought she would rip apart. And then she was through, through into the light. Dredd stood on a featureless landscape very different from the one he had just left. The ground was hard and flat and featureless. It seemed to stretch away into eternity. He was completely alone. He surveyed the land he found himself in, trying to get his bearings. He tried his helmet-mike. “Dredd to anyone who can hear me, is anyone there?” “I’m here Dreddy!” came a voice from behind him. Dredd spun around to see Mean Machine Angel standing about twenty metres away from him. The Cursed Earth outlaw looked at his foe and smiled in triumph. “I’ve waited a long time to git ya Dreddy!” he exclaimed, “Git ready fir a face fulla four!” With that, he turned the wicked looking dial on his forehead to four and charged headlong at the Mega City Judge. “You never were that smart, were you Mean?” the Judge said, skilfully sidestepping the maniac’s charge. As he passed, Dredd drew his daystick and brought it sharply down on Mean’s shoulders. Mean went down headfirst, the momentum driving his head deep into the ground. “You dang cheater!” Mean cried, his voice muffled, “I’ll butt yer down to a greasy spot!” Dredd unholstered his lawgiver. “You’ll find that difficult with no kneecaps pun,” he warned him. “That’s right un-neighbourly ain’t it?” came another voice. Dredd turned to see the rest of the infamous Angel Gang; Pa, Junior, Link and Fink. Each had a variety of evil looking weapons at their disposal. “This isn’t right,” said Dredd, pointing at Link and Fink, “You’re both dead already.” “Since when did killin’ Angels ever stop us?” said the mutant Fink, and lunged at Dredd with a barbed, poison tipped stick, “This’ll sting fer only a second Dredd,” the hideous Angel shouted, “And then it’ll hurt a hell of a lot!” Dredd parried the attack and brought his foe crashing to the ground once more. Fink raged, as Dredd threw his weapon away. “Ratty!” Fink shouted. The mutant Cursed Earth rat suddenly appeared and raced headlong at Dredd. The remaining Angels decided they were not going to be left out of the killing either, and charged as well. Dredd raised his lawgiver. “You creeps are starting to annoy me…” Judge Jamieson blinked as he woke up in a bed. After a second or two of disorientation, he realised that it was his bed, back in Glascal. He sat bolt upright and looked around. He knew that this wasn’t right; His block no longer existed. But it felt so real. His hands felt the mattress beneath him, it was just as he remembered it. He was still looking around when he got the surprise of his life. The door opened and Eilsa walked in, carrying a breakfast tray. “Oh, yer up are ye?” she asked, putting down the tray, “I thoucht efter last nicht, ye’d be sleepin’ a’ day.” His wife seemed not to notice the look of absolute shock on her husband’s face as she calmly climbed into bed with him. She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “How…how can this be?” he asked, astonished.

“Fit’s that noo?” she said, distracted as she poured the tea. “This cannae be,” he said, but the kiss was so real and he had missed her so much. “Whit’s a’ this fuss?” she said and handed him a cup of tea. He took it wordlessly, not taking his eyes off her, in case she disappeared. “And how aboot a slice o’ toast wi’ that tea?” she asked him, picking up the bread-knife. “Aye, alricht,” he said almost in a daze. “The Goddess sees ye as an affront tae her,” she said simply, and plunged the knife into his stomach. Ignoring his shouts of pain, she started to cut her toast with the blood-stained knife… Judge Connolly leapt for cover as bullets flew all around him. He was dumbstruck; this couldn’t be right! All around him was the familiar buildings of Glascal. His attackers were all crazed citizens of the city. He had been brought in with many others of the southern units when Glascal descended into chaos following the destruction of the Song in the Sky Satellite. The Brit-Cit masters believed that reclaiming the capital was essential at that time, so they ordered all the Cal-Hab Judges they could to go there to quell the riots. Judge Connolly drew his claymore and raced out into the battle. His attackers all wore expressions of pure rage, primal emotions boiling forth. His sword descended time and time again, bodies falling in front of him. He looked up and gasped in shock; the building in front evoked powerful, terrible memories: Glascal Orphanage. It was here that it all went so badly for him. He kicked down the doors, in grim determination to prevent it from happening again. “Come oot!” he roared, knowing what was going to happen, “Ah ken ye’re here! Ye winnae dae this again, ye scum!” The dormitory was where it had happened, he remembered. If he could make it there just that little bit faster this time. Just be that little bit faster. He raced at a mad dash to reach the dormitory, his heart racing. He must make it, he must. He charged headlong through the heavy wooden doors and came to a screeching halt. “Suffer the little children,” came a calm voice, a voice borne of insanity. Judge Connolly looked in absolute horror, at the warden of the orphanage, as he stood there with the blood of his charges covering his arms. The Judge let out a howl of anguish; he was too late again. He stood there, numb with shock from the gruesome sight. It didn’t even register with him when the first child slowly got to his feet. “Hey mister, why did ye nae save us?” the blood soaked boy asked. “The Judge looked at the ghastly sight, unable to comprehend the horror of it. “Ye’re a Judge aren’t ye?” the boy continued, “Ye were suppose to protect us weren’t ye?” Connolly backed away in silence, but now the other children were getting up. They slowly surrounded him, all with yearning looks on their blood stained faces. “Why did ye let us die? Why did ye let us die?” Dredd looked over the Angel Gang, now all lying in a crumpled heap on the featureless ground. He slowly put his lawgiver back in his leg holster and started to walk away. “Come on Dredd,” came Fink’s voice, “You surely didn’t think you’d beat us that easy did you?” Dredd turned and saw the Angels get up from the ground, the bullet holes from his

lawgiver plainly visible. “Looks like we’ll have to teach Dredd a special lesson, eh boys?” said Pa Angel, “Fink, do your thing.” Fink called on his rat and it came running to him. “Git your friends Ratty-boy! Sic ‘im!” From nowhere, a huge swarm of rats appeared. With Fink’s rat in the lead, they all raced towards Dredd. The Angels cheered as they neared their target. “Yeeehaa!” exclaimed Junior, “Lookit them go Pa! They sure look hungry!” Dredd opened up with his lawgiver, now set on rapid fire. Rats were blown to bits by the explosions, but there was so many of them. Dredd stood his ground as they swarmed all over him, hundreds of teeth biting down into his, ripping skin and tearing flesh. “Yir cussins will make a nice slow job of him,” Fink said with great happiness, “That’ll teach him to go killin’ Angels!” Judge Buchan blinked, dazzled by the brightness before her. There was an air of unfamiliarity about where she was. In all her visits to the Flux, she had never reached its core. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she began to make out shapes in the distance. As one drew nearer, she saw it to be a human figure. Buchan gave a cry as the face of the figure came into focus. “Ed…is that really you?” she said in a small voice. “Aye hen,” came the reply, “How huv ye bin?” Buchan fell to her knees in sheer emotion as she faced her old partner and friend. Swallowed up in the creation of the Flux all those years ago, she thought she would never see him again. But now he stood in front of her, smiling at the sight of her. “Come oan noo, get up hen,” he said, “Are ye nae pleased tae see me?” Buchan leapt to her feet, tears streaming from her eyes, and moved to embrace MacBrayne. But she went right through him, as if he wasn’t there. “Sorry hen,” he told her, “I should have telt ye aboot that.” “What, what are you,” she asked, “Are you a hallucination, or a ghost?” “Ah’m nae figment, or a ghostie, Buchan,” Ed said to her, “Faun the Flux wis created by Schiehallion, he converted a’ the surroondin’ area intae energy, including oor bodies. But all we are, oors souls, he couldnae touch. We’re a’ here.” Buchan watched as many more people came into view, doctors, patients, Judges, all the people who were caught in the massive psi-explosion that made the Flux. There must have been hundreds of thousands of souls. The huge SAS Judge Newt came forward. “We’ve been stuck in here all this time. We can’t fight our way out, because he’s too strong.” “Who? Schiehallion?” Buchan asked. “Yes,” he answered, “his psi-powers were magnified so much when he became the Flux, even all of us had no chance. The Flux has kept us here all this time, separate from itself. And we want out.” “Out?” she asked, “Where would you go?” “We dinna ken,” said Ed, “But we dinna care. Heaven, Hell or oblivion, it his tae be better than this.” “You can help us,” said a woman. Buchan recognised her as Marie-Theresa Anderson, the nurse Schiehallion had impregnated. “You have a power over the Flux that no-one else has. “We’ve a’ tried fir years tae break the barrier frae the core,” explained Ed, “But jist

recently, something changed, and we found that if we a’ worked taegither, we could exert some force outside the barrier. We used that tae bring ye here.” “The Flux recently was experimented on,” Buchan explained, “The extra power it received must have been what you all needed.” “Aye, that is it,” said MacBrayne, “We can see a’ that the Flux is aware of. Thon ship that crashed must have been the ane daein’ the experiments.” “You saw the ship?” she asked her old friend, “Where did it go?” “It fly away off course, far tae the north,” said Ed, “Noo hen, will ye help us?” Buchan looked at the sea of faces. In some ways it was like a great burden of sorrow was lifted off her. Ever since the creation of the Flux, she has suffered terrible survivor’s guilt about being spared. Now, in some ways, those that were lost, had been found once more. How could she refuse them? “I will do all I can, but I don’t know how to help you,” she told them. “It’s in you Judge Buchan,” explained a doctor, “The reason you were not consumed by the psi-explosion, the reason you were spared, was because your chemistry is not compatible with the Flux. It’s common knowledge that Cal-Hab Judges have their DNA modified to withstand the extremes of the Cal-Hab environment. Something in your genetic makeup keeps the Flux from harming you. And we can use that to free us all.” “D’ye nae see hen?” said Ed, “Ye’re oor only hope tae get oot o’ here. Ye can dae it.” “If that is what you all really want, then let’s go,” she said. The decision was enough. Buchan rose off the ground and headed towards the barrier, closely followed by the people of Glascal. She sped up as she approached, faster and faster, there was no stopping her now… In another place Dredd was struggling as he was being consumed by rats. In another place Jamieson lay bleeding to death at the hands of his beloved. In another place the dead chanted accusingly at Connolly. In another place, all that Schiehallion had become resisted the wishes of countless lost souls. But there could be not refusing Judge Buchan. Feeling a resolve she had not felt in years, she smashed into the barrier within the Flux. All her drive, all the feelings of those despondent years, was in the emotion she felt as she at last broke through. The Flux screamed, it raged, it pulled at her with the strength of insanity, but in the end, it could not stop her. The spirits of the lost followed her, elated to be freed at last. Their happiness was their shield; the Flux couldn’t touch them. Upward they all soared, towards their final destination. Through the winds, and the chaos they flew, until they were finally free… Dredd opened his eyes. He was standing in the sands of Glascal once again. He looked and he saw Judge Jamieson lying on the ground nearby. And there was Judge Connolly. Going over, he saw them looking around, trying to get their bearings. Dredd spoke first. “Are you okay?” he asked them. “Ah wis back in Glascal,” said Jamieson unsteadily, “It wis so real, I would have sworn ah wis there.” “Me too,” said Connolly, “It wis like ah wis living ma worst nightmare. How aboot ye

Judge Dreed? Whit happened tae ye?” Dredd was silent for a moment. “It was not enjoyable, but I survived, as you all did.” “Ma God,” said Jamieson, pointing to the Flux, “Whit’s that?” The three Judges looked and saw the Flux, in the distance. Streams of light were shooting skyward from the whirlwinds, thousands of them. As they watched, the Flux shrunk, its energy dissipating. Within a few minutes the streams of light stopped, and a figure come falling from the Flux. It was Judge Buchan. The Flux continued to shrink away, retreating to the Shrine. In a few more minutes, it was gone. The Judges ran over to Buchan, who lay still in the sands. “Judge Buchan!” Judge Jamieson shouted to her. She opened her eyes. “It’s over,” she said simply, “The Flux won’t be threatening us for a while.” Retrieving her lost helmet, Buchan got to her feet, helped by Judge Jamieson. Judge Connolly discovered Phoenix, half-buried in the sands. Obviously the Flux had had no effect on the wardroid. After getting the ABC Warrior on-line once again, the four figures made their way back to the Flak-Mac. As they entered, and underwent decontamination, Wilberforce came to see them. “I didn’t think any of you would make it,” she said to them, “I was considering leaving and returning to Megaburgh.” “Weel, ah’m glad ye decided tae stick aroond,” said Connolly, “It would huv bin a hell o’ a walk back.” Later, after the Med-computer diagnosed them to be fit, the team met in the Control Cabin and listened to each other’s experiences. “So there wis a’ those people in there?” said Jamieson, “Fit d’ye happened tae them?” “I hope they’ve found peace at last,” said Buchan, “In many ways, I think I have now.” “Ah certainly widnae like tae go through that again,” said Connolly. “Well, whatever you did Judge Buchan, it’s had a profound effect on the Flux,” said Wilberforce, “The interference is already lessening. I estimate in a few weeks, the disruption to powered flight will have dissipated completely. And the radiation levels are going down as well. In a few years, they might even be back to the background levels of the rest of Cal-Hab.” “That’s nae that far doon then,” said Judge Jamieson. “Granted,” conceded the driver, “But maybe one day, Glascal can be rebuilt.” “That’s all in the future,” said Judge Dredd, “We have fulfilled our initial mission to combat the Flux, but our focus now must be locating the lost research craft.” “After a’ this time, ah widnae hud oot much hope fer them noo,” said Judge Connolly. “I have some information on that,” said Buchan, and explained to them what her old partner had told her. “It’s a lead, a slim one, but all we have to go on,” said Dredd, “Very well; Judge Wilberforce, set a course to the north. Let’s see if this pans out.” The Flak-Mac roared northwards, with a newly found purpose. Thanks to Judge Buchan, they at least had a direction to travel. Onward, through the shifting sands that was once Glascal they went, until at last, Judge Wilberforce spotted something. “Come at once!” she called over the com-link to the rest of the team. The other Judges hurried in and looked out of the viewscreen. Sure enough, half buried in the sands, was the crashed research ship. There were no lights on, no sign of life. “Suit up,” ordered Dredd to the Cal-Hab Judges, “We’d better see if there’s anything

we can do.” “Permission to come along?” asked Wilberforce. Dredd considered this; Wilberforce was the main driver, and would be a terrible loss if she was injured or killed. But she had a personal stake in this, and despite his training telling him that Judge’s should always act without emotion, he realised that Brit-Cit Judges were not always taught the same things their Mega City One counterparts were. “Very well,” he conceded, “Judge Connolly, you will remain here and Judge Wilberforce will come with us.” A few minutes later, the Judges and the ABC Warrior left the Flak-Mac and headed towards the crashed vessel. Upon arriving, they began to dig free one of the doors. “Ach, it’s nae use,” said Jamieson, pulling ineffectually at the handle, “The damn thing’s busted!” “Perhaps I can be of help?” ventured Phoenix, stepping forward. As the others moved aside, the wardroid gripped the door in his massive metal hands. He pulled with all his might, and the door suddenly ripped off its hinges. Tossing the door to one side, he gestured for the others to enter. “Impressive,” Dredd grudgingly admitted. The team moved inside warily, looking around at the devastation. From the way the interior was twisted, the craft must have hit the ground at a tremendous velocity. It was Buchan who discovered the first body. “Over here!” she called to the others, her torch shining on the corpse of a Brit-Cit Judge. The badge identified him as Judge Briers, one of the crew of the Alpha Seven. He had been impaled by a support beam that had broke free upon impact. Death would have been instantaneous. Dredd found the second body, a Brit-Cit scientist by the name of Fosdyke. He had survived the impact, but died of radiation poisoning soon afterwards. Of the remaining people unaccounted for, there was no sign. Judge Jamieson came over, holding a vid-slug. “Looks like they’d made a recording before they left. We’d better tak it back tae the tank.” “Very well, but first we have something to do here,” answered Dredd. Half and hour later, All of the Judges and the ABC Warrior stood beside two newly dug graves. They simply marked, identifying those who rested there. Dredd led the group in silence for a moment, and then led them back to the Flak-Mac. The team watched a vidscreen as Wilberforce fed in the vid-slug. An image of chief scientist Rutherford appeared. He was looking dishevelled, and was obviously scared. “I make this recording in the hopes that someone finds this and takes it to the Brit-Cit authorities. The research craft Alpha Seven has crashed. We lost two people, Judge Briers, one of the crew and Arthur Fosdyke, one of my colleagues. Of the rest of us, we survived the crash with minor injuries, save that of the pilot, Judge Bader, who had both his legs broken on impact. He ordered to be left behind, but we refused. We will not abandon anyone. We know that we cannot stay here, or the radiation or starvation will finish us all. We cannot head south through the lands of the Flux, for that would be suicide. We have decided to head north east, and head for the coast. With luck, we can find a vessel to take us the rest of the way. If we do not make it, then a hope that the data we have along with this recording was worth our lives.” The image faded, to be replaced by page after page of scientific data on the Flux.

Finding it of no use, Dredd turned off the vid-slug. “So at least we know that the rest of them are alive and where they are going. Does anyone know where they will end up?” “If they are heading north east, as they say, they will eventually reach the coast. But through hostile territory, wi’ a injured man, I dinnae rate their chances,” said Jamieson. “This slug was the day we lost contact with the Alpha Seven. In that time, they have apparently been travelling. We have to catch up with them,” said the Mega City Judge. With that, the tank started up its journey once again, this time on a new heading. Within a day, it left the sands that were once Glascal and headed off into the unknown once again. The Flak-Mac journeyed on, through the landscape of Cal-Hab. After a while, the tank reached a small farm. Judge Dredd and Judge Jamieson left the tank and went over to the door. “Hello, is onybody there?” asked Jamieson, as he knocked. A man, dressed in a crofter’s garments opened the wooden doors and looked suspiciously at the two Judges. “Fa are ye?” he asked. “We’re twa Judges looking fer survivors o’ a crash tae the south. Have ye seen them?” Jamieson asked. “Ah ken yer uniform from years ago,” said the man to Jamieson, “But fit kind o’ Judge is he?” “He’s frae the Big Meg, o’er the water,” explained Jamieson, “Some o’ his people were lost in the crash. Have ye ony information fir us?” The man seemed convinced that they were telling the truth. “Aye, some strange folk came this way a few days ago. They came o’er and asked fer some help. I gave them fit food ah had tae spare and a few things extra. They telt me that they were headin’ fer the coast. They headed aff towards The Kingdom. Dredd was impressed. The man gave what he could with no thought of reward. In Dredd’s line, people like that were few and far between. Perhaps these Cal-Habbers were not as savage and barbarous as he was told… “They a’ had funny accents. I kent they werenae frae roond here,” continued the crofter, “Ah hope ye catch up wi’ them soon; ane o’ them wisnae lookin’ sae great. He hud a couple o’ broken legs and hud tae be carried by a twa robots oan a stretcher.” “Bader,” said Dredd. “Aye, that wis his name,” said the crofter, “He looked like the radiation wis starting tae get tae him. I gave him some rad-pills, but withoot some medical attention, ah dinae think he will last long.” “Thank fir a’thing,” said Jamieson to the crofter, “We hud better be aff.” As he turned to go, Jamieson noticed the field closest to the man’s croft. While all the surrounding land was being worked, this field was untouched. It was featureless, save a solitary statue in the centre. “Fit’s thon statue?” asked Jamieson to the crofter. “Man, d’ye nae ken faur ye are?” the crofter said, surprised, “Thon’s the statue o’ Robert the Bruce. This is Bannockburn, lost tae us fer these mony years. “Efter Brit-Cit pulled oot o’ Cal-Hab, some of us got the statue oot frae it’s hiding place an put it back faur it belongs.”

Jamieson smiled as they walked back to the Flak-Mac. As a Cal-Hab Judge, he had seen the extraordinary lengths some of the people of Cal-Hab had gone to show their patriotism, but this gesture to an almost forgotten Scottish past was most impressive. Back aboard the tank, Dredd ordered Wilberforce to make for The Kingdom.

Chapter Five And so, intent on finding the survivors of the Alpha Seven, Dredd ordered his team into one of the most lawless areas of Cal-Hab. “Welcome to The Kingdom” the sign read as they passed. “Abandon Hope!” someone had scrawled under it. “The Kingdom wis ane o’ the worst places a Cal-Hab Judge could be posted,” Judge Jamieson explained to Dredd and Wilberforce. Even in the Post-Flux days, it wis almost impossible tae keep ony kind o’ control on the population. Brit-Cit sent its Rookie Street Judges there fir a tour o’ duty, jist tae toughen them up.” “Looks like I was spared that treatment, as I was put into Flying Squad training instead,” said Wilberforce. “The survivors would have gone into this area,” said Dredd, “Apart from the lawlessness issues, it is the quickest way to the coast. What can we expect to find here nowadays?” “According tae the CI o’ Megaburgh, Laird McDuff keeps a garrison of his militia in the Kingdom. The Laird says it’s tae maintain control of an unruly population, but maist folk think it’s because The Kingdom borders the lands held by the Whisky Clan Campbell, ane o’ McDuff’s enemies. The people of The Kingdom have never taken tae law an’ order, and since Laird McDuff has tried tae take charge, they hate him and his men even mair than the Cal-Hab Judges who used tae be posted there. But ye can be sure that mair than Cal-Hab Judges, mair than McDuff’s lackeys, the people will hate Brit-Cit much mair!” Jamieson looked at Wilberforce, “Thon Brit-Cit uniform will be like a red rag tae them. I wid keep in the tank till we get oot of here.” Dredd considered this advice. “We need information about the survivors, not confrontation with the locals. Jamieson, you and Connolly should go ahead and see what you can find out.” So Jamieson and Connolly went into the cargo bay and pulled the tarps off of their Lawmasters. Instead of the eagle and shield emblems, featured on Dredd’s Lawmasters, these has lion’s heads. Nicknamed “Iron Lions” these were standard issue transport motorcycles in both Brit-Cit and pre-Flux Cal-Hab. Now they were harder to come by north of the Border. “Its been a long time since ah’ve bin oan ane o’ these,” commented Judge Connolly, “The Emerald Isles has its oan version o’ the Lawmaster, but it’s nae the same.” “Aye,” agreed Jamieson, mounting his bike, “The Oz ane is nae better.” The two Judges told Wilberforce that they were ready over the comm., and the cargo bay doors opened. Waving goodbye to Phoenix, Jamieson and Connolly roared out of the Flak-Mac and headed off. They soon reached a settlement. Stirling was always an important place in The Kingdom. It was the second largest population centre in the area and was a stop off point for those travelling from the borders to the north of Cal-Hab. The locals did seem openly hostile to the two Cal-Hab Judges as they passed by. More than once, a thrown bottle or a rock had to be ducked. They continued on until they came to a inn. Leaving the Lawmasters on active security, they entered the Jacobites Tavern. The crowded inn suddenly went silent as the two Cal-Hab Judges entered. Unfriendly faces stared at the newcomers. Hands slowly closed around the necks of bottles, and the sound of dirks being unsheaved could be heard. Judge Jamieson took off his helmet and smiled to all of in the bar. “Man, ah’m dry as the Lothian Wastes! Barman, drinks a’ roond!”

The crowd wavered, caught between their hatred of law and their natural desire to have a dram. In the end, the dram won out. Within half an hour, the inn was noisy as everyone was drunk and singing happily, rejoicing at their generous new friends. The barkeep, not willing to take useless Brit-Cit credits for payment, was busily counting the gold coins the two Judges had offered instead. “Ye ken,” a drunken patron of the bar said, “Ye twa are a’richt! Nae like those ithers frae the garrison. We’ve nae time fir them. Are ye heading oot tae Kirkcaldy yersels?” “Actually,” answered Jamieson, “We’ve nae time fir McDuff’s men onymair than ye have. We’re only here tae find some folk who got lost. Huv ye seen a group o’ strangers pass this way. Aboot seven or eight o’ them, ane o’ them oan a stretcher?” The drunk tried to focus through his stupor long enough to think. “Aye, they were through here. Ah think they were heading fir Kirkcaldy themselves. They managed to buy a beat up auld cart and they headed aff yesterday.” The drunk would have said more, but he slowly slid down to the sawdust-covered floor, dead to the world. “Richt,” Jamieson telt Connolly, who himself was slightly worse for the drink, “We’re still oan the richt trail. The survivors are headin’ fir Kirkcaldy!” Kirkcaldy, the jewel of The Kingdom. The Flak-Mac rolled into the city, and headed straight for the local militia garrison. If anyone knew where the survivors of the Alpha Seven were, it would be the Cal-Hab Judges there. Judge Dredd, Buchan and Jamieson entered the garrison barracks and headed for the commander's office. As Jamieson and Buchan looked around, they could see that little had changed here; the garrison at Kirkcaldy was never up to much, and now they were taking orders from a self-serving Laird whose loyalties lay with the Brit-Cit monarchy, the Judges here were even worse. They looked like people who had come off the streets, looking for a wage rather than wanting to protect the people and uphold the law. The commander of the Kirkcaldy garrison sat behind his desk. Next to him was a Clansman wearing the McDuff colours. The commander introduced themselves. "Welcome tae Kirkcaldy, ah am Judge Fordyce, commander o' the Judge garrison here, an' this is McPherson, Laird McDuff's representative here." "We come looking for survivors of a research ship that crashed several days ago. We have been told that they were heading for here," explained Dredd, "Have you seen them?! The two men briefly talked to each other. For Dredd, it was hard to watch a man who was supposed to be a commanding Judge taking directives from a lackey of an absentee landlord like McDuff, but for the sake of the survivors, he bided his time. "We have seen your people. They arrived only this morning. They told us that they were heading for the coast, so we directed them to the docks," said the Commander. "So they are there now?" asked Buchan. "I suppose so," said the Commander, "They wanted an escort, but our esteemed Mr McPherson wouldn't permit one." "Why not?" Jamieson asked, barely keeping his cool, "After a' some o' those people were frae Brit-Cit, an' ah thoucht McDuff wis oan guid terms wi' them?" "My master's business is his own," said McPherson, obviously not impressed with the trio seated opposite him, "In my opinion, there was no justification to spend resources and manpower on such a thing." Judge Jamieson rose from his seat angrily, but was stopped by Dredd, who put his hand on his shoulder. "Not now," Dredd ordered, "We have to catch up with the survivors. They'll be time

enough for this creep later." Without another word, the three Judges left the office. Quickly walking out, they hurried back to the Flak-Mac and headed for the docks. The Docks of Kirkcaldy were much seedier than the rest of the city. The Judges rarely came here, and law was an infrequent visitor. Dredd ordered the Flak-Mac to remain behind; its bulk was not suited for the narrower alleyways that made up this part of the city. Dredd, Jamieson, Buchan and Connolly drove their Lawmasters the rest of the way. The dockside was peopled by the worst scum anyone could meet. None looked pleased to see Judges here. Dredd dismounted and walked impassively up to the Dockmaster. "I'm looking for some strangers who are looking for passage to Brit-Cit," Dredd told him. The Dockmaster sneered at the Mega City Judge. "We dinna like Judges aroond here, and we certainly dinna help them." "It will go a lot easier for you if you just co-operate. All we want is the information," Dredd answered calmly. The Judges made no move, but they could see a large group of people slowly coming out of the shadows. "Leave noo, or suffer the consequences!" the Dockmaster spat. "Not without our people," Dredd returned. "Now!" the Dockmaster exclaimed. The entire dock area erupted with movement, as the people who were slowly getting into position suddenly rushed the Judges. The Judges were quick to respond. The three Cal-Hab Judges unsheaved their claymores and raised them in readiness. Dredd grabbed his daystick and rendered the Dockmaster unconscious. "Stick around punk, I'll be speaking to you soon," he said, as the man collapsed to the ground. The people closed in, an assortment of thugs, murderers and scum that frequented any dockland. There weapons were crude but deadly, clubs, knives, a few swords. There main advantage was their numbers. Sitting astride their Iron Lions, the Cal-Hab Judges raced into the fray, each watching the backs of the others. "Bike - to me!" Dredd shouted to his Lawmaster, as he struck a foolhardy thug across his forehead with his daystick. His Lawmaster roared into life, heading straight for the Judge, scattering all before it. Dredd waited as the bike screeched to a halt in front of him. He leapt aboard and headed across the docks to his comrades. The Cal-Hab Judges were in the thick of the action. Their swords swung again and again at anyone who came within range. Their attackers looked surprised, as if they had expected the Judges to make a break for it. They obviously hadn't come across Judges like this for a long time. "Hey, look!" shouted Judge Buchan to the others, "That one's wearing McDuff colours!" "Look's like some o' McDuff's men like working fer themsels. Too bad fir them!" answered Judge Connolly, as he took down another attacker. The attackers had the numbers, but the Judges has the better training, and their Lawmasters put the advantage squarely in their favour. Within a few minutes, there was silence, save that of some groaning from the near unconscious thugs laying around. Dredd calmly dismounted and walked over to the other Judges. "Good work," he said to them as he cleaned the blood off his daystick with a rag he

obtained from one of the fallen attackers strewn about the place, "Now, let's conclude our business here." They went over to the still unconscious Dockmaster and picked him up. Dredd took the man by one of his ankles and held him over the side of the docks. "Wake up creep!" the lawman snarled. The man slowly regained consciousness, and cried out in shock as he realised what was happening. "You know," said Dredd impassively, "We could have done this the easy way. All you had to do was just tell us what we wanted, but you had to do it the hard way. And what has it got you? Hanging upside down over the rancid waters. Now are you going to tell me what I want to know, or are you going to continue to make my day more difficult than it needs to be?" "Ye, ye cannae dae this!" said the Dockmaster in a trembling voice, "Ye're a' Judges!" "Anyone have a problem here?" Dredd asked to the Cal-Hab Judges. "Nay problems here," said Buchan. The other two Judges agreed. "Listen punk, I'm getting short of patience, so tell me what I want or I'll drop you and pick up someone else." "Okay, okay!" said the man, "They were here, and they came tae me tae ask fir passage hame tae Brit-Cit. Ah pretended tae go along wi' them, an' then hud them taken by some o' my associates." "Where are they now!" demanded Dredd. "They were taken tae the Clan Campbell Castle. They'll be selt as slaves, a' except the cripple, naeone will be interested in him." "What did you do with Bader?" asked Dredd. "He wis selt tae the organleggers." "I want an address, NOW!" Dredd demanded. The frightened man gave them the location and was hurled across the docks into a pile of his unconscious friends. The Judges quickly raced back to the Flak-Mac and gunned it towards their destination... In a nearby nondescript warehouse on the dockfront, two men with grubby white masks and the look of butchers were standing over an unconscious form... "The legs have had it, but apart frae a wee bit radiation, the rest of him's fine" said the first critically. "For the price we paid, we made a guid deal," said the other, "Come oan, he's nae getting ony younger..." The first "surgeon" picked up a scalpel and moved over to his patient. Nearby, a team of Judges and one ABC Warrior stood in readiness. Judge Dredd looked at the computer screen of his Lawmaster; the thermal image clearly showed two men beside a man on a table. In other places of the warehouse, several other figures could be made out. "Come on!" said Wilberforce, "What are we waiting for?" "Calm yourself Judge," returned Dredd, "We don't want to go charging in there and getting our man killed." He turned to Judges Jamieson, Buchan and Connolly. "You three go round the back, Wilberforce and I are going in through the front in two minutes." Turning to the wardroid, he said, "Robot, stay here and stop anyone who tries to escape this way." Phoenix nodded. He realised that this was about as tolerant

as Dredd was willing to be. The three Cal-Hab Judges quickly rode off to get into position. The seconds slowly ran down... "Get ready," Dredd told Wilberforce, "Now!" The Mega City Lawman's bike roared into life, and exploded forward. The bike cannon took out a sizable chunk of the forward wall, and anyone unfortunate to be standing too close. Wilberforce ran to catch up, lawgiver at the ready. At that moment, the back wall exploded, and the three Cal-Hab Judges made their appearance. The organleggers were taken completely by surprise by this, and four of the gang were killed in the first few seconds. Dredd's Lawmaster screeched to a halt, just short of the table. Dredd levelled his lawgiver squarely at the surgeons. "Surrender creeps or you'll be the ones needing a doctor!" The two terrified organleggers dropped their scalpels in an instant. Dredd turned to the others. Wilberforce had two more men under custody. The three other Judges were just rounding up three more survivors of the bust. All turned round when they heard gunfire from outside. Phoenix appeared with two more men, both carrying guns above their heads. "They resisted, but I soon convinced them to surrender," he explained. Wilberforce left her captives to Phoenix and hurried over to the table. Recognising her old mentor, she gasped in shock. Pilot Judge Bader's legs were a terrible blend of black and green. An radiation infection had taken hold. Dredd came over. "It looks bad, and he needs help, but not from these scum. They are more used to cutting people up, not putting them back together. If we are going to help Bader, we have to hurry." They put their prisoners in the brig of the Flak-Mac and made for the Garrison. Upon arrival, they carried Bader quickly through the doors. Dredd left the others in the front reception and headed straight for the Commander's office. "Whit the...!" exclaimed the Commander as Dredd came marching in. "We have a Judge in desperate need of medical attention. The only place in this Grud-forsaken place where he could get a halfway decent doctor is here. Where is your infirmary?" "See here Judge," started McPherson, obviously upset at this intrusion, "What right do you have coming barging in here like this?" "I'll tell you what business it is!" growled Dredd, "The Judge is from Brit-Cit, one of your Laird's allies, do you think they will be happy if I tell them that you got in the way of his treatment? Or that you were the one who let him be taken by organleggers in the first place! Or maybe your master would like to know how your men have been earning a little money on the side by helping the scum out by the docks!" The Commander turned to McPherson angrily. "Is this true!?" he demanded. "We saw them there ourselves," Dredd explained, "A whole mob was waiting for us, as if they had been tipped off." "You've gone too far time McPherson!" shouted the Commander, "Ah've tolerated yer arrogance because of yer contact wi' the Laird, but ah'm still a Judge, and ah'll be damned if ah'm gaen tae allow this! Consider yersel under arrest!" "You can't do this to me, I'm Laird McDuff's man in The Kingdom!" he protested. "Then the Laird can come here and bail ye out by himsel!" answered the Commander. In seconds, a couple of Judges led the protesting man out. The Commander turned to Dredd.

"Something tells me that he winnae be in jail long, but it will be long enough tae help yer man. We dinna hae much in the way of medical help here, but a' we hae is at yer disposal." "We'll take it," said Dredd. As the doctors operated in the Garrison's infirmary, all the Judges could do is wait. "His legs were pretty bad," commented Judge Jamieson to Buchan, "Ah dinna think they can be saved." "I think Wilberforce will just be happy to have him come out of surgery alive," said Buchan. The hours passed and a great tension developed outside the infirmary. Wilberforce was starting to show the strain, and the others were also greatly concerned. Dredd stayed stony faced as usual, but he was also worried. At last, a doctor came through the infirmary doors. Wilberforce almost ran to see him. "Well, what news?" she asked. "We managed tae save his life lassie," said the doctor, "But we couldnae dae onything fir his legs. We hud tae amputate them." Buchan came over to Wilberforce, who was starting to look distraught. "It's nae good news, but at least he's alive. We have tae be strong noo. Remember we are Judges." "Judges...yes," Wilberforce answered. The Commander came over to Dredd and took him to one side. "Judge, ah ken that we should keep yer man here until he's fit enough tae go hame tae Brit-Cit, but the fact is that his life will be in danger if he's left here. Much as ah hate tae say it, McPherson will stop at nothing tae silence a witness tae his link tae the organleggers." "What are you saying?" said Dredd. "Ah'm saying that it would be best fer yer man if ye took him wi' ye when ye left Kirkcaldy." Dredd thought about this. The Commander was right; even if they kept him under guard with Judges that cared about things like law and duty, McPherson would find a way to kill Bader. The Garrison was just too dangerous to leave him behind. Dredd turned to his team. "As soon as Bader is fit to travel, he's coming with us." "Whit!" exclaimed Jamieson, "Ye cannae be serious!" "You should know me well enough by now to know I am serious," Dredd answered.

Chapter Six The Flak-Mac, after gaining extra provisions from the Commander of Kirkcaldy, left the city and headed north to Glamis Castle, the ancestral home of the Whisky Clan Campbell. Strapped to a bunk in the rest area, Pilot Judge Bader still slept. Judge Wilberforce sat by his side, waiting for him to awaken. In the Control area, Judge Connolly drove the tank while Judge Dredd stood over Judge Buchan. She was working with the controls of the weapons and computer scanners, trying to get some information from the irradiated countryside on which they were travelling. “Still nothing useful,” she commented, nervous that Dredd was giving her such close scrutiny. “Keep at it,” Dredd said, “And tell me the moment you have something to report.” Dredd went over to Connolly. “How long will it take us to reach the castle?” he asked him. “It should tak us the best part o’ a day,” Connolly replied. Judge Jamieson was in the cargo bay with Phoenix. The organleggers that they had taken prisoner were left with the Kirkcaldy garrison, and he was just clearing up the spilt blood from the brig. “Damned inconsiderate o’ them to bleed a’ o’er the place,” he said to the wardroid. The ABC Warrior was fitting a new clip of ammunition to his gun arm. He looked round to the Cal-Hab Judge. “The Judge we took on, he has been damaged. Surely it would have been better if he was left to be fixed?” Phoenix said. “Aye,” agreed Jamieson, “But the city wis nae safe fir him. If he hud stayed, he wouldnae have lived lang.” “Strange that humans should treat each others so. At least in war, we knew who the enemy was.” “Cal-Hab his never bin sae cut and dried,” said Jamieson. The Pilot Judge slowly woke from unconsciousness. The first thing he saw was the face of an old friend. “Wilberforce, is that you?” he asked. She managed a faint smile. “Yes sir,” she replied, “You are with the rescue team Brit-Cit sent to find the Alpha Seven.” Bader tried to look down, the straps preventing him from getting up. “Wilberforce, I…can’t feel my legs,” he told her. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “Your legs were so badly infected, they couldn’t…be saved. I’m so sorry,” Bader was stunned. For the next few moments the pair were silent, neither of them had the words to express what they were feeling. Bader had always been such a strong person, most pilot Judges in the Royal Air and Space Force had a great zest for the adventures in life, mirroring the characters of the old British air aces of old. But as he lay there, Bader looked like the life had drained out of him, leaving a grey shell of the man he once was. >From the doorway, Dredd looked on. He turned and walked back into the control area. “The pilot is awake,” he said simply. “How did he take the news?” asked Buchan, her voice filled with concern.

“He’s still in shock,” replied the Mega City Judge, “The next few days will be hard for him. Let’s hope he’s strong enough.” The tank left The Kingdom and entered the lands to the North. According to the Commander of Kirkcaldy, this was the vast Angus Estate, officially held by Laird Thomas Angus, a thoroughly loathsome man, who would do anything to maintain his grip on power and increase his already sizable wealth. Dredd remembered what the Commander had told him: “Nothing is too low fer that man. He has legalised slavery in his Estate and has forged an alliance with the Campbell Whisky Clan, who gives him a percentage o’ their profits frae their whisky production and even sell him people that they catch as slaves. Frae his stronghold in the Granite City o’ auld Aberdeen, he rules his Estate like a real tyrant. That scum has turned the north-east of Cal-Hab intae a real no-go area fer ony half decent person.” The Whisky Clans were another symptom of the nuclear-induced Tartan Trauma that saw the Cal-Hab citizens regress to their Highland past en masse. Initially, there was only one Whisky Clan, the Campbells. The radioactive shrouded mist-thickets of Mugdock Wood provided cover for the production of the Spirit of the Moors in several illicit stills. As business bloomed, rivalry between the two chiefs, Banger and Archie, emerged. This came to a head over the naming of their son from their wife, Ailsa. Banger left the Campbells and founded the Abercromby Clan. The Clans have been bitter rivals ever since, especially after Archie Campbell murdered Banger Abercromby in the Night of the Long Dirks. Chief Campbell also tried to incite the two Clans to revolt against the Cal-Hab judiciary by presenting the hallowed Stone of Destiny and calling for their support. But his guilt at murdering his brother manifested itself seeing a ghost of his dead brother who only he could see. In his terror at this imagined spectre, he lost all credibility and was left to be arrested by the Cal-Hab Judges present. One other man, McTash, one of chief Campbell’s lieutenants, tried to claim the chieftainship after Archie Campbell had been executed by Brit-Cit, but he made the mistake of going up against Judge Ed MacBrayne, and was defeated. Now the Chieftainship lies unclaimed, the leadership being held by a steward by the name of Burnett. “Trouble ahead,” indicated Connolly, pointing to a large group of people up ahead. They were clansmen all riding genetically modified horses, designed for the harsh conditions of this landscape. They looked like a patrol. Dredd looked at them on the viewscreen and considered his next move. “Connolly, stop just in front of them. Buchan, get ready with the weapons. I’m going up to see if we get through this without having to fight them.” Dredd climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch. Keeping close to the machine gun emplacement, he waited until they drove up to the group and came to a halt. “Fit is yer business in the Angus Estate?” one of the riders shouted to Dredd. “That’s our business,” answered Dredd. The headman of the riders looked at Dredd, atop the impressive tank. If it came to a fight, he knew that they would not come out of it well. The riders looked unsure, and the headman picked out a communicator and asked for orders from his supervisor. He seemed to get a response. “Faur are ye heading?” he asked. “To Glamis Castle,” answered Dredd, his hand resting on the machine gun’s controls.

In such a situation, the possibility for sudden attack was high; he was ready. Again, the headman talked into his comm. Inside the Flak-Mac, Connolly and Buchan waited tensely, looking for the order to fight. The headman nodded as he once again received his orders. “Richt, we’ll escort ye there. The Angus Estate can be dangerous fer ootsiders fa dinnae ken the way.” “Thanks all the same,” said Dredd, trying for diplomacy, “But you’ll just slow us down. We’ll be fine.” The two men stared at each other for a moment, as if to see which one would look away first. The headman smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Please yersels,” he said, and waved him on. The tank started up again, and Dredd descended through the hatch. “Weel done,” said Connolly, “Ah didnae think we wid get oot o’ there withoot a fecht.” “We’re not out of it yet,” replied Dredd, “The riders let us away for now, but only because we have the Flak-Mac. If they need to, they could raise a much larger force to come against us.” “So whit we dae aboot that?” asked Jamieson. “We are going to Glamis Castle to find the other survivors, one way or another,” The Flak-Mac arrived at Glamis Castle. The welcoming party consisted of about a hundred Clansmen, all sporting claymores and broadswords. With Wilberforce and Bader remaining behind in the tank, the team walked out, showing no fear. Completely surrounding Dredd and his comrades, the Clansmen opened a channel for them. The team walked slowly through the channel, up to the gates. All around them were unfriendly faces. They reached the open gates and went in. They were met by a small, stocky man. “Ah welcome ye tae the seat o’ the michty Campbell Clan,” said the man, “Ah am Burnett, the Warden of the Campbells.” “We are here in search of several survivors of a aircraft crash. We were informed that they have been brought here,” said Dredd. “Weel, we dae offer aid tae the traveller,” said Burnett, “We are a hospitable people.” “Right,” said Dredd in a impassive tone, “We would like to see them if we could.” “Ah wid give them tae ye if they were still here, but ah’m afraid they have alreedy moved oan,” he said. “Where?” Dredd demanded. “That ah cannae tell ye. They didnae give me that information.” The Warden called over an aide, and ordered him to give the team comfortable lodgings. “Ye all are tae be honoured guests of the Campbells,” he assured them. They were all ushered into a room, luxurious by Cal-Hab standards, and left alone. Dredd pulled out a device from his belt. He motioned everyone to be silent and began to sweep the room for listening devices. The bug-finders registered none. “So what happens now?” asked Buchan. “We have to find the truth,” said Dredd, “The survivors were prisoners when they were brought here. They certainly didn’t leave by themselves. The Warden is lying.” “Weel, we dinnae need a lie detector tae tell us that!” said Jamieson, “The question is, how dae we find oot whit really happened tae the survivors?” Phoenix turned round to the rest of the team.

“Someone approaches!” he told them. The team went silent. There was a polite knock on the door, and then a servant entered. “The Warden requests yer presence at a feast tae be held in yer honour,” he told them. “Tell your master that we will be there,” replied Dredd. The servant went to the great hall of Glamis Castle and reported to the Warden. “They will be here shortly,” said the servant. “Grand,” the Warden said, “And whit did ye learn?” Another man came out from behind a curtain. He bowed respectfully to the Warden. “Ah could hear every word,” said the man, “The heid Judge hud some kind of device in his hands but it didnae find me hiding in the spyhole. The Judges didnae believe yer story sir. They are discussing whit they are gain’ tae dae tae find oot the truth.” The Warden’s smile flickered, but remained. “Weel, we’ll just hae tae mak sure that they a’ are reunited wi’ each ither as soon as possible, won’t we? Efter a’, Granite City is always lookin’ fer mair slaves!” The team came down to a lavishly prepared banquet. The Warden, dressed in his full regalia, sat at the head of a long table, with his most important lieutenants beside him. Special places of honour were reserved for the four Judges and the wardroid. The minstrels played music and the Clansmen all started drinking the locally distilled whisky, called the Spirit of the Moors. Normally, drinking such a radioactive brew would be extremely damaging for a person, but the Campbells were raised on the stuff and had long since developed an immunity to its harsher side effects. The Cal-Hab Judges were also immune, as they were genetically resistant to radiation. Dredd wouldn't touch the stuff; normal alcohol was outside the range of his experience, he certainly wasn't going to start drinking this stuff. As the feast progressed, Dredd took the opportunity to listen to the unguarded conversations that the Spirit of the Moors encouraged. "Faun dae ye want it done?" asked one of the Warden's men. "Later, faun their good and drunk," came the Warden's reply. "Whit aboot the Yank? He hisnae touched a drop." "If he resists, we'll kill him. It'll only be a’ less slave tae sell." "And the robot?" "Scrap!" Dredd withdrew as he considered this. The Cal-Hab Judges had been drinking, but nothing more than a few tankards. If it came to a fight, they could be counted on to give him support, as could the ABC Warrior. Still, they were vastly outnumbered. Better to see who the night developed. As the evening continued, the Campbells entertained their guests to a display of Banquet Jousting, where two armoured warriors fought with swords to the sound of Cal-Hab county music until one landed a cut on the other. Fuelled by the drink, the Campbells were friendly and jovial towards the Judges. Dredd remained impassive as ever, watching and waiting. By about two a.m. many of the Campbells had retired or simply passed out. The festivities were winding down. The Warden came over to Dredd and his team, along with a group of men. Unsurprisingly enough, none of them had been drinking. "Your freends hae bin enjoying oor hospitality a' evening, but you huvnae e'en hud one drink," said the Warden to Dredd. "Mega City One Judges do not consume alcohol," replied Dredd. "Ah, weel that's too bad fer you!" said Burnett, drawing his claymore, "Ye wanted to

ken whit happened tae yer freends; weel, we sent them tae Granite City under heavy guard. They're probably selt as slave by noo, and soon ye'll a' be slaves as weel!" The others drew their swords and advanced on the group. The Cal-Hab Judges came to their senses and started to draw their own swords, but Dredd stopped them. Dredd turned to the Warden. "I wanted you to tell me where the survivors were, and now you have. I think we all have had enough of your hospitality for the night. We will say goodnight to you now." With that, he opened his hand. In it he held a grenade. He threw it at the approaching attackers and quickly pulled down his respirator. Quick to catch on, the others did the same. The grenade exploded and a thick gas sprayed out. The Campbells clutched at their throats, their eyes streaming. "Stumm gas," Dredd said simply, and got up from his seat. The attackers collapsed to the ground, and Dredd led the team out towards the Flak-Mac. As Dredd and the others walked out to the drawbridge, he turned and drew his lawgiver. "Hi-Ex," he said calmly and fired. The explosive bullet detonated on the massive chain that held the portcullis. It came crashing down. "They should take a while to raise that," commented Dredd, "We should be able to get quite far before they come after us, assuming they want to try to attack the tank." The team boarded the Flak-Mac and got underway. "Where to?" asked Wilberforce. "Granite City," answered the Mega City Judge.

Chapter Seven The journey towards Granite City required them to cross the Cairngorm Mountains. The weather turned cold and wintry as the rescue team made their way through the narrow roads that twisted through the mountains. “The going is difficult,” reported Wilberforce, “If the weather gets much worse, it won’t be safe to continue.” “We have to get through these mountains,” said Dredd, “If necessary, Judge Jamieson and myself will scout ahead on our Lawmasters and find a safe route.” “Judge Dredd,” said Buchan, “Bader wants to speak with you.” The Mega City lawman went to the rest area and stood next to the Pilot Judge. “Judge Dredd, I need to be of use,” Bader to him, “I can’t stand being trussed up in this bunk.” Dredd looked down at the bedridden pilot. He understood that Bader needed to feel useful. He had lost so much, and it would be easy for him to give up to despair. Dredd owed his fellow Judge a chance. “Very well,” said Dredd, “I was looking over your records and it seems that you have had some experience with this type of vehicle. I think we can allow you the role of backup driver. I’m sure Judge Connolly won’t mind giving up that job.” “You mean it?” said Bader, breaking out in a smile. “In matters like this, I don’t joke,” said Dredd, getting out a hand held vid-screen, “Read these schematics. When you’re ready, we’ll see how you do.” Dredd left the pilot Judge to read. Being a counsellor was not exactly what Dredd was best at, but in this case, he seemed to give Bader what he needed. A fierce blizzard set in. The tank stopped, unable to go any further. Within minutes, a thick layer of grey snow covered it. Inside, Dredd and Jamieson prepared themselves to leave the Flak-Mac. Their radsuits were augmented with a heating system, so they would protect the two Judges from the harsh cold as well as the radiation. They left the cargo bay atop their Lawmasters, intent on finding a safe passage out of the mountains. “Man, e’en wi’ the heating, it damn cauld!” Jamieson told Dredd through their helmet mikes. “I see a pathway over to the west,” replied Dredd, “Let’s try over there.” The pathway turned out to be little more than a animal track. “What kind of animals can live up here?” asked the Mega City Judge. “The creatures o’ Cal-Hab have grown intae a hardy bunch, just like the animals that roam yer Cursed Earth. Up here, wild aurochs, och’ors and greater golden eagles make the mair remote areas their hame.” The pair stopped their bikes to examine the track. It didn’t seem wide enough to allow the tank to pass. “It doesn’t look likely,” commented Dredd, as he prepared to get his Lawmaster started again. Suddenly, a great noise could be heard above the wind. A rumbling, shuddering could be felt. “Trouble!” said Jamieson, as he got on his own bike, “We hae tae get oot o’ here!” The two Judges roared away from the ever increasing noise, but the low visibility and the high winds made it impossible for them to go very fast. Dredd looked back momentarily and could just make out many large but indistinct shapes thundering towards them.

The shapes came into view; it was a massive herd of och’ors, mutated Highland cattle. They bore down on the Judges with an intensity bordering on insanity. Naturally aggressive, the och’or is capable of running down a man and crushing him. In these wintry and mountainous conditions, the och’or had the edge on the two riders. They crashed into the two Lawmasters and flung their riders aside as if they were rag dolls. The last thing Judge Jamieson remembered was a wall of red shaggy hair coming barrelling towards him. Jamieson slowly awoke to find himself in a bed in a small stone clad room. His entire body was a patchwork of bruises and he could feel the effects of frostbite. But under the circumstances, he felt lucky to be alive. Looking around, he found his rad-suit hanging neatly over a chair, but there was no sign of his helmet. Still feeling unsteady on his feet, he lay down on his simple bed and rested for a while, perceiving himself to be in no immediate danger. Back in the Flak-Mac, the rest of the team was getting concerned. “Ah dinnae like it,” said Judge Connolly, “They were meant tae contact us aboot half an hoor ago. It’s certainly nae like Dreed tae nae follow procedure.” “Agreed,” said Wilberforce, “But the weather is not getting any better, and the tank isn’t going anywhere in these conditions. One wrong move and we’re off the side of the mountains.” “Only one of us is really suitable for going out to search for them,” said Buchan. Judge Dredd woke up in a bed very similar to his Cal-Hab counterpart. He activated his helmet mike, only to discover it damaged, no doubt in the och’or stampede. Getting to his feet, he went over to the door of his room and tried the handle. The door was locked. Searching the room, he discovered that all his weapons and equipment were missing. No doubt whoever brought him here took them. Dredd considered any possible way to escape… “You want me to find them?” asked Phoenix. “Yes, you are the best one to survive the conditions out there and you have the greatest chance of finding them,” said Buchan. “Very well, I’ll remain in radio contact and call you when I find something,” replied the wardroid. Phoenix activated the cargo bay doors and walked out into the mountains. Judge Jamieson was resting in his bed when he heard a key turn in the door to his room. Getting up as fast as he could, he prepared to jump whoever was holding him. The door opened and a cowled figure walked in, carrying a meal tray laden with food. Unable to stop, the Judge crashed into the figure, taking them both of their feet. The tray went flying, and the hood of the robe came down. It was only then that the Cal-Hab Judge noticed whom he was fighting against. “Whit the…?” he said as he looked down into the face of a beautiful woman. She was startled by this sudden attack, and it was the Judge who had to break the sudden silence. “Ah’m sorry,” he began, “Ah didnae ken,” “You treat a friend in a strange manner,” she said in a voice that almost melted his heart. “Ye are a freend then?” he said, getting them to their feet.

“Of course, we are all friends here in the Order.” The Judge looked at the robed woman. For some reason, he found himself dumbstruck. There was just something about her, something that awakened long-dormant emotions that he had not experienced in many years. “Come,” she told him, “You will no doubt want to see your friend. I am told that he has recovered more swiftly than you and is feeling his confinement more keenly.” The woman gently took the Judge’s hand and led him into a corridor. “Whit is yer name?” Jamieson asked, his curiosity overcoming his silence. “I am Sister Mary, and this place is the monastery of the Order of St Cuthbert.” “Ah didnae think the Church let woman become monks,” he said to her. “The Order allows all who wish to dedicate their lives to God a place here,” she said smiling. They reached the final door of the corridor and she started unlocking the door. She looked over to the Judge. “Maybe it would be best if you told your friend that you are not prisoners here, and he need not fear us,” she told him, “After all, I don’t think we need another fight.” Jamieson agreed and called through the door to Dredd that he was coming in. The Mega City One Judge looked warily at the door until he was satisfied that it was indeed Judge Jamieson coming in. He looked over to him, and then turned his attention to Sister Mary, who came in just after. “Why are we imprisoned here?” he demanded from the woman. “As I explained to your friend, you are not prisoners here. We found you unconscious in the snow and brought you here. If we had not, you would have been dead within the hour,” she explained. “She’s richt,” agreed Jamieson, “Oor suits were damaged and we wid hae died.” “So why did you save us?” asked Dredd, “Were you hoping for a reward?” “Our only reward is that we have done the right thing,” she answered sadly, “You must come from a place where Christian charity is not common.” “Weel, ah’m grateful,” said Jamieson, “But we cannae stay here ower lang. We hae freends that’ll be looking fer us noo.” “I will take you to the Abbot. He will know what to do,” Sister Mary said. She led them to the main hall of the monastery, it was filled with robed figures. One of them sat in a wooden chair at the head of a long table. “Abbot, the strangers have awakened and wish to speak with you,” she said in a respectful voice. The hooded figures looked up from their prayers. The Abbot turned his head toward them. Through the darkness of the cowl, the Judges could plainly see two shining red eyes looking at them. The abbot removed his cowl. “It’s a robot!” Dredd said suddenly. The other monks took off their cowls and revealed themselves all to be robots of various shapes and sizes. “Ye didnae tell us that the monks here were robots,” said Judge Jamieson, turning to Sister Mary. “But we are all robots here,” she said simply, “I thought you knew. I was a sex-droid.” Ye’re a sex-droid!?” said Judge Jamieson, “Ah cannae believe it!” “It’s true,” said Dredd to his comrade, “Sin-dee series, if I am not mistaken. Mega City One construction.” “I was built to fulfil the sexual desires of a rich Megaburgh businessman,” she explained, “For years I was used, knowing nothing but his lustful habits. Then, the humans went mad and violent. My own master attacked me. He deactivated me and

ran out of the block. I never saw him again. In the chaos that followed, no-one noticed me while I left Megaburgh, looking for my master.” “Ye still went lookin’ fer him? Efter a’ he did tae ye?” Jamieson asked, astonished. “I am a robot, I need a master. It is vital to my programming. I serve therefore I am,” she said to him. “I searched for him for many weeks, but I couldn’t find him. I came to the realisation that he was dead, or lost to me forever. Without a master, I became distraught, and wandered the countryside for months. Low on power, I found myself in these mountains. I went offline, and expected never to wake up. That was until the monks of this Order rescued me. They powered me up and took me in.” The Abbot of the robotic Order spoke. “Yes, we all found our way to this place, as if the Lord brought us here. Originally, the Order was made up of humans, who tended to these grounds and devoted their lives to the service of the Father, the Son and the Spirit. But the wars and the radiation took a heavy toll on them. They began to accept all lost souls, men and women, and then finally artificial life. All are equal in the eyes of God. Our human brothers and sisters eventually died of old age, but we remain to carry on in their name. We have found a new master, more than any human master. We have found God.” “If not for this holy Order, I would have died, nothing more than a walking sex-toy for a human. But now I am so much more. I am free,” Sister Mary said. “We all took new names to reflect our new lives,” explained the Abbot, “I was once only known as Jeeves 182, a butlerbot, but when I saw the light, I became Brother Adam, later Father Adam, and now serve a higher power.” “I read the Bible and chose a name most fitting to me, I read that even those who were dedicated to the life I lead, could be saved. I became Sister Mary.” “This is all very interesting,” said Dredd, obviously uneasy, “But we came to speak to you about our weapons. Why have they been taken from us?” “Your weapons are unnecessary here,” said Father Adam, “We have no need of violence here, all are welcome, and to be treated well. Your weapons will be returned when you leave. Your motorcycles are being repaired as we speak. Brother Elijah is a skilled mechanic.” “Agreed,” conceded Dredd, knowing he hadn’t much choice. Sister Mary led the two Judges back to their rooms, and took her leave. She took one look back at Jamieson just before she left. The two Judges were alone. “It’s hard tae believe such a place exists,” said Judge Jamieson, “Ah those robots, dedicating their lives tae God.” “Don’t kid yourself Judge,” replied Dredd, “Those robots were obviously reprogrammed by the original monks here. I don’t know what these robots are up to, but I don’t trust them. We will wait until the weather clears, then we will get back to the others.” “Ah think ye are being a wee bit hard oan them,” Judge Jamieson said, “Ah wis born intae a Christian family, an’ ah ken how beneficial a religion it can be.” “I have investigated more than a few crackpot religions back in my city. Most are harmless, but more than once, I found that they’re more trouble than they are worth. I fail to see the benefit of this one.” “Sometimes, ye need something mair tae believe in. Fer you, it wis the Mega-City One Justice Department, but fer ithers, they need something else. In only case, we are stuck here until the storm blaws ooer. We’ll hae taw get alang wi’ them.”

The storm raged on for another day, and another. The two Judges tried to use their time as best they could. Judge Dredd spent most of his time in the mechanical bay, working with Brother Elijah on his recovered Lawmaster. Judge Jamieson’s cycle was not so lucky and was smashed beyond repair. Without such a distraction, he spent his time walking the grounds of the monastery, with Sister Mary on his arm. On the evening on the second day the monks went missing. Curious, Judge Jamieson went searching. Through the dark corridors he journeyed, with Dredd’s concerns ringing in his ears. He descended some steps that led deep down into the bowels of the monastery. He became aware of muffled synthetic voices, obviously deadened by the thickness of the great stones of this place of worship. At the foot of the stairs, he came to a great pair of open doors. Wishing he had some kind of weapon, he cautiously went for a look. Jamieson discovered a great cavern, illuminated by many artificial sunlight lights. It was a vast underground garden, and the monks were hard at work tending crops being grown there. Strange animals, unseen in Cal-Hab for many years also made this garden their home. Sister Mary, on her knees amongst a field of strawberries, turned and saw the Judge watching them… “You were not meant to see this,” she said, getting to her feet. “Why nae?” he answered, “This place is a paradise.” “No-one is supposed to know about Eden. It is our closest guarded secret. It has taken the monks of the Order over a hundred years to excavate this cavern and bring such life to this place. We grow food here, which we give to the needy in local villages, and we distil the grains to create fuel for our energy generators.” “Ah wondered how ye created yer power,” he said to her. “We cannot allow the secret of the cavern to be known by others,” she said, “I need you to swear that you will not reveal this to others, not even to Judge Dredd.” “Ah think Dreed can be trusted. He widnae tell ithers,” he said. “Please,” she said, gently putting her hand to his, “Swear that you will not tell,” The Cal-Hab Judge paused, conflicted by long dormant emotions. “A’richt,” he said slowly, “Ah’ll nae say onything.” She smiled gratefully and led him back up into the monastery. They walked out into the courtyard to find Judge Dredd, looking for him. “Where have you been?” the Mega City lawman asked Jamieson. “Oh, naewhaur in particular,” Jamieson answered, “Jist haeing a look aroond.” “Well it’s good that you’re back. We are going to have company,” said Dredd. “Fit d’ye mean?” asked Jamieson. Dredd showed them out to the snow laden mountain path that led to the monastery. There was a large group of people approaching; bearing banners that identified them as members of the Whisky Clan Campbell. “It looks like the Campbells don’t give up easily,” remarked Dredd. All the monks were called to the main hall. Judge Jamieson faced Father Adam. “Ye hae tae gie’ us oor weapons!” he said to the Abbot. He shook his head. “There can be no violence in this place,” he said, “It is against the will of Jesus.” “Those Clansmen don’t care about your pacifist philosophy,” Dredd told him, “They will come in and destroy you all. “Why would those humans want to kill us?” asked Sister Mary, “We are a peaceful people. We simply wish to live our lives in service of God.” “They prey on the weak; you will be easy prey for them,” Dredd insisted.

“Enough!” Father Adam said, standing up and raising a hand, “We will not allow violence in the monastery, whatever the provocation. The Campbells are coming, and we have to deal with this. The two Judges will be hidden away, until the Campbells leave.” “Whit?” said Jamieson, “Ye’re joking, surely?” “If the Campbells discover you here, they will surely act out of violence. If they do not find you here, we will more likely to persuade them to leave us in peace.” “You’re living in a dreamworld, robot!” Dredd snarled, “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to hide from a bunch of sword-waving lunatics. Give us our weapons!” “I can see that you will not hide willingly…” The Abbot gestured at a nearby robot, who bore the markings of a robodoc. He advanced on the two Judges, his extending arms coiling around them before they could act. “Please remain calm,” the robodoc said. Two hypodermic syringes appeared and injected a clear liquid into their necks. “This anaesthetic will make you sleep awhile.” The two Judges struggled vainly as the anaesthetic took effect. Sister Mary looked at Judge Jamieson sadly as his eyes closed. They had the look of one betrayed. “I wish we could have persuaded them to hide,” she said to the Abbot. “We did not have the time to rationally explain to them,” Father Adam told her, “Remember that humans can be quite illogical.” The two Judges were taken away and hidden in a vestibule. The monks prepared for the arrival of the Campbells. Clad in furs, they looked like a barbarian horde rather than a militia Clan. Their leader came forth and approached the Abbot. “Ah am Duncan Campbell. Ah lead these men in the name o’ the Warden o’ the Campbells. We seek twa men o’ law. We ken they wir coming this way. Whaur are they?” “We have no information for you,” the Abbot said, removing his cowl, “We are a peaceful people; the ways of the outside world are not for us.” “Jings!” the leader exclaimed, turning to his men, “It’s a robot! Whit is a robot daeing here?” The Clansmen looked at the robot monks with disgust. Ordinary Cal-Habbers, unlike other Mega City citizens, had very limited contact with robotic. Most of the labour still was done by people, who were cheaper than robots. Only the elite used robots in construction or as servants, and only then, it was confined to the larger cities of Cal-Hab. The leader regarded the Abbot as less than even Dredd had for them. “We want the Judges!” he said with hate, “Tell me whaur they are.” “I will not be a party to violence,” the Abbot answered calmly. “Very well,” said the leader, drawing his sword, “Ah see that ah’ll hae tae mak an example o’ ye.” “No!” said Sister Mary, running forward, “Please stop. We just want to live in peace.” “Tough!” answered the leader, and swung his sword. The sword sliced the Abbot’s head off neatly, the severed wires spraying sparks of electricity. His head fell to the ground, with the Abbot’s body coming crashing down a second later. The monks were stunned. Sister Mary looked at her Abbot with a look of pure horror. She turned her head up to the leader. “Why!!?” she said. “Search the hale place!” he ordered his men. The Campbells moved forward, all drawing their weapons. The monks stood aside, not knowing what to do. The leader looked at Sister Mary, obviously appreciating her form.

“Fer a robot, ye’re nae bad,” he told her, “Ah think ah’ll tak ye as a prize. Ah’ll look forward tae breaking ye in!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her in with him. Judge Jamieson slowly woke up. He was in a small darkened room, with Judge Dredd lying unconscious nearby. The Mega City lawman was slowly coming to as well. “Drokk, that robodoc was strong,” Dredd said, “I told you we couldn’t trust those robots.” “Ah still cannae believe they did that. I thoucht…” Jamieson started. “Wake up Judge! Do you really think that the robots are here to do nothing but worship Grud? You let yourself believe a fantasy,” Dredd said. The Cal-Hab Judge thought about this. It was obvious that he had wanted to believe that the monks were sincere. Growing up in a Christian household, he was taught to believe in the old religion. Could it have been that he wanted to see something in them, in her, that wasn’t really there? He pushed the thought aside. There were more important things to worry about now. “Weel, whit are we ga’in tae dae? We certainly cannae stay here?” he told Dredd. “First, we need to get out of here. The Campbells will be here by now. We cannot afford to have them find us like this, locked up and weaponless. It’s time to take the battle to the Campbells. The Judges found that the rusty lock moved aside easily with a well aimed kick. The door swung open and they were out. Jamieson, who had done more exploring in the past few days than his counterpart, identified where they were; a vestibule in the west wing of the monastery. They raced down the corridor, intent on finding out what was going on. The Campbells were in the process of looting the entire monastery. Anything they took a fancy to was taken. The monks could only look on in horror as the Clansmen became like the Viking pillagers of old. Duncan Campbell, still cruelly holding onto Sister Mary’s arm, shouted out to his men. “Tak’ whit ye want lads, but remember why we’re here. Find the Judges. If we return hame withoot them, the Steward’ll skin us a’.” Some of the Clansmen decided to try to beat the monks into telling them where the Judges were. A Clansman struck Brother Elijah with a crowbar, only to have the monk offer him the other side of his face to hit. The Clansman was disappointed. “Fit fun is it if it disnae hurt them?” he asked. Other Clansmen, met only silence to their questions, and in their rage, started to hack at the monks with their broadswords. Oil and jagged pieces of metal littered the floor, as the Clansmen raged against the machines. In the lower levels, some Clansmen had found the brandy the monks had been making in the monastery for centuries. They wasted no time in beginning to drink. “It’s nae bad, but nae a patch oan oor Spirit of the Moors,” said one. “Aye,” agreed the other, “This disnae hae the same kick as oor stuff.” As disappointing as it was for the Clansmen, it didn’t stop them finishing two bottles of the brandy in short order. By this time, they were going from merry drunk to fighting drunk. “Hey!” the first one said in a slurred voice, “Haunds aff that ane! Ah’m haeing it!” “Get tae pot!” the other returned, “Get yer ane, middenheid!”

The two drunken soldiers started scuffling with each other, but by this time, they were so drunk, they did more harm to themselves than each other. They didn’t even notice the two figures enter the room and pick up two bottles. Two swift cracks on their skulls, and the Clansmen crumpled on to the floor. “Noo we hae weapons,” said Jamieson, relieving the unconscious Clansmen of their swords and dirks. He handed Dredd a sword. Dredd tested the sword for balance. “A Judge has to be ready to use any weapon that comes to hand, but I confess, I have had little practice with such a primitive weapon.” “Looks like ye’re aboot tae get a crash course, Dredd!” said Jamieson, as a group of sword wielding Campbells came down the corridor screaming warcries. The Judges fought against the Campbells with their newly obtained swords. The Campbells had the numbers, but the were let down with their lack of proper training. Jamieson was by far the better swordsman, cutting down two attackers with a few strokes. Dredd, although inexperienced, was a quick learner, and his years on the hard streets of Mega City One had given him a survival instinct that the Campbells couldn’t match. In strength and speed, he could not be bested. Within a few minutes, the Campbells all lay dead in the corridor. They had won this battle, but there were Clansmen to fight. They did not stop to rest; they could not afford to. Duncan Campbell sat on the late Abbot’s chair in the Meeting Hall with a growing impatience. He did not like to wait. One of his men entered, and reported that several dead Campbells had been discovered. According to the report, they had been slain by swords. “Damn it a’!” he exclaimed, “Call a’body back here! Ah’ll nae hae them getting picked aff by the Judges in sma’ groups!” He looked down at his prize; Sister Mary, disrobed and in a shirt and shorts, was chained to the arm of his chair. “Looks like yer freends will be harder to catch than ah thoucht. Nae matter, ah’ll soon hae them!” Sister Mary looked up through synthi-tear stained eyes, “Forgive them Father, they know not what they do.” By the time the recall order had been disseminated throughout the monastery, the two Judges had run into, and killed another group of Clansmen. Of the original force, at least twenty still remained alive. All the surviving Campbells had come back into the meeting hall, along with all the monks they could find. The captured monks looked fearfully at the Clansmen. To the Campbells, they were only machines. Their faith meant nothing to them. “Hear me Judges!” their leader called out, his voice booming throughout the hall, “We will destroy four monks every minute until ye give yourself up tae us. We begin in one minute.” >From their vantage point in the rafters of the hall, the two Judges looked down. “We cannae allow them tae dae this!” said Jamieson, barely able to contain his rage. “Keep your head Judge, after all, they’re only robots,” said Dredd. “Only robots!” Jamieson said, almost in a shout, “Ye cannae say that! They didnae haund us o’oer tae the Campbells; we owe them fer that!” “Tactically, we cannot hand ourselves over to the enemy. It would do the robots no good. Do you really think the Campbells will leave them in peace if we were to give ourselves up?” “Time’s up Judges!” shouted Duncan Campbell, and pointed to two monks, “Bring them over here.”

The two monks walked over with dignity. They stood before the leader of the Campbells and solemnly knelt down. Bowing their heads, they began to pray. “Fools! Machines! Things!” Duncan spat, raising his sword, “Whaur is yer God noo?” In the rafters, Jamieson moved to jump, and was grabbed by Dredd. “Make no move, that’s an order Judge!” Dredd said sternly. “Ah cannae jist watch!” said Jamieson, “Robots or nae, they’re still Christians!” “Last chance Judges!” Duncan shouted, looking around. There was no reply. “Richt then…!” he started to swing his sword. Suddenly, the doors to the great hall burst forth and their stood and white figure, covered in snow. It was Phoenix, his eyes glowing in rage. He had seen the dismembered robots and was not happy! “What the..?” Duncan said, startled by the wardroid’s sudden appearance. “Destroy that robot!” The Clansmen advanced, weapons ready, expecting an easy kill. But this robot had sworn no oath of non-violence. This was a wardroid, programmed to fight, built to kill. Phoenix raised his gun-arm and opened up a deadly barrage on his attackers. They fell under his withering fire. Dredd and Jamieson leapt down from the rafters and headed towards the leader of the Campbells. His men, far to occupied with the avenging ABC Warrior, too distracted to stop them. As Phoenix mowed down his men, Judge Jamieson barrelled towards Duncan, his sword in readiness. “Fool!” Duncan shouted at the Cal-Hab Judge as their swords clashed, “Ye wid die fer a bunch o’ robots?” “They have acted mair human than ye, scum!” returned Jamieson. The two fought, their sword clashes drowned in the deafening noise of Phoenix’s gunfire. Duncan, unlike his men, was an expert swordsman, and had obviously used his skill and ruthlessness to achieve his high position in the ranks of the Campbells. Judge Jamieson, however, was a Judge of old Cal-Hab, one of the most difficult places in the world to keep law in. Every day had been a battle for him. He knew every move, every way to defeat an enemy. In the end, it meant the victory was his. With one hard sword thrust, he drove his blade straight through his opponent. Duncan’s face was one of supreme hate as he realised that the Judge had beaten him. He collapsed down, falling into the Abbot’s chair, and died. In the hall, there was sudden silence. Phoenix had stopped firing. Dredd looked and saw why; the few surviving Campbell’s had surrendered. The bodies of their comrades lay strewn about the room. The monks looked on in horror in the aftermath of this massacre. In his life, Dredd had seen much worse. Jamieson also ignored the carnage and went over to release Sister Mary. He retrieved his sword from the body of Duncan and smashed the chain that held her one strike. Grabbing her discarded robe, he handed it to her. She took it in trembling hands. “Ah’m sorry ye had tae go through that,” he told her. She could only nod slowly. In the aftermath of the battle, the surviving monks began the process of trying to rebuild their lives. Brother Elijah began to repair the monks who had suffered damage that could be helped. But many were smashed beyond repair. One small mercy was that the Abbot, could be fixed, and soon was back online. He led the rebuilding effort from that point on. The bodies of the slain Clansmen, along with the dead monks were interned in the monastery’s cemetery. Prayers were said for all. But there still was the question of the two surviving Clansmen.

“We cannot take them with us,” Dredd said firmly, “Campbell Clansmen would be too much trouble for us where we are going. The laird who runs Granite City is allied with the Campbells. We have to think of our mission.” “If they return to their people, they will surely tell them of our location. In a short time, we would be destroyed. The villages around here rely on our produce. If we are destroyed, then they would surely suffer,” said the Abbot. “Perhaps a compromise is in order,” suggested Phoenix with mechanical efficiency, “The Campbells have destroyed some of your brothers and sisters. I suggest that they redress the balance. Have them do the work of your dead monks.” A few days later the storm broke and the mountain paths could at last be navigated. The monks supplied the Judges with a map of the area that showed a quick route out of the Cairngorms. With luck, they should be able to make up for some lost time. Judge Jamieson went to say goodbye to Sister Mary. “Ah will ne’er forget oor times taegither,” he told her, as she handed him back his weapons, “Ah didnae think o’ ye as a robot, but as a person.” “I wish you well in your rescue mission,” she replied, “May God be with you.” “And ye,” he said. He turned to go, but she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. Jamieson turned his head around, and she kissed him. “Ye cannae leave us here wi’ these things!” shouted a Campbell, as the two Judges and the ABC Warrior left the monastery. “You made your bed, creeps. Now you will have to lie in it,” replied Dredd. “Farewell, Judges. May the light of Christ be with you,” the Abbot said. “Hmph,” grunted Dredd almost under his breath. Despite all he said, Dredd had come to see the robot monks of the Order of St Cuthbert, as more than a group of machines. Even, as he believed, they had been programmed by the original human monks there to believe in Grud, they had exceeded that programming, and were now acting out of kindness. This was something Dredd rarely came across, and so had a grudging respect for, although he would never show it. He gunned his Lawmaster’s engine, and going as fast as the conditions, and the ABC Warrior who followed him allowed, he made for the Flak-Mac.

Chapter Eight Thanks to the map the monks provided, the Flak-Mac left the Cairngorms with no further incident. On reaching the leveller lands, Dredd allowed Judge Pilot Bader to take control of the tank. He was securely strapped in to the driver’s seat and, with Judge Wilberforce watching, he gunned the engine. A look of purpose came over his face. “It’s good to be in the driving seat once more,” he said. “Remember, you are still the back-up driver in this mission. If it is necessary, Judge Wilberforce will take over at a moment’s notice,” warned Dredd. The tank roared along the countryside, the mountainous terrain of the Cairngorms behind them. Granite City, formally the important oil port of Aberdeen, now lay ahead. But now, with the wealth of the seas long exhausted, Granite City had found a new resource to exploit – slaves. Following the fall of Glascal and the official ending of the Cal-Hab Judiciary, Granite City, which then was little more than a ghost town, found a new lease of life under the control of Laird Angus, who made the city his base for his new estate. The oil of the seas was gone, but there were still profits to be made from the sea. Raw materials were now mined from the Northern Sea bed, and processed in the newly built factories of Granite City into plasteen for export to Brit-Cit. It was hard and dangerous work; work that no man would voluntarily undertake. So the Laird began buying up Cal-Habbers who had became so deeply in debt, it had cost them their freedom. Indentured servants, slaves in all but name, became the first workers of these new Granite City industries. When demand for workers outgrew the servants who could be obtained this way, the Laird bade his own Clansmen and his allies, including the Campbell Whisky Clan, to obtain other slaves. Now slavery had reached such levels in this part of the land that regular slave markets, where anyone who had the money to buy, could attend the auctions and purchase a slave, no questions asked. If the Alpha Seven survivors were indeed in Granite City, it would not be long before they were sold. Long before they reached Granite City, they could see it. The black, putrid smoke hung over the city like a shroud. It reminded Dredd of the terrible blackness the Sisters of Death hung over Mega City One during the hell of Necropolis. But this was pure pollution, not a veil of evil created by a supernatural duo. In this land of radioactivity and waste, it was not surprising that the industries did not care to limit the pollution caused by their factories. The slaves that worked there would be worked, regardless of what the conditions did to their health, and there were always replacements to be had in the slave auctions. The tank stopped long before they got to the walled gates of the city. “It’s obvious that Laird Angus will have been warned of our approach by his allies, the Campbells. If we were to enter with the Flak-Mac, it would lead to a confrontation that we need not have. Our priority is the retrieval of the survivors of the Alpha One, not to fight the Laird of Angus,” Dredd said to his team, “Therefore, I will take Jamieson, Buchan and Connolly, along with the robot. Wilberforce, stay here with Bader. If we call for back up, come through that wall with everything you’ve got. Otherwise, stand down.” Dredd led the Cal-Hab Judges into the cargo bay, where Phoenix waited. The wardroid looked strangely sombre, if such things could be determined from a robot’s face. Dredd called him over and explained what they were to do. “Robots are uncommon this far north. Chances are you will be a cause for a potential enemy to think twice before causing trouble,” Dredd said to the ABC Warrior.

“Of course, we robots are built to serve,” Phoenix replied. The team left the tank riding their Lawmasters. Judge Jamieson, whose own Lawmaster was destroyed in the stampede in the Cairngorms, rode Judge Wilberforce’s Iron Lion. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Although it was practically indistinguishable from his old bike, it just didn’t seem the same to him. The team reached the gates of the city. The sentries on duty at the gate wore chemical masks, to protect them from the pollution, and the tartan of the Angus Clan. They stiffened as the Judges and the wardroid arrived. “Whit is yer business here in Granite City?” a sentry asked Dredd. “Slaves, what else?” Dredd replied, telling him the truth. “Buying or selling?” the sentry asked. “Buying,” was Dredd’s stony answer. The sentries looked satisfied with this and allowed their entrance to the city. Inside the walls, the city looked even more horrific. The grime and soot from the factory’s chimneys was on every surface. The people all walked the streets in chemical masks. Dredd was relieved he had ordered his team to don their rad-suits for this mission; they would not have lasted long otherwise. They headed to the local slave markets. The slave markets, where under a huge dome, toward the centre of the city. Under the dome, the Judges removed their rad-suits, so they could move more freely, and sought out the slave dealers, looking for the survivors. Dredd and Buchan split up and went looking one way, while the others went another. Dredd and Buchan passed enclosures filled with people, all advertised according to skills, age and working potential. Some were only children, looking out fearfully at the indifferent faces of their potential buyers. Buchan looked on in a horror. “That people could have been reduced to chattel. It’s not right,” she said with conviction. “Agreed, this place in sorely in need of law, but that is not why we are here. Remember the mission, Judge Buchan,” ordered Dredd. Judge Jamieson walked the aisles with his comrades and looked into each enclosure, searching for the survivors. “We dinnae e’en ken if they’ve bin broucht here,” he told Connolly. “Aye,” his friend agreed, “Maybe we need tae see if we can get ane o’ the dealers tae help us a wee bit. Come oan,” Connolly answered. The two Judges went over to the office of one of the dealers and entered. The dealer sitting behind his desk was a fat, greasy haired individual. He looked up angrily from his computer screen at the unexpected intrusion. “What’s the meaning of this?” he snarled, “If you have business, then one of my underlings will see you.” “Ah, but surely good service is keeping yer customers happy?” said Connolly, sitting on the corner of the dealer’s desk. “We want some information aboot some folk that have maybe come through here recently. Survivors o’ a ship crash. D’ye ken onything aboot them?” “Get out this minute!” the dealer exclaimed. “Noo, that’s nae very nice, is it?” he said, turning to Judge Jamieson, “Maybe if oor friend asks, he’ll be a bit mair co-operative?” As if on cue, Phoenix walked in, having to stoop down to get through the door. He stared angrily at the dealer, his red eyes ablaze. “What the Hell’s that thing?” the dealer asked. “This is Phoenix, an ABC Warrior,” explained Connolly jovially, “Ah think he wants

tae ken whit’s happened tae the survivors as weel. Why don’t my we give them a bit o’ room tae discuss this, eh Judge Jamieson?” The two Judges turned and made for the door. Phoenix stepped menacingly toward the frightened dealer, a low growl in his mechanical voice. The dealer looked frantically at the Judges. “Wait! Don’t leave me alone with this! I’m sure I can help!” “Ye see?” said Judge Connolly to his comrade, “A’ ye need tae dae is ask nicely. Politeness is very important.” By the time Dredd and Buchan had met up with the rest of the team, the others had their information. “Aye, the survivors were taken here,” explained Judge Connolly, “They were selt tae different buyers in the slave auctions twa days ago. Some were local dealers fa boucht them, ithers came frae oot o’ toon.” “Do we have their names?” asked Dredd. Connolly showed him a vid-pad containing names and vid-images of the slavers. “The dealer we spoke tae, wis very generous, faun he wis properly motivated,” he said, smiling. Later, the Judges discussed their next move in a shabby rented room in a hotel. “If we had arrived earlier, it would have been easier to get the survivors. They would all have still been in one place,” said Dredd to the team. “However, the majority of the survivors are still in Granite City, working as slaves in the factories. One of the Brit-Cit Judges, a Judge Green, was bought by a slaver specialising in something called The Games. As for the Mega-City One Judges and Professor Rutherford, an out-of-town slaver bought them and was last seen heading west out of Granite City.” Through a radio-link, Judge Bader spoke to the team. “Judge Green was the last surviving Brit-Cit Judge amongst them,” he explained. “I have served with him on a few missions. He is brave and cool in tense situations. We need to get him back.” “I know that the longer we stay here the more distance that slaver gets on us, but we are leaving no-one behind. All the survivors that are held in Granite City, including Judge Green will be rescued,” Dredd assured the Pilot Judge, “Connolly, do we know where these games are held?” “Aye, in the auld fitba stadium in the city. It’s ca’ed Pittodrie.” “Connolly, you and Jamieson go there to check it out. Go in civilian clothes. Try to see what is going on there. Buchan, you and I will find the factories that are holding the other survivors who are still in the city.” “What about me?” asked Phoenix. “You stay here until we call you,” said Dredd shortly to the wardroid. Phoenix said nothing in reply. Jamieson and Connolly found it easy to blend in to the crowds who went to the games. The old stadium had been updated to properly suit its new use. Here, like in so many other places in Granite City, a large plexiglass roof covered the stadium, keeping out the choking pollution. The crowds could watch the Games unencumbered by chem-masks. Dressed in non-descript clothing, the two Cal-Hab Judges were just another two faces in the crowd, watching and waiting for the entertainment to begin. A series of vidscreens, which were on each side of the stadium, came on, showing a man’s face. The loudspeakers under the vidscreens burst into life, the announcer’s voice boomed across the entire stadium. “People of Granite City! We are indeed

honoured to have Laird Angus himself in attendance today.” The scene on the vidscreens changed to reveal the Laird of Angus, a middle aged man dressed in the Angus colours. He looked on to the crowds and smiled. “Ah hereby begin the Games!” he declared. Down at the field, two doors opened. From one came a warrior, dressed in chain mail and wearing a terrible spiked helmet. He wore a sash of Angus tartan. He held in his hand a vicious looking mace on a chain. From the other side, three ragged men, obviously slaves were forced on to the field. They wore different tartans and had simple shields and short swords. The clansmen were undernourished and terrified; they knew that they were no match for the warrior. The crowd roar in anticipation for the upcoming spectacle. From their seats, Jamieson and Connolly could only watch in horror. “These people are sick,” said Connolly. “Aye, there’s nae honour in this,” agreed Jamieson. Down on the field, the three Clansmen were approached by the warrior. He yelled a challenge to them. Seeing their only chance of survival, they raced at him together, swords raised. The warrior laughed in derision. The first Clansman was crushed by the mace in seconds, his skull shattering under the powerful blow. The crowds cheered. The second lunged at the warrior, only to have the mace swing into his side, crushing his ribcage. He crumpled onto the grass. The last man, his nerve breaking halted in his tracks and dropped his sword. He held on to his only defence; his shield as the warrior approached. The warrior swung his mace once again, and smashed the shield out of the Clansman’s frightened hands. The terrified man sunk to his knees, begging for mercy. The crowed booed and shouted abuse at the man. The warrior brought his mace crashing down on his last opponent. The entire battle was over in less than a minute. The vidscreens, which had shown the battle in every gory detail, turned to the announcer once again. “Well done to Hamish the Bloody, first warrior of Laird Angus!” he shouted, “Once again, he has proved that no man can defeat a warrior of the Angus Clan!” The crowd roared it’s approval. But the announcer was not finished. “But wait, for Hamish’s most challenging fight is to come tomorrow. For the champion of the Angus Clan is to face a Brit-Cit Judge! Yes folks, a genuine Brit-Cit Judge will face the greatest warrior in Cal-Hab tomorrow! But for now, on with the Games.” The face faded, to be replaced by the next contest in the Games. Various bloody fights and contests took place, each reviled by the two Cal-Hab Judges. After the Games were concluded, they left the stadium in disgust. They returned to the rooms, where Dredd and Buchan were waiting. They told them what was going on. “My God,” said Buchan, “That people could sink so low.” “Actually, I saw something very similar to this back home. There was a floating palace of sin that come to Mega City One. Gladiatorial games were part of the sickness that they offered the citizens. “What happened to it?” asked Connolly. “A plague was released by a East Meg agent and it was destroyed. “The point is,” said Jamieson, “Judge Green is going tae fight this monster the morn. This Hamish the Bloody looked like he wis fed oan steroids frae the day he wis born. He’ll tear him apart!” “Then we’ll have to get him out before they fight,” Dredd said firmly. The Laird of Angus walked into the director of the Games’ office, flanked by two large Militiamen. The director rose to his feet and adopted a respectful tone.

“It is indeed an honour to have you here my lord,” he said smarmily. “Enough,” the Laird said holding up a hand, “Just tell me how the ticket sales for tomorrow’s games went.” “We are sold out. Everyone is very eager to see the Brit-Cit Judge being ripped limb from limb. There is a lot of hate for the Brit-Cit, after all they have done to this land.” “Excellent! This shall be the greatest Games ever,” said Laird Angus. “Sir, are you not concerned that Brit-Cit will find out that you killed one of their Judges? You do have a lot of business connections with Brit-Cit.” “How will they find out?” Angus replied, “As long as we keep supplying the plastics to the Brit-Cit businesses, they never are bothered with what we do.” Later, the rescue team had made their plans and were getting into position. Because of the public nature of Judge Green’s rescue, they realised that they could not remain in Granite City after that, so the rescue of the other enslaved survivors had to be initiated at the same time. Dredd, Connolly and Buchan headed for Pittodrie while Judge Jamieson and Phoenix went to the factory that held the other slaves. Both were to begin the rescues at the stroke of midnight. “Ah still cannae believe that this Laird has done this tae people,” Judge Jamieson said to his robot comrade, as they hugged the shadows. “Humans are capable of such atrocities, but are also capable of great kindness,” replied the ABC Warrior, “Although up to now, I have seen precious little evidence of this.” They arrived at the factory. It belched smoke non-stop, using slave labour to keep the production of the much needed plastics flowing into Brit-Cit. The main doors were guarded by two sentries, fully armed in rifles not easily found in Cal-Hab. “Looks like the Laird keeps his people weel armed,” commented Jamieson, “Those rifles look like they came frae Euro-City.” “We have to take them out without drawing attention or we don’t have a chance of getting anyone out of there,” observed Phoenix. Jamieson stumbled out towards the sentries, feigning drunkenness, his face hidden by his chem-mask. The sentries stiffened as he came across to them. “Wha goes there?” they said abruptly. “Dinnae mind me,” Jamieson said, “Ah’m jist oan ma way tae the Games. Did ye hear that there’s a Brit-Cit Judge on the bill tomorrow? “Oan yer way!” one of the sentries ordered, “Naebody’s allowed aroond here at this time o’ nicht!” “Fair enough,” Jamieson said and staggered off. He fell over, apparently too drunk to go on. One of the sentries came over, and kicked him hard in the stomach. Suddenly, Jamieson swung round, sweeping his attacker off his feet. The sentry came crashing down on to his back, only to receive a swift fist to his jaw. The other sentry came running over to aid his comrade, and was knocked unconscious by a metal fist that came out of the shadows. Phoenix had not been inactive during Jamieson’s distraction. The two sentries were pulled into the shadows and the Judge and the wardroid quickly went up to the door. It was securely locked, but not so much as it could withstand the power of an ABC Warrior’s strength. Phoenix ripped the lock off its hinges and they went in. “Ye ken, yer handy tae have aroond,” said Jamieson, as he removed his chem-mask. “That’s what I was built for,” Phoenix answered. They looked at the signs overhead as they hurried down the corridor; it showed that the slave quarters were close to the main processing plant. After all, why have the slaves kept far from their work? As the

got closer, they could hear the noise of the machines getting louder and louder. “The factories in Granite City work 24 hoors a day,” Jamieson said, “It’s nae like slaves are allowed time aff.” “Where are the survivors of the Alpha Seven who were sold here?” asked the wardroid. “They are either in the servant’s quarters or in the processing plant. We’ll just have to check them both out.” “We had better hurry. The others will have begun the rescue of the Brit-Cit Judge by now…” The Laird of Angus walked into the director of the Games’ office, flanked by two large Militiamen. The director rose to his feet and adopted a respectful tone. “It is indeed an honour to have you here my lord,” he said smarmily. “Enough,” the Laird said holding up a hand, “Just tell me how the ticket sales for tomorrow’s games went.” “We are sold out. Everyone is very eager to see the Brit-Cit Judge being ripped limb from limb. There is a lot of hate for the Brit-Cit, after all they have done to this land.” “Excellent! This shall be the greatest Games ever,” said Laird Angus. “Sir, are you not concerned that Brit-Cit will find out that you killed one of their Judges? You do have a lot of business connections with Brit-Cit.” “How will they find out?” Angus replied, “As long as we keep supplying the plastics to the Brit-Cit businesses, they never are bothered with what we do.” Later, the rescue team had made their plans and were getting into position. Because of the public nature of Judge Green’s rescue, they realised that they could not remain in Granite City after that, so the rescue of the other enslaved survivors had to be initiated at the same time. Dredd, Connolly and Buchan headed for Pittodrie while Judge Jamieson and Phoenix went to the factory that held the other slaves. Both were to begin the rescues at the stroke of midnight. “Ah still cannae believe that this Laird has done this tae people,” Judge Jamieson said to his robot comrade, as they hugged the shadows. “Humans are capable of such atrocities, but are also capable of great kindness,” replied the ABC Warrior, “Although up to now, I have seen precious little evidence of this.” They arrived at the factory. It belched smoke non-stop, using slave labour to keep the production of the much needed plastics flowing into Brit-Cit. The main doors were guarded by two sentries, fully armed in rifles not easily found in Cal-Hab. “Looks like the Laird keeps his people weel armed,” commented Jamieson, “Those rifles look like they came frae Euro-City.” “We have to take them out without drawing attention or we don’t have a chance of getting anyone out of there,” observed Phoenix. Jamieson stumbled out towards the sentries, feigning drunkenness, his face hidden by his chem-mask. The sentries stiffened as he came across to them. “Wha goes there?” they said abruptly. “Dinnae mind me,” Jamieson said, “Ah’m jist oan ma way tae the Games. Did ye hear that there’s a Brit-Cit Judge on the bill tomorrow? “Oan yer way!” one of the sentries ordered, “Naebody’s allowed aroond here at this time o’ nicht!” “Fair enough,” Jamieson said and staggered off. He fell over, apparently too drunk to go on. One of the sentries came over, and kicked him hard in the stomach. Suddenly,

Jamieson swung round, sweeping his attacker off his feet. The sentry came crashing down on to his back, only to receive a swift fist to his jaw. The other sentry came running over to aid his comrade, and was knocked unconscious by a metal fist that came out of the shadows. Phoenix had not been inactive during Jamieson’s distraction. The two sentries were pulled into the shadows and the Judge and the wardroid quickly went up to the door. It was securely locked, but not so much as it could withstand the power of an ABC Warrior’s strength. Phoenix ripped the lock off its hinges and they went in. “Ye ken, yer handy tae have aroond,” said Jamieson, as he removed his chem-mask. “That’s what I was built for,” Phoenix answered. They looked at the signs overhead as they hurried down the corridor; it showed that the slave quarters were close to the main processing plant. After all, why have the slaves kept far from their work? As the got closer, they could hear the noise of the machines getting louder and louder. “The factories in Granite City work 24 hoors a day,” Jamieson said, “It’s nae like slaves are allowed time aff.” “Where are the survivors of the Alpha Seven who were sold here?” asked the wardroid. “They are either in the servant’s quarters or in the processing plant. We’ll just hae tae check them both oot.” “We had better hurry. The others will have begun the rescue of the Brit-Cit Judge by now…” At Pittordrie, the trio of Judges began their rescue. The fighters were kept in the highest of security, along with the new slaves who were being trained to fight and die in the Stadium. Getting to Judge Green would not be easy. Slipping inside the Stadium along with the audience for the late night Games was easy enough. Like so many others, they wore chem-masks and radcloaks. They blended in with those around them. They hid until the crowds left and the place closed down for the night. Moving stealthily along the corridors, they made their way to the fighters’ cells. A few guards were standing at the entrance of the fighters’ quarters. Judges Dredd and Connolly took them out silently, waving Buchan over to join them. All three went into the fighters’ quarters. It was like a scene out of Hell. The fodder, who were only there to die for the amusement of the crowds were caged together in one cell. Malnourished and stinking, they had the look of those who knew there time on Earth was about over. The stronger fighters had each their own cells, they were an assortment of muscle-bound warriors and skilled fighters. All of them were covered in a patchwork of scars, each a memento of a deadly battle fought. Of the favourite of the crowds, Hamish the Bloody, there was no sign. A few captives looked up when the Judges came in, but most didn’t. They were used to having curious onlookers paying the guards for a look at the gladiators. They knew that there was no respite for them, even out of the stadium. “Over here!” said Buchan, pointing to a figure resting in a cage. It was Judge Green. He was battered and looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness. Connolly turned to a man in a neighbouring cell. “Whit’s happened tae this man?” he asked the captive fighter. “Fit’s it tae ye!” spat the fighter, unwilling to be a further amusement to the onlookers. “Tell us, an’ mebye ye can win yer freedom,” Connolly answered, taking off his radcloak, “We’re here tae help.” “Ye look like the auld Cal-Hab Judges,” the fighter said, recognising the uniforms,

“Ah thoucht ye wir disbanded.” “Officially aye, but that’s nae tae say that some o’ us are nae still aroond. Noo whit happened tae the Brit-Cit Judge?” “They came fer him aboot an hoor ago. They beat him senseless wi’ electo-sticks. It’s happened before. He’s due to fecht wi’ Hamish the Bloody the morn. The stadium bosses want him tae get really ripped apart. By the time the battle starts, he’ll nae be able tae pit up much o’ a fecht.” “Well, thankfully he won’t be here tomorrow,” said Judge Buchan. She had already retrieved the keys to the cages from the unconscious guards, and now was opening the doors. The captives had mixed emotions, mostly suspicion, but some were happy. Dredd addressed them. “You were made to fight so scum could get pleasure in your suffering. We don’t agree with this. The ones responsible are long overdue for justice. But for now, we must get out of here. I won’t order you to come with us; the odds are not good for escape. All I offer you is the chance to fight as free men.” One by one the fighters stepped forward. Freedom for them was something they had long abandoned, but now, with Dredd’s words in their ears, they were ready to fight for it once again. The slaves that were to be killed in fodder matches eagerly stepped forward as well. They knew that this was their only chance. “We go now and we go together,” Dredd told them. He ordered a couple of the stronger men to assist Judge Green, and then moved off, leading them down to the corridors to freedom. Meanwhile, Judge Jamieson and Phoenix had made their way to the slaves’ quarters in the factory complex. Finding no one there, they concluded that they were still being worked in the processing plant nearby. The closer they got, the louder the noise of the factory became, until it was all Jamieson could do to stop him putting his hands up to the side of his helmet in a useless reflex. Phoenix of course could tone down his audio sensors to a more comfortable level, and so wasn’t as distracted. They came to the massive factory processing plant. In all the noise, smoke and heat they were not even noticed as they entered. Throughout the plant, hundreds of slaves toiled in the sweaty, dirty conditions, all working to produce the plastics the people of Brit-Cit and beyond used without a second thought. Massive conveyer-belts rolled endlessly throughout the complex, with slaves sorting, lifting and separating chunks of bio-plastics extracted from the Northern Sea. In another part of the plant, the plastics were boiled down in giant smelters and poured out into moulds. Great waves of heat rolled out over the dejected slaves, but under the overseers’ merciless gaze, none would complain. “Dante couldnae huv imagined a mair horrible scene,” said Jamieson. Seeing an unmanned computer terminal nearby, the pair went over to it. Phoenix managed to hook into the computer, which was at least as old as he was, and was able to get a readout on the whereabouts of the survivors. “Three of the survivors are in sector two, working on repairs. Looks like their scientific background hasn’t been completely ignored,” commented the ABC Warrior, as he removed his interface wire from the computer. “According tae the site map we looked at, that sector is next tae this ane. It shouldnae be too hard tae get there. Whit are the names o’ the survivors?” asked Jamieson. “Doctors Fisher, Asher and Samuels,” replied Phoenix. Aided by this information, they moved through the complex to sector two. Masking

their movements was easy, given the noise and foul smoke in the plant. They arrived in sector two without incident. “Up there,” pointed Phoenix to an upper gantry. Sure enough, a vicious looking overseer was harassing one of the survivors. Jamieson recognised her from the briefing he attended in Brit-Cit; it was Dr Fisher, Professor Rutherford’s most senior assistant. The overseer was obviously displeased with her work and was giving her a terrible time. She looked fearfully at the thug, her eyes fixed on the laser-whip he wore on his belt. She has obviously seen him use it before, and was terrified that she was next. Wasting no time, Jamieson and Phoenix hurried up the stairs to the gantry. Gone was the desire for stealth. “Ye stupid woman!” the brutish overseer barked, “D’ye ken how much that power circuit will cost tae replace?” Fisher cowered as the overseer’s hand went to his whip. “No…please! I am unfamiliar with this level of technology. Please, it wasn’t my fault!” she begged. “Ye slaves are always trying tae get oot o’ yer punishment!” the overseer said, taking out the whip, “Well, ye’ll pay, ye’ll pay.” He raised the whip high over the terrified woman, so all could see. “No, it’s ye who will pay!” shouted Jamieson, rushing over to the pair, sword in hand. “Whit..?” said the overseer, turning his head in surprise, “Fa are ye?” “Judge Jamieson, an’ ye will beat slaves nae mair!” replied Jamieson. The overseer cracked the laser-whip at the oncoming Judge, but it was skilfully avoided. Jamieson thrust forward with his claymore, running it into the side of the cruel overseer. Watching from below, the nearby slaves burst out into a cheer. One of their tormentors had found justice. “Ye…cannae dae this,” said the overseer, dropping the whip to clutch at his wound, “We’re nae daeing onything illegal here.” “Ye’re saying that kidnapping innocent people and selling them as slaves is legal!” exclaimed the Judge. The overseer nodded, and slid to the floor. “Well, yer Laird might say it’s legal, but it’s nae richt and it’s definitely nae justice!” answered Jamieson. He lifted the mortally wounded man up, enraged by the display of cruelty. The slaves below him bayed for blood. Judge Jamieson took a few steps over to the side of the gantry. Just below it was a huge open vat of boiling plastic. “If I wis like ye, I wid give ye tae the vat!” threatened the Judge to the overseer. Then, he dropped him to the ground, “But ah am a Judge, sworn tae dae ma duty and serve the people. Ye arenae worth it.” Turning away, he joined Phoenix, who was attending to Dr Fisher. “Dr Fisher, Judge Jamieson. We’re here tae get ye and yer people hame,” he told her, putting out his hand to help her up. The frightened scientist gratefully took his hand and was helped to her feet. They were both too distracted to see the wounded overseer get to his feet and draw a pistol from his jacket. With a shaking hand, he aimed at the Judge. “Watch out!” shouted Phoenix, and pushed the two humans aside. The overseer’s shot harmlessly ricocheted off the wardroid’s armoured breastplate. Phoenix raised his gun arm and returned fire. The overseer was blown over the gantry’s railing, and fell screaming straight into the boiling vat. Phoenix turned round to Jamieson and Fisher, who were getting to his feet. “He should have stayed down,” said Phoenix. “Weel, he’s doon noo,” replied Jamieson. The Judge turned to address the slaves.

“People, ye have worked here, enduring the hardships o’ this plant, an’ the cruelties o’ the overseers too lang alreedy! Come wi’ us and be free ance mair. Ye hae nothin’ tae loose but yer chains!” The slaves roared their approval and grabbed tools for weapons. They were not much, but they would be an army! Acting on Fisher’s information, and with a full-scale slave revolt in the background, Jamieson and Phoenix soon found the other two Brit-Cit scientists. It had looked like in their short time in the plant; the overseers had not spared the whip, obviously enjoying inflicting pain on Brit-Cit people. The revolt gathered a swift momentum, spreading to all sectors of the plant. Soon the entire complex was in chaos, with overseers being overwhelmed by enraged slaves, eager to pay them back for every cruelty inflicted upon them. For the overseers, they could not stand against the slaves. Their main way of keeping control over the vast number of slaves was the systematic threats and beatings that had been designed to break the slave’s spirits. But all it had done was make them more eager for revenge, when the catalyst came. It took one Judge and one wardroid to provide that catalyst. Seeing how things were going, the few remaining overseers fled for their lives, stopping only to raise the alarm and begin the shutdown procedure. The last surviving overseer left the main complex, and then great metal shutters began to slam down over every possible exit. Some desperate slaves tried to get out before they came down, only to be horribly crushed. With the last of them down, the slaves turned to Judge Jamieson for leadership. But before he could speak, a big vid-screen came to life. The face of the owner of the complex was displayed, looking over the slaves with a face full of hate and anger. “For those of you who don’t know me, I am Jefferson, your owner. You slaves have two minutes to drop your weapons and surrender. Don’t you realise that I own you all? You’re my property!” “Naebody owns onybody here!” shouted Judge Jamieson in reply. “Look around you slaves, and tell me what you see,” said Jefferson. All around them, panels opened, and gun barrels slid out, computer-guided gunsights homed in on their targets. “If I do not have your surrender in one minute, you are all dead, killed in a pointless revolt. Do you not see that service to me is far preferable to death?” Having said his piece, Jefferson’s face faded from the screen. The slaves started to panic, trying desperately to hide from the wall mounted machine guns. But there was no place to hide. “We’re runnin’ oot o’ time here,” said Jamieson to Phoenix, “Ony ideas?” The wardroid assessed the situation. “We cannot possible take out all the machine guns in time. Unless we disarm them, we’re looking at a mass slaughter.” “Then we disarm them, noo!” said Jamieson, pointing to a computer terminal. They hurried over to it, Phoenix taking out his access lead once again. He fitted himself into the computer and hurried to access the defence controls. They were heavily protected. Up above, the view-screen had begun to display a digital countdown, which was barely thirty seconds from zero. Asher, Samuels and Fisher came over and started offering help to Phoenix, who was having trouble getting into the disarm command protocols. The seconds ticked down. “Ye have killed us a’” accused a frantic slave to the Judge, “We were better aff as slaves. At least we wid still be alive!” “Were ye really?” said Jamieson calmly, “Working in this Hell hole, beaten, underfed, tormented until ye couldnae work ony mair? Is that being alive?” The slave looked

down, ashamed. The countdown reached ten seconds. The view-screen showed Jefferson once again. “Last chance to surrender, slaves,” he told them. With so little time left, the slaves had abandoned their initial panic and now stood in silence, until one spoke. “Ye may kill us a’, but we are slaves nae mair!” he said to his former owner, “We die in freedom!” “Fools! Die then; I’ll only buy more slaves to take your places. Your deaths will be a good example to them!” The remaining seconds counted down, the former slaves accepting their fate with dignity now. They might die, but they still had beaten their former owner. For they had refused to give in to the hold he thought he had over them. Five, four, three…then nothing. “What?” said Jefferson, expecting an explosion of withering gunfire. Instead, the gun barrels dropped, completely inactive. From the terminal, the three scientists shouted in triumph; Phoenix had done it! He had disarmed the defences! In a couple of moments, he activated the shutters, which rose to open the way to freedom. On the view-screen, Jefferson’s face was a picture of fury. “Stop! You can’t do this! I own you all! You…” his outburst was cut short by Judge Jamieson, who had picked up a spanner and hurled it at the screen. It smashed with a very satisfying burst of sparks and glass! “Richt!” he shouted, “Let’s join up wi’ Dredd and the ithers. “We’re free!” Dredd, Connolly and Buchan led the gladiators down the corridors out of Pittordrie to freedom. As they left the Stadium, they saw a large force of Clansmen waiting, all heavily armed. They wore the tartan of the Angus Clan. Standing at the head of the force, Laird Angus himself stood. “Stand where ye are!” barked the Laird, “Ye are not gaing anywhaur wi’ ma slaves!” “Not a chance!” returned Dredd, “You have used humans beings for your own sick amusement, and compounded your crimes by kidnapping innocent people. You made a serious mistake thinking you could get away with using a Judge for your Games. Stand aside perp!” The Laird laughed derisively. “D’ye think that that Judge wis the first we ever had here? Fool! Here, ah am the law!” Laird Angus turned to his men. “Ah think this Yank needs tae find oot jist who is in charge o’ Granite City! Hamish! Come forward!” The Clansmen parted their ranks, and allowed the massive Hamish the Bloody through. He turned to his Laird and nodded in respect. “Kill the Mega-City Judge!” he ordered Hamish, turning to a lieutenant. “Get the vidcameras. We can make big money wi’ this!” The massive warrior closed in, holding a cruel looking battleaxe. Dredd watched impassively as he approached. Connolly came over. “Ye cannae be thinkin’ o’ takin’ on that monster,” Connolly said, “Ye havnae seen whit he can dae! He practically tore apart those puir folk that wis pit in wi’ him.” Dredd turned to face his comrades. “I understand that, and under normal circumstances, I would just put a bullet in him and have done with it. But look around. We have others to think about, and we need to settle this with as little bloodshed as possible.” “You might nae be wantin’ bloodshed, but we’ve got a lot o’ hate tae work oot on that scum!” one of the gladiators said, “They made us fecht each ither fer their profits an’ tae entertain the crowds! Ah want vengeance!”

“You want vengeance?” Dredd said, “Then you won’t get it. We’re Judges. We serve justice, not revenge. I’m handling this in my own way.” Dredd strode out to meet Hamish the Bloody, daystick in hand Against Hamish’s battleaxe, the Judge’s weapon seemed unworthy, but Dredd had been trained in it’s use since the time he was a cadet, and to him, it was more than a match for the Clansman’s axe. “Ma Laird wants ye deid,” the massive warrior said to the Mega-City Judge, “And ah always dae whit he tells me.” “More fool you creep,” answered Dredd. The battle was met with both the Angus clansmen and the Judges and former slaves watching how it played out. A vidlink meant that the fight was being transmitted live to all the homes in Granite City. The Laird wanted the Judge’s death to be seen by all. Hamish, for all his bulk, moved like a man half his size. Fast and agile, he swung his axe as if it was nothing. Dredd dodged the first attack easily, a lifetime of fighting ingrained on him. He countered his opponent with a swift swing of his daystick, which made contact with the Clansman’s ribs. Hamish barely flinched. “Ah’ll be damned!” exclaimed Connolly, “It looked like he didnae feel the blow!” Hamish swung again, and sliced through Dredd’s shoulder pad, the razor sharp blade going through the toughened material like a laz-knife through synthi-butter. Thankfully, Dredd was unharmed. The fight raged on, with the huge Clansman raining blow upon blow on Dredd. But for every move the warrior had, Dredd had a counter measure. But Hamish the Bloody seemed unstoppable; every attack that landed on him, was shrugged off in seconds. Over the course of the battle, it was Dredd that fared the worst. A blow cracked one of Dredd’s ribs. Another broke one of his arms. Dredd dropped down and swung his leg around, knocking Hamish off his feet. The huge warrior came crashing down onto the ground and had no time to move before Dredd brought his daystick across his face. The impact made a loud crack, and sent a splash of blood up. Dredd got up and looked down at his opponent. The damage was messy, but at least it was over. Dredd faced the stunned Angus Clansmen, their leader silent. “I’ve beaten your champion, Angus,” he shouted to the Laird, “We are leaving, now!” “Ah dinnae think so, Yank,” smiled the Laid. Buchan called out a warning to Dredd, as the wounded Hamish got to his feet once again. One of his eyes was completely obscured by the wound, but it didn’t seem to register with him. He hadn’t picked up his axe, but charged the Mega-City lawman, arms in front of him. He looked like he was going to tear him apart with his bare hands. Dredd, realising that there was no other way, drew his bootknife and, sidestepping the charging warrior, he plunged the knife into his side. There was a gasp of shock from the Clansmen, as they saw their champion stagger, the knife hilt lodge deep in his body. Hamish stopped in his tracks and looked around, seeing Dredd standing at the ready. He slowly pulled out the knife and advanced on his opponent once again. “Whit does it tak tae put him doon?” said Connolly. Hamish lunged at Dredd, with a speed that defied his appearance. His vicelike fingers closed around the Judge’s throat and squeezed in a deathgrip. Buchan drew her weapon and aimed it at Dredd’s opponent. Connolly brought his hand on it before she could fire. “Dinnae dae it, Buchan; he’ll nae thank ye fer interferin’,” he advised. “But he’ll be killed!” she said to her comrade. “Ah widnae coont oot the man jist yet,” Connolly returned.

From beside the two Judges, the gladiators began to shout their encouragement to the stricken Mega City Judge. “Come oan! Ye can tak him!” one shouted. “Dinnae gie up!” another yelled. Dredd’s vision was starting to blur as the relentless pressure the warrior was exerting began to bite deep. He knew he had only seconds left before the end. He worked his hand free and drove the base of his hand at the wounded area of his opponent’s face. He expected a cry of pain from Hamish following the blow, but got something far more disturbing. Dredd’s blow did achieve its effect; Hamish momentarily released the pressure from his attack. Dredd took the opportunity to free himself, and grabbing his daystick, he quickly got to his feet to face the warrior once again. Hamish the Bloody got to his own feet, a blood-soaked hand holding on to his wounded face. He turned to face his opponent, and moved his hand away. A gasp sounded from all the onlookers, as they saw his face. From the wounded side, in place of Hamish’s eye, a bright red light shone. Showing no pain, only a little disorientation, the warrior stood there, unclear of what to do next. “Ma God!” exclaimed Connolly, “He’s a machine!” As the realisation dawned on the onlookers, the gladiators erupted in rage. “A’ this time, we were fechting fir oor lives in the Stadium, and we never had a chance! Ye set a machine against us Angus! Ye huv nae honour at a’!” The Laird’s clansmen were stunned by this turn of events. They looked at one another. All this time, they had cheered on their champion, earnestly believing that he was one of them - a clansman who fought for the honour of the Angus Clan. This betrayal was hard upon them. They were divided between loyalty to their Laird and a sense of betrayal for their way of life. The Laird of Angus broke his silence. “Hamish, kill the Judge. Do it noo!” said the Laird. It sounded empty. The mechanical champion turned his attention on to Dredd once more, but in light of recent events, the Mega City Judge was disinclined to play the game by the Laird’s rules. He drew his lawgiver and aimed at the approaching warrior. Then he aimed high and fired at his true target – a lamplight that was hanging overhead. His shot hit the light and it came crashing down in a shower of sparks, plastiglass and metal. One of the live wires hit Hamish and made contact. The champion of the Angus Clan was instantly electrocuted in a blaze of electric current. In seconds, he crashed to the ground, his red eye fading to black. “You put men against a machine, Angus,” declared Dredd, “And I’m betting you didn’t let any of your people into that little secret. I beat your champion, and now I’m leaving with all these people. Try to stop me, and I swear by Grud you’ll regret it!” With that Dredd started to walk forward. His two fellow Judges, and then the gladiators and the slaves followed him. When they reached the ranks of the Angus Clansmen, they were silently let through. Most didn’t even raise their heads to meet the eyes of those that had been their slaves. The Laird was livid, but stood vainly, unable to stop them. At the pre-arranged meeting point, Dredd and his team met up with Judge Jamieson and Phoenix, along with many freed slaves. “Ma God, Dredd! Whit happened tae ye?” exclaimed Jamieson. “The Laird was…unwilling to let these people go,” answered the Mega City Lawman. “Ah’m happy tae be oot o’ the Stadium, but how are we get oot o’ Granite City?” asked a slave, “The walls are too high to climb. The Laird and the ithers fa run the

city will send a force tae get us back, ye can rely oan that.” “An exit will be provided,” said Dredd, activating his helmet-comm, “Dredd to Judge Wilberforce. Now.” Drawing the people away from the wall, the Judges waited for the response. Outside Granite City, hidden in the murky gloom of the polluted countryside, the Flak-Mac surged forward. Inside, Judge Wilberforce drove straight towards the walls that surrounded the city, while Judge Bader manned the weapons controls. At exactly the right moment, he fired a devastating missile salvo at a pre-arranged point at the wall. An entire section of the wall was reduced to rubble in seconds. Following the blast, the tank surged forward, going right up to the breach. Dredd ordered the people forward. “Get the wounded and the sick into the tank,” he shouted, “The rest of them will have to keep up. Hopefully the Laird will be too concerned with his city to come after us for a while. We need to get us much distance between us and Granite City as possible.” In a short while, the Flak-Mac started off to the west, followed by the Judges riding their Lawmasters and several dozen freed slaves. Back in Granite City, the Laird watched them leave. “Ye may have got oot of Granite City, but ye’ll nae get far!” Angrily turning to one of his lieutenants, he barked an order at him. “Raise the Clan! I want them a’ here by the morn. We’ll slaughter that Yank Judge and every last one of those slaves!”

Chapter Nine The choking pollution of Granite City was left behind as the tank and its convoy moved on. Apart from the Flak-Mac and the Lawmasters, they had been able to liberate a few other vehicles that were filled with the former slaves. They were not moving very fast, but at least they were not at walking pace. “Nae qualms aboot takin’ those vehicles?” asked Jamieson to Dredd. Dredd was wearing a speed-heal cast on his broken arm, but still was in complete control of his Lawmaster. “Those slaves worked for those vehicles, some of them for years. I see it as back payment. If the Laird wants to bill me for them, he can come to me for his money.” Judge Jamieson smiled, but then his expression changed. “Ye ken he will come efter us. He has been publicly humiliated. He cannae keep control as Laird wi’ such dishonour o’er him.” “He sets himself up as a Laird over these people, takes slaves and works them like animals, and has men fight a machine for the amusement of the masses, and you say that he needs to reclaim his honour?” Dredd answered. “Ah’m nae sayin’ ah agree wi’ it, ah’m jist tellin’ ye that he sees it that way. He will be efter us fir his revenge. Count oan it.” “We cannot abandon these people, and this is as fast as we can go. If we can reach the city of Ness, we would be out of his range, but we both know that the Laird will catch up to us long before that. We have little weaponry, so we can’t arm these people. Do you have a suggestion Judge Jamieson?” The Cal-Hab Judge looked at his Mega City counterpart. “Aye,” he told him, “Ah dae. This hale area used tae be ma auld patrol route. I used tae ken this land weel. I think ah can get some help, but ah huv tae go alone.” Dredd considered this carefully. If the Laird attacked, then they would need the Cal-Hab Judge and the Lawmaster he had borrowed from Judge Wilberforce. But if he could get help…” “Very well, you’ve got two days. Then you get back to us. Understood?” Jamieson nodded and gunned his bike. In moments, he left the convoy behind and was speeding away. Inside the Flak-Mac, Judge Wilberforce was in the med bay with the patients. Judge Buchan had come aboard as well, and they both were busy. “How’s Judge Green doing?” Buchan asked the pilot. “I’m no doctor but according to the med computer, he should be fine. I would be happier if he woke up. He hasn’t regained consciousness since he was brought aboard,” answered the Brit-Cit Judge. “Doctor Fisher has been asking for him. Apparently, he was leading the survivors for most of their journey,” said Buchan. “How are the other survivors doing since their release?” Wilberforce asked. “They’ve been through a lot, but now they are free they are in better spirits. They are very happy to know Judge Bader is with us. They were terribly saddened when he was left behind in Kirkcaldy.” “It’s just lucky we got to him when we did,” Wilberforce answered, “Otherwise those organleggers would have…” “Yes,” said Buchan, taking the conversation, “We stopped them.” Judge Jamieson rode along the roads of the old north-eastern roadway. For him, it was

like his old life, when he was assigned as a Judge to the Moray sector. Those were good days for him, remembered fondly. The Judges were on good terms with the citizens there at that time. They were seen as friends, protectors. Not as aggressors, as in other areas. It was here that he had met Eilsa, his wife. They had planned to start a family, but the madness that overtook all Cal-Hab put paid to that dream. Now the roadway was cracked and in poor repair. Jamieson was alone as he rode. Soon, the roadway gave way to smaller country roads. He was far from the industry and pollution of Granite City. The trees were dark and scraggly, but at least they were alive. He journeyed on, intent on finding his quarry. It had been a long time, and things were not exactly as he remembered them. Perhaps he was on a fool’s errand. He remembered the former slaves in the Judges’ care, and put aside such thoughts. He had to succeed. Dredd came aboard the Flak-Mac to get an update. Wilberforce was now driving, giving Bader time to rest. The pilot Judge would have been happy to continue driving the tank, but Wilberforce had insisted. Dredd entered the cabin. “How are we doing?” he asked her. “The fuel cells are holding up well, especially given all the extra weight we just took on. We have plenty of ammunition, apart from that barrage we put into the Granite City wall, we haven’t been relying on our armaments much since we left Kirkcaldy. It’s the food I’m more concerned about. The mission didn’t envision taking on more people than the crew and passengers of the Alpha Seven. We don’t have enough rations to feed all the people of the convoy for more than a few days. After that, we are in trouble.” “It couldn’t be helped,” Dredd replied, “We couldn’t have left all those people behind. The Law doesn’t condone slavery.” “Granted,” agreed Wilberforce, “I wonder if the citizens of Brit-Cit would be as happy as they are now to use plastics from Granite City if they knew how they were made?” “The cits don’t know, but the Brit-Cit companies probably do, at least unofficially. It’s amazing what some people can turn a blind eye to if the profit margins are high enough. Well, if there are any Mega-City companies dealing with Laird Angus, I can at least put a stop to that when I get home.” The convoy stopped so that the people could have a quick meal. Dredd allowed only fifteen minutes, mindful of possible pursuit. Sentries were posted. Judge Connolly went over to an old school bus. To his surprise, it was full of children. He looked supremely uncomfortable. A nun came over to him. “Are you surprised that children were used as slave labour, Judge?” she asked him, “Surely you know the long history of child labour in factories? They eat less than adults and are able to get into smaller areas to work.” “Whaur did they a’ come frae?” asked the shocked Cal-Hab Judge. “There was an orphanage that my order ran for many years. When Laird Angus took over this region, he assured us that there was nothing to fear. We believed him. His men came in the night. We were all taken to Granite City and sold as slaves. Most of my sisters died there. I think only determination to duty to my little charges kept me going. You can’t understand how grateful we all are to you Judges. Come, the children want to thank you themselves.” The Judge balked and took a step back. “Thank ye a’ the same, but ah huv work tae dae. Goodbye.” He hurried off. The nun couldn’t understand Connolly’s reluctance.

She didn’t know about Glascal. Judge Jamieson came to a deserted village. The empty houses of this ghost town were in poor condition. This place had been abandoned a long time ago. He dismounted and looked around. The village lay next to a river and surrounded by wooded hills. Looking around for signs of life, he failed to notice that he was being watched. He tried some doors, only to find empty rooms. The figure came up slowly, every movement silent. Just at the last second, Jamieson spun round and struck his would-be attacker on the jaw. His assailant fell back hard onto the broken pavement. Looking down, a smile came on to the Judge’s face. “Hello brother. Jist like auld times, eh?” “Fit did’ye dae that fir?” said the fallen man, angered. “Weel, ye should ken better than tae try tae sneak up on a Judge. Ye’ve only yersel’ tae blame.” “Ah didnae ken it wis ye,” he answered, “Ye’re wearing yer helmet, and ah’ve nae seen ye in years, man! Whit are ye daeing here onyway?” “Ah wis lookin’ fer ye actually, I hoped that ye were still in the area. Come oan, Kevin and ah’ll tell ye a’ aboot it…” Back in Granite City, Laird Angus was in his office, growing more and more impatient. One of his retainers came in. “Are the Clansmen ready to move oot?” he asked him. “The Clan has been raised, but many of them are unwilling to march with you. Word of Hamish the Bloody has spread. Many are upset about the way this was handled,” answered his retainer. The Laird’s eyes flashed angrily. “Wha are they tae speak aboot me in such a manner. They will march an’ they will fecht tae my orders. Ah am their Laird! Onyone that disnae fecht will be declared a traitor tae the Clan and selt intae slavery! Tell them that! We leave in one hoor.” The frightened retainer left, sure that most of the Clan would follow the Laird. Honour or no honour, they wouldn’t go against him again. “So ye’ve goat yersel intae a richt mess,” said Kev Jamieson to his brother, “An’ jist whit de’ye think ah can dae aboot it?” “Come oan, brother, did ye think ah didnae ken aboot yer connections tae the Clan? Ah’ve kent fir years. As long as ye didnae onything too bad, ah wis willin’ to let it be. But ah ken that they used to work in this area. Ah ken ye can get in contact wi’ them.” His brother was genuinely surprised. “Ye kent all this time, an’ ye didnae bring me in?” “Ah may huv no agreed wi’ their methods, but ah hud some sympathy wi’ their desire to free us frae Brit-Cit interference. It wis jist, ah wis sworn tae uphold the law, and fir me, that didn’t allow me to say onything tae ye aboot it.” “Well, ah’ll be damned. Ah always thoucht ye were a by-the-book Judge. Looks like ah goat it wrang, eh? Alricht. Ah’ll tak ye tae them. Let’s go see the Sons o’ Wallace.” The convoy continued on, determined to bring the freed slaves out of the reach of the corrupt Laird Angus. But going as fast as they could, they knew that sooner or later, the Angus clansmen would catch up with them. Surveying the terrain ahead, Dredd rode over to Judge Buchan. “I hoped to get to Ness before Angus reached us, but that looks more and more

unlikely. We need to get into a more defensible position. Have you any suggestions? The female Judge shook her head. “I don’t know this area as well as Judge Jamieson. It would be better if you asked him.” “He has still not returned. I don’t know when he is getting back. He was vague to say the least about this. We will have to plan our defence on the assumption that he is not coming back. We need to get weapons to anyone who is capable of fighting, and get them set out so they can do the most damage against the Angus clansmen who are sure to get here. But we also need terrain to hide those that can’t fight, a forest, or hilly area.” Buchan tapped out a map on to her bike’s computer. “There is a large field ahead, along this roadway. There is a forested area to the west of this. We can make our stand there.” Dredd looked at the map. “Culloden Moor? Very well. That is where we shall fight. Spread the word to the rest of the convoy…” The Cal-Hab Judge and his brother arrived in a glade deep in a rad-forest. They were met by sentries and taken at sword-point to the leaders of the Sons of Wallace. Many of the people gathered in the glade were clansmen, wearing a distinct tartan, while others were wearing nondescript clothing. Kevin nodded respectfully to the two men at the centre of the group. “Ah bid ye greetin’s, Chief William and Lord Andrew. I bring ma brother, Judge Richard Jamieson. He comes here tae ask yer help.” The two leaders regarded Judge Jamieson closely. They were very different people. While Chief William wore chain mail and had his face painted in woad, Lord Andrew wore more traditional tartan clothing. Lord Andrew spoke to the Cal-Hab Judge in a familiar tone.” “Aye, ah recognise ye, Judge Jamieson. Ye were a frequent visitor tae ma hoose in yer youth. But that wis a long time ago.” “Lord Andrew Moray, is it truly ye?” asked the Judge, “It has been such a long while since ah huv seen ye, ah can hardly believe ye tae be the same man.” The old man looked at him sadly. “The years huv nae been guid tae me, or ma people. When the madness came tae Cal-Hab and the new order of Lairds swept the land in the aftermath o’ Brit-Cit cutting their ties, ma position of Lord o’ Moray was pushed aside in favour of the Laird o’ Angus. That scoundrel! He treats the people o’ the land like little mair than his ane property. When ah challenged him o’er this, ah wis declared a traitor and outlawed. Ah came tae the Sons O’ Wallace with a’ the folk still loyal tae me.” “And now he is one of our most respected leaders,” said Chief William, “For he stands with us all, against the tyranny of those Lairds that still bend their knee to a Brit-Cit overlord. Just as you do, Judge.” “Ah dinnae stand fer Brit-Cit ony mair than ye dae!” the Judge answered angrily, “I uphold the law, and protect the innocent. Ah am nae Brit-Cit lapdug!” “You travel with Brit-Cit Judges, do you not?” asked Chief William. “Aye, and a Yank Judge as weel, oan a rescue mission. But ah am a son of Cal-Hab jist the same as the rest o’ ye. Ah came here because we need yer help against Laird Angus. When we were in Granite City, we rescued many people that scunner wis using as slaves. We are trying tae get to the city of Ness, whaur we believe they will be safe, but the Laird is hot oan oor trail and will catch up wi’ us lang before we get there. If ye truly honour the folk o’ Cal-Hab an’ ye fecht fir a just cause, ye will help us noo.”

The two leaders looked at other. Lord Andrew was inclined to believe him, and the recommendation from the Judge’s brother swayed Chief William. At last, they both nodded their heads in agreement and spoke to the gathered warriors. “Guid folk, we huv a mission tae complete!” Lord Andrew said, “William and I will lead the Sons O’ Wallace tae help the escaping slaves reach Ness. Gather the warriors, we march in an hoor!” The convoy had stopped and Judges Dredd, Connolly and Buchan went to scout out the moor and its surroundings. Their Lawmasters rode over the terrain easily. They were about halfway across the field, when Dredd noticed something in the distance. “Look,” he said, pointing to a building, “There is a structure over there. Maybe we can…” He was interrupted by a sudden strange sensation on the back of his neck. Looking to the two other Judges, he saw them rubbing their necks also. It was akin to a sudden static charge travelling down the spine. Dredd looked around, his bionic eyes searching for a possible cause. “What the Drokk..?” he said. Suddenly the entire field erupted into life! Across one side of the field their appeared a entire army of tartan-clad warriors, all shouting battle cries and waving their swords. From behind them, ancient cannons began to fire across the field. The Judges stopped in their tracks and took cover. But even as they hit the ground and drew their weapons, they knew something was wrong. The cannonballs seemed to disappear as they flew across the field. “Whit the Hell’s gain’ oan?” exclaimed Connolly, looking at the army. The warriors began to take cannonballs coming in from the other direction, although there seemed to be no enemy to fire them on the other field. Then, the screaming warriors began to charge, some drawing hand held muskets and firing them in the Judge’s direction. Realisation began to dawn on Judge Buchan, and she stood up, holstering her weapon. “Don’t worry, we are in no danger,” she assured her comrades, “Those aren’t real soldiers.” “Whit are ye saying?” asked Judge Connolly uncertainly. “It’s all an illusion. Don’t you know where we are? This is Culloden Amusement Park.” The tartan-clad warriors had reached the trio of Judges, and screaming and shouting, they passed right through them. “Holograms?” asked Dredd. “Right,” confirmed Buchan, “It’s a holographic re-enactment of the Battle of Culloden, put on by an amusement company years ago. There must still be some holographic projectors around the field, although the ones on the Hanoverian side don’t seem to be working anymore.” “You mean that an amusement company put up holograms on the site of a battlefield to pull in tourists?” asked Dredd, “That’s sick.” “This was years ago,” explained Buchan, “Pre-Atomic War. I only remembered about it because I have been filing archives these past few years in Brit-Cit and one of those files was an old brochure for this place. That building over there is probably the visitor centre, where all the generators would be.” The holographic army flickered and disappeared, leaving the Judges alone on the field once again. “The equipment’s probably faulty, what with being left unattended all these years. No wonder the battle re-enactment programme is so fragmented.”

“It does however, give me an idea,” said Dredd, “Come on, let’s get the convoy over here…” Later that night, Dredd had assembled the convoy on the far side of the field, next to the forest. In the dead of the night, the people of the convoy saw a armed force marching out of the forest to meet them. It was led by Judge Jamieson. “So, you found your help then?” said Dredd. “Aye, they will fecht the Laird an’ help us get the former slaves tae Ness,” answered Jamieson. He looked around, “Ah admit, when ye contacted me oan the helmet-comm, ah didnae think ye were serious. Ye want us tae stand an’ fecht here?!” “Yes, we both know that Angus will not let us to get to Ness. If we are to stand a chance, we have to fight him on our own terms. We have our best chance here.” “But this is Culloden Moor!” said Jamieson, “It’s alreedy been a battlefield. It’s nae very guid askin’ us tae fecht here, especially efter whit happened the last time. It wis a massacre!” “It would be a massacre if we were caught on the roadway when the Laird and his army catches up with us,” answered Dredd, “We fight here. With your reinforcements, and the former slaves who are willing to fight, we will make our stand. We will teach that creep that there is still Law in Cal-Hab.” The two Judges were interrupted in their discussion by the arrival of Judge Connolly. He did not look pleased. “The Laird’s army his been spotted!” he told them both, “They will be here within a few minutes!” “Any further argument is irrelevant now,” said the Mega City Lawman, standing up, “Get everyone ready. Have the Flak-Mac prepared for battle and get the non-combatants to the safety of the trees. This is it!” The night was just coming to a close as the Laird’s forces assembled at the opposite end of the battlefield. He had brought out much of his arsenal and most of his mercenary force along with his Clansmen. Much of the weaponry came straight from the arms dealers of Euro-Cit and South Am City. The majority of the Clansmen, however, held nothing more than swords and shields. On the Judge’s side, there stood half-starved factory slaves, battle hardened gladiators, displaced Clansmen, freedom fighters, five Judges and one ABC Warrior. Dredd looked over his army. His mind went back to previous battles – the Civil War, the Robot Rebellion, Judge Caligula, The Apocalypse War, The City of The Damned, Necropolis – the list seemed unending. In all those battles, Dredd had faced overwhelming odds, and still fought and won the victory. Looking over the desolate field, to the Angus Clansmen and their weaponry, he resolved to fight with the same determination. Looking up from his Lawmaster, he saw the woad-wearing leader of the freedom fighters coming riding across the front line. “For those of you who don’t know, I am Chief William Gibson, the leader of the Sons of Wallace. In the name of freedom we have come here to face those that would swear allegiance to Brit-Cit, to oppression and to tyranny! Fight and you may die, run, and you'll live...at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade all of that from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take away our lives, but they'll never take our freeeedoooomm!” As a great cheer went up from the Sons of Wallace and many of the former slaves, Dredd shook his head. “Good Grud,” he said to himself.

“Are these fellows for real?” asked Pilot Judge Bader over Dredd’s helmet-comm, “Don’t they realise that there are several Brit-Cit Judges fighting on their side here?” “Just like the first battle fought here, it is never as clear cut as it may seem,” answered Dredd. “Do you think Judge Wilberforce will be able to get the generators working in time?” Bader asked. “She has the best chance of doing it. While she is busy, it is up to you and the Brit-Cit scientists to give us as much support as the tank can provide. The Flak-Mac is our best weapon right now, use it to its best advantage.” “Roger. See you later.” As Dredd’s mike retracted back into his helmet, he saw Phoenix come over. “What’s your assessment of the situation, robot?” Dredd asked. “Given the weaponry and the numbers the enemy have against us, we are severely disadvantaged. My battle simulator has us all dead within twenty minutes,” Phoenix reported. “I’ve faced worse odds. Let’s just see if we can prove your simulator wrong.” The wardroid’s eyes flashed red. “I never listen to the damn thing anyway. If I did, I would be junk years ago. I’ll show them how we used to fight in the old days!” With that, he went off to get into position. Dredd watched him go. Despite himself, he was not altogether unhappy about this robotic ally in this coming battle. Readying himself, he gunned his Lawmaster and rode up to the front of the battle lines. He picked up his Lawmaster’s speaker mike and spoke into it. His gravelly voice resounded across the battlefield. “This is Judge Dredd of Mega City One. Let it be known that the freed slaves of Granite City are under my protection. Any act of violence against them will be met with deadly force. Leave this field now, and avoid a bloodbath. This is your only warning!” Some of the Angus clansmen arrayed on the other side of the field shifted about nervously, unsure of themselves. The events of the past few days still ringing in their minds. But the Laird had made sure that overseers and men expressly loyal to himself were placed among the rabble. They had orders to shoot anyone who looked like they would not fight. Further back, the Laird’s mercenaries stood impassively in the face of Dredd’s words. They couldn’t care less about the morality of the battle that they faced; the Laird paid them well for their skills and their weapons, that is all they cared about. And at the back of the Angus battle lines, out of danger, was the Laird himself. Surrounded by retainers and a squad of personal bodyguards, he sat in his hovertruck and moved his hand to his own microphone. “This is Laird Angus to Marshall Wade. Begin the attack! Make them pay!” The war-wagons that were under the Laird’s command, erupted as they fired the opening salvo at the forces under Dredd. Men screamed as they were blown apart by the withering gunfire. Dredd responded immediately. “All weapons, open fire! Pay them back for every life they take!” Even with one of his arms in a speed-heal cast, Dredd was able to ride his Lawmaster effortlessly. His bike cannons began to rapid fire into the front ranks of the Angus’ army, sending many of the enemy to their deaths. All across the front line, the other Judges began their defence of the slaves with their Lawmasters’ weapons blazing. Phoenix stood at the left hand side of the battlefield. He raised his gun arm, and taking careful aim, he added his own firepower to that of the defenders. Prioritising his targets, he took out a war-wagon in seconds, his concentrated fire being more than a

match for its armour. It’s explosion created a death zone all around it, leaving many more dead. And then the Flak-Mac opened fire. Inside, Pilot-Judge Bader gunned the engine forward, using all his skill to avoid his allies outside while he drove forward. At the weapon control station sat Dr Fisher, completely out of her element, but determined to help those that had shared her recent fate of being a slave. The tank fired its first salvo of rockets, which streaked high above the heads of the defenders, and impacted heavily into the ranks of the Angus army. The noise and carnage that followed was excruciating. Fisher turned her head away at the destruction she had wrought. “They have given us no choice, Doctor,” the pilot assured her, “They were pressing for this battle, not us!” “All the same,” she replied, “It is hard for me to be part of this. I’ve never killed anyone before in my life, and now look at me.” “Think of the people we are protecting, keep your mind on that and we will get through this.” On the opposing side, Marshall Wade surveyed how the battle was progressing. Not a Cal-Habber himself, Wade was initially a mercenary. He had come to Cal-Hab in the wake of the Brit-Cit pullout and had offered his services to Laird Angus. His ability to command, as well as his utter ruthlessness, had impressed Angus so much that he had shortly after appointed him the Angus Clan supreme commander. In all that time, he had never failed his Laird. In the face of Dredd’s forces, he was not prepared to fail now. “Major, concentrate the war-wagons’ fire on the enemy’s most devastating weaponry – the tank and the Lawmasters. Take them out and the rest of that pathetic army is ours to massacre at our leisure.” The Major hurried off to relay the Marshall’s orders. Within seconds, the tank and the Judges on their bikes became prime targets, with much more fire directed at them. The Flak-Mac was buffeted by explosion following explosion. Inside, Judge Green staggered into the control room, barely able to stand. “What the bloody Hell’s going on here!” the Brit-Cit Judge declared. “My dear chap!” said Bader happily, “You picked a most opportune time to regain consciousness. We are in a bit of a pickle at present and are under quite a lot of fire. “Do you think you are strong enough to take over here?” Dr Fisher pleaded, her face quite pale. Judge Green took only a moment to take in what was going on before nodding in agreement. The grateful doctor relinquished her seat and allowed Green to take over the weapons. The Brit-Cit Judge grimly assessed the situation. “Just tell me where the enemy is…” Judge Jamieson was centred with the Sons of Wallace and the forces of Lord Andrew. They stood bravely under the hail of fire, not giving the enemy the satisfaction of seeing them showing fear. The Judge’s bike cannon was supported by many rifles that tore into the ranks of the Angus army. Judge Buchan was at the northern end of the battlefield, along with Judge Connolly. As they fought, Buchan noticed a force of people moving into the rad-forest. She quickly told her comrade. “Aye, ye’re richt!” Connolly said, “It looks like some o’ the Laird’s men are trying tae get intae the forest whaur we pit those that cannae fecht. We cannae leave those people tae die! Ah’ll go in efter them. Stay here and hold the line!” With that, the Judge tore off into the forest.

Marshall Wade saw how the battle was going and made his decision. The tank was creating far too many casualties, and the Judges on the Lawmasters were not going down either. There was only one way to win this battle now. “Give the order to charge the enemy lines!” Wade demanded, “The enemy’s tank will be useless in close quarter combat, and we can finally use our superior numbers to overwhelm them all!” The order was given through the ranks of the army. As one great wave of humanity, they began to charge the battlefield of Culloden Moor! “Here they come!” shouted Dredd, “We have to break that charge! Judges, forward!” Dredd’s Lawmaster surged forward, his turbo boost sending him rocketing towards the oncoming enemy. In response, the other Judges shot forward as well, their bike cannons blazing leaden death at the ranks of the Angus army. “Come oan, ma bonny laddies!” exclaimed the deposed Lord of Moray sitting astride his horse, “Let’s show the Yank that we’re nae sae feart as tae gie him the lion’s share o’ the fecht!” With that, he spurred on his mount forward, quickly followed by Chief Gibson and all those on horseback. The two forces thundered across the field of battle, their warcries almost drowning out the noise of their approach. The forces of Angus and the defenders came together in an almighty clash that shook the entire field. Guns blazed and swords clanged together. The initial Angus charge was splintered. It had failed to break the defenders. The battle soon descended to that of vicious hand-to-hand combat, using spears, pikes and swords, as well as advanced rifles and weaponry. Phoenix, slow to arrive into the melee, soon was in the thick of it, his gun arm unleashing a hail of death, while his huge hammer arm smashed down again and again onto the enemy. Dredd spoke into his helmet mike. “Wilberforce, we need that diversion and we need it now!” Across the field, in the old visitors centre, Judge Wilberforce was wrestling with the antique wiring and circuit boards that made up the hologram generator controls. “I’m trying, I’m trying!” she said with a voice full of frustration, “This stuff’s so old, you might as well have asked me to make a mnemonic memory circuit using stone knives and bear skins!” “Don’t give me excuses,” Dredd answered, “Get it done.” Marshall Wade looked on in satisfaction as the Angus Clansmen slowly surrounded the defenders. Most were just rabble, he knew, armed with simple weapons and poorly trained. But what they lacked in weapons and experience they made up for in their numbers. And with the heavily armed and highly trained mercenaries that backing them up, Wade was sure that victory would be theirs. Meanwhile, Judge Connolly, drove his Lawmaster deep into the rad-forest, following the force that had made it way in there moments ago. He knew with grim certainty that they were heading straight for where the non-combatants were hidden. How the force knew where to go was irrelevant, all that Connolly was concerned about was getting to them first. As he approached the clearing where the people were, he could hear the gunfire and the screams. Hitting the turbo boost, his Lawmaster smashed through the trees and burst into the clearing. The Angus clansmen were slaughtering the freed slaves in a hail of gunfire. A small team of freed slaves that had been issued

weapons had already fallen. The nun who had looked after the children so diligently was mown down as she vainly tried to put herself between the Clansmen and her small charges. The Clansmen raised their rifles once again at the children just as Connolly appeared in an explosion of noise and splintered wood. As one, they all turned to see this Judge sitting astride his airborne Lawmaster, Connolly was a man transformed. His demeanour was almost insane, filled with emotions that he had kept bottled up for many years. “Ye’ll nae harm them! Not Again! NOT AGAIN!!!” he screamed, drawing his sword and his Skean-Dhu pistol. The Lawmaster landed heavily, crashing on its side, Connolly dived behind it, using it for cover against the initial barrage of gunfire the Clansmen directed at him. He held both weapons to him, his mind was far away, in his own private Hell. The faces of the children he had failed to protect looked at him, terrified and dying, now alongside the children who cowered in the old school bus just in front of him. “Not again, not this time,” he said to himself quietly now, and leapt over his fallen Lawmaster, screaming. The Clansmen were startled by this mad Cal-Hab Judge, but opened fire again nonetheless. The Judge was hit several times by the Euro-Cit weapons; small splashes of red the only clue to his wounds. But Connolly ignored them; he was far beyond caring about such things. Before Connolly landed, his pistol had killed three of the attackers. His claymore swept in a swift arc, and two more Clansmen fell dead. The four that remained, faltered, unsure of themselves. They had come to kill unarmed slaves. Faced with this demon, who had dispatched five of their comrades in mere seconds, they were ready to flee. Connolly advanced on them, the blood spewing from his multiple wounds. A Clansman put three more bullets in him before Connolly plunged his sword deep into his chest. The two that remained alive, looked at each other, then turned and fled. If he had been able, Judge Connolly would have pursued them for what they had done, but his wounds were at last taking their toll. He went three steps before he collapsed on to the ground. The frightened children, as well as many of the other freed slaves, gathered around him, but all Judge Connolly saw was the faces of children long dead. Now at last, they were smiling. In the midst of the battle, Phoenix blasted away at the oncoming enemy soldiers. As they fell, his memory circuits were triggered to the battles he fought in the old days, when the enemy was the Volgans. This is what he had been built for, it was all he ever knew. As a wardroid, he wasn’t even supposed to care about the reasons to fight; it was just what he was programmed to do. But in all these years, something had changed in him, something his original programmers could not have foreseen. Amongst the mercenary force, one saw the wardroid and lifted out a personal rocket launcher. Sliding the target sight over one of his eyes, he took careful aim and then fired. “Eat this, robot!” he shouted, as the rocket streaked over at the ABC Warrior. Phoenix had a split second to react; it was not enough. The rocket slammed into him and exploded, knocking him off his feet. Parts of metal were thrown into the air. All around him, people were struck by shrapnel. The mercenary shouted in triumph, waving his launcher above his head. Across the field, Dredd saw what had just happened. A snarl faintly registered on his stony expression. He raised his lawgiver with his one good hand and put a bullet neatly through the mercenary’s head, sending a spray of blood and brains showering his comrades.

Judge Buchan also saw what had happened. She and Judge Jamieson had been thrown from their Lawmasters during the battle, and now stood back-to-back as screaming Clansmen assailed them from all sides. “We just lost Phoenix!” Buchan said to her comrade. “Aye, an’ we winnae be tae far behind as weel,” answered Jamieson grimly. From the safety of the rear of the battlefield, Laird Angus watched the battle progress through powerful digital binoculars. He sipped a nip of whisky from a hipflask as the carnage was spread out in front of him. “Damn,” he said suddenly, “Ah should o’ broucht some vid-cameras. Ah could hae made a fortune oot o’ this.” “Would that have been wise, sir,” his retainer said, handing him a plate of sandwiches, “Considering the last televised fight you sponsored?” A withering look from the Laird led the retainer to instantly regret his words. Inside the Flak-Mac, Pilot-Judge Bader and Judge Green assessed the situation. The tank was completely surrounded now, and the two forces were now so far interconnected, that they were quite unable to use their rockets, the most potent of the Flak-Mac’s arsenal. At present, they were limited to using the secondary machine guns. “Things aren’t looking too good, I’m afraid,” said Bader, “ I fear our gallant forces are being overcome.” >From the rear of the control room the three Brit-Cit scientists looked fearfully at the scene of soldiers and warriors fighting and dying all around them. Dr Asher stood up. “Get us out of here!” he shouted, close to hysterics, “This isn’t even our fight! What the hell was Dredd thinking? We could have been safely away, but we had to go slow as not to leave those people behind!” “Calm yourself, Doctor,” Bader said, “We can’t move, there is too many of our own people out there. If we moved now, we would crush our own people.” “What people!?” Asher started, “Outside of Judge Wilberforce, We’re all here!” Just leave them to it, I say! Let the savages have their fight, it’s nothing to do with us!” Judge Green momentarily turned in his seat to face the scientists. “Get him out of here right now, or I’ll throw him out into the battle, and then we will see how long he would survive in the company of those “savages!” Doctors Fisher and Samuels grabbed Asher and dragged him out of the control room. They both had a look of disgust on their faces in light of Asher’s words. “Don’t be too hard on Asher,” Bader told Green, “It’s just the circumstances. Not everyone can stay calm in the face of such things.” “That’s why I didn’t throw him out to begin with,” answered Green, returning to his weapons. The battle raged on. Under Dredd’s leadership, the defenders rallied against the numbers of their foe. Marshall Wade became increasingly frustrated. “We should have won by now!” He exclaimed, “How can they be holding out so well? It’s that Yank Judge; they would all be dead if not for his orders!” Wade shouted down into the war-wagon. “Give me a rifle. Long-range, with a digital target sight.” A long rifle was handed up from Wade’s personal armoury. He held it in his arms and looked down the target sight. Dredd now could be seen clearly, still on his Lawmaster, giving orders into his helmet mike while he led by example. Wade took careful aim.

“The Laird was right – he’s dangerous. But he won’t be dangerous with a bullet in his head! After all, cut off the head and the body dies,” he said to himself, as his finger began to squeeze the trigger. Suddenly, a metal hand closed around the shaft of the rifle. It crushed the rifle easily. Wade looked up from his sights to see Phoenix, his red eyes shining angrily. The ABC Warrior was in a terrible state. His breastplate has been blown off, exposing his inner circuitry. Red hydraulic fluid was gushing out from him. And half his face was gone; wires were hanging limply off from him. The effect served only to make him more terrifying. Wade was momentarily startled by the arrival of this mangled wardroid, but recovered quickly. His hand went to his hip and drew out a holstered sidearm. He made to shoot Phoenix’s exposed chest, but the wardroid smacked the gun out of the commander’s hands. At last the metal warrior spoke. “Cut off the head and the body dies!” Phoenix swung his hammer arm across and smashed the side of Wade’s head with a sickening sound of cracking bone. Wade was sent flying off the war-wagon. He was dead before he hit the ground. Not stopping to enjoy his victory, the ABC Warrior put his gun arm down the hatch into the war-wagon and opened fire. Within seconds, the ricochets accounted for the entire crew. His job done, the robot climbed down and rejoined the battle. Chief Gibson rode out to Lord Moray. Andrew Moray’s mount was wounded and could no longer carry him. But in riding to aid his ally, Gibson had broken away from his fellow Sons of Wallace. They were both now separated from the main body of the defenders. With no way back, they held their swords and stood fast against the oncoming enemy. Laird Angus saw that the battle was entering the final stages, but his mood was dark since he learned of the death of Marshall Wade. He spoke into his mike. “Cumberland, ah’m promoting ye tae field commander. Ah want nae quarter given tae the enemy, d’ye hear! Kill them a’!” In response, his army closed in to massacre the remaining defenders. Then, the skies darkened, and from the far side of the battlefield could be heard the sound of the bagpipes. As if from the darkness itself, a huge force of tartan-clad warriors appeared, holding shields and claymores. The newly appointed field commander of the Angus army looked over at this new arrival. “What on earth…? Where did they come from?” he said hesitantly. Unlike his predecessor, Cumberland was not experienced in battle, his high status coming from his links to the Brit-Cit nobility rather than any leadership qualities. This development took him completely off guard. The new force of warriors wore tartans long since forgotten, and their weapons seemed archaic, even by Cal-Hab standards. They waited for a moment, then charged screaming across the field towards the battle. “Wilberforce did it!” exclaimed Judge Buchan to Jamieson, “She got the generators working again. Let’s hope that they fall for it!” “But Judge Buchan,” said Judge Jamieson uncertainly, “This disnae feel richt. Why did it get sae dark a’ o’ a sudden? Surely the generators couldnae dae that?” The new force came charging over the blood soaked field, their weapons swinging in readiness. As they drew closer, Dredd realised something was different. The warriors

were pale and almost transparent. “Dredd to Wilberforce,” he said into his helmet mike, “Are you doing this?” “Doing what?” came the reply. “My Grud!” said Dredd, and quickly gave the order to scatter. But being so hemmed in, it was impossible to get out of the way of the warriors. The warriors tore into the two armies in a furious assault. But as the kept going, it seemed that only those in the Angus army were harmed. Even if two combatants from either side were next to one another, only the Angus warrior fell in the wake of this attack. Dredd himself saw several warriors pass straight through him, leaving him safe, but using their swords to deadly effect on all the Angus Clansmen and mercenaries all around him. It was more than enough for the Angus Clansmen. “It’s a Judgement oan us a’!” one screamed in the face of the pale warriors. “Run! We cannot fight the dead!” another shouted, and dropped his sword. Within seconds, the army was in full rout, running off in all directions, desperate to escape the spectral army that was destroying them all. Cumberland looked desperately over to his Laird, only to see him on his war-wagon, fleeing off the field of battle. The new field commander ordered his own wagon off as well. The Angus army fled the field in disarray, leaving the survivors of the defenders to watch with confusion. The spectral army moved on, and was soon swallowed up by the darkness, which in turn disappeared to reveal the afternoon’s light once again. Judge Jamieson was shaking his head in disbelief, unable to take in what just happened. “Whit wis that?” he asked. “Damned if I know,” answered Buchan, looking over the field, “But I am sure I saw Judge Connolly with them just now…” Later, they were getting ready to leave Culloden. The wounded had been tended to and a mass grave had been dug to lay the dead, friend and foe alike, to rest. Judge Dredd, Buchan and Jamieson watched as Judge Connolly was put in as well. “He was a good Judge. He died doing his duty and protecting the innocent,” Dredd said by way of a epitaph. “Ah never did find oot why he left tae go tae Emerald Isle. He once telt me he wanted tae leave the bad times during the fall o’ Glascal behind, but he never said mair than that,” said Jamieson quietly. “I hope he found his peace now,” said Buchan. The trio looked up as Phoenix approached. “Ma God, it looks like ye were run o’er!” said Jamieson, looking at the state of the ABC Warrior, “Whit d’ye hae there?” Phoenix held up a piece of armour plating from a war-wagon. He had used the blowtorch he had on his gun-arm to inscribe a memorial. It read simply “To the Dead of Culloden.” He drove it into the ground at the head of the grave, and began to help those that were filling it in. After that grim task was completed, they all made for the Flak-Mac and left the field along with the convoy. On the roadway to Ness, the Judges discussed the events of the day. “I am telling you, I just couldn’t make that hologram generators work,” said Wilberforce, “Whatever it was, it was none of my doing.” “Then what are we saying?” asked Judge Green, “That the dead rose and fought for us?” “Perhaps it was an after-effect of what happened with the Flux,” suggested Judge

Buchan, “We know that Schiehallion used his Psi-abilities to raise the dead once before. Maybe our recent encounter with the Flux has had side effects we didn’t know about before now.” “Aye, perhaps,” said Judge Jamieson, “Judge Dreed, whit d’ye think aboot it a’?” “As for the Flux, I can’t say for sure, but I’ll tell you this – I know first hand that areas of extreme radiation and terrible deaths can produce strange phenomena. I once had to go to the ruined city of Milwaukee on the trail of a mutant perp, and what I saw there was not so different to that I experienced here today. I’ll just tell you what I told myself when I got out of there alive, in a nuclear Hell such as this all natural laws go haywire. Let’s just be glad that whatever force swept across the field of Culloden, it saw us as an ally.” Their discussion was cut short as Pilot-Judge Bader’s voice came over the comm., “Could everyone come into the control room. We have just sighted the city of Ness.”

Chapter Ten Sure enough, the high and heavily defended walls of the capital city of the Highlands could be seen through the viewscreen as the Judges and scientists came into the control room. Judge Jamieson smiled happily. “Weel at least the freed slaves will be safe noo. The Laird o’ the Highland Estates is kent fir his opposition tae slavery. As such, mony escaped slaves make their way here tae mak new lives fir themsels.” “Who is Laird here?” asked Dredd, as he examined the impressive defences of the city. They has comparable to that of Megaburgh. “He is ca’ed Rab McAveety, a rough and uncompromising man wi’ a view towards harsh but fair peacekeeping. Ah never met the man, not e’en when ah came through the Estates while ah wis lookin’ fer ma wife, but ah ken his reputation.” “He sounds better than Angus certainly,” said Judge Buchan. “Aye, and ah’m sure he will give our freed slaves sanctuary,” agreed Judge Jamieson, “Ah hud better go oot and hae a word wi’ the Sons o’ Wallace before we go in.” Judge Jamieson left the Flak-Mac and went to speak with the two leaders. Lord Moray and Chief Gibson looked none the worse for the battle, and looked up from their discussions at his approach. “Weel, it looks like we goat ye here,” said Moray, “Ah must say, ah never expected to be fechting alongside the deid faun ye asked us tae help ye.” “Aye, ma Lord,” agreed the Cal-Hab Judge, “Ah think we were a’ surprised by that. Onyway, we are almost at Ness, and the slaves will be safe noo.” “Yes,” said Gibson, “And this is where we must part company. It is known that the Laird of the Highlands is a man who does not brook those that would break the law. The Sons of Wallace are not welcome in his domain.” “Ah understand an’ respect yer decision,” said Jamieson. “Some o’ the slaves want to make a life wi’ us. Ah trust ye huv nae objections?” asked the former Lord of Moray. Jamieson shook his head. “As long as it is their decision, ah winnae tell them how tae live their lives,” answered Jamieson, “Jist look efter them, alricht?” “You have our word,” promised Gibson. Their discussion over, the convoy started to break up. The other Judges also came out to bid their allies farewell. Kev Jamieson went over to his brother. “Goodbye Richard, it wis guid tae see ye again. Ah wish ye luck in yer mission. Ah hope ye find whit yer lookin’ fir.” “Thanks brither,” he said, shaking his hand, “And keep oot o’ trouble, okay?” “Aye, that’ll happen!” said Kev, smiling. The Sons of Wallace went off, leaving the Judges and the remainder of the freed slaves to enter Ness. After all the desolation and the hideous industrialised nightmare of Granite city, it was strange to see such a place in the middle of nowhere. But Ness had fared better than most places in Post-Flux Cal-Hab. The old city had been updated and redesigned, using revenues from tourism and international trade. The northern end of nearby Loch Ness had been opened out to the Northern Sea, allowing water traffic to sail straight through the Cal-Hab mainland and deliver goods to ports along both banks. And Ness itself had an International Hoverport, that allowed visitors to visit the city without risking the dangers of overland travel. With the nearby Dingwall Hab Zone on the other side of the Loch, Ness made up the second most important city of Cal-Hab, after Megaburgh. A title helped by its installation of its own Chorus, to

combat the severe regression of the people. The Flak-Mac started up once more and led the convoy to Ness’ massive gates. Two robot sentries stepped forward. Dredd climbed out the tank’s hatch and spoke with them, explaining the situation. One of the robosentries sent a message to its master, then after a minute, relied the reply. “The convoy is admitted to Ness, on condition of an interview with the Laird’s garrison commander. Follow the robot inside.” Dredd agreed to this condition and the convoy was admitted. The gates were opened and they passed through. Judges Dredd, Buchan, Jamieson and Wilberforce elected to see the commander. The rest stayed with the convoy, to work on repairs or to recuperate from the battle. The robosentry led the Judges through the streets of Ness to the garrison house. From here, the huge black Loch dominated the view, filled as it was with many ships and boats of all shapes and sizes. One business offered trips on the Loch, promising a sighting of “that mystery of the deep, the Loch Ness Monster!” “Are people still comin’ here fer that?” Jamieson asked the robot. “Oh yes,” the robot replied, “And now that we can actually provide the monster for the tourists on cue, it has become all the more popular.” Sure enough, a huge head broke the inky waters of the Loch and reared up, impressively roaring into the evening sky before sinking down once again. “A robot?” Buchan asked. “Naturally,” the sentry replied. They soon came to the Garrison House. The robot left and went to attend to its other duties. A tartan clad warrior came to the door and admitted them all in. He showed them down an oak panelled corridor to the office of the commander. “Ah, the Judges,” said the commander as they entered, “Come in, come in, ye must be tired after yer long journey. I am Commander Salmond.” He turned to the warrior you led them in, “McFee, see if ye can rustle up some tea fer oor guests, and some shortbread fingers.” After the warrior left, the commander turned his attention to the Judges. “>From what we hear, ye have been all searching for survivors of a shipwreck. I must admit that we are not used to seeing such determination from people. They must be very important to you.” “They are,” Dredd replied, “As are the people we rescued from Granite City. We are here to ask that they are given sanctuary here.” “My Laird does not believe in slavery,” the commander replied, “He is from a good God-fearing family. All Cal-Hab knows of his reputation for fairness, and for ruthlessness on lawbreakers. I think I can speak for him when I say that these people can find a home here. Or if they so wish, we can help to get them home.” “Yer Laird is very generous, and from what we huv seen o’ this city, he is very prosperous,” remarked Jamieson, “Whaur is he, so we may thank him fer his hospitality?” “Unfortunately, he is not in Ness at present,” Commander Salmond replied, “A rise of Cult activity in the west made it vital for him to go to Urquhart Castle and lead the resistance to that evil. He is expected back in a few days.” The mention of the Bull Cults drained the emotion from Jamieson’s face. “The Bull Cults are still very active in the Highlands?” he asked. “Aye, from time to time, they attack our outposts on the edges of the Laird’s authority. “They hadn’t gone against anything as big as Urquhart in years though. It looks like our Laird will have to teach them to respect his law once again.” The warrior came in with tea and biscuits. Dredd declined such things, as tea and

sugar were banned substances in the Big Meg. The others seemed happy to take them. “There is another reason that we are here in Ness,” interrupted Dredd, “We have yet to account for four of the shipwreck survivors. We have reason to believe that the slave-trafficker who bought them in Granite City was heading this way.” “Well he didn’t come to Ness,” said the commander firmly, “Under law, any slave trader found within my Laird’s authority is to be put to death. We haven’t had to carry out that sentence in years. If your man came this way, he must have bypassed Ness, and with the Cult’s recent activity, I wouldn’t like to be him out in the open just now.” “Now what will we do?” Wilberforce asked Dredd, “The trail is as good as cold. How will we track the survivors now?” “I think I can help in this,” Salmond offered, “We have a man who works in the Highlands. He occasionally gives us information about the Cults or illegal activities going on in the Laird’s jurisdiction. He’s a little crazy, what with the endemic madness that permeates the area, but he’s reliable. He recently helped us close down an illegal Hunt the Wild Scotty operation that was operating out of Glenpool. I think I can contact him.” “How can you?” Dredd asked, “Communications have still not been established, even after we took care of the Flux.” “Ah, electronic communication maybe, but up here we need to be a bit more adaptive to circumstances. This may take a while. You are welcome to stay in the Garrison House while we wait, and we can get started on getting your slaves rehoused as well.” Having little other choice, the Judges agreed. The Judges left the Garrison House to retrieve the Flak-Mac, leaving the commander to write a message. He went up to the roof of the building, and walked over to set of cages. Stopping only to take a hunk of salmon from a nearby bucket, he went over to the cages. Inside were huge birds. These were two-headed eagles, much larger than their normal ancestors. The heads of one of them fought over the piece of fish that the commander threw into the cage. Surprisingly, they made no move to attack him when he opened the door. It emerged from the cage and waited patiently while the message was attached. “Go,” said Salmond to his Greater Golden Eagle. The huge wings opened out and it took to the air, heading off to the west. Salmond began to walk back down the stairs into the Garrison House once again. He hoped that the Seer could help; these people were good and honourable, not something that was common in this day and age. A day passed. Dr Fisher was talking to the controller of the Ness Hoverport over the vidphone. “I assure you sir,” she told the worried man on the screen, “The effects of the Flux are dissipating. Your hoverships should be able to take to the air in a matter of weeks. And the communications should be re-established within that same timescale.” “It’s just that without our air link, we will be ruined,” the controller explained, “Do you know how much we rely on trade and tourism in Ness? Without the hoverport, we would be in dire straits.” “I understand your concerns,” Fisher assured, “But I have gone over all the data the rescue team has gathered about the Flux, and it shows that it is greatly reduced in power. It might even be that its interference could eventually become less than before this entire affair.” “Very well, I’ll convey this news to the rest of the staff,” the controller told her. The viewscreen went blank. Doctor Fisher turned from the vidphone as Doctor Asher

came into the Garrison House and made straight for the rooms assigned to the Brit-Cit Judges and scientists. “Great news!” he exclaimed, “There is a Brit-Cit naval vessel in dock and the captain is willing to take us home!” “What?” said Judge Green, “When did you see him?” “Actually the captain’s a woman,” corrected Asher, “She was up here on manoeuvres, part of a flotilla that is guarding the few holdings Brit-Cit have up here. The vessel got into trouble in bad weather and docked here in Ness. But the communications went down, so they couldn’t contact the rest of the fleet. Now they’re off back home, and they’re willing to take us all with them. Don’t you see? We are saved!” The Judges and the scientists were silent. Asher’s face became confused. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want out of this Hellhole?” “It’s just the mission isn’t over, old boy,” said Pilot-Judge Bader, who was strapped into a wheelchair, “We haven’t found Rutherford, or the other Yanks.” “Drokk them!” Asher said, with a voice of desperation, “It’s tough about Rutherford, but I for one am sick of Cal-Hab. Brit-Cit was right to leave these animals alone. After all that we have gone through, all that hardship, all that horror, you don’t want to go home to civilisation? What the Hell’s wrong with you all!?” Judge Green made to stand up in a rage, but Wilberforce stopped him. “What’s wrong with you, more like?” she said, “We saved your neck in Granite City, and all you have done since we got you out was bitch about being here. You have shown no gratitude whatsoever for those Cal-Habbers who freed you.” “I didn’t want any of this!” Asher said angrily, “I didn’t even want to be on the Alpha Seven mission. I was ordered on by Rutherford. I don’t owe anything to that old fool, or any of those foreigners. I don’t care what any of you do; I am going to be on that vessel! Wild horses wouldn’t drag me out of there now!” Asher left the room in disgust, leaving the rest in silence. “He’s cracked,” said Dr Fisher, breaking the silence, “The pressures and the dangers of this terrible experience has gotten to him.” “All the same,” said Dr Samuels, “I don’t like to admit it, but he has a point. I have to think that we would only be a burden to the others for the remainder of the mission.” Fisher nodded slowly, remembering how the carnage of the Battle of Culloden had affected her. What use was she then? “I think that you all have to make your own decisions,” said Wilberforce, “I came on this mission and I intend to see it through, wherever it takes me.” “As for me, I wish to continue on until all those of the Alpha Seven have been accounted for. That’s if I can still be of use to the mission?” said Bader, looking at Wilberforce. She smiled in gratitude. “I’m staying on as well,” said Judge Green firmly, “I am feeling better, and I owe Dredd and the Cal-Habbers for getting me out of Granite City. I want to pay them back.” “Well, it doesn’t look like we are leaving the city today,” said Wilberforce, “Everyone sleep on it and we’ll tell Dredd our decisions tomorrow.” Dredd was out in the yard and was speaking to the mechanics of the garrison. “What’s the damage?” he asked to them, as they examined the Flak-Mac. “Surprisingly little,” said the head mechanic, “The Flak-Mac wis designed fer the terrain of oor land, as well as fer the worst ‘f combat. We should be able tae knock the dents oot o’ it in nae time at a’” “Good,” he said, “We need replacement ammunition as well, and someone should

look at the Lawmasters. I want to continue on with the rescue mission as soon as possible, and I need to be totally prepared for the dangers ahead.” Judge Jamieson was off in another part of the city. Ness was one of the few places in Cal-Hab that seemed to use robots to any sort of degree, and he was out to see if he could take advantage of this. He came to a place called “The Antique Robotic Shoppe.” It seemed as good a place to try as any. The shopkeeper seemed impressed by the Judge’s uniform that Jamieson wore. “Ah huvnae seen onybody wearing ane o’ those fer a lang time,” he remarked, “Whit can ah dae fer ye, Judge?” “Ah huv a job fer ye,” said Judge Jamieson, “Are ye by ony change familiar wi’ the auld ABC Warriors…?” Far away from Ness, an old hermit sat in a darkened cavern. He was desperately unkempt, a leather loincloth his only clothes. He sat next to a small pool in his cave, seemingly looking into its depths. At the entrance, a large greater golden eagle landed and screeched a greeting. The man looked up, or would have if he had eyes that could see. He had a long bandage over his eyes, and by the look of it, it had been there for many years. “Hud oan,” he said to the bird, as he slowly got up, “Ah’ll jist be wi’ ye.” He walked over to the eagle, stopping only to pick up a dead rat from an old canister. The eagle stood impassively as the old man come over. He threw the rat in the air, and quick as a flash one of the eagle’s heads snapped it up. As it ate, the man retrieved the message. How he read it was a mystery, but as he put it down, he seemed to know its meaning. “A rescue mission, eh?” he said to himself, “A noble cause, an’ ane that ah will be happy tae help wi’” He slowly went back to the reflecting pool and sat silently, alone with his thoughts. “I’m telling you,” Salmond told Judge-Pilot Bader, “You would have much better luck back in Brit-Cit. Are you sure ye want it done here?” “Yes,” said Bader firmly, “Can it be done?” “Aye, but it won’t be such a good job as down south. Can you live with that?” “Absolutely,” Bader replied with no hesitation. “Ach well, I’ll make the arrangements. We can probably get ye done tomorrow.” That evening, Judge Jamieson was just returning to the garrison house. He noticed Judge Buchan sitting on a bench and looking out to the north. He came over and sat down next to her. In the far distance, over the Loch, could be seen a magnificent and beautiful glow on the horizon. This was the Dounreay Glow. “Hard tae believe something sae wonderful is sae deadly,” he said to her. “As beautiful as it is, I hope we don’t have to go any closer to it,” replied Buchan, “One visit to the Dounreay Nuclear Complex was enough for me.” “As far as ah ken,” he told her, “the plant escaped virtually intact after the Flux. It wis sae radioactive in the first place, the Flux had little effect oan it.” “What about the people?” Buchan asked. “Nae worse fer wear, if ye can ca’ folk that live in Dounreay that,” Jamieson replied, “The madness never effected them too badly and not even the Bull Cults were crazed enough to venture into the Radiation Park. They got aff better than maist.” The conversation lapsed into silence for a moment, as they enjoyed the sight of the Glow.

“Where were you just now?” she asked him. “Oh, jist helping oot a freend,” he said smiling. Next morning, Dredd and the Cal-Hab Judges were asked to see the Brit-Cit Judges and scientists. “What’s this all about?” asked Dredd when they were all assembled. “We have been discussing what is to happen now,” explained Judge Green, “We have offered safe passage back to Brit-Cit from the captain of a Brit-Cit naval vessel who is going that way. Some of us were of the opinion that we would be better off taking this opportunity.” “Oh aye,” said Judge Jamieson, “And whit huv ye decided?” “We Judges are behind you and want to see the mission through to its conclusion,” said Judge Green. “However, we think that it would be better for all of us if we parted company here. We just don’t think that we would be much help where you are going,” said Dr Fisher, “It pains me to say this, but I think I would just be a hindrance to you now.” Dredd and the Cal-Hab Judges were quiet for a moment as they considered this. The mission was to bring back as many survivors as possible. Their personal views didn’t come into it. “Very well, if you are sure that this is what you want, we won’t stop you,” said Dredd to the scientists. He turned to the Judges. “You are sure that you want to stay with us?” “Definitely. We still think we can contribute to the mission, especially since you are two men down now,” said Judge Green. “If I may,” said Pilot-Judge Bader, “I have an appointment in town today, so I hope we are staying a while longer?” “The garrison commander still has received no word from his informant, so I think we are staying at least another day,” answered Dredd, “Then, information or no information, we are leaving before the slaver gets too far ahead of us.” “I will be ready,” promised Bader. When the meeting was over, the two Cal-Hab Judges spoke with one another. “Ah cannae believe that the scientists wid want to leave us tae go hame noo,” said Jamieson, “Whit aboot the ithers wha are still missing?” “I’m sure that they care about them, it’s just that the scientists have been through a lot and are not as good as we are in coping with it. Dr Fisher and Samuels looked wretched in that meeting, as if they were ashamed to want to go.” “Aye, but ah noticed the smile oan Asher’s face. Ah’ll nae be sad tae see the back o’ that ane,” Jamieson said firmly. Dredd came over. “I’m going to see if the commander has had any word yet. Then I’m going to inspect how the repairs are progressing. You two had better get down to the yard as well. I want those Lawmasters serviced and fully armed by the time we are ready to leave. Understood?” They both nodded shortly and went to their duties. After the meeting, Bader was pushed into Ness’ medcentre by Green and headed straight to the prosthetics department. Their chief surgeon, Dr Macduff, met him. “Ah, Judge. We are ready for you,” the doctor explained, “Shall we get started? “Lead on, Macduff,” the Pilot-Judge replied. Phoenix lay on a thick metal table as the shopkeeper looked over the damage he had

sustained in the battle. The shopkeeper was tutting to himself. “Well?” the wardroid said. “Ye certainly huv been in the wars,” the shopkeeper told him, “With a’ this damage ah’m surprised that ye are still functioning at a’.” “I have had to power down most of my systems to keep from going off-line,” Phoenix explained, “It’s a basic survival program.” “It probably saved yer life. Weel, as I telt yer Judge friend, I huv had experience wi’ the ABC Warriors in the past. They mak excellent security robots an’ are difficult tae stop. Ah huvnae hud tae dae sae much oan ane before, but ah’m sure ah can get ye workin’ again.” The shopkeeper went out of the workshop in order to get some parts from storage. Phoenix sat up and looked for a terminal. He took out his interface lead and plugged himself in. On the vidscreen, the title of what he was looking for came up. It read “Post Atomic War History.” As he read, the ABC Warrior’s eyes glowed red. “The monks were right,” he said, “Everything they told me was the truth.” He took out the lead and got back on to the table just as the shopkeeper came back in. “Richt, here we are. We’ll soon get ye back as guid as new,” he said. “No,” said Phoenix firmly, “I wish to be upgraded, the whole works. Just leave the programming as it is.” “Okay,” said the shopkeeper, as he put on a welding mask, “If that’s whit ye want…” By mid-afternoon, Dredd was starting to get restless. The commander had assured him that his contact would come through, but Dredd was unconvinced. The repairs to the Flak-Mac were going well, and Judge Wilberforce was helping the two Cal-Hab Judges in their work on the Lawmasters. Even the speed-heal cast on his arm was now removed, something that Dredd was grateful for. But his focus was still on the slaver who held his old comrade and the others. It was unsettling to know that every moment they stayed in Ness, the slaver gained more ground over them. At last, the commander came over with news. “This just came in,” Commander Salmond told him, holding a piece of paper. On one side was the commander’s request for help. On the other side was the Seer’s reply. “The men ye seek are still alive, but death will not be a stranger to them, They journey into the heart of darkness, where the lament for many is sung, Their souls are in danger, do not waste your time, but travel to the most holy place if ye wish tae save who ye can.” Dredd read the message and scowled. “What is this nonsense?” he asked. “As I said, the man is a little crazy, but his words are usually correct,” explained Salmond, “The men will be taken to the most holy place in Cal-Hab. That is Iona.” Iona, the burial place of the old Scottish kings. The place where Christianity was founded in this land. That is where the men were being taken, but why? Dredd was resolved to find out. “To go to Iona would be to invite death,” continued the commander, “The law of my Laird does not stretch to that place. It has become a stronghold for the Cults ever since the time of the Flux. It is rumoured that terrible, barbaric rituals are held there. If your friends have been taken there, there is little hope for them.” “Nevertheless, that is where we are going,” the Mega City lawman told him, “What help can you give us?” “Very little I’m sorry to say. Travelling there by ship might make it easier for you, but then you would have to pass by Cape Wrath. Its lighthouse was abused by environmentalists campaigning against their home’s industrial exploitation. They used

the lighthouse’s computer systems to wreck passing sea vessels. In a short space of time, the place became a ships’ graveyard that only the bravest of captains would dare sail.” “Taking a water route would take too long anyway,” said Dredd, discounting the option, “And there is still a chance we can catch the slaver before he gets to the coast.” “Aye, but going overland means going through the land of the Bull Cults, the very Heart of Darkness that my contact warned you of,” said Salmond, “Only the Knights Templars are mad enough to travel that land.” “Those are the insane former Judges?” asked Dredd. “Aye, many of the local Cal-Hab garrisons succumbed to the regression that followed the destruction of the Song of the Sky,” the commander explained, “They roam the Highlands and Islands on horseback, wearing armour and fighting the savage Cults with sword and shield. They see themselves doing God’s work in ridding the land of the heathen, but in reality they are just as mad as the Cultists. They are totally unpredictable. They might see you as an ally, or just another unbeliever who needs God’s Judgement. I would not seek them out if I were you.” “Thanks for the warning,” Dredd said to him, “But it might not be a case of us finding them. We will just have to take what comes. If you will excuse me…” Dredd left to inform the others that they were to leave by nightfall. Judge Jamieson entered the antique robots shop, answering a call from the shopkeeper. He was led into the workshop. Phoenix was sitting upright on the table, examining the new armour and armaments he had now. Judge Jamieson was quite impressed. “Ye’ve deen a grand job oan him!” Jamieson told the shopkeeper. “Nae problem,” the shopkeeper assured him, “Your ABC Warrior is ready to go.” Handing over the international paycards, the agreed price, Jamieson turned to Phoenix. “Feeling better noo?” The wardroid came down off the table, his eyes glowing red. “Let’s get back to the others.” Dredd was just talking with one of the gladiators who survived the battle. He had come to see the Mega City Lawman at the garrison house. “So you accepted a position in the garrison?” Dredd said to him. “Aye, it may not look like it, but ah used tae be a Judge mysel’” he explained, “Commander Salmond said that anyone who could survive as long as I did in the Games was worth having on his roster. Ah still cannae believe that a place like this still exists.” “Yes, after Granite City, it is good to see city where the leaders still know the meaning of the words duty and justice,” agreed Dredd, “Well, good luck, we are leaving to find the remaining survivors.” “It’s ye that needs the luck if yer gain’ intae the Heelans,” said the gladiator. The team was assembling in the garrison house as Dredd entered. Phoenix was there and Judge Wilberforce was looking over the upgrades to his weaponry. “Damn fine job!” she said, “He really knows his stuff, this shopkeeper.” “Aye,” said Judge Jamieson. “You gave you permission to have the robot rebuilt in this manner?” asked Dredd.

“Naebody, but surely we need Phoenix up and running if we’re gain’ intae the Heelans?” Jamieson answered. “If there is a problem, I am sure that I could have the upgraded weaponry removed…” started Phoenix. “That won’t be necessary,” said Dredd grudgingly, “Right, if we are all here, it’s time we got going. The slaver has a big lead on us and is travelling through an area of high Pagan Cult activity. If we want to get to the rest of the survivors, we need to get going now.” “Hold on,” Judge Green said, “Where’s Judge Bader?” “He’s not here?” asked Dredd “No panic folks,” said Bader, coming in, “I’m right here.” The Pilot-Judge walked in through the door on a new pair of cybernetic legs. He was a little unsteady but was beaming in happiness nonetheless. “Ah see Phoenix wis nae the only ane oot getting fixed up!” said Jamieson. Bader almost lost his balance as he walked in. Judge Wilberforce got up and went to aid her old mentor. “Not necessary old girl,” he said as he righted himself, “I don’t need any further help. Can you believe that they wanted me to walk with a stick until I got used to these beauties? Damn cheek! Judge Dredd sir, permission to rejoin the mission?” “Permission granted,” said the Mega City Judge, “Let’s go.” Out in the yard, Commander Salmond, Dr Fisher, Dr Samuels and many of the warriors had assembled to see the Flak-Mac off. Phoenix entered the cargo hold once again, and the Judges climbed up to the hatch. “Farewell, I hope your mission is a success,” said the Commander. “Thanks again for all you have done,” Dr Fisher said, “I’ll be sure to give a glowing report to Brit-Cit when I get back.” “Great,” said Dredd in a neutral voice, and closed the hatch. The tank’s engines roared into life and it was soon underway once again. Once through the gates and out of Ness, the Flak-Mac was once again travelling over the ruined land of Cal-Hab, alone in the face of unknown dangers.

Chapter Eleven The tank travelled south, with the Loch on its side. Its next destination was Urquhart Castle. Dredd hoped that the Laird would be found on the route and they could ask him if he had seen any sign of the slave trader they sought. As the Flak-Mac rolled down the roadway, Judge Wilberforce took her break, leaving Judge Bader to pilot the tank. She headed to a viewport and watched the scenery go by. Presently, Judge Jamieson came by. “Do you see those things on the side of the Lock?” she asked him, pointed to some grey figures that lay all around the water’s edge, “Are they seals?” The Cal-Hab Judge took a look out and then turned back to his Brit-Cit comrade. “They used tae be, but noo their ca’ed Gutters. See their claws and their teeth? Look closely.” “Upon closer inspection the animals did indeed have wickedly long and sharp claws and fangs. They were fearsome creatures that were sunning themselves on the banks of Loch Ness. “There used tae be a big trade in Gutter fur at a’ time, but too mony o’ the trappers were getting’ killed. In the pupping season, the newborn Gutters were fiercely guarded by the rest o’ them. Woe betide a foolhardy hunting party that thinks that they can mak ony money aff those pelts. Eventually the Laird o’ Ness banned the sale o’ Gutter pelts in an effort tae stem the deaths. Poachers still try frae time tae time though.” “What with the other industries the Laird has encouraged, I don’t see why people would risk their lives taking on those beasts,” observed Wilberforce. “Pay a man enough, an’ they’ll try onythin’, nae matter how dangerous or stupid,” answered Jamieson. “Richt,” he said, changing the subject, “It’s 10 o’clock. Time fer oor rad-pills.” Both Judges reached into their belt-pouches and retrieved their pills. Wilberforce had a look of disgust as she swallowed hers. “After seeing first hand where these things come from, I’ve really lost my taste for these pills,” she declared. The memory of all those rad-beetles swarming over the Flak-Mac was not one that Wilberforce wanted to remember, but every time she took her pills, that was the image that came to mind. “Sometimes we jist hae tae grin an’ bear it,” said Jamieson, “Remember, ye didnae hae a’ the special anti-radiation genes that we Cal-Hab Judges hae. Ye need those pills mair than we dae.” Wilberforce reluctantly nodded her head, and took another gulp of water. The trip south was thankfully uneventful. After half a day’s travel, the tank came upon Laird McAveety and his men. Coming down from the Flak-Mac to meet him, Dredd and the others were impressed by this tough old man and his retainers. They had brought a semblance of law and order to the most unstable part of Cal-Hab without forgetting the spirit of justice. That alone earned their respect. Rab McAveety regarded the newcomers with a grudging respect of his own. “So ye made it tae Ness then?” he said to Dredd, “Ah thoucht ye wid. Frae the stories we hud heard, ye struck me as people that cuid handle yersels. Ah trust ma Commander made ye welcome enough?” “He was very generous, in your name,” answered the Mega-City Judge, “We owe you thanks for taking in the slaves that we had freed in Granite City.”

“Think nothin’ o’ it,” said the Laird, “Ah huv ne’er hud ony time fer slavers, not e’en if it is the Laird o’ Angus. If ah hud his resources, ah wid huv gone against him years ago. He disnae deserve the name Laird, fer he disnae e’en ken whit it meant tae mean!” “Ah think that cuid be said o’ a’ the Lairds, save yersel,” said Judge Jamieson. “Ah only dae whit ah’m supposed tae,” McAveety replied, “Someone has tae keep back the lawlessness and the madness that infects these lands.” He turned back tae Dredd, “Ye ken aboot that, don’t ye? Ye Yanks hae that Cursed Earth tae deal wi’ oan yer doorstep?” “We certainly know of the need for tough laws and the determination to protect your city,” Dredd agreed, “But right now, we are still on our rescue mission. We need your help if you can give it…” Dredd explained that the Mega City Judges and a Brit-Cit professor were being held by a slaver who was supposed to be in the area. He showed Laird McAveety the vid-image of the slaver they had obtained in Granite City. He then asked the Laird if he had seen any sign of that slaver. “Ah’m truly sorry, but ah huvnae,” the Laird told Dredd, “The slavers ken that if ah catch them in ma territory their lives are forfeit. They ken tae keep oot o’ ma road.” “Then we must head west – we have information that suggests that the slaver is heading that way towards Iona,” replied Dredd. “If he is then he is a madman!” exclaimed the old man, “The Pagan Cults huv been up in arms o’ late so it is very dangerous tae be abroad noo. We huv hud several o’ oor outposts attacked in the past few weeks. Ah think the heathens are oot tae bring in sacrifices fer their godless ceremonies. We huv hud reports frae a’ o’er that folk huv been taken frae their hames in numbers by the Cultists.” “And whit o’ the Knights Templar?” asked Jamieson, “Huv ye heard frae them tae?” “They are nae tae be trusted ither,” said McAveety, “They may claim tae be fechtin’ the guid fecht, but at the end o’ the day, they are jist as mad as the Cultists. We dinnae keep ony contact wi’ them. They are nae the law. Ah fear fer the lives o’ yer people Judge Dreed.” “Nevertheless, we have a mission to complete, we cannot return to our cities until all of the survivors have been accounted for,” said Dredd. “Then ah wish ye a’ the luck that’s gaen,” said the Laird solemnly, “Ye huv shown that ye huv loyalty and determination fer yer comrades. Ah can respect that.” Taking the good wishes of the Laird of the Highlands, Dredd and the others returned to the Flak-Mac. The tank waited as the Laird and his men moved aside to let them through, and then surged onward. One of the Laird’s retainers approached his master. “They are brave and noble people tae risk themselves fer such a cause,” he said. “Aye, something we dinnae see that much o’ nooadays,” the Laird agreed, “I jist hope they find whit their lookin’ fer…” Heading down past Urquhart Castle the tank turned it journey to the south-west. Iona was still a long way away, and they still had to find a way to reach that island. Dredd still held the hope that they might intercept the slaver before he could leave the mainland, but some of the others were not so optimistic. Through lands of mountains and forests they went, places that still held great beauty despite the ravages of radiation and warfare had done to them. Another day passed, and still there was no sign of the slaver. The next morning, Judge Wilberforce called Dredd and the others to the control room. Just to the south was a high fence made up of thick wire and automatic gun emplacements. A huge pockmarked sign could be read:

ATTENTION!

Royal Estate Lands! Trespassers will be Shot!

“The Royal Estate lands are a major source o’ foodstuffs fer Cal-Hab and beyond,” explained Judge Jamieson, “The lands are given o’er tae grazin’ and the lochs are filled wi’ genetically engineered salmon and troot. Commander Salmond telt me that folk that live ootside the control o’ the Laird huv been declared Wild Scotties by the managers o’ the Royal Estates, and as such are shot if they e’en go near it.” A grim conformation of the Cal-Hab Judge’s words was clear to all – human remains were hung from the fence as a warning to others not to try for the bounty of the Royal Estate. “The slaver didnae go that way, Judge Dreed. Coont oan it! Ye dinnae go into the Royal Estate withoot an invitation. He must o’ headed due west frae here, heading taewards Glen Garry.” Dredd agreed and ordered Wilberforce to take the tank in that direction. The Flak-Mac put some distance between them and the Royal Estate. Soon it was heading down the Great Glen towards Glen Garry. With the mountains on either side, the Judges knew that they were in a high-risk area. “Orders frae the Big Man,” said Judge Jamieson to Phoenix as he walked into the cargo bay, “Ye’re to be oan constant standby until further notice.” The wardroid nodded slowly. Ever since they had left Ness, Phoenix had kept himself very much to himself. Any conversation he had with the others had been short and stilted. If he had been a human, they would have thought that he was brooding. Judge Jamieson was concerned for his robot comrade. “Alricht, whit’s the problem Phoenix?” he asked. “There is no problem,” the ABC Warrior replied, “We robots are here to serve humans, and that is what I will do.” “Dinnae gie me that rubbish,” the Judge replied, “Something’s up an’ ah want tae ken whit it is.” But before anything else happened, an explosion rocked the entire tank. The Flak-Mac lurched violently up on one side, before it came crashing sickeningly back to earth. “Whit jist happened?” Jamieson asked over his helmet-mike. “We just hit a damned landmine!” Judge-Pilot Bader answered. And it looks like those Pagans we have been warned about are coming to pay us a visit!” “Get ready!” Jamieson said to Phoenix, “We may hae tae go oot there an’ gie them laldy!” With that, he raced back to the Control Room. All the Judges were there now, all looking on the viewscreen at the approaching Cultists. They were all daubed in woad and screeching ancient warcries that had not been heard in the land for untold centuries. They held only the most rudimentary of weapons, clubs, spears and swords. As they drew closer, it was clear that they were incensed by the presence of the Flak-Mac. “I say, what do these chaps think they can do against us with swords and clubs?” asked the Pilot-Judge. In answer to the question, one of the cultists produced what looked like a rocket launcher. It had been decorated with Pagan symbols in an attempt to bring the power of the weapon under the control of the user. Grunting and cursing, the man fired. The

missile streaked down from his vantage point and exploded against the hull of the Flak-Mac. “Bloody Hell!” exclaimed Judge Green, “Where did those savages get that thing?” “Modern weapons are nae uncommon here,” said Judge Jamieson, “Ah jist didnae ken that the Cultists were usin’ them!” “Return fire, now!” ordered Dredd to Wilberforce, “The rocket launcher is your first priority!” In response, Judge Wilberforce set her sights on the area the missile had been fired from. Detailed imagery came into focus. She could see the man who had fired the rocket taking aim once again. “Not this time!” she said and fired the Flak-Mac’s own rocket launcher. The rocket streaked across the sky, far above the heads of the other Cultists. In seconds, it was closing on its target. The man, utterly panic-stricken, dropped his own weapon and tried in vain to escape. But there was nowhere to run to. The explosion ripped apart a good chunk of the mountainside. That man would threaten no one again. Seeing the destructive power of the tank, it might have been believed that the Cultists would have fled, but instead, they renewed their charge with a greater ferocity. As they closed on the tank, which now had begun to fire its machine guns, neither Judge nor Cultist saw the new force that was assembling on another mountainside. A troop of fifteen men on horseback looked down at the battle, while another forty footsoldiers stood behind them. The horsemen wore steel armour and white robes with a red cross emblazoned on them, while the footsoldiers wore leather armour and brown robes. The horsemen surveyed the scene critically. “It looks as though the war machine will smite the heathens down like the dogs they are!” a horseman said. “Aye, but the battle is nae sae easily won against such numbers,” said another. A footman came to the horsemen. He bowed respectfully, and then spoke. “Knight Brothers, should we nae aid the war machine in the battle against the heathens?” he asked. “Do not think to order us, Sergeant Brother,” the leader of the Knight Brothers said in an annoyed tone, “True, the people of that machine fight the heathens, but that does not make them our allies. Do you think that they serve God as we do?” “Honoured Sir, ah did nae mean ony offence, it’s jist if they dae fecht the Pagans, then they must be on the side o’ the Lord,” the Sergeant Brother said humbly, “We should at least aid them until we find oot differently.” The Knight Brothers seemed to agree to this advice. Seeing their agreement, the leader made his decision. “Very well! We shall fall upon the infidels like the scum they are! Forward in the name of the Lord!” The horsemen galloped down the side of the mountain, while the footmen thundered after them. In the glen, the battle raged on. The Cultists, despite their insane anger and hatred, could not breach the tank’s armour and were being systematically wiped out. But they didn’t seem to care. Whatever madness had captured their minds wouldn’t allow any fear. Then the leader of the Cultists looked up from the battle and saw the new enemy coming charging towards them. At the sight of the red crosses that every one of the soldiers wore on their robes, he immediately shouted a cry to his surviving warriors. They all left the attack on the Flak-Mac and began to charge at the new arrivals. Inside the tank, the Judges watched the developing scene. “Looks like they have completely forgotten about us,” said Judge Buchan, “Their attention seems to be focused on this new force.”

“Templars,” said Judge Jamieson, “This isnae guid. We cuid o’ handled this withoot them.” They watched as the two forces clashed. The charging Knight Brothers went straight through the remaining Pagans, utterly breaking their ranks. Then the brown robed footsoldiers came in and dispatched those that were still standing. Within a matter of minutes the Pagans were mostly dead, with a few wounded and captured. The leader of the Knight Brothers rode over to the tank, his sword held in the air. “If you be of a noble heart and truly hate the evil of the heathens, then do not be afeared, for we are of the noble Order of the Knights Templar. May we speak with you?” Inside, the Judges quickly discussed their next move. “Don’t get involved with them!” advised Judge Buchan, “We all heard the Laird – the Templars are as mad as the Cultists.” “Aye, but do we need them as enemies as weel as the Pagans,” said Judge Jamieson. “If those chaps are operating in this area, they might have news on our elusive slaver,” commented Judge Bader, “Of course, it’s your call, Dredd.” Judge Dredd considered the advice. While it was true that the Templars were unpredictable and couldn’t be relied on, they were familiar with the local area. And for the moment, they were at least not aggressive to them. Dredd made his decision. “Right, I’m going out there to talk with them. Buchan, Jamieson, you’re with me. The rest of you stay in here and watch our backs. Make no threatening move without my order over the helmet-mike. “I’d like to come as well,” said Judge Green, standing up. “Not advisable,” said Dredd firmly, “I need these Cal-Hab Judges with me but who knows what they think of Brit-Cit Judges. Stay here until further notice. Green sat down while Dredd, Buchan and Jamieson climbed up the ladder and out of the hatch. The horsemen and the footsoldiers watched as they climbed down from the Flak-Mac and approached the leader of the Knight Brothers. As they came closer, the leader noticed the uniforms that the Judges were wearing. “I see that you two wear the garb of the old order. You are upholders of the law. But I do not recognise the outfit you are wearing sir,” he said pointing to Dredd. “I am Judge Dredd of Mega-City One and these are Judges Buchan and Jamieson, late of the Cal-Hab Judiciary. “Mega-City One…” said the leader slowly. It looked as if he was trying to recover some long lost memory in his mind. At last a look of realisation came across his face. “Ah yes, the colonies, of course! You are a long way from home, American,” he said to Dredd, “What brings you here with such company?” “We are looking for our comrades, who crashed in this land and are now in this area,” Dredd said, “Maybe you can help us. There are four of them, all being held by a slave trader who is travelling in this part of the land.” “Slavery is a sin in the sight of the Lord our God!” the leader declared, “The Holy Order does not tolerate such evil!” “Can you help us?” Dredd asked. “I can take you to our base. We shall ask the Grand Master for his assistance in this matter. I am sure that he will be anxious to help.” “That is not necessary,” Dredd said, mindful of a diversion to their travels, “If you can’t help us, then we will be on our way.” “But I insist that we take you there. Our leader is wise and a great man. He will be able to help you in your quest, I am sure. Our base is not far and the journey will not take us long.”

“Allow me a moment,” Dredd replied. He turned to the Cal-Hab Judges who were waiting behind them. “What do you think?” he said to them. “If we want tae avoid a confrontation, we will hae tae go wi’ them,” said Jamieson, “They may yet be able tae help us.” “But it will take us out of our way,” commented Buchan, “And do we really want to be in a place full of these people?” Dredd turned back to the Knights Brother’s leader. “Very well, we will come with you, but only for a short time. We cannot allow the slaver to get away.” “Of that we are in agreement,” the leader declared, “Let’s be away. We will talk with the Grand Master, and we shall take our heathen prisoners back for proper interrogation.” They made to move off. “Stay with them, and see what you can find out,” he said to Buchan and Jamieson, “I’m going back into the Flak-Mac. Inform me the second you have any problems.” The two Cal-Hab Judges agreed, and walked alongside the footsoldiers. Soon the convoy was underway, heading into a pass in the mountains. Their destination was the base of the Knights Templar. As they marched, the Sergeant Brother came over to see the two Cal-Hab Judges. He spoke to them with a tone of great respect and reverence, something that Buchan and Jamieson were quite unused to. “Pardon me, ma name is Sergeant Brother McDonald. Dae ye hae a moment fer ane sic as mysel?” he asked. “Of course,” said Buchan, mindful of Dredd’s orders to gather information, “What can we do for you?” “Ye are Judges o’ the auld order are ye not? Ah wis telt that yer time hud passed,” he said. “It is true that the Cal-Hab Judges are no longer in control of most of the land anymore, but there is still many of us here, trying to help where we can. Many Judges still remain in the service of strong leaders,” Buchan told him. “But why hae ye nae a’ joined the New Order o’ the Knights Templar?” McDonald asked, “As Judges, ye cuid be Knight Brothers, serving the Lord and his Son.” “We are nae here tae join the Templars,” explained Jamieson, “We are here tae find some lost comrades, who crash landed in Cal-Hab and now are held by a slave trader.” “A noble quest worthy o’ anes such as ye,” the young Sergeant Brother said to them. “And what of you?” Buchan asked, “Were you once a Judge?” The man look surprised. “Not me,” he said, “Ah am a simple Sergeant Brother, serving the Knights Brothers in the name o’ the Lord. Ah once wis a simple man wha lived in a wee village nae far frae here. But the Pagans came and attacked us. Mony were killed by those heathens. Ah did whit ah cuid. Ah tried tae organise the people to defend themsels, but the heathens’ numbers were too great. Thank the Lord that the Templars came to us then and drove away the infidels. When the battle wis o’er, ah wis recruited intae the ranks o’ the righteous, along wi’ the rest o’ the survivors. Ah huv been in the service o’ God and Jesus e’er since.” The Sergeant Brother seemed very proud to be where he was now. The two Judges knew that it couldn’t have been easy on the people of Cal-Hab in the wake of the Flux and the dissolution of the Cal-Hab Judiciary. In the Highlands more than anywhere else, the regression into the two factions of the Cultists and the Templars would have

made life almost impossible for those that lived there. In a land of few choices, the Sergeant Brother had made his. “And where is this base we are heading for?” Buchan asked him. “It’s nae far noo,” he replied, “Ye truly are blessed tae see it, fer it is a great place. Ah had tae prove mysel’ in battle mony times before ah wis allowed tae gaze upon it. It is the headquarters o’ the leadership o’ the Order. Here the Grand Master hissel resides.” Towards the end of the day, the Templars and the Judges reached a pass within the mountains. With just enough room for the Flak-Mac to make it through, they came to a hidden place within the range. A large town had seemed to be carved out of the very rock of the mountains. There were many guards, who regarded the approaching tank with concern, until they saw their comrades leading it in. The leader of the Knight Brothers ordered his comrades into the city, and waited for the tank to catch up. As it pulled in next to him, Dredd appeared at the hatch. “How did you build such a place?” he asked the leader. “With the strength the Lord gave us, we constructed this base in a few short years. From here, we organise all of our operations against the forces of darkness,” the leader declared, “Now come with me and I will ask for the Grand Master to receive you.” He led them into a courtyard and then dismounted from his horse. Taking off his helmet, he gave them to a waiting squire, along with the reins. “Give my steed a good rub down,” he ordered his servant, “We battled the heathens today, and he deserves no less.” The squire led the leader’s horse away. Dredd, Buchan and Jamieson approached the leader, with Judge Green and Phoenix accompanying them. The leader looked at the new arrivals with surprise. “I did not know that you travelled with a Judge of the south, and a robot too. It has been many years since I have seen either,” he remarked, “Come, the Grand Master will be in the Meeting Hall at this time. It is a great opportunity for him to receive you all.” The Judges and their ABC Warrior were all led into a building that lay at the centre of the base. It was made more in the style of an ancient castle rather than a modern military base of operations, The Knights Templar flag of a red cross on a black and white background decorated the stone walls, along with many portraits of important Templar leaders and scenes from their battles. Apart from some electric lighting, there didn’t seem to have any modern technology at all. Dredd asked the leader about this. “In this land, such things are increasingly hard to come by. We have to work with what we can obtain and readily maintain. And anyway, for an Order devoted to God and Christ, it is more fitting that we live in a manner that has not such modern conveniences. They soften the body and weaken the spirit. Cloistered in this place, we can properly devote ourselves to the service of the Lord.” They came to a massive pair of wooden door, guarded by two armoured sentries. The leader ordered them to admit him and then turned to the others. “Wait here for a moment, while I ask for audience,” he told them. The doors were opened and he entered. After the doors closed, Dredd took this time to speak into his helmet-mike. “Dredd to Flak-Mac, are you receiving me?” he said “Wilco, Judge Dredd,” replied Judge Bader, “We hear you.”

“Do nothing until you are contacted by myself or anyone else in the team. Make no threatening action unless absolutely necessary. This is a difficult situation, and we need to be ready for anything.” “Understood. Bader out,” Bader answered. As the microphone disappeared into his helmet, Dredd turned to his comrades. “How do we play this?” asked Judge Green, “These people are obviously quite mad.” “Agreed, and as such they are capable of anything. We shall meet their leader and try to see if they can help us. But we will make no promises and commit to nothing. Understood?” asked the Mega-City Judge. They all agreed. The doors opened once again, and the leader came back out. He smiled as he approached them. “You are indeed blessed this day, for the Grand Master will receive you. I will lead you in and give a formal introduction. Please do not speak unless he speaks to you. This is very important,” he told them. With that, he turned and headed into the Meeting Hall. The Judges and Phoenix followed. The Meeting Hall was far more immense than they had thought. You could easily fit hundreds of people here. Men in armour and women in robes lined either side of them as they walked up to an ornate throne at the far end of the hall. Lit torches instead of electric lighting illuminated this cavernous room. As they neared the throne, the Grand Master regarded the new arrivals. The leader of the Knights Brothers fell to one knee, his head bowed. “Grand Master, I humbly present to you the Judges of the Old Order, who have come here in the hope of the honour of an audience.” Turning to the Judges he said, “Judges, it is my privilege to present Grand Master De Molay, God’s representative on Earth, and leader of the Order of the Knights Templar. Praise be his name!” Dredd said nothing, but slightly inclined his head in a curt nod. The others followed suit. The Grand Master looked over the Judges and the robot from his throne. Beside him, two others stood and whispered consul to him. At last, De Molay spoke. “You have come here at a most important time, strangers. You are dressed in garments that no longer belong in this land, but you have the bearing of those who uphold the law. The Order was reformed out of people such as you, in the time of the New Enlightenment, when the scales fell from the eyes of the righteous and God’s word was once again followed in this land.” He pointed to Dredd. “You are their leader?” “I lead this mission to find those that are lost in Cal-Hab,” he replied. “Clifton here tells me that fight the heathens in a war machine that has slain many,” the Grand Master said. “They attacked us, we only defended ourselves,” Dredd replied. “Nonetheless,” De Molay said, “ The enemy of our enemy is our friend. We will help you.” “All we need is information,” said Dredd, stepping forward and holding up a vid-pad, “This is the slaver we are looking for. Just ask your men if they have seen him.” The people assembled in the Hall gave a sudden gasp at Dredd’s actions. The leader, now known as Clifton, looked fearful. One of the Grand Master’s advisors almost snarled. “The foreigner insults you, Grand Master! He invites death!” he hissed. “Wait, Seneschal Larmenius. They do not yet know our ways. I am sure that their leader did not mean to insult us in our own Hall,” the Grand Master said diplomatically.

“Step back now,” said the other advisor levelly to Dredd. All around the hall, there was the sound of swords being taken from their sheaves. Dredd took a moment, then stepped back. “If I insulted you, then I apologise,” Dredd said to the Grand Master, “I only wish to find our comrades.” The Grand Master nodded. “We accept your apology. Seneschal D’Aumont, would you be so kind as to bring the image to me so I may examine it more closely?” The other advisor walked down the steps from the throne and took the vid-pad from Dredd. He then brought it back to the Grand Master who looked at it closely. “This sinner is not known to me, but I will have his likeness shown to all who reside in our stronghold. Perhaps someone has some information. In the meantime, you will be our guests. Commander of the Houses, see to it.” In response, a man walked out from those assembled and bowed low to the Grand Master. He then faced the Judges and the robot. “If ye will follow me…” he said, and then led them out of the Meeting Hall. Once they were gone, Larmenius spoke with the Grand Master. “Master, they are not as we are. It is an affront to God to have them in this holy place. With our endeavour about to begin, we cannot afford to have them here,” he advised. “But my Lord,” said D’Aumont, “Surely you can see the advantages of having them here. They command a mighty war-machine. We could yolk its strength for our cause. I believe that our Lord has sent them here at this critical time to aid us in our sacred work.” The Grand Master considered both points of view before he spoke again. “While it is true that they are not believers as we are, it is also true that they have a mighty weapon at their disposal. Is it not true that our God once used the strength of a Pagan king to aid the righteous? In this manner, we shall show these followers of the Old Order the error of their ways, and have them see the light. Then together, we shall ride forth on our New Crusade!” The Commander of the Houses saw the Judges to a set of simple rooms. He informed them that the Grand Master had decreed that they had liberty to go anywhere in the complex, and then he respectfully left them. Phoenix stood impassively in a corner while they checked for listening devices and made sure that they were alone. Then they could speak freely. “D’ye see their leader, Grand Master De Molay. I ken him frae the auld days,” said Judge Jamieson, “He used tae be ca’ed Commander Archibald Duncan o’ the North-West Garrison. He’s taken the name o’ De Molay ‘cause o’ it’s significance in Templar history. Whether or no he actually believes himsel’ tae be De Molay ah cannae tell.” “I recognised many of the other Templars Knights as former Cal-Hab Judges as well,” said Judge Buchan, “While in the Brit-Cit Archives, I was given the task of documenting the Cal-Hab Judges who were classed as missing in action in the wake of the Flux. We knew that a lot of them had gone mad, I just didn’t think it was so many.” “These medieval throwbacks are wasting our time here,” said Judge Green, “We have a mission to complete. The Mega-City Judges and Professor Rutherford have to be located. I say we get out of here and head for the place that informant in Ness told us about.” “That’s easier said then deen,” Judge Jamieson said, “Faun I wis lookin’ fer ma lost wife in the aftermath of the Flux, I met mair than a few of these Templars in the Heelans. They didnae hae sic numbers in those days. Maist o’ them were ex-Cal-Hab

Judges that hud gone mad wi’ the regression. Noo it seems that they are recruitin’ in a’ the toons an’ villages frae a’ aroond. If we were tae go against them, we wid hae a hell o’ a fecht oan oor hands.” “It’s the people of the Highlands and Islands I feel sorry for,” said Judge Buchan, “What choice do they have – either submit to the control of these Templars, or face the Pagan Cults alone.” “It’s true that this area is in dire need of help,” commented Judge Dredd, “There are good people that need the rule of law and order to protect them. And much as I would like to help them, it is not our place. For we need to focus on our mission. Judge Green is right – our lost comrades need to be recovered. If there is a chance that anyone in this base can help us, we need to explore this. But we cannot afford to waste time. As such, we are going to split into two groups and find out as much as we can about this place. If after a day, we have found no leads, then we leave – whether our hosts like it or not.” Dredd turned to Phoenix. “Robot, stay here and wait for us. You’ll only slow us down.” The ABC Warrior’s red eyes stood out as they glowed in the corner, but he said nothing. Buchan and Dredd went out of the room, followed by Jamieson and Green. The Brit-Cit Judge and his Cal-Hab counterpart walked out into the courtyard and stopped by the Flak-Mac. They informed Bader and Wilberforce of Dredd’s orders and then headed off to explore the Templar base. Not long after this, they saw a familiar face. “Sergeant McDonald,” Jamieson said, “It’s guid tae see ye again.” “Actually it’s Sergeant Brother, ma freend,” said the soldier, “Ah huv been ordered tae gie ye a look aroond and show ye the guid works we huv deen here. Whaur are the ithers?” “Ach, dinnae worry aboot them. They’ll find their ane way aroond,” Jamieson reassured them, “But I am eager tae see yer base. It looks awfa impressive.” McDonald took the two Judges to the training camp, where the new recruits could learn the arts of swordplay. Row after row of young men where sparring with each other under the watchful eye of trainers. Jamieson watched intently, the training reminding him of his own cadet days. “D’ye want tae hae a go yersel?” McDonald asked Jamieson, “Ah’m sure ye cuid teach oor recruits a thing or two.” A trainer came over and offered the Judge a sword. Realising that his own skills were being challenged, he took the proffered sword and walking into the training square. Testing his weapon for weight and balance, he gave it a few practise swings. It was a precision job of workmanship, quite unlike the mass produced swords produced in the days of the Judiciary. “Richt,” he said when he was ready, “Wha am I takin’ oan?” “Ah think ah can gie ye a decent match,” said one of the trainers. The trainer walked confidently into the training square where Jamieson waited. He drew his own sword in an quick easy movement and parried it as if it were an extension of his arm. The recruits watched with great interest as he approached the newcomer. “Remember that this is only fer demonstration, Argyll,” warned McDonald, “We dinnae want ony accidents,” “Dinna fash yersel’” replied the trainer from over his shoulder, “Ah’ll nae beat him too badly!” “Ony time yer reedy…” said the Cal-Hab Judge quietly.

Argyll thrust forward with the point of his sword with a lightning speed. No doubt this would have taken many new recruits by surprise before, but this was no recruit the trainer faced now. Jamieson deflected the blow and took advantage of Argyll’s surprise. The trainer had thrust forward too far in this attack and was overbalanced. It was a simple matter for Jamieson to step to the side and give him a slight nudge. For the first time in months, the trainer fell to the ground. All around, the recruits couldn’t help but smile – Argyll was a hard trainer and not averse to teaching lessons with a few more cuts and bruises than were usual. The trainer barely contained his temper as he got to his feet. Jamieson stood and waited. “So ye hae some skills,” Argyll conceded, “But here we need tae fecht wi’ heart as weel as skill.” “Whenever ye like,” said his opponent simply. Argyll came in again, but this time more cautiously. The two swordsmen circled each other, striking swift and precise blows, each now looking for an opening. Without his arrogance, Argyll proved himself to be an accomplished swordsmen. But he lacked the patience of Jamieson. After a few moments, the trainer’s attacks became more aggressive. A foolhardy blow left him venerable to a counterattack, which Jamieson exploited. He landed the flat of his blade against the side of the trainer in a quick movement. If this were actual combat, it would have been enough to kill him. Clapping his hands, Sergeant Brother McDonald started to walk forward. “Weel done,” he said, and then turned to the recruits, “So noo ye see that e’en the best o’ fighters still needs tae apply himsel’ constantly. Nane o’ us is so guid that they cannae learn mair.” The trainer, still clutching his side, turned to the Sergeant Brother. “Whit are ye daein’?” he demanded. “The demonstration is o’er,” McDonald said, “And we need tae visit ither places in the base.” “The Hell it is!” Argyll snarled, “It’ o’er faun ah say it is, and nae before!” He made to attack Judge Jamieson once again. “Wait a minute noo…” Jamieson said, but his opponent ignored him. “THAT IS ENOUGH!” came a loud voice. Immediately, the trainer put down the point of his sword. Everyone turned and saw Grand Master De Molay standing there. He had obviously been watching the fight and was now incensed by the trainer’s actions. He walked directly over to them, fixing Argyll with a withering look. “I find myself quite disappointed in you Brother Argyll. You have given yourself over to the sins of jealousy and wrath! For this, you will do penance,” declared the Grand Master. “Ah humbly apologise fer my actions,” Argyll said meekly, “Whate’er ye say, ah will dae.” “In light of your repeated actions, I am disposed to have you expelled from the Order, but as we need every man in our fight against the heathens, you will suffer a lesser punishment. I declare that you will lose your coat for three days.” Losing your coat was a lesser Templar punishment that these new Templars had obviously re-established. Argyll would lose his rank within the Order for the prescribed time. His coat and weapons would be taken from him and he would be forced to eat off the floor and do menial tasks to teach him the error of his arrogance. As he was led away by two of the Grand Master’s attendants, De Molay turned his attention to Judge Jamieson. “You have a great skill with the sword. In a battle, I am sure that you would be a formidable ally.”

“Thank ye, sir,” Jamieson replied, “But ah dae regret that the trainer has got himsel’ intae trouble o’er this.” “Pay it no mind – our Brother will benefit from a lesson in humility. He needs to see that we are all Brothers in the eyes of God. Now, I hope that Sergeant Brother McDonald is taking good care of you.” “He is most considerate and is showing us your impressive base,” answered the Cal-Hab Judge. “Very good,” De Molay said, giving McDonald a nod of approval, “If you need anything else, then just say so.” “If I may,” interjected Judge Green, “Has there been any word concerning the slaver we are looking for?” “The image of the sinner has been posted around the base. I have given the proclamation that anyone with any information is to report it. Do not worry yourself my friend, we will find him.” The Grand Master walked off to attend to his duties. As he walked, all those present bowed to him. “He is a Godsend to us all,” McDonald said with great awe. He turned to the two Judges, “Where would you like to see next?” Judge Jamieson help up the sword he fought with. “Ah wid like tae see whaur this wis made…” Meanwhile, Judges Dredd and Buchan were moving down a corridor. As they walked, the Knight Brothers and soldiers that they met bowed to them both with great respect. They looked as if they were showing them special attention. Passing out of the corridor, they came to a set of stairs leading down into the darkness. Heading down, they saw that the base had a large prison complex situated in the depths of its foundations. The jailer looked up as the two Judges approached, but said nothing to stop them. Apparently he had heard the order of their privileged status. “This prison is more like a dungeon,” Dredd commented to Buchan. “It’s definitely in keeping with their lifestyle,” replied the Cal-Hab Judge. The prisoners held in the cells were mostly Pagan Cultists the Templars had captured in battles with the heathen. Dredd recognised one of them as being in the band that had attacked the Flak-Mac. Looking at him through the bars, he noticed that he had many new bruises on his face. The Templars had been interrogating him. “Why did you attack us?” Dredd asked the man. At first, he said nothing. He just looked at Dredd sullenly through the bars. Then, he spoke. “Ah am a true follower o’ the great one!” he declared, “Your presence in her lands is an affront to her and ah wouldnae allow it tae go unchallenged. D’ye think ye’ve won? Never! When ane o’ us fa’s, twa mair will tak his place!” “Who do you serve?” asked Buchan. “Ah serve the only true power in this land – The Grandmother of the Clanns, The Callieach! She will purge her land o’ a’ non-believers!” Buchan turned to Dredd. “Just as I thought, he serves a Pagan goddess. He seems just as devoted to her as the Templars are to the Lord.” Dredd held up a vid-pad with the image of the slaver upon it. “Have you seen this man?” he asked the prisoner. “Why should ah help ye?” the Cultist said with distaste, “Ye serve the false god. Soon ye will a’ die!” “I serve the people of my city, not any god,” Dredd declared, “Have you seen this man?” The prisoner slowly came over and examined the image.

“Ah will tell ye, but only because ye dinnae serve the false one that the ithers serve. Aye, I huv seen this man. He had the affront tae travel oor lands withoot the permission of the Callieach. Our priestess decreed that onyone that does so must pay the price. We fell oan him and his men and broucht them the release o’ death!” Buchan gasped, “You killed them! You killed them all?” The man shook his head. “No, not them a’. Some o’ them were already in chains. We sent them tae oor maist sacred place. They will hae the honour o’ being sacrificed tae the Callieach by the priestess hersel’.” “Where did you send your captives?” Dredd demanded. “Ye will never get me tae tell ye that!” the Cultist declared, “Go oan, beat me again – ye will never get that information frae me!” “I don’t get information in that way,” Dredd replied, “I’m a Judge, not a torturer.” He turned to Buchan. “Come on, Buchan – we have our answer.” The two Judges left the prison complex and sought out the others. Judge Jamieson and Judge Green followed Sergeant Brother McDonald through a courtyard. They came to a huge stable, with many horses, bred for radiation resistance, strength, speed and endurance. Cutting through the stables, they came to a massive building that belched smoke from a high chimney. The sentries stood aside as they walked in. “Here is the Great Forge!” declared Sergeant Brother McDonald. Before them were many people working industriously on making weapons and armour for the Knights Templars. The heat from the molten metal and the fires was quite oppressive. Judge Jamieson removed his helmet and wiped his brow. “We tak a’ the scrap metal we can find in the land and tak it here. We melt it doon and oor blacksmiths and armourers mak all the swords, shields and armour we need. “Surely ye dinnae need quite sae much as a’ this!” Jamieson said to him. There appeared to be thousands of swords on display. “This forge provides all the weapons and armour for the entire Order,” McDonald explained, “Every Templar in the land comes here to be properly equipped and ready tae dae oor great work.” The two Judges held back slightly as their guide showed them the different areas of the Great Forge. “There is enough weapons here to equip a huge army,” Judge Green said to his comrade. “Aye, ah hud nae idea the Templars hud reached sic numbers,” Jamieson answered. Dredd and Buchan came in and sought them out. McDonald bowed to them in greeting and offered to show them all around. “Thank you, but we are fatigued and will retire to our chambers,” Dredd replied. Jamieson made to request to stay, but Dredd indicated for him to stay silent. The four Judges took their leave and returned to their room. Phoenix looked like he hadn’t moved in all the time they had been away. He said nothing as they entered and closed the door. Checking once again for bugging devices or eavesdroppers, they made sure that they could speak freely. “Richt, why didy’e pull us awa’?” Jamieson asked, “We were makin’ guid headway wi’ that guide.” “It was unnecessary,” Dredd answered, “We have our answer. The slaver is dead and our people have been taken to Iona.”

“Of course!” Buchan said, “The Cultist said they had been taken to the most sacred of their places. That has to be Iona.” “He told us more than he thought,” Dredd said. “I think you had better tell us what has been going on,” Judge Green asked them. Dredd explained about the prisoner in the dungeons and what he had told them. “So we hud better get tae Iona as soon as we can,” said Jamieson soberly, “The Cultists will nae hud them fer long before they sacrifice oor people.” “We had better tell our hosts that we are leaving,” Judge Buchan said. “They winnae like that, I can tell ye that,” Jamieson warned. “That’s their business. We have our own mission to follow,” Dredd said firmly. In his private chamber, Grand Master De Molay sat behind an ornate desk. At one side was a jewel encrusted leather bound bible. On the other side was a computer. Standing on either side of him was his two advisors. Sergeant Brother McDonald knocked on the door and waited patiently. After a moment, the leader of the Templars allowed him to enter. “Ye wanted tae see me, Grand Master?” McDonald said. “Yes, Brother. I want to get your impression of the newcomers,” De Molay answered, “You have spent the most time with them. Tell me what you think of them.” “Of course, Grand Master,” the Sergeant Brother said, “Ah believe them tae be guid people. The American is hard as stane but has a great respect fer his law. The woman seems quite capable and honourable, and the Sassenach is a guid man as weel.” “What of the Judge of the Old Order of Cal-Hab?” the Grand Master asked. “He mair than the ithers seems to be the closest tae us,” McDonald said, “He has shown himsel tae revere the Lord, and he seems the maist sympathetic tae oor holy cause.” “Do you think that he might be persuaded to join our sacred work?” De Molay asked. The Sergeant Brother considered this. “If onyone oot them wid join us, it wid be him,” he said, “But the rescue mission they are oan is too important fer him tae abandon. He wouldnae leave his comrades.” The Grand Master thought this over. “I believe that we can yet show them the righteous path. We shall see what the Gathering of the Brothers will accomplish. Thank you for your counsel, Sergeant Brother. You may go with God.” McDonald bowed low and left the room. De Molay turned to his advisors. If we are to yolk the strength of the newcomers and their war machine, we need to convince them of our holy cause. I believe that the Gathering will be just the occasion for this. D’Aumont, are our Brothers due to arrive on time?” “Already the Commander of the North has arrived at the head of a large force, ready to be issued with their weapons and armour and join us in the Great Crusade. The rest will all have arrived by tomorrow.” “Excellent!” the Grand Master said happily, “Larmenius, in this crucial time, we have no further need to hold the heathen prisoners in our dungeons. I believe our Brothers have gleaned all the information we will get from them. They are now an unnecessary distraction.” “What would you have us do, Grand Master?” his other advisor asked. “Purge them all,” he replied simply. Sergeant Brother McDonald was just coming out from the chapel after evening prayers when he noticed a large band of Knights Brothers heading for the dungeons. Curious, he went over to them.

“Whit’s gaen oan?” he asked them. “See to your own business, Sergeant Brother,” their leader said curtly, “We are doing the Lord’s work.” “And whit work taks ye tae the dungeons at this time o’ nicht wi’ yer weapons?” McDonald persisted. “Begone, or face the wrath of the Grand Master!” the Knight Brothers’ leader declared, “We go there on his orders.” McDonald stepped aside, his face cast to the ground. To challenge the will of Grand Master De Molay was to invite expulsion from the Order. The Knight Brothers marched past in silence, with a grim resolution to carry out their awful task. The Sergeant Brother stood in a terrible silence and then the cries began to come up from down in the dungeons. Did even the heathens deserve this? “But…he is a godsend,” McDonald started, “The Grand Master is a wonderful man.” But the words sounded hollow as he said them. “So is everything alright with the tank?” Dredd asked over the comm. “There have been quite a lot of knights and soldiers marching past us. There’s quite an army assembling here. They have been keeping their distance, but we’ve had more than a few giving us friendly waves as they’ve gone past us,” Judge-Pilot Bader replied, “It seems our reservations about these chaps were groundless.” “Don’t be too sure about that, and don’t let your guard down for a second,” warned Dredd, “Something’s going on here, and I don’t think we’re going to like it. Just be ready to leave tomorrow.” “You got the information about the slaver?” Bader asked. “Yes, Dredd out,” replied Dredd. The microphone disappeared back up into Dredd’s helmet. “Whit noo?” Judge Jamieson asked. “We get some sleep. Tomorrow we are on our way again,” Dredd replied. Next morning, the Commander of the Houses politely knocked on the door to their chambers and informed them that a meal had been prepared for them in the dining hall. They all went down, with Phoenix following at the back. When they came into the hall, breakfast was being served to the Knights Brothers and the soldiers of the Order. A man dressed in a green robe, a cleric of the Templars, said Grace before they began to eat. Dredd turned to the Commander of the Houses. “Tell your Grand Master that we intend to leave today. Our mission can be delayed no longer. “I will convey that message immediately,” answered the man, “But you will of course attend the Commencement Ceremony tonight, as you are the special guests of honour.” “We dinnae ken onythin’ aboot ony ceremony,” said Judge Jamieson. “The Grand Master has called all the Knights Commanders from all over the protectorate to this base for the ceremony. It is by the will of God that you yourselves have come here to bear witness to it.” “We can delay no longer,” insisted the Mega City Lawman, “We have our duty to attend to.” “But surely you would not insult the Order of the Knights Templar by refusing such an honour,” said a voice behind him. It was Grand Master De Molay himself, with his two advisors on either side as usual. The Grand Master inclined his head closer to

Dredd. “You have been sent here for a reason. Remember that we can help you with your search. By remaining here, you improve the chances of finding your quarry.” “With all due respect, we have to leave. We have been here too long already,” answered Dredd. “Just stay here until the conclusion of the Commencement Ceremony, that is all I ask. Surely that is not too much to do for us?” De Molay said. Dredd considered this for a moment. He was anxious to be away, but he could see that it would be dangerous to get on the wrong side of the Templars. But Dredd was not one to be scared of such things. Buchan, realising that Dredd was about to say something undiplomatic, interceded. “Very well, Grand Master, we will stay here for a while longer. But we must leave directly after your ceremony,” she insisted. “Wonderful!” De Molay said in triumph, “Praise God for this agreement! We shall see you there tonight. It will be a night to remember!” He left with his advisors in the happiest of moods. Dredd faced Buchan in irritation. “Why did you agree to this!” he demanded, “I told you that we were leaving today, with or without their consent.” “I am sorry to go against your Judgement, Judge Dredd,” she said, “But surely you can see that having the entire armies of the Templars against us will only make our mission that much more difficult. We can still leave today.” “I get the impression that they are not going to let us leave ever,” said Dredd to the female Cal-Hab Judge, “They want something from us, count on it. We are only delaying the inevitable.” Later that day, Dredd and Judge Green visited the Flak-Mac. Bader and Wilberforce were relieved to see them. “I have to say, old boy, that I will be happy when we are out of here. There has been more and more Templars arriving all the time since we spoke last,” said the Pilot-Judge. “We are leaving tonight,” confirmed Dredd, “I want the tank ready to leave at a moment’s notice.” “We have been ready to leave since we got here,” said Wilberforce, “Just say the word and we are away.” Meanwhile, Judges Jamieson and Buchan were walking through the base. They were looking for Sergeant Brother McDonald, who they had not seen all day. They eventually found him in the Chapel. From his appearance, he had been there all night, praying. “Are ye alricht?” Judge Jamieson asked him. The man opened his eyes and looked at them both. His face bore a haunted expression. “Aye, ah’m…fine,” he said unconvincingly, “Today is a grand day, ye are fortunate tae be present.” “Why, what’s going on?” asked Buchan, “What’s this Commencement Ceremony about?” “A’ the Knights Commanders of the Order hae came here fer this ceremony,” he told them, “The Grand Master himsel’ wi’ charge us a’ tae go forth and dae the work o’ the Lord. The Grand Master is a godsend.” “You don’t look well,” said Jamieson, concerned, “Maybe you should come with us to the tank and get checked over in our medbay?”

“Thank ye fer the offer, but ah am fine,” he said sadly, “I am a lucky man – the Order has been ma life since the destruction o’ ma village. They are ma family noo. If ye’ll excuse me, ah must get back tae ma devotions. Ah’m sure ah will see ye at the ceremony…” With that, he closed his eyes and went back to his silent prayers. The Judges could see that his hands were very tightly clasped together, as if he was desperate for an answer. They left him alone and exited the Chapel. “What was that all about?” Buchan asked her comrade. “Ah dinnae ken, but ah think there’s something terribly wrang here and McDonald disnae ken how tae handle it. We need tae be awfa careful noo.” Later that evening, the Judges and even Phoenix were led to the Great Hall. As they approached the massive wooden doors, Judge Jamieson noticed the former trainer Argyll was there, working amongst the servants in simple brown clothing, as part of his punishment. Then, the doors were swung wide and they all entered. The entire Hall had been especially decorated in preparation for this ceremony, Banners and tapestries were on display. Above the throne of the Grand Master a new painting was hung. It depicted Jesus Christ riding in full Templar uniform at the head of a massive army, with the Grand Master slightly behind him. In the sky above them, Heaven had opened its pearly gates and an angelic army was riding down from the sky to join them. It was obviously commissioned for this occasion. The room was already full of Knights and soldiers in full uniform, waiting for the ceremony to begin. In front of the empty throne, a long table was put, with places of honour for the various Knights Commanders as well as the special guests of honour. Surprisingly, a place had also been set for Sergeant Brother McDonald, in recognition of his recent work in the service of the Order. He sat there already. As they were led to their places, Jamieson nodded to him. McDonald barely flickered a smile in response. They all sat down, except Phoenix, who had no seat prepared. He was allowed to stand in silence in the background as the Knights Commanders entered and took their places. There was an expectant hush, and then the to the sound of a deafening fanfare, the Grand Master entered the Hall, in full regalia, flanked by his two advisors. Those assembled cheered in devotion to the entrance of their leader, who made his way to his throne and sat down. An ornately decorated green robed cleric walked to the front of the table and put his arms in the air. Immediately, the cheering subsided. There was utter silence in the Great Hall, and then the cleric spoke. “To the glory of Almighty God and in the presence of his people, we come here to bear witness to the beginning of the New Crusade against the Heathens! May God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit bless this day for all time. And may we crush the non-believers into the ground and cleanse the land of them once and for all!” Then, De Molay stood up. “My brothers! The time has indeed come to drive the infidels away from God’s country, and we all must do our part. If you feel that the mission is a difficult one, and one that might not be accomplished, then gaze at this symbol of God’s will and be heartened! For God does bless this Order. He blesses us all by this gift!” The Grand Master motioned to a group of clerics at the side of the Hall to come forward. They carried an ornate bejewelled box with the Templar symbol emblazoned upon it. Setting it down in front of the Grand Master in great reverence, they backed away, leaving their leader to open the box. Slowly putting his hand in, he drew out a gold chalice and lifted it high above his head. The entire assembly sat spellbound at the sight of this goblet.

“See this symbol of God!” the Grand Master voice boomed throughout the Hall, “Behold the Holy Grail! The Cup of Jesus Christ himself, with which he pronounced the New Covenant and which held his sacred blood when he was crucified! See how God himself blesses our New Crusade with this blessed symbol!” Dredd looked around at the reactions of those sitting at the table. Most were completely overcome with awe at this sight. More than one of the Knight Commanders were openly weeping in devotion. Sergeant Brother McDonald, despite his own doubts, was crossing himself in reverence to this holy relic. His own Judges were more interested in the effect this Grail was having on the Templars. They knew that with such a potent symbol in his possession, De Molay could count on the unconditional support of all the Knight Brothers and soldiers present. There had been rumours of course, that the original Order of the Knights Templars had somehow come into possession of the Holy Grail, as well as several other important Christian artefacts, and that the Masons had inherited these after the fall of the Templars. How these new Templars had come by the Holy Grail was more of a mystery. The Grand Master saw this effect on his men and relished his new power. He placed the Grail down on to the table and faced the assembly once again. “Onward Christian Soldiers,” he sang, with the entire company soon joining in, “Marching on to war…” As the hymn was sung, Dredd turned to Judge Jamieson. “I don’t like how this is going,” he told him, “And I like the idea of getting caught up in a full scale conflict between the Templars and the Cultists even less. Get ready to get out of here. Just follow my lead.” The hymn ended and the Grand Master, flushed with his own success turned to the special guests at the table. “And God himself sent unto us these unbelievers, who represented the Old Order of Judges. And when they arrived, they saw the Templars and knew that we were good. And they did cleave unto us and saw the light! And now their mighty war wagon’s strength is ours! It shall my our chariot of God and lead us to victory!” Dredd stood up. He had had enough. Facing De Molay, he addressed the entire assembly. “That’s it, I have tried to avoid a confrontation but you creeps have left me no choice. Get this straight – we are NOT joining your little crusade and we are leaving right now!” he declared. De Molay was stunned; it looked as though he genuinely believed that the Judges would have jumped at the invitation to join the crusade. He was taken aback at Dredd’s words. Dredd turned his attention to the other Judges. “Right, we are leaving now,” he ordered them. In response, they all started to get to their feet. The assembled Knight Brothers and soldiers watched as they made to leave. Then, De Molay got over his initial shock and spoke. “You cannot decline this God-given mission you now have. You cannot leave!” he insisted. “Watch us,” Dredd said in reply. “I cannot allow you to go,” said the Grand Master, and pointed to the Knight Commanders at the table. They all drew their swords and stood up. “Surely you see that you are so completely outnumbered that you can’t possibly leave this place without our consent? You must stay and do battle with the heathens in the name of the Almighty.” “We are leaving right now. Don’t try to stop us!” demanded Dredd. “Then you have shown yourselves to truly be unbelievers!” replied the Grand Master, “And as such, you must be cleansed!” He motioned his Knight Commanders forward

and started to take a step back to get out of the way. But Dredd drew his lawgiver and pointed it directly at the Grand Master’s head. “Order your men to stand down, or you’re getting to Heaven a Hell of a lot quicker than you might have thought!” Dredd declared. The Knight Commanders faltered, unsure of what to do. For all his madness, De Molay stayed cool, even looking down the barrel of the Mega City One Lawman’s gun. “If I die, then there are hundreds to take my place. Shoot me if you will, unbeliever! You are correct, I will see Heaven. You however will only see the Pit of Hell!” The Knight Commanders moved in to attack, while the other Judges and Phoenix readied themselves for battle. No-one noticed the Sergeant Brother as he moved down the table and grabbed the Holy Grail. “Judge Dredd! Catch!” he shouted, and hurled the Grail across to Dredd. Dredd caught the chalice and pointed his lawgiver at this new target. “New deal, creep,” he said to the Grand Master, “You let us walk out of here or you lose your hold over these people!” The Grand Master looked on in absolute horror. “You have betrayed us all!” he said to the Sergeant Brother, with a look of rage, “You have consigned your soul to eternal torment!” “I did what I had to do, Grand Master,” answered McDonald wretchedly, “It wasn’t right to hold these good people.” “They are heathens!, De Molay thundered, “And you delivered them the most holy symbol of God! Have you any idea what you have done?” “What is your answer? Do we leave now or do you lose your Grail?” Dredd interrupted. “What must we do, Grand Master?” asked one of the Knight Commanders. The Grand Master was silent for a moment, and then spoke. “We must do as they say. Very well, heathen, return us the Grail and you are free to leave.” “I don’t think so,” replied Dredd, “We are taking this with us as insurance. Once we are out of these mountains, we will leave it at the entrance.” “And how can we believe that you will keep your word?” De Molay asked. “Because unlike you, we are as good as our word,” Dredd replied simply. Knowing he had no choice, the Grand Master motioned to his men to allow the Judges and Phoenix to leave. They parted to create a channel for them to pass through. As they left, Jamieson looked at McDonald. “Ah think ye had better come wi’ us,” he told him, “There is nothin’ left fer ye here.” Without a word, the Sergeant Brother got up and followed them. They made their way through the Great Hall, past all those hate-filled faces, and out into the courtyard. They got into the Flak-Mac and it thundered into life, moving off within seconds of the hatch closing. With everyone aboard, the tank left the base and made it way out of the mountains. All the time, it was under watchful eyes. “Ah am truly sorry that it hud tae come tae that,” Judge Jamieson told McDonald, “We tried a’ we cuid to avoid conflict wi’ the Templars.” “Ah ken ye did,” said the Sergeant Brother, “That is why I helped ye. But ah still hae tae go back.” “What?!” exclaimed Buchan, “Surely you can’t be thinking of going back there. They’ll kill you!” “Aye they will. Stay here wi’ us,” said Jamieson. “Ah thank ye, but ah cannae. Even though ah huv betrayed them, ah still need tae go back. Fer better or fer worse, ah cannae deny what ah am. Ah am a Templar an’ ah need tae face them.”

The Flak-Mac was just at the entrance of the mountains now. Dredd ordered it to stop and went over to the Sergeant Brother. “Are you sure we cannot persuade you to stay?” he said to McDonald. “Absolutely,” said the Sergeant Brother, “It’s something ah hae tae dae.” “Very well. Take this back with you and good luck to you,” he said, handing over the Grail. McDonald took it in devoted hands and climbed out of the hatch. He stood at the entrance of the mountains and waited for the tank to move off. Giving them a wave of farewell, he turned to the mountain path that would take him back to his final Judgement. He walked in resolutely, fearing not his fate. Inside the Flak-Mac, the Judges were in a sombre mood. McDonald was going to his death. “We should hae talked him oot o’ it,” said Judge Jamieson sadly. “It was his choice,” Dredd told him, “His decision.” There was silence once again. “I can hardly believe that they let us go for that Grail,” said Judge Green, “It meant that much to them.” “Yeah,” said Dredd, “They really are mad.” “What do you mean, old sport?” asked Judge-Pilot Bader. “When I was carrying that thing with us out of the base, I had a close look at it. I seriously doubt the genuine Holy Grail had “Made in Taiwan” stamped on the bottom of it!” “What!” exclaimed Jamieson, “Ye mean it wis a fake!? And they still let us go over it?” “I believe that these Templars are so insane that they still honestly believe that they have the real Holy Grail in their possession. In their madness, they see what they want to see.” “Whatever it was, the Templars will be out to get us now,” observed Judge Buchan, “We humiliated them in their own base – they won’t forget that!” “Aye, they’ll be efter oor blood an’ nae mistake!” said Jamieson. “We’ll deal with them if we have to,” Dredd told them, “Now we have other things to concentrate on. The Cultist in the dungeons of that base has confirmed what the informant in Ness had told us, our people are being taken to Iona. We tried to intercept them before they got there, but that doesn’t look like that’s going to be possible now. Now we have to get there as quickly as we can and save them before they are sacrificed to Grud-knows-what!” There was a general agreement in response to this. The Flak-Mac made its best speed away from the Templars and into the lands held by the Pagan Cults. It was out of the frying pan and into the fire. Back at the Great Hall of the Templar base, the Knight Commanders came to their Grand Master, who stood in fury at the throne. The assembled Knight Brothers and soldiers had been dismissed, so they were the only ones there. “Grand Master,” said one of the Knight Commanders, “Give the word and the entire Order will hunt the infidels down and smite them for their blasphemy!” De Molay rounded on him and struck him with his gauntleted hand across his startled face. “Fool!” he shouted, “You would give the Pagan heathens time to mount a defence against us in the time it took to send our armies against one group of unbelievers!” “But sir,” said another, “They insulted us in our own base, in front of our men. They must be seen to be punished for this affront to the Order!” “And they will – count on it!” the Grand Master said, “I swear by all I hold dear that the Judges of the Old Order will pay with their lives. But I, and I alone will handle it!

Now go, and see to the preparations for the New Crusade. I expect us to be ready to begin to cleanse the land of the heathens by the dawning of the next sun!” Thus dismissed, the Grand Master’s Knight Commanders left to follow his orders. De Molay left the Great Hall in a foul temper. He noticed the Commander of the Houses cowering in a shadowy corner in an attempt to avoid his gaze. “Get McCoist up to my chambers immediately!” he demanded. The frightened man ran off to do his bidding. Later, in the Grand Master’s private room, the Commander of the Houses admitted a tough-looking man. He did not wear the familiar colours of a Templar, rather that of tartan vest and denim jeans. He carried with him a huge broadsword, with a serrated edge on both sides, a wicked-looking weapon. The Grand Master dismissed his underling so he could talk with this man alone. “Ye sent fer me?” the huge man said in as civil a tone as he could manage. “I did,” De Molay replied, “You have no doubt heard of the terrible events of the Commencement Ceremony?” “Ah did, but I thoucht that the Grail has been returned tae us, along wi’ the traitorous dug that helped the non-believers?” “That is correct, we picked them up hours ago. That is not what I wish to speak to you about. There is a blood debt that needs to be paid, and I am sending you and your squad to pay it. The Judges of the Old Order must die for what they have done. Can you accomplish this?” The man brandished his huge broadsword. “We will find them and mak them pay fer whit they hae deen!” he declared, “Huv we ever failed ye?” “Not even during the years before the Great Enlightenment,” the Grand Master conceded, “Now go, and make the unbelievers rue the day they ever crossed the Order of the Knights Templar!” The huge leader of the Rangers Assassination Squad left the chambers to call his men. They would not stop until their targets had been eliminated. The Grand Master knew from long experience that fact. Sitting back in his ornate chair, De Molay smiled. He almost felt sorry for the non-believers.

Chapter Twelve “The interference is increasing the further west we go now,” Wilberforce observed. “Is it from the Flux?” asked Judge Buchan, “I thought that the scientists said that its effects were diminishing?” “It is,” Wilberforce confirmed, “This is due to something else. Even before the Flux, the Western Highlands were difficult to traverse. The mountains, the valleys and the radiation all work to confuse scanners and make it almost impossible to see what’s ahead.” “Weel, this is nae the area ye want tae be surprised,” commented Judge Jamieson. “If we can’t rely on the tank’s scanners for our reconnaissance, we’ll just have to use our own eyes. Green, Jamieson – you and I will go out on the Lawmasters and scout ahead, we’ll make sure that there’s no surprises out there before we let the tank through. If we run into trouble, we will call you for back-up.” The three Judges left the tank in the only three Lawmasters that remained intact and sped forward. All around, there was the potential for an ambush. But the Judges were resolute. They continued to travel down the Great Glen, determined to pass it. Beyond that massive valley lay the coast, and after that the islands of Mull and the settlement of Iona. “I say, this part of the country is absolutely riddled with mountains!” noted Bader, “It doesn’t half make it difficult for us.” “They don’t call it the Great Glen for nothing,” replied Buchan. “It’ll be like this all the way to the coast. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open.” They both looked out the great slopes on either side of the tank. They looked all the more imposing at dusk. The Great Glen had been formed countless aeons ago by continental drift and the relentless passage of glaciers during the Ice Age. The Glen was a passageway to the west coast of Cal-Hab, but it had always been a most dangerous one. The huge mountains had always made it difficult for communication and for intelligence gathering. They also made the perfect hiding place for criminals and to mount offensives from. Even during the time of the Cal-Hab Judiciary, it was only an area travelled by well-armed convoys. Now, in Post-Flux Cal-Hab, only the most brave or the most foolish would travel there. Dredd ordered that the Flak-Mac stop for the night, unwilling to travel in the darkness with their scanners impaired. Phoenix was ordered out on sentry duty, along with Judges Wilberforce and Buchan. The night drew in. “Ah’ll see ye in the mornin’,” Judge Jamieson said to Buchan as she relieved him. He dismounted from the Lawmaster. Buchan took her station for the night. As he passed the ABC Warrior, he stopped for a moment. “Be sure to tell us if ye see onythin’,” he told him, “An’ we’ll come runnin’” Phoenix barely looked over. “Richt! Whit’s wrang wi’ ye?” Jamieson asked, “Ye’ve bin like this since we left Ness.” “There is nothing wrong with me,” Phoenix insisted, “I am after all, only a robot. Programmed to do as I am told. Have I done something to displease you, master?” “Dinnae gie me that!” Jamieson replied, “Faun huv ah ever treated ye like that? Ah ken that Dreed has a problem wi’ robots but that’s jist his way. Haven’t the rest o’ us treated ye like a member o’ the team?” Phoenix was quiet for a moment, trying to think things through. At last, he spoke.

“I…suppose so. You have not treated me as second-rate, despite your position. I guess I should value that.” “Damn richt. Maist o’ us in Cal-Hab ne’er hud the money fer robots,” Jamieson explained, “So we ne’er really goat intae the habit o’ treatin’ them like servants. That’s why ah didnae hae a problem wi’ the Monks o’ St Cuthbert being robots. An’ besides, ye’ve saved oor lives mair than ance oan this mission, Phoenix, so dinnae gie yersel the impression ye arenae appreciated. Dreed might nae say it, but ah think he at least respects ye fer whit ye’ve deen as weel.” “You’ve given me much to think about,” said Phoenix, as Jamieson walked off to get some sleep in the Flak-Mac. The night continued. The sentries stayed on watch, despite the interference to their scanners. It became evident that only the evidence of their own eyes could be trusted. Phoenix marched up and down his own area. His visual scanners were not much use and he was loathed to admit that even with his recent upgrades, he was not able to keep as efficient a watch as he should. If his scanners were functioning properly, he would have been able to detect the people who were watching them. The figures had been observing the Flak-Mac and its sentries for half an hour and now had decided to report back to their leader. The three men mounted their horses and rode back to their camp. They each wore different animal skins – a wolf, a boar and a bear and around their necks, they wore a corn dolly made out of the local grasses. They arrived at their camp and went straight to their leader. He was in his hut, enjoying the company of two of his wives when they entered. He had a muscular body, black spiky hair and a silver torc around his neck. His face had two red marks going vertically down over his eyes. This was a leader that men feared. He looked up, angrily. “Ah hope ye huv a damned important reason fer disturbin’ me like this!” he declared, as he dismissed his bed companions. The three men fell to one knee and bowed respectfully. One of them answered him. “Ma great king. We huv tae report that we huv foond the war chariot that the High Priestess forewarned us of. It lies at the foot o’ the Great Glen.” Their leader’s expression turned to extreme hatred. “So it has come tae pass at last!” he declared, “The chariot precedes the men o’ the false god! Noo is the time fer us tae act!” “Whit can we do against sic a machine?” asked another of the men, “We cannae breach its armour, High King.” “Fer those that hae true faith in the Callieach, there is nothin’ we cannae dae!” the leader said with conviction. “Summon the warriors. We will bring the war chariot doon. Then we will sacrifice its crew tae the Callieach. The soldiers o’ the false god will see them, an’ ken that we winnae be defeated by them!” The night passed without incident and by the dawn’s early light, the Flak-Mac was once again underway. Judge-Pilot Bader drove the tank over the new terrain with the skill that came from a lifetime’s experience. Judge Wilberforce occupied the weapon station once again. Dredd sat in the control room, reading vidpads containing what data was available concerning the Pagan Cults. To Dredd’s mind, the Cults were little more than insane savages. Frankly, he was surprised that they had survived in any kind of numbers in the years following the Flux. But Judge Jamieson had more experience with them.

Judge Jamieson came in, after a troubled sleep. His dreams had become more disturbing to him the further into these lands they had come. Memories that he had tried to suppress had reasserted themselves while he slept. It had left him shaken, but he tried not to let it show. “How far are we frae the coast noo?” he asked Bader. “Going by our maps and our speed, I would estimate that are still a couple of days from the coastline. “We need to know what information you learned from your experiences with the Cultists from your time in this area,” said Dredd. “Faun ah wis in this area before, ah wis lookin’ fer ony trace o’ ma lost wife, Eilsa,” he explained, “Ah kent that the regression that hud effected mony people in Cal-Hab had taken o’er her mind, an’ she hud turned intae someone ah didnae ken onymair. But ah wis still determined tae find her.” “I take it you never found your wife,” said Judge Dredd. “No, ah ne’er did,” Jamieson replied sadly, “Ah travelled the Heelans fer mony months in vain, but ah ne’er foond ony sign o’ her. At last, ah tried tae pit it behind me. Ah joined the Oz Radback Judiciary Division and tried tae lose masel’. But ah wis jist runnin’ frae ma pain. Bein’ here again has jist broucht it a’ back.” “It must have been hard to accept the loss of your wife,” Judge Wilberforce said with great sympathy. “It wis, but there wis plenty sufferin’ tae go aroond back then. Ah wis by nae means unique.” “We still need what information you can give us about the Cults that are operating in this area. What we have on these vidpads are stretchy at best,” Dredd told him. “Very weel,” said Jamieson reluctantly, “The Cults moistly follow different god an’ goddesses frae Celtic and Norse religions. The last time ah wis here, they were still fechtin’ amongst themsels. There hud been several battles wi’ the Templars as weel, wha the Cultists see as their mutual enemy. It wis known fer different tribes tae temporarily pit their ane differences aside tae fecht the Templars. That is why the Templars huv ne’er been able tae defeat them up tae noo.” “The Cultist we spoke to in the Templar base referred to someone called ‘The Callieach,’” said Dredd, “Any idea who this is?” “It soonds like anither o’ the deities that some Cultists revere,” answered Jamieson, “Ah cannae say that ah learnt a’ the different gods and goddesses that are worshipped in the Heelans. Ah’m sure that we will find oot mair soon.” “Right then,” Dredd said with conviction, “We will take no chances! You, Judge Green and I are on scout duty again. If we run into any trouble, I want us to be ready and able to defend ourselves. With that, the Flak-Mac stopped and allowed the three Judges from the three cities to mount their Lawmasters and head out to check the immediate terrain ahead. The Cultist village was ready and prepared for war. Their warriors had assembled in answer to their High King’s call. They stood holding their axes, swords and shields. The High King camp out of his hut. He faced his warriors and addressed them. “Warriors, followers o’ the great Callieach, oor time has come! The enemy hus sent a terrible war chariot against us! They think that we are weak! They think that we can swept aside and oor Goddess means nothin’! Noo is oor time tae strike back!” The entire village screamed and shouted in response. They were willing to fight and to die for the Callieach.

“It willnae be easy tae defeat sic an enemy,” he continued, “So ah huv taken the decision that we will use the forbidden weapons. With these in oor haunds, we will be victorious! With the power o’ the Earth behind us, we shall crush a’ those that serve the false god!” From behind him, warriors came from his hut, carrying a wooden box. The High King walked amongst his fighters and those that he chose were sent to the box. It held guns and weapons captured from the time before the Flux. As before, some of them had been decorated with pagan symbols so that their power could be channelled for the benefit of the faithful. The chosen stood before the rest of the tribe, brandishing their forbidden weapons. They would use these in the service of the Callieach to bring death to those that denied her. The horses were also brought out, similarly decorated in Pagan symbols to imbue them with great power. Many mounted their steeds and led their fellow warriors out to battle. Cheering and chanting, the warriors left the village. The war party of Pagan Cultists came down a path from their village. Sure enough, the Flak-Mac was still travelling along the Great Glen. At the sight of this invader, the High King drew his sword and angrily raised it into the air. He turned his mount so it faced his warriors. “These non-believers dare to defile our sacred lands with their presence!” he shouted. The Callieach demands their lives for this insult! The great Grandmother of the Clans is with us! Forward!” Screaming and shouting warcries, the Cultists tore down the side of the mountain, descending upon the Flak-Mac and the Lawmasters. Dredd was quick to respond. “They’re coming in from both sides. We can’t outrun them. We’ll have to stand and fight! Choose your targets!” he ordered. The Flak-Mac took position next to them. Judge Wilberforce powered-up the weapons and waited for Dredd’s order. The Judges on the Lawmaster’s also prepared for combat. Their bike cannons trained on the screaming Cultists as they drew nearer. “We need the robot, have it sent out,” said Dredd over the helmet-mike. Phoenix left his alcove and headed for the cargo bay door. The door automatically opened and he walked out to the battle. “Looks like I’ll be getting to use my new upgrades,” the ABC Warrior said, as he surveyed the scene. “An’ here wis me thinkin’ that we would be fectin’ the Templars before lang,” said Judge Jamieson from his Lawmaster. The warriors on horseback led the charge against the Judges, with the High King at the forefront. As he urged his warriors toward battle, he waved his huge broadsword above his head, calling on his goddess to lend him strength. They were almost upon their enemies. “Open fire!” ordered Dredd. The Flak-Mac erupted in firepower. Rockets streaked through the air and exploded within the mass of warriors. The tank’s machine guns sprung into life, chattering leaden death at the Cultists. But still they came. The three Lawmaster’s joined in; their bike cannons picking off the horsemen as they closed in on their positions. Phoenix opened fire with his gun arm. But still the tide of warriors came. Within seconds, they had engulfed the Judge’s positions; horsemen and foot soldiers alike tore down the mountainside to the glen below. Those Cultists that had been honoured with the forbidden weapons opened fire, choosing the Flak-Mac as their target. Rockets and grenades exploded on the tank’s armour, shaking the

Judge’s within. Outside, the three Judges sped their Lawmasters through the enemy ranks, their cannons raking the Cultists as they went. Some of the warriors had surrounded Phoenix and were hacking at him with axe and sword. The wardroid activated a defence mechanism, and from the bases of his feet, two metal pins buried themselves into the ground, stabilising him. He opened a side panel on one of his arms and took out a small cylinder. It was a las-whip. He turned it on and a long glowing filament ignited. He snapped it in front of him and four warriors were slashed. They fell to the ground, their wounds still smoking from where the las-whip struck them. Then the wardroid’s torso twisted so he faced those warriors that were attacking him from behind. Another snap of the whip, and they too were dispatched. In this way, he defined a death zone all around him. From within the Flak-Mac, Judge-Pilot Bader surveyed the battle. “There are so many of them,” he said, “Wilberforce, how are you doing?” “Our armour is taking a pounding!” she replied, “With our scanners limited, I can’t effectively target those attackers who are firing on us.” “It looks like the Lawmasters are being fired on as well now,” said Judge Buchan using a narrow slit on the wall to see what was going on,” In the confusing melee that had developed outside, the Judges had become separated. Their bike cannons were still taking out their attackers, but all three of them had drawn their own weapons to defend themselves. Judge Dredd was taking out horsemen and foot soldiers alike with his daystick. Judge Green opted to use his PC 101 handgun to take out his attackers. Judge Jamieson had drawn his own sword and was now engaged in combat with a horseman. In all the noise and confusion, no-one could see the Cultist standing on the slope of the mountainside taking careful aim with his rifle. A shot rang out amongst a hundred others. The bullet struck the side of the head of Judge Green and his was thrown from his Lawmaster. He came to the ground with a heavy thump. His helmet had taken the full force of the impact, but he was still stunned. The Cultists around him closed in. They were on him in a second. Phoenix had witnessed what had happened and had uprooted himself, coming over through the mob as quickly as he could. The Pagans held him firmly, just as the High King came over. He dismounted from his horse and faced his enemy. “For the Callieach!” he shouted, and swept his massive sword diagonally across the front of the Brit-Cit Judge. The Judge screamed in agony as a spray of his blood came from the deep wound and then went limp. He was dropped onto the ground like so much rubbish. “No!” the wardroid shouted, his eyes glowing red. Dredd and Jamieson turned and saw the awful truth – one of their comrades had been killed. “Ye bastards!” exclaimed the Cal-Hab Judge, and tore through the Cultists towards his target. Dredd was close by. The Judges inside the Flak-Mac were also stunned. Judge-Pilot Bader turned to Wilberforce with a look of fury. “Take them all out!” he declared. She didn’t argue. Bader gunned his engines and the tank sprung into movement. Most of the Cultists that had climbed on top of the tank were suddenly jarred off. Wilberforce electrified the outer armour of the Flak-Mac and those that remained fell off, dead. The tank surged forward, running over those Cultists that didn’t get out of their way. There would be a reckoning.

“By the one who watches over all of us, I declare that this man is but the first of the non-believers to die this day!” the High King declared, “Come, my warriors, let us slay them all!” The two remaining Judges on the Lawmasters tore through the Cultists towards their leader. Phoenix was almost there as well. In the background, they could hear the tank churning up the ground. Dredd was first to confront the warriors. “You like killing Judges?” he asked, “Try it on one who isn’t being held down, creep!” he challenged. The Cultist pushed forward, eager to claim the Mega-City Judge as a prize as well, but this time it would not be so easy. Dredd dropped his daystick and drew his lawgiver. “Standard, rapid fire!” he ordered and aimed it in a smooth arc. The oncoming warriors were gunned down where they stood, to the disbelief of their King. “Ah’ll see ye hung on oor village wa’ fer a’ tae see!” he declared. “Not in this lifetime!” answered Dredd. “Yer mine!” Judge Jamieson said suddenly, and jumped from his Lawmaster. “Ye killed oor comrade!” “And I did not think it too many!” the leader of the warriors declared. Dredd continued to fire on the other Cultists as Phoenix arrived. He had lost his las-whip in the battle and now was using another upgrade. His hammer arm was now energised, giving it a much more lethal impact. It was a brutal and devastating wake he had left to get here. The High King looked over the Cal-Hab Judge and was not impressed. “If this is a’ that the followers o’ the false god can send, we are nae in ony danger!” he said scornfully. “Look aroond and say that!” Judge Jamieson answered. All around them were the bodies of the Cultist warriors. Most had been killed in the battle. The High King turned to his foe angrily. They are with the Callieach in the afterlife! They have fought those that would oppose her and now they are enjoying their reward. “Ah always thoucht that ye Pagans were too much in love wi’ death!” said Judge Jamieson, “Weel, ah’m glad that ye are sae pleased aboot yer warriors, because ah’m gaen tae send ye tae them noo!” “The power of the Earth flows through me!” the High King said in defiance, “The Callieach chose me tae be her King. Dae ye really believe that ye can oppose the Protector of the Clans?” “Let’s jist see, shall we?” the Cal-Hab Judge replied and came at him. As they clashed swords, it became obvious that the High King was by far the stronger man. He had achieved his title amongst his people by defeating all those who would challenge him. As such, he never contemplated defeat. But while the High King was the stronger warrior, the Cal-Hab Judge was the better swordsman. Where the Cultist relied on brute strength, Jamieson used skilled swordplay to deflect the force of the blows. The High King hacked downwards, using both arms to drive his sword with as much force as he could. But Jamieson sidestepped the stroke and caught him off balance. The Cal-Hab Judge drove his sword deep into his opponent’s arm, drawing a pained cry from the High King. “Yer reign ends here an’ noo!” the Judge said, and prepared for the killing stroke. The High King snarled in rage and pain. “Ah call oan the power o’ the very Earth! Fill me wi’ yer awesome power! Let ma form be yer vessel fer yer vengeance! Callieach! Ah call oan ye!”

Suddenly, the High King shook. It seemed that his muscles were bulging and writhing under his skin. In seconds, he had grown, warped into a grotesque beast of a man. “What the Drokk?” said Dredd, “What’s happening to him?” “Ye see the power o’ the Callieach!?” the High King shouted, “See how she has gifted her chosen warrior wi’ the power of the Earth itself! Noo ye will be the anes tae die!” He renewed the attack, swiping his sword against Jamieson’s. He was sent flying against such a blow. He landed heavily on to his back. The High King closed in on his prey. “Noo, follower o’ the false god, ye will taste death!” he said. His deformed face leered down on the fallen Judge as he brought his sword down on him. “Ye first!” Judge Jamieson answered and drove his own sword deep into the monstrosity’s chest. The High King lurched back in surprise and pain, trying unsuccessfully to pull the hilt of the sword from him. But his huge hands were too big to hold on. He flailed around, screaming. It seemed like energy was sparking around his stricken body. “Ma God!” said Judge Jamieson, “He’s gaen tae explode!” “Everyone, get down!” Dredd ordered. They ran and took cover behind their Lawmasters, just as the entire battleground became bathed in light. The High King detonated in a screaming explosion of energy, sending the bodies of his fallen warriors flying. After a moment, Dredd looked out; a large crater had been created where the High King once was. Looking around, the Mega-City Lawman saw no sign of any further Cultist warriors. The battle was over. They turned their attention to Judge Green. His body had been shielded by the blast by Phoenix, who had gathered him up and taken him behind a Lawmaster. Bader, Wilberforce and Buchan exited the Flak-Mac and came over. “Damn bad show,” said Bader sadly, “He stayed with us when he could have taken the ship home.” “What are we going to do with him?” asked Buchan, “Are we going to leave him here?” “We have to,” replied Dredd, “But we won’t allow these Pagans the pleasure of defiling his body.” A simple grave was dug and Judge Green’s body placed in it. Fuel was then poured over it and ignited. The body was incinerated to such a degree that even the bones were destroyed. Then the grave was filled over. Phoenix once again made a grave marker and placed it at the head of the grave. The ABC Warrior and the Judges fired over the grave in a mark of respect, then filed back into the Flak-Mac. Dredd was quiet for a while – he had something in his hand. It was Judge Green’s badge. After a while, he pulled out a drawer and placed it in with the others he had taken. It went in with Judge Briers and Judge Connolly’s badges, along with Dr Fosdyke’s ID badge. All of them grim reminders of the toll of this mission. They would be remembered. He went into the control room. “Ah’m telling ye, the man wis possessed!” said Judge Jamieson, “If ah hudnae killed him when ah did, that demon wid hae killed us a’.” “Rubbish!” answered Judge Wilberforce, “It’s far more likely that he was a genetic mutant, whose genes activated some form of supermutation which gave him that appearance and strength. When you stuck him, it simply triggered some kind of reaction he couldn’t control. His molecules destabilised and aggressively separated in that explosion.

“Yer wrang!” said Judge Jamieson, agitated, “Can ye nae see whit kind o’ people we are dealin’ wi’ here?” “Whatever they are,” interrupted Dredd, “We need to put as much distance as we can between us and this place. No doubt others will come and discover this battle. If we are to stand any chance of getting to Iona without any further casualties, we have to get there quickly. Judge Bader, what is the status of the Flak-Mac?” “We are in surprisingly good shape, considering the battle,” the Judge-Pilot replied, “Most of the savages didn’t have anything more advanced than swords or axes, so our armour held out pretty well against the Cultists. A few dents on the outer armour and a couple of our circuit boards were fried in the battle. Nothing we can’t handle.” “The Lawmasters are back on board,” added Judge Wilberforce. With Phoenix’s help, we got them in with no problems. They need a little work, but I think they are all repairable within a few days.” “You have one day to repair at least two of them. We need them up and running if we are going to get out of the Great Glen. Let’s get going.” The Flak-Mac roared into life once more and headed away from the battlefield. It continued down the Great Glen towards the coast. As the Judges headed off to their tasks, Dredd took Judge Buchan aside. “I am having concerns that Judge Jamieson is starting to become unstable,” he told her, “Do you think that he is becoming affected by the same regression that drove the people around here insane?”. “I don’t know – it’s not my field of expertise. I know that being in the Highlands is tough for him, considering his past, and the memories that the events of the past few weeks have dredged up. I suggest that for the moment we just keep a eye on him. I don’t think he’s going to do anything to endanger us, at least not now,” Buchan replied. “The last thing we need is a loose cannon on board,” said Dredd, “If he does anything that gives you cause for concern, I want you to tell me immediately. Understood?” She nodded her head in agreement. Half a day after the Flak-Mac left the battlefield, another vehicle arrived. It held a ten-man team who all came out and examined the carnage. Their leader was a large man called McCoist. “It looks like they met up wi’ the locals,” he said to his team-mates, “Ah think that we didnae need tae take ye wi’ us oan this mission, eh Sinclair. The tracker of the Ranger Assassination Squad nodded his head. The Flak-Mac had not been exactly difficult to follow. His skills had not been called on yet. Another man called over McCoist to the grave of Judge Green. He had some form of scanner in his hand. “It looks like ane o’ them boucht it here,” he told his leader, “Ah’m getting readings o’ burnt fuel as weel. It looks like they didnae want tae leave onythin’ fer the Pagans tae get their haunds oan.” “A smart move,” the leader agreed, “Ah widnae either.” He turned to another man. “Doc, how far aheed d’ye think they are?” The medic of the team looked up from a warrior’s body he had been examining. “Ah wid estimate that they finished here aboot six or seven hoors ago,” he told him, “They probably left just after they finished these savages aff.” “Then we are gainin’ oan them,” he said, “Wi’ ony luck, we should intercept them sometime tomorrow. Come oan lads, let’s get gaen. We hae the Lord’s work tae dae!” With that, the men piled back into their vehicle and it tore off in pursuit of the Flak-Mac.

Chapter Thirteen It was slow going, but they eventually managed to reach the ruins of Fort William, which was once a Hanoverian military base built in the wake of the 2nd Jacobite Uprising. Long since abandoned, it was destroyed by the local people who saw it as a symbol of oppression. To the east of the ruins lay the impressive Ben Nevis, the largest mountain in Cal-Hab. Even in this time of madness and violence, there were still those that had been foolhardy enough to try to scale its dangerous peak. Most had had to be rescued and flown out. Now the mountain stood silent and foreboding against the gathering darkness of the night’s sky. To the immediate west lay Loch Linnhe, which led to the Emerald Sea. They would have to hug the coast all the way now if they wanted to take the Flak-Mac to Mull. There had been a bridge built long ago to link the mainland with that island. But since the time of madness in the wake of the Flux, no-one knew if it was still intact. Dredd again ordered that the Flak-Mac would remain stopped during the night. The evidence of more and more Pagan settlements in this area was plain to see. Cairns and standing stones had been constructed in the last few years. They had passed many on their way here. Some were made from the local rocks and stones, while others seemed to have been taken from further afield. Some were made from twisted metal and other discarded rubble. With their scanners still severely limited, all they could do is post sentries once again and await the morning. But this time, as they took up their positions at the old base, it was the Rangers that were watching them. “So there they all are,” said McCoist, “Safe and soond in their tank.” “It winnae be easy tae breach that armour,” said one of the Rangers, “It looks like it hardly saw ony damage fechting those heathens.” “Aye, yer richt enough,” McCoist agreed, “We’ll hae tae bring them oot if we are gaen tae exact oor vengeance oan them a’.” He faced his weapons expert, “Patterson, whit d’ye think?” Paterson considered the matter for a moment. “E’en wi’ a’ that we hae, we cannae go up against that tank and win. We hae to neutralise their advantage. Ah suggest we use the disruption wave generator. Ony unprotected circuitry in their tanks, their weapons and their equipment will be destroyed when it hits. Ance we fry all their technology we can move in fer the kill.” “But whit aboot a’ oor weapons and technology?” asked Sinclair. “We can put a’ that in here,” he pointed to a large chest in the back of their vehicle, “They will be protected from the disruption wave and we can bring them oot efterwards, as right as rain.” “It seems like oor best plan,” McCoist said with approval, “They huv grown accustomed tae their superior firepower and protection that there tank hus given them. They winnae be expecting tae lose it noo. We’ll show them what happens tae those that dare insult the Order o’ the Knights Templar!” “It seems light enough to be off now,” said Judge-Pilot Bader to Judge Wilberforce, “How far are we from the bridge?” Wilberforce called up the vidmap image of the area they were travelling. “About four or five kays, I would say,” she estimated, “We should see it soon.” Just as the Flak-Mac started to move off, Dredd noticed a vehicle filled with men coming up from behind. They seemed to move confidently forward. He watched them

through a slit on the side of the Flak-Mac, his bionic eyes showing them in clear detail. “We’ve got company,” he told the other Judges. “Cultists?” asked Judge Buchan. “It doesn’t look like it,” said Dredd, “Not from what they are wearing.” The vehicle stopped and McCoist stood up. He put his hand to a microphone and spoke through the vehicle’s loudspeakers. “Under order o’ the Grand Master o’ the glorious Order o’ the Knights Templar, ye are hereby sentenced tae death!” he announced, “Prepare yer unworthy souls fer the Pit o’ Hell!” “I knew that we had not seen the last of the Templars,” said Judge Jamieson. “They don’t look like any Templar I’ve seen before,” said Dredd. “How do they expect to carry out their rather ultimate sentence?” asked Bader, “We’re more than a match for them, surely?” “Everyone take your stations,” ordered Dredd, “Whatever their intentions, they seem to be confident of themselves. Be ready to open fire.” Wilberforce powered up the weapons. “Just say the word.” For tense moments, there was silence. Then two of the men in the vehicle picked up a piece of equipment. “The Judgement o’ Grand Master de Molay is upon ye a’!” McCoist declared and turned on the device. Suddenly a deafening screech pierced the area. The Flak-Mac shuddered and ground to a halt, as its circuitry was hit by the disruption wave. Energy crackled over panels and monitors, rendering them useless. Dredd and the others felt a surge of electricity as their weapons were hit. The computerised components on the Flak-Mac were destroyed. And in the cargo bay, Phoenix fell to the ground, his red eyes turning to black. “What on earth just happened?” asked Wilberforce, “Everything’s down! We’re defenceless!” “She’s richt!” said Jamieson, “All the systems are doon! Nothin’ works onymair!” “Whatever that device was they used, it’s stopped us in our tracks,” said Dredd, “And now they’re moving in. Secure all the hatches and the cargo bay doors. I want all entrances manually shut down.” Jamieson and Buchan went off to do just that. Wilberforce tried in vain to reinitialise the weapons, but it was no use. The Flak-Mac would never move again. Judge Jamieson entered the cargo bay and headed for the doors, intent on making sure that their attackers couldn’t get in there. He went a few steps and then found Phoenix. “Ah naw!” he exclaimed, “Whit have they deen tae ye?” He tried to move the inert ABC Warrior, but he was just too heavy. Whatever had happened to the tank had happened to him also. “Ye deserved better than this,” he said to his comrade. Manually securing the doors, he went back to the control room. “The upper hatch is secured,” reported Buchan, “They’ll need blowtorches to cut through to us.” “Phoenix has hud it,” said Jamieson sadly, “Whate’er happened to the Flak-Mac has happened to him as weel.” “Damn, we really could use him right about now,” said Wilberforce, “Nothing is responding, not engines, not weapons, not computers. It’s all fried.” “My lawgiver’s non-functional as well,” Dredd said, “I assume that all our weapons are like this?” “A’thin’ that his a computer circuit in it is,” confirmed Jamieson, “At least we can still use oor swords.”

“I don’t know what good that is going to do against them,” said Wilberforce, “What are they doing now?” Dredd looked and saw them huddled around a large metal chest. They were taking weapons out of it and handing them around.” Dredd recognised some of the firearms. “They’ve got stub-guns,” he said, “Looks like they’re going to slice us open to get to us.” “Stub-guns!” said Wilberforce, “They’ll slice through our armour like a hot knife through warm synthi-butter. What are we going to do?” All eyes turned to Dredd. “We can’t allow the armaments of this tank to fall into the hands of the Templars,” he said with conviction, “The circuitry may be destroyed, but the shells, rockets and other ammunition is still intact. They would only use it to kill more people. We can’t allow that to happen. Wilberforce, I want you to rig up some form of detonator, capable of taking out our entire supply of ammunition. We are not going to leave anything for them to salvage. Get to it.” Wilberforce nodded and quickly moved off to attend to her task. “Whit aboot the rest o’ us?” asked Jamieson, “Are we jist gaen tae wait here and get blown up?” “Of course not, I want you to get together supplies that we can comfortably take with us – radcloaks, rations, that sort of thing. I still intend for us to complete our mission, walking if we have to.” “Aye, it’ll be oan foot noo,” said Jamieson, “Ah hud a look at the Lawmasters faun ah wis doon at the cargo bay. They’re a’ deid as weel.” Jamieson and Buchan went off to gather the supplies. The men were now advancing on the Flak-Mac, smiling at their approaching victory. The Rangers Assassination Squads were renowned for their efficiency. Even a rogue squad like this would not stop until all their targets were destroyed. McCoist and one other raised their stub-guns and fired. A laser sliced through into the tank easily, cutting away the armour as if it wasn’t there. They would be inside in moments. “We’ve got a’ that we should need,” said Jamieson, carrying a few bags of hastily gathered items, “But we’ve still tae fetch oor way oot o’ here. They’re alreedy cutting their way in.” Wilberforce came from the armoury. She held a small device with a thin wire attached. “Here’s the detonator,” she explained, “It’s mechanical, not electronic, so it wasn’t affected by whatever hit us. There’s only one problem – It can’t be set on a timer. It has to be manually activated from here.” “Whoever sets off the ammunition…” started Buchan. “Won’t survive,” finished Dredd, “It’s the only way.” “But who’s staying behind?” said Jamieson, “If it means the rest o’ ye hae a chance, then ah’ll dae it.” “No, old boy,” said Bader from his seat, “I’m the one who’s staying behind.” “What? No!” exclaimed Wilberforce. “I’m awfully afraid that I’m the only choice,” explained the Judge-Pilot, “You see, my legs aren’t actually working anymore. They went along with all the rest of our technology. I can’t move.” The Judges saw the awful truth. Bader couldn’t leave the Flak-Mac. “But we came to rescue you,” insisted Wilberforce, “We still can.” “Come on, old girl, let’s not make a scene, what?” comforted Bader, “You saved me from those beastly organleggers, and for that I will be forever grateful. But my journey has ended. Best that I go out with a bang, eh?”

Wilberforce was on the edge of tears and turned away so he couldn’t see her. Bader looked at Dredd as he took the detonator. “Would you do me the honour of taking my badge with you?” he asked the Mega City Lawman, “To go with the others?” Dredd nodded solemnly and took the proffered badge. “Die well, Bader. You will be remembered,” he told him. “Go on now, get out of here. Find the rest of the Alpha Seven Survivors and see them home!” The Judges left the control room for the last time and headed for the cargo bay. Dredd stopped off momentarily to retrieve the rest of the badges and ID tags before heading off after them. Bader was left alone in his chair. “Well meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. But I’ll know we’ll meet again one sunny day…” he sang to himself. The Judges assembled at the cargo bay doors. They resolved to exit the Flak-Mac fighting. They held swords and daysticks. It was all that was left to them. Against superior numbers with modern weaponry, it didn’t look good. “At least we’ll tak as mony wi’ us as we can!” said Jamieson determinedly. “Mind…if…I…come along?” said a mechanised voice from the ground. It was Phoenix. His eyes dimly glowing but getting stronger. “Ah thoucht ye were deid!” said Jamieson. “I was built to last,” the wardroid answered as he got to his feet, “My core circuitry is buried deep inside me, heavily protected against EM pulses and the like. My outer circuits and technology, including most of my upgrades are offline, but I’m still functioning adequately.” “Good news,” conceded Dredd, “We have to leave the Flak-Mac and there is multiple enemies out there, using superior firepower.” “Then get behind me. I’ll take the first volley and give you time to get out,” Phoenix said. Outside the stricken tank, the squad were carving up the tank like a roast. Men had been posted so they could watch for any movement. If they had to, they would reduce the tank to pieces to get to the Judges. Suddenly, the cargo bay door flew off, smashed by the ABC Warrior’s hammer. He strode out into the morning air, only to be targeted by the squad in moments. They poured on the firepower, smashing great chunks of armour from his robotic frame. But then he returned fire. Most of his original weapons were not electronic. On the battlefield, it is hard to call on technical support. His gun arm was now chattering as he fired at the attackers. From behind him the Judges came out and chose their opponents. Phoenix didn’t stop moving, he would chose a target and head for him, taking him out with his gun arm or his hammer. Dredd was in close combat with a Ranger, his daystick methodically striking his adversary. Buchan and Wilberforce were fighting back to back, with bullets flying all around them. Jamieson spotted the Rangers’ leader and was charging at him, with his sword waving above his head in rage. “Ye’re claimed!” he shouted. McCoist turned and faced the oncoming Cal-Hab Judge and simply levelled his stub-gun at him. He fired, and sliced Jamieson’s sword in two. Jamieson stopped in mid-stride and looked at his smoking claymore he held in his hand. McCoist unsheaved his huge sword and looked at Jamieson. “Ye were sayin’?” he answered. “These Rangers fight like no other Cal-Habbers I have met,” said Wilberforce, as one went for her with a bayoneted rifle. As a driver, she was never that gifted at close

combat. But right now she was fighting on adrenaline and anger, and held her own against her attacker. Buchan also preferred ranged weapons to close combat, but she at least had more experience. She dispatched her combatant, and grabbed his still-functioning handgun. She turned it on another Ranger and brought him down. Phoenix was surrounded by three Rangers, all firing at him relentlessly. They poured on the firepower, denting and smashing his body. He ignored the pain signals and continued to fight. He brought his hammer arm across the head of one of them, while emptying a magazine clip from his gun arm into another. The third was taken out as when he grabbed him by the head and twisted violently. There was a sharp snap, and the Ranger fell down dead. He went to rejoin the battle. Two of the Rangers left the battle and headed inside the open cargo bays doors of the Flak-Mac. “Ah’m tellin’ ye, there’s supposed tae be anither o’ the Judges,” one told the other, “He must be still cowerin’ in here. Easy meat!” They hurried into the dead tank and looked for their quarry. Bader was still waiting patiently in his chair. “I know we’ll meet again some sunny day,” sang Bader quietly. The two Rangers entered the control room, their handguns at the ready. They saw the old man at his seat and laughed. He would be no challenge at all. “Ah gentlemen,” said Bader politely, “So good of you to join me.” “Whit?” said one, then noticed the wire that ran out of the room. “Whit does that dae?” he asked. “This,” answered Bader and pressed the detonator. The battle raged outside, with everyone in a life-or-death struggle. Suddenly the entire battleground was rocked by a massive explosion. Ranger and Judge alike turned to see the Flak-Mac as it was destroyed in the explosion. Bader had given his life and denied the Templars their prize. Dredd was first to react – he brought his daystick down on his opponent, cracking his skull. The Ranger went down in a heap. Dredd looked over and saw Judge Jamieson in trouble and made to reach him. McCoist looked on in disbelief as he saw the tank destroyed. “Look’s like the Templars will jist hae tae dae withoot a’ that ammunition, eh?” said Judge Jamieson, “Whit a pity!” “Ye’re a deid man!!!” said the huge leader of the Rangers and swept his massive broadsword at him. The serrated edge caught Jamieson across his front, slicing his uniform and drawing blood. The Cal-Hab Judge grabbed at his wound in pain. The leader of the Rangers Assassination Squad raised his wicked sword and prepared to end this battle. “Drop that weapon or I’ll drop you!” said Phoenix, levelling his gun arm at McCoist. The leader of the Rangers regarded the wardroid with genuine curiosity. He didn’t see Dredd’s approach. “Ah huvnae seen an auld ABC Warrior in years,” McCoist said. He looked at the two Judges and then at Phoenix. “Whit are ye daen takin’ orders frae these Judges fer? D’ye nae ken that they are the enemies o’ the ABC Warriors?” “Dinnae listen tae him, Phoenix!” said Judge Jamieson, blood pouring over his gauntlets. “It’s true though, isn’t it?” McCoist continued, “The Judges fought against the ABC Warriors in the Second American Civil War. They destroyed maist o’ ye at the Battle o’ Armageddon. Those o’ ye that wernae melted doon efter the end o’ the Volgan War that is!”

Dredd looked around desperately for some weapon he could use against the ABC Warrior. What he wouldn’t give for an armour-piercing bullet now. Phoenix said nothing at first, then spoke. “You are telling me nothing that I haven’t already learned. I know that the ABC Warriors fought the Judges, and I know that most of us were destroyed when the Volgan War ended. The humans didn’t have a use for us in peacetime, so they destroyed us. By all rights I should kill these Judges. They were enemies of the American President. But he is long gone, and I have to make my own decisions. I decide that these Judges are honourable. They have fought and they have died to save others. I have seen by their actions that they are not my enemy. You are.” Phoenix raised his hammer arm over the leader of the Rangers, his eyes glowing. Suddenly a laser erupted from his chest! From behind, a Ranger holding a stub-gun shouted in triumph. A second beam sliced off Phoenix’s hammer arm. Energy and hydraulic fluid spewed forth. “Arrgk!” crackled Phoenix’s broken synthetic voice. His remaining arm jerked as electricity sparked over him. Then he fell to the ground with a crash. His eyes went black. “Phoenix!” exclaimed Jamieson. He gritted through his own pain and tried to stand up but could not summon the strength. “Ah goat him! Ah goat him!” shouted Patterson, waving the stub-gun above his head in triumph. But his victory was short-lived. A major problem with the design of the stub-gun is that it is prone to overheat if used too much. Patterson’s stub-gun suddenly and violently exploded, taking him with it as it went up. McCoist looked on aghast; he was the only Ranger standing now. Dredd had come over to aid Judge Jamieson, as did Buchan and Wilberforce. “It seems that the tide hus turned against me,” McCoist said with resignation, “Ye may huv thwarted the will o’ the Grand Master for noo, but there will be a reckonin’!” “Surrender creep!” Dredd said firmly, “You’ve lost.” “Aye, ah’ve lost, but ah winnae gie masel’ up tae the likes o’ ye,” replied McCoist, “There’s anly a’ way this will end.” With that, he viciously swung his sword at Dredd. The Mega-City lawman swerved out of its deadly path and brought his daystick to bear, ready to bring it down on the leader of the defeated Rangers. Then, from behind, Wilberforce plunged her bootknife deep into McCoist’s ribs. The Ranger reared up in pain before falling dead to the ground. “That’s for Bader, you scum!” she said, tears streaming down her face. In the aftermath of the battle, Buchan did what she could for Jamieson’s wounds, patching him up as best she could. Dredd came over, fresh from salvaging what weapons and equipment he could from the Rangers. “We’re on foot,” he said, the Rangers’ vehicle wasn’t protected from the disruption wave. How are you doing, Judge Jamieson?” “Ah’ll survive,” Jamieson replied. “You understand that we can’t linger here too long. We have still a lot of ground to cover and time is of the essence.” “Dinnae worry aboot me nae keepin’ up wi’ ye,” the Cal-Hab Judge said, “Ma genetic makeup wis designed tae resist radiation an’ tae heal me faster than maist folk. Ah’ll be alricht.” Dredd nodded with approval. He turned his attention to Wilberforce. He had ordered her to examine Phoenix, in the hopes to salvage the wardroid, although it was more to give her something to distract her from her grief. “Anything?” he said to her. She looked up.

“No, there’s nothing that can be done. Phoenix was built to last, but this time the damage is too severe.” “I thought as much,” Dredd said, “Come on then, we’re leaving.” Dredd helped the Brit-Cit Judge to her feet and watched her go over to her Cal-Hab comrades. Then he quietly took out his bootknife and prized off Phoenix’s ABC Warrior badge number from his casing. He put it in his belt, along with the other badges and went to rejoin the others. Only four Judges remained to complete the rescue mission but they would carry on with the same determination.

Chapter Fourteen The bridge between the mainland and the island of Mull was still intact, if rather in a state of neglect. The four Judges crossed the bridge warily, ever more vigilant for signs of the Cultists. Now that their Flak-Mac was destroyed and their weaponry was severely limited to a few handguns, swords and daysticks, they were venerable. However, they were all wearing radcloaks and the night was drawing in. With luck, if they were spotted, they would be mistaken for Cultists. As they walked in the dusk, they could see how the Cultists had made this island theirs in the time after the Flux. All around were signs of atrocities. Stone altars and effigies were found all throughout the island. Many were soaked in blood and there were bleached bones lying around. Buchan and Jamieson tried to look away, ashamed that their countrypeople could have sunk so low. Wilberforce looked sickened by the human sacrifices. Dredd said nothing. “So, where is everyone?” said Wilberforce, breaking the silence, “Mull looks like an important Cultist area but we haven’t seen anyone around.” “Ah’ve nae idea,” said Jamieson, “Ah ne’er goat as far as Mull faun ah wis in the Heelans the last time ah wis here. Ah wid think that there wid be mair people here though.” “If they are not here, then where are they?” asked Buchan. Back on the mainland, the Templars had been fighting the good fight. At the head of a massive army, Grand Master De Molay rode, determined to bring the Highlands back into God’s good graces. His Knight commanders had not failed him, and several heathen villages had been cleansed in the initial battles. He called up one of his commanders. “Sir Walter, we are truly blessed by almighty God. He sends us victory after victory!” “Aye sir,” said the battle-hardened Knights Commander, “But every village we have attacked hus nae been weel defended. Maist o’ the warriors were alreedy gone.” “That is because the heathen warriors are all cowards!” the Grand Master said firmly, “Only cowards would run away and leave their weakest and most venerable behind.” “If ye please,” said Sir Walter de Clifton, “Is it nae mair likely that the Cultist warriors left fer some ither reason an’ didnae ken of oor approach? Ah cannae believer that e’en the heathens wid leave their ane people behind.” The Grand Master of the Templars shook his head and sighed. “You give the heathens too much credit,” he told him, “They are not like you and I. They do not have the light of the Lord to guide them. They lack the common decencies and humanities of normal people. Death is almost too good for them. If we are truly to cleanse the land in the Lord’s name, we will have to be as hard as the very rocks that surround us, and as unrelenting. Remember that.” “Aye,” said the Knight Commander, with a curt bow to his master, “Whit news o’ the fleet? Will they be ready faun we arrive at the coast?” “Of course,” replied De Molay, “I chose the Commander of the Seas personally. I have complete confidence that we will not be hindered in our crusade. The heathens will be cleansed in their own godless sanctuary.” The four Judges travelled throughout the night, using the darkness to its best advantage. As the dawn came, they looked for a shelter they could use to escape prying eyes. Finding a shrine to the Callieach, they stopped there to eat and rest.

“She’s nae very bonny, is she?” Jamieson remarked as he examined the effigy of the Cultists’ goddess, They seem tae hae three images o’ her, ane as a young quine, ane as a grown woman, an’ ane as an auld crone. It disnae mak much sense.” “I can’t say that I like this place much either,” said Wilberforce, “It looks as though whoever built it was more concerned with killing people than anything else. These Cultists are very much savages.” “The beliefs of a bunch of mad people do not concern me,” said Judge Dredd, “We are heading in to Iona to rescue the remaining survivors. What their captors believe is irreverent to that goal.” “We can’t ignore what we see around us,” argued Buchan, “Human sacrifices are a way of life to these Pagans, and we know from that Cultist we spoke to in the Templar base that our people are due to be sacrificed to this Callieach. Surely the more we learn about them, the better equipped we will be when we get to Iona. Without the firepower of the Flak-Mac, we cannot just to blast our way to our people, can we?” “We have to get to Iona first, don’t we?” said Dredd, “Do we know if there is a bridge between Mull and Iona?” “There isnae,” answered Jamieson, “As a religious an’ historical site, it wis decided nae to link the ither island tae this ane. The Church thoucht it wis best. Noo that the Cultists hae o’er run Iona. I didnae ken how we are gaen tae get there.” “We’ll just have to solve that problem when we reach the coastline,” Dredd told them. Iona had seen great changes in just a few years since the Flux was created. The regression that had changed so many people had struck Iona hard, turning most of its inhabitants into the most feral and savage of the subsequent Pagan Cultists. The initial atrocity that took place on Iona was directed at the local Judge garrison barracks. In a swift and bloody attack, the Judges were all beheaded to the glory of the river goddess Nes. Since then, the followers of the Callieach, the Grandmother of the Clans, had established their dominance over the island. Converting, or simply sacrificing the local Cultists, the followers of the Callieach now ruled over the greatest Cultist territory in the Highlands. Shrines, altars, cairns and other honours to the Bringer of the Ice Mountains had been built. Tributes in the form of food, valuables or slaves, were demanded, and rituals to the glory of the sacred Mountain Giantess, were strictly adhered to, on pain of death. Iona was the stronghold of Callieach belief, a sanctuary for the faithful and the place where the great Priestess held court over her Druidic Council. For the representative of the Blue Hag, the Boar and Bear Goddess, there was no greater duty than to serve her will on her mother earth. She rarely left the dark chamber, where she communed with her goddess and received her instruction. The druids carried out the day-to-day business of life, while she thought of more divine matters. Only on special times of the year, on the most holy days, did she venture into the public domain. Then she would be treated as a deity herself, instilling the blind devotion she had for her goddess. Such a day was fast drawing near. She called her most trusted druids to her chamber and spoke with them. In the darkness of the chamber, she was but a faint outline against the darkness. The Druids bowed with great reverence to her. “The great day is soon tae be here. Ah trust that the Goddess hus nae been failed,” she said. “We would a’ rather die than tae dae that!” said the leader of the delegation, “The preparations are weel under way. We huv plenty o’ slaves tae sacrifice, jist as ye specified, an’ the warriors frae a’ o’er are arriving tae witness this blessed event.”

The Priestess smiled. “Ye huv pleased me. Fer yer sakes, ah am glad. This day will be remembered fer a’ time. It will herald the Great Age o’ the Callieach! Blessed be her name!” “Blessed be her name!” the Druids chanted in unison. “Systems damage report,” came a report from the blackness, “Armour damage 62%, damage to internal systems 80%, Loss of right arm recorded. Primary energy system destroyed, Initialising secondary energy source…” One of the ABC Warrior’s eyes slowly illuminated. Phoenix took in the scene. The bodies of the Rangers Assassination Squad had been left where they lay. Only Judge-Pilot Bader’s remains had been buried. He tried to pick himself up, but found it difficult without his hammer arm. By all rights, the wardroid should be scrap metal by now. He had suffered so much damage, it was only by sheer stubbornness that he didn’t go offline permanently. But with a determination that would have made The Terminator seem like a quitter, he grasped at the charred earth with his one good hand and righted himself. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Melted wires and burned circuit boards could be seen from the damage he sustained. He looked at the hole in his chest, and then at where his hammer arm used to be. Then he turned and looked to the west with his one good eye, the other side of his face sporting a vicious looking crack that crossed his other blackened eye. Without a word, he started to move off… The four Judges came to a small fishing village at the far end of the Island of Mull. It was strange that such a place could exist in such a violent and savage place. Looking in from afar, Dredd saw that the inhabitants of the village did not dress in the animal robes of the Cultists they had already encountered. In fact, they resembled a people, he had a lot more experience with back in the Big Meg. “They look like a bunch of Fatties,” Dredd told the others, “Some of them are even going about with bellywheels!” “How the heck can they live sae close tae the Cultist capital?” asked Judge Jamieson, perplexed. “Are we going down there?” Buchan inquired. “I saw fishing vessels moored in a harbour. That’s our way to Iona,” Dredd told them, “We’re going in, but be on your guard. I don’t like this.” The huge Templar army assembled on a cold, grey beach on the west coast of the Highlands. They stood and waited in silence. Each knight, each soldier alone with their own thoughts. The crusade had gone surprisingly well up to now; there had been nothing but victories. But there was still no sign of the Cultist warriors that they had expected to face in battle. There had been no counterattacks, no ambushes, no guerrilla attacks. For some, this was very disconcerting. Interrogation of those pagans that had been taken prisoner had revealed nothing. They absolutely refused to reveal the whereabouts of their kinsfolk. The Grand Master sat on his steed at the head of his army and scanned the grey sea. After a while, he spoke up, pointing to indistinct shapes that had appeared. “Behold our fleet! They shall carry us to our destiny!” he announced. His army cheered as the flotilla of strange vessels drew closer. Any remotely seaworthy vessels had been acquired for the Crusade. Some were driving by engines, but most were under sail. Some were little more than launches, pulled by larger ships. The vessels came in as far as they could without beaching themselves. The Templar army, men

and horses, moved out to board their transports. After all were aboard, Grand Master De Molay ordered the fleet to move off. The Great Crusade had taken to sea. “Hullothere!” greeted a villager who saw the approach of the Judges, “Strangers are always welcome in oor village! Whit brings ye here?” “Were just passing through,” said Judge Jamieson, “Ah must admit, we were surprised tae see a village oan this island, whit wi’ a’ the Pagan Cultists aboot.” “Ach, they dinna bother us an’ we dinna bother them,” the massively overweight villager said, “Come on doon, ye must meet oor chief.” The Judges warily entered the village. The locals seemed to all be Fatties; none were of normal size. But they were friendly and welcoming, smiling and giving warm greetings to the Judges. They stood amongst this sea of blubber. Then this sea parted as their chief wheeled through to them. He was by far the fattest of the lot of them. He waddled over, his face sweating with the effort. He scratched his ginger hair and then smiled at the newcomers. “Hullothere, it’s grand tae see ye a’,” he said, “Ah’m Chief Sean Bean, the headman o’ this village. Ye dinna look like Cultists tae me.” “We’re no Cultists,” said Jamieson firmly, “Jist travellers. We are oan oor way tae Iona though. Ah see that ye hae a few boats. Maybe ye can gie us a lift o’er there?” The chief looked puzzled. “Fit d’ye want tae go there fir? It’s no exactly a guid place tae visit.” “Nonetheless, we hae tae get there. Can ye help us?” asked Jamieson. The chief considered this for a moment, then nodded his head. “Aye, ah suppose we can help ye oot. Efter a’ we are a friendly people. But before ye go, ye a’ must stay fer a feast. We get sae little visitors here; it’s quite an occasion. Say that ye’ll stay awhile.” The Judges looked at each other. They knew that they had little choice; they needed the help of these people to reach their final destination. But every delay cost them more time. Time that they could not afford to lose. “Ye look hungry, an’ we hae always plenty tae eat,” Chief Bean said to the Judges, “At least stay tae hae a wee snack.” “Very well then, but then we have to go,” decided Dredd. “Grand, man, grand!” smiled the chief. The rest of the village smiled and cheered as well. They would have a celebration tonight. The music played and the dancers danced. The ground shook as the fat flew around in rhythm to the beat. The fire in the centre of the square where the entire village had assembled illuminated the night’s sky. The stars shone down on them all. The Chief sat on a reinforced chair in front of a table, with the four Judges sitting next to him. Servants began to set food down in front of them all. The Fatties attacked their food with a vigour not normally seen. The Judges looked at the plates of food set down in front of them. “I don’t recognise this meat,” Dredd said, “What is it?” “It’s soggy,” explained Chief Bean, taking in another plateful with ease, “They can be foond a’ aroond these seas in great numbers. We aye hae plenty o’ them in stock, an’ we dae awfa weel from them.” Basking soggies were whale-like creatures that were more traditionally associated with the waters around Emerald Isles, than Cal-Hab. The Emerald Sea between the two lands was a home of these strange but gentle giants. Because of their huge bulk

but their reluctance to attack, the basking soggies were an easy and profitable prey. Dredd tasted the food and gave his approval. The other Judges began to eat as well. “So,” said Judge Jamieson, between mouthfuls, “There’s a lot o’ pagans aroond here, isn’t there? How is it that ye can live sae close tae them withoot ony problems?” “There’s no mystery tae that,” the Chief replied, putting up his empty plate, indicating he wanted more, “The Cultists only come tae us if they need tae use oor boats tae ferry them across tae the ither island. We gie them this service, an’ also provide them wi’ some o’ oor catch. They realised a lang time ago that we wid be mair use tae them as workers than as sacrifices. So they let us alone.” “It must be very dangerous to live so close to them, though,” observed Wilberforce, “They are so unpredictable.” “Aye, lassie, but we arenae too worried,” assured Chief Bean, “Ah mean, it’s worked sae far.” “If you’ll excuse me,” Dredd said, getting up from the table. Dredd walked off from the assembled villagers. He started to look around the village as the others kept the chief occupied. Most of the houses were innocent enough and he passed them by. As he drew closer to the harbour, his attention was drawn to a large warehouse. A sign identified it as the Soggy yard, where the catch was sliced up and preserved. Dredd found that the door was unlocked. He went in. The stench of dead soggy clung to the walls of the building. Blood and gore was everywhere on the floor. Dredd would have pulled down his respirator, but since the Ranger’s disruption wave, it was non-functional. Most of the carcasses of the dead soggies were almost picked clean of their meat. Examining them as closely as he could in the putrid stench, he suddenly noticed another door in the warehouse. It had no writing to identify it, only a skull and crossbones. Thinking that it must be a poison storeroom, the Mega-City Lawman walked up to it. Opening the door to blackness, he felt for a light switch on the wall. He found it and turned on the light. What he saw shocked him. The room had bones strewn in it – human bones. “Drokk!” exclaimed the Judge, looking on with horror. The bones were just scattered there, along with fragments of the victims’ clothes and possessions. As he looked over the carnage, a glint of gold caught his eye. He went over and pulled out a Judge’s badge on a chain. The badge read “Brubaker.” The villagers had eaten one of the Tek-Judges from the Alpha Seven. Sickened almost beyond measure, he turned to the doorway. “Weel, weel, weel, fit dae we hae here?” said Chief Sean Bean, standing at the doorway, “Ah thoucht we might find ye here.” “You people are psychos,” said Dredd, taking out his handgun, “We are leaving, right now. Don’t try to stop us.” “Oh, ye’re no gaen onywhaur,” said the Chief. Dredd tried to aim his weapon at the enormous Fatty, but suddenly his vision started to blur. His outstretched arm suddenly became very heavy and he blacked out. He collapsed in the blood and gore. Two of the villagers wheeled over and picked him up. “Richt lads, let’s get them hung up,” said Bean, “They a’ look guid enough tae eat!” Consciousness slowly returned to the Mega-City Judge. Looking around, he found himself hanging upside down from a meat hook suspended from the ceiling of the soggy warehouse. He was securely trussed up, securely restrained by thick metal chains. The three other Judges were also in a similar position, hanging close by. Judge Jamieson was closest to him. Dredd called over to him. “Judge Jamieson, are you awake?”

“Aye,” came the groggy response, “Whit happened tae us?” “The food was drugged. The poison detector in my helmet isn’t functioning anymore. The villagers have us held here.” “Damn it a’ tae Hell an’ back! That’s the last time ah’m haein’ soggy!” resolved the Cal-Hab Judge, “Whit d’ye think they’ll gaen tae dae wi’ us?” “I know what they’re going to do,” replied Dredd, “I came across a room filled with human bones. They’re going to eat us all!” “In the name o’ the wee man!” exclaimed Jamieson, “Ye cannae be serious!” “It’s true,” confirmed Dredd, “I found Judge Brubaker’s badge amongst the bones; they’ve already ate him. Who knows about the rest of the Alpha Seven survivors?” Realisation suddenly dawned on Judge Jamieson. He knew whom they were up against. “Ah ken wha these villagers really are,” he said with conviction, “Before the Flux, there wis a renegade clan that wis at large in Cal-Hab. They were ca’ed The McCannibals! Ah didnae recognise ony o’ them here, cus they werenae sae fat before. We’ve bin efter them fer years, but they always escaped us, never staying in a’ place fer too lang. It looks like they settled here doon noo and hae gorged themsels oan whaever came here.” “You mean they were cannibals before the Flux made the people of Cal-Hab insane?” Dredd asked incredulously. “Aye, they were mad lang before the Flux. We’ve hud reports o’ their savage activities in oor files fer years.” “Sounds like a tribe of cannibal women I ran into in Alabama,” said Dredd, “Cannibalism became a way of life to them, it became normal practise for them to eat any man they caught.” The two other Judges began to come to. Dredd gave them a quick explanation into their situation. “They’ve taken our weapons, including our bootknives and our utility belts,” said Dredd, “I take it that they have done the same to you both?” The two Judges nodded. “Weel, ah’m nae gaen tae end up as a starter fer them!” said Jamieson, trying to struggle from his bonds, but it was useless.” Suddenly the doors opened and the cannibal Fatties entered. Some had cleavers and knives in their hands. One of them had a chef’s hat on and was carrying a book entitled “To Serve Man.” The Chief looked at his hanging victims. “Weel, ah see ye are a’ awake again. That’s guid, ah always think it’s better tae hae ye up and aboot faun we dae this,” he said. “You killed our comrade, Judge Brubaker, you scum!” accused Dredd. “The yank Judge?” said Chief Bean, “Aye, we ate him. He wis oor maist recent payment. Ye see, faun ah said that the Cultists didna gie us ony trouble, ah wis tellin’ ye the truth. But ah didna tell ye that we expect payment fer oor services. We ferry pagans tae Iona, an’ gie them a share o’ oor soggy catch, but we expect a rare treat fer this. Every noo an’ then, they gie us a slave tae eat as payment. It’s a very profitable arrangement. Yer yank friend wis only the latest in those payments.” “Whit aboot the ithers he wis wi’?” Judge Jamieson asked. “Oh, they’re awa tae Iona,” Chief Bean told him, “The Cultists are haein’ a big celebration an’ they need a lot o’ slaves tae sacrifice. There wis quite a lot of them bein’ taken over there recently. But why wid ye care aboot that noo? Ye’re a’ fer the pot!” The Chief wheeled over to the two female Judges and looked them both over.

“Actually, these twa arnae too bad,” he said to the rest of the clan. He turned back to them. “D’ye want tae hae a go before ye die?” he asked them lasciviously, “Ah’m dead sexy an’ ye ken fit they say; once ye hae fat ye ne’er go back!” Buchan and Wilberforce were pictures of revulsion. “Kill me now!” said Buchan. “You really are a fat bastard!” said Wilberforce. The Chief seemed genuinely offended. “Here, that’s no very nice,” he said to them, “Ye hurt ma feelings faun ye say things like that!” “Touch either o’ them an’ ah swear ye’ll be sorry!” threatened Judge Jamieson. “Oh aye?” returned Chief Bean, “From whaur ah’m standin’ ah didna see ye in much o’ a position tae be tellin’ me fit tae dae. Ye’ve goat a cheeky mooth on ye, Judge. Maybe it winna be sae cheeky faun I shove this skewer through ye an’ roast ye oan the fire!” The Chief of the McCannibals grabbed a sharp metal skewer from on of his villagers and headed towards the Cal-Hab Judge. The others tried desperately to free themselves, but their struggles were in vain. They could not break free. Sean Bean stood in front of the hanging Judge and drew back his skewer, ready to strike. “Supper’s oan!” he declared, “Ah’ll use yer helmet as a cooking pot!” “I don’t think so!” came a voice from behind them all. Everyone turned to the doorway to see Phoenix there, his one good eye glowing brightly. He had a large metal barrel in his good arm, which he dropped to the ground. Some black fluid was leaking out of it. He then raised his gun arm directly at the Chief of the McCannibals. “Cut them down and let them go!” he ordered firmly, ignoring that his limbs were starting to twitch and jolt. “Fit the Hell…?” said Bean, “Fit’s that robot daein’ here?” “Phoenix!” exclaimed Jamieson, “We thoucht ye were died!” “I was built…to last,” he said to them, then turned his attention back to the Chief, “Order your people to let them down, or you won’t be having any more meals, you fat piece of scum!” The Chief’s face turned insanely angry. “Ah’ll no be ordered by a broken doon piece o’ machinery!” he bellowed, and hurled his skewer at the ABC Warrior. Phoenix evaded the metal spear and fired once. From the middle of the Chief’s forehead, a small splash of blood fountained up. Sean Bean fell backwards and his massive bulk came crashing down on to the floor. The other clanspeople were incensed by his death. “He killed oor chief!” one said, waving a meat cleaver. “Destroy that piece o’ scrap!” shouted another. Phoenix put up his hand and called for their attention. “Before you do anything, maybe you would like to know that I have been going about your village with a barrel of your engine fuel, soaking every building here. All I have to do is light this trail and your village and everyone in it is destroyed.” The villagers stopped in their tracks, looking at the empty fuel container. One of them stepped forward. “Ye’re bluffing!” he challenged, “Ye an’ yer people will die as weel!” Phoenix shook his head. “I’m perfectly serious,” he assured, “If you don’t let my comrades go, we are all going up in flames. They are just as willing to die as I am to see that you are no longer a threat to innocent people.” “Damn richt!” said Jamieson. “You’re going to kill us in any event,” said Dredd, “Better to take you with us.” The de facto leader of the Clan sagged.

“Cut them doon,” he said with resignation. The Judges were released from their chains and given back their weapons and equipment. Then they headed over to the docks and boarded one of the villagers’ fishing vessels, with the villagers following them close behind, waiting for a chance to strike. Once aboard, they cast off and headed out towards Iona. “It disnae seem richt tae let them aff sae easily,” said Judge Jamieson from the deck as he watched the Clan at the docks, “They killed an’ ate sae mony innocent people.” “Agreed,” said Dredd, and then fired into the village. A spark went up and quickly caught fire. Soon the entire village was ablaze. The screams of the dying McCannibals could be heard, but they were getting fainter as the vessel moved further away. Some of them jumped from the docks into the black polluted waters and sank like a stone into its murky depths. They would kill no more. “I can’t believe you are still online,” said Wilberforce to Phoenix while the vessel sailed the channel to Iona, “After all the damage you have sustained as well.” “I know that you gave me up for destroyed,” he said, pointing to where his ABC Warrior serial number badge was. Dredd said nothing at first. “It must have fallen off,” he said levelly. “Weel, ah’m happy tae see ye again,” said Judge Jamieson happily, “It’s aboot time we heard some guid news.” The Judge then told the wardroid about Tek-Judge Brubaker and the fate that the other survivors could expect in Iona. “We lost another of our comrades,” said Phoenix, “Let’s make sure that it is the last we lose.” “Agreed…soldier,” said Dredd. The rest of them also put in their agreement. Whatever Iona would throw at them, they would face it together. In a huge, stinking dungeon in the black citadel of Iona, three men languished amongst hundreds of others captives. “Looks like they’re not planning to keep us here for very long,” said a black man in a tattered Mega City One Tek-Judge’s uniform, “Whatever they’re gonna do to us, they’re gonna do it soon.” “I agree,” said another much older man in a similar uniform, “We were taken here for some reason, and we have to assume it will be for no good.” “Can’t you see?” said the other man, dressed in a filthy lab coat, “They’re going to kill us all! They’re mad! They’re all quite mad!” “Calm down,” Judge Larter said to his colleague, “We have to get out of here.” “Damn it all! I just wish that we could have stopped them taking Judge Brubaker from us!” said Judge Washington. “I very much fear that he is lost to us,” Professor Rutherford said with great despondency, “And we are not far behind him.” He looked around the many hopeless and fearful faces in this hellhole. “We are lost.”

Chapter Fifteen As the small fishing boat sailed across the channel between Mull and Iona, Judge Dredd leaned against the railing and looked out to the silhouette of the island they were heading to. Iona would be where this mission would ultimately be decided. The final survivors of the Alpha Seven were being held there and he was determined to free them. He remembered his first meeting with Tek-Judge Larter all those years ago. The cosmic ray shield generators in Antarctica had failed and dangerous rays were falling on to a world that had lost its natural ozone layer. As one of the original scientists who had designed and built the generators, Judge Larter had been ordered to go there and repair those vital shields, along with a select group of international scientists and their Judge protectors. Judge Dredd had been ordered to head the mission, and ensure that Judge Larter and his colleagues would reach the generators. It would not be an easy task, for the powerful rays had mutated the shield generator base’s personal, transforming them into dangerous and insane mutants. This mission was also the first meeting of Dredd with Judge Jamieson. Still wearing a Brit-Cit Judge uniform, the Cal-Hab Judge was assigned to protect the Brit-Cit scientist that had been sent, a Professor Rutherford. In this mission, they faced down the dangers and succeeded in repairing the generators before any cities were harmed by the deadly cosmic rays. Now, years later, they were being brought back together, facing other dangers. Dredd was resolved to ensure that his old friend would not be failed. Deep in her chamber, the Priestess of the Callieach spoke with her most trusted druid. He had news from the mainland. “I have to tell you that the High King has been slain,” he told her. She barely moved in the darkness. “How did it happen?” she finally said. “He died in battle with the followers of the false god,” he told her, “As did most of his warriors. Only a few survived to tell of his defeat.” “I see, and where are those warriors now?” she asked him. “They are here on Iona,” he answered. “To run from battle while the High King dies is a terrible affront to the Callieach. After all, the High King is her earthy husband for seven years. Have the warriors taken. They will add to the number of sacrifices to our Goddess on the morrow. Blessed be her name.” “Blessed be her name,” echoed the druid. The vessel drew close to the shore of the island of Iona. Using the last vestiges of the darkness of the night as cover. The four Judges donned radcloaks and prepared to disembark. Dredd went over to Phoenix. The ABC Warrior stood rather unsteadily on the deck. He would never admit it, but the damage he had sustained was far more serious than he had said. The Mega-City Lawman gave his orders. “Stay with the boat,” he told him, “We need this vessel to make our escape when we return with the survivors.” “A soldier doesn’t leave his comrades to face battle without him,” Phoenix said stubbornly. “A soldier obeys orders,” Dredd told him. “Very…well,” the wardroid reluctantly replied. Dredd and the other Judges started to walk down the gangplank to the shore. Judge Jamieson turned back to Phoenix briefly. “An’ try tae get some repairs deen oan yersel,” he said, “We need ye!”

The Judges left Phoenix behind on the boat and headed inland. If Mull had been bad, then Iona was worse. The capital of the Callieach cult of the pagans was filled with evidence of human sacrifice. Severed heads stood impaled on spikes, various body parts lay out on altars and shrines. All forms of savagery and horror were on display for this twisted religion. The Judges tried to focus on their objective, and ignore the horror that was going on around them. Thankfully, Dredd had been right, the pagans were far more concerned with their upcoming celebrations than to even notice them. The possibility that non-believers could enter Iona in any other capacity than sacrificial slaves did not occur to them. They walked the island and neared the only settlement with impunity, barely acknowledged by the pagans around them. “Ah cannae believe whit ah’m seeing!” Judge Jamieson said, looking at a massive structure in front of them. The black citadel towered over them, a terrible and imposing sight against this horrible backdrop. Originally an ancient cathedral, the building had been reconstructed to be more in keeping with the beliefs of the cultists. From within, the priestess held rein over the lives of the followers of her goddess. But that was not what held the attention of the Judges. Instead they looked on a huge wooden structure in the shape of a human figure. It was almost as tall as the citadel itself. Judge Jamieson told them what it was. “It’s a wicker man,” he said quietly, “The pagans are gaen tae fill it wi’ people an’ then set it alight!” “They’re actually going to burn people alive in that thing?” said Wilberforce, hardly believing it. “Aye, I heard stories of it happening in the time efter the Flux,” he told her, “But nae oan this scale.” “We can assume that our people are going into that thing,” said Buchan. “Not if we can help it,” Dredd said firmly. The dawn’s early light bathed the island, awakening activity from all around. The Cultists worked frantically to ensure that the day’s celebrations went off without incident. The warriors and druids from all over the lands of the Cultists began to assemble in front of the Black Citadel, patiently awaiting the appearance of their spiritual leader, the Priestess of the Callieach. In some areas, chanting and the lighting of small fires had already begun. Men and women wore animal skins of many different creatures, trying to absorb the strength of the beasts. All wore the corn dollies that signified them as being followers of the Callieach. The Judges mingled with them, sporting newly acquired dollies themselves. Some of the Cultists had created their own robes from radcloaks themselves, so the Judges did not look out of place themselves among them. “Position yourselves close to that structure,” Dredd ordered Buchan and Wilberforce, pointing to the wicker man. “Frankly, ah dinnae ken how we are gaen tae get them oot o’ there,” said Jamieson. We only hae a couple o’ guns wi’ us, an’ we cannae tak them a’ oan wi’ swords.” “We don’t have the firepower or the numbers to take them all on head on, so we will have to play this with more subtlety,” Dredd told them, “Just be ready to get them out of there when we are ready.” The two Judges left Dredd and Jamieson and went to take their places. “And whaur are we gaen?” Jamieson asked him.

“The only way we are going to be able to get our people and get out of here alive is by taking hostage the only person that these Cultists seem to respect. We have to find their priestess.” Deep in the dungeon, the Cultist guards were beginning to move the slaves out. Some of them approached the survivors of the Alpha Seven. “Come, non-believers, your time on this world is drawing to a close,” one of the wolf skinned guards told them. Judge Washington unsteadily got to his feet. “Damned if I’m gonna die like this!” he said, and struck the guard with all his might. It was a futile gesture. The terrible ordeal and the harsh treatment that they had all suffered in their time in Cal-Hab had severely weakened them all, including the tough Tek-Judge. The guards fell on him and beat him to unconsciousness. Two of them carried him off, while the others took Larter and Rutherford with the other slaves to be sacrificed. Outside, the chanting and songs of praise to the Callieach had increased. More and more of the Cultists were expressing their devotion to their goddess and to the priestess who was her representative on earth. Buchan and Wilberforce stood close to the massive wicker man and watched as the slaves were brought out from the Citadel and into the structure. They were chained in place, so they could not move to try to escape. “Great Scott!” said Wilberforce, pointing at the line of slaves, “That’s professor Rutherford, and that man behind him is Judge Larter. “You’re right,” agreed Buchan, “And isn’t that Judge Washington that is being carried into the wicker man now?” The other Judge nodded her head. “Whatever Dredd has planned, he had better get on with it soon. I don’t think our people are going to be alright for much longer.” Dredd and Jamieson worked their way down a corridor inside the Black Citadel. They had run into a couple of wolf guards on their way and had relieved them of their robes. Their new disguises offered them more access than that of a normal Cultist. For the wolf guards were the elite warriors of the Callieach. Following a group of them deeper into the Citadel, they had broken off and now were looking out for the priestess they sought. “Man, ah dinnae ken how they can walk aboot wi’ these things oan!” said Jamieson, “The things stink tae high heaven.” “Just suck it in and let’s get this done,” Dredd told him. He had acquired a pump-action shotgun in the village of the Fatties, a souvenir he was happy to bring with him. He hid the weapon under his robe, knowing that wolfguards would be unlikely to carry such weapons in normal circumstances. He looked at his comrade with increasing concern. Jamieson was becoming more and more unstable as they drew closer to the heart of the Cultist domain. They saw a line of druids walking up the corridor, their own hoods covering their heads. They tagged along in the back, hoping that they would lead them to their quarry. Sure enough, they went up a long flight of stairs and came to a set of doors. The sentries on either side of the doors stood aside and opened the doors to the druids, who walked in. But they stepped in front of the open doorway when the two Judges came forward. “The priestess disnae see wolf guards in her ain chamber, withoot her asking fer them,” one sentry said, “Begone.”

“Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Dredd said to his comrade. With that, he hit the sentry across the face with his gauntleted fist. Jamieson also brought down the sentry who stood in front of him. They both fell to the ground unconscious and were dragged out of the way. Dredd took out his shotgun and looked at Judge Jamieson. “We take out everyone but their priestess, alright?” he ordered him, “Without her, we don’t have a chance of rescuing our people, so watch what you are doing in there.” “Richt!” said Jamieson, drawing his sword. They both ran into the priestess’ chamber, weapons at the ready. The assembled druids turned around at their approach, wanting to know who would dare intrude on the priestess. “Nobody move and no-one dies,” Dredd said to them, “We’re taking your priestess with us.” There was a faint flicker of movement in the darkness of the chamber. “Kill them,” said the priestess’ voice. The druids grabbed the only weapons they had to hand – ceremonial sacrificial knives and charged at the Judges. Dredd took one out with his shotgun, while Jamieson dispatched another with his sword. The rest charged into the two Judges their knives at the ready. Dredd swung his shotgun and caught one of them with its butt. Jamieson head butted another, sending him staggering backwards. Dredd punched out the remaining druid. As he fell, the two Judges got to their feet and looked into the darkness. Slowly the shape of a woman could be made out. The priestess of the Callieach came forward. Her robe and cowl obscured her face. “You’re coming with us,” Dredd said determinedly, “Your sick sacrifice will not go ahead. You are going to make sure of that.” The priestess looked slowly at Dredd and then at Jamieson. Then she spoke. “The Goddess sees ye as an affront tae her,” she said with a cold familiarity.

Chapter Sixteen Outside the Citadel, the slaves were being placed in the wicker man in preparation for the sacrifice. Druids and their acolytes chanted and danced around the structure, while the last of them were forced in. The grim task was completed and the wicker man made secure. Inside the wicker man, slaves, Templar captives and anyone else unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of the followers of the Callieach tried in vain to free themselves. Some begged for mercy, some prayed, some hit out in their captivity. It was all ignored. Buchan and Wilberforce slowly moved towards the base of the structure where the kindling lay in readiness. “What’s keeping Dredd and Jamieson?” asked Wilberforce. “I don’t know,” replied Buchan, “But we don’t have much time left.” “It, it cannae be ye!” said Judge Jamieson, utterly taken aback. “What is it?” asked Dredd, still with his shotgun trained on the priestess. “That voice, it’s sae different, but ah still recognise it,” he said, “It Eilsa, ma wife.” The priestess of the Callieach removed her cowl slowly. Under the matted hair, under the blood coloured tattoos, under all the filth and grime of the years, it was still his wife. It was still Eilsa. Judge Jamieson rediscovered a longing that he thought was long dead. To see his wife after so many years, in this time and place, it was almost more than he could stand. He took a step forward to her, hesitantly, as if he was afraid if he moved too fast she would disappear, be lost to him once again. Dredd’s voice brought him back to reality. “Judge Jamieson,” he said in a voice that was full of authority, “Stand back.” The Cal-Hab Judge was racked with conflicting emotions. “Do it now,” Dredd continued. “Ah…cannae,” Jamieson said softly, and moved between the Judge and his wife, “Ah cannae let ye hurt her, Dreed.” “Remember what we are doing,” Dredd said to him, “We are going to use her to prevent the murders of all those captives, including our people.” Judge Jamieson shook his head. “No, we cannae dae that. Ah’ve jist foond her efter a’ these years,” he said with great emotion, “Ah cannae let ye endanger her noo.” “Step back, Judge or I’ll be forced tae shoot,” Dredd ordered. The Cal-Hab Judge didn’t move. Dredd did not want it to go this way, but he knew that his previous fears about the instability of his comrade had now been proved right. Dredd thought about all those people about to be burned alive and knew that he had no choice. He turned the shotgun towards Jamieson. “Last chance,” he said, not really believing he could change his comrade’s mind. He reluctantly squeezed on the trigger and then the lights went out. He collapsed to the floor of the chamber, struck from behind by wolf guards who had been alerted by Dredd’s gunfire. Jamieson turned and looked at his wife once again. “Come tae me,” she said with open arms. The Judge went and embraced her joyfully. At last, at long last, he was with his love once again. “Ma bonny, bonny Eilsa!” he said enraptured. “For the Callieach,” she replied and plunged a knife into him once again. “Priority warning,” the words read in front of Phoenix’s good eye, “Secondary power source depleted. Recharge immediately required. Time to deactivation: 30:00mins.” Phoenix considered this readout. He knew that his secondary power source was only supposed to be used in emergencies, and only on a temporary basis, in order for a

damaged wardroid to make it to the mechanics in the heat of battle. But this situation was very different. Now there was no mechanics to repair him, and his self-repair unit had reached the limitations of what it could fix. There was nowhere where he could recharge anymore. In short, Phoenix was dying. It always was a strong possibility that the wardroid would not make it through this mission, but he had beaten the odds before. Along with his comrades, he had taken on the might of the mighty Volgan war machine and won, only to be deactivated by the same people who built him. Now, in this strange time and in this strange place, he stood on deck and realised that he was less than half an hour from oblivion. “I can either spend my last moments waiting here or I can go and help my comrades one last time,” he said to himself. It really wasn’t any kind of decision he needed to consider. He marched down the gangplank and headed off for his final battle… Did he see the knife in her hand, or did he refuse to see it? As he slipped down on to the ground at his wife’s feet, Judge Jamieson considered that question for a moment, before the blackness engulfed him. The priestess of the Callieach turned to her wolf guards and the two druids who had not been killed by the Judges. “Ah want that broucht doon wi’ us,” she said pointing to Judge Dredd, “Fer this affront tae the Goddess, ah am gaen tae sacrifice him.” “Shall we place him in the wicker man, great priestess?” a wolf guard asked. “No, place him oan the Great Altar,” she ordered him, “Ah will slice oot his heart an’ offer it tae the Goddess personally.” “What aboot the ither ane?” her chief druid asked. “He is nothing tae me,” she said, not bothering to look down at Jamieson’s fallen form, “Dispose of him.” The crowd was getting restless, unsure of what was going on. They had come from all over the lands of the Cultists to bear witness to this special ceremony and wanted it to begin. They could not understand the delay. Suddenly the doors to the Black Citadel opened and the priestess and her followers walked out into sight. A great cheer rang around the entire assembly. The walked up to a large stone altar and waited as Judge Dredd was placed on it and his hands and feet securely fastened. Then she outstretched her arms. The cheering suddenly stopped; the only sounds that could be heard were the frightened voices of the prisoners in the wicker man. “People of the Callieach!” she announced, “Ye huv come here oan a momentous day! The time of the false god is passed. The true believers of the Grandmother of the Clans will show the land that we are the future! For this day heralds the Great Age o’ the Callieach!” The Cultists burst into frenzied cheering once again, desperate to show their devotion to their goddess and her priestess. Once again she put her arms out and stopped them in an instant. She indicated to her chief druid, who took his cue to begin the Commencement Ceremony. He gathered up a bowl of water in an earthenware bowl and spoke. “By the powers o’ the Land an’ the Sky an’ the Sea, we come this day tae this place tae honour the Callieach, the Grandmother o’ the Clans. Ah pour this water tae refresh her frae her summer sleep an’ tae bless the earth she rules.” He poured out the water onto the altar and took up a bowl of oats and fish. “Grandmother Callieach, we honour ye this day, remembering yer name! Ah bring forth these offerings tae honour ye an’ tae pray fer yer blessings oan the Clans an’ the tribes o’ yer nations. We remember ye, we honour ye. Bless us wi’ warm an’ abundance during the cauld times. Watch o’er

us while we sleep, be near ta us an’ protect us an’ guide us oan oor journeys. An’ gie us the strength an’ courage tae slay all yer enemies. Ye huv been wi’ us since the time o’ the mists, be honoured by whit we dae this day! Blessed be yer name.” “Blessed be yer name,” the entire assembly echoed. The priestess stepped forward once again. “This one dared to insult our goddess!” she said, pointing to Dredd, “The goddess demands that he pay in full for his terrible crimes!” Dredd shook his head, just coming back to consciousness. “What the…?” he said, and saw what was going on, “You people really are psychos!” he said to the priestess. “Silence, non-believer!” she thundered, picking up a knife, “You shall die in the name of the Callieach!” “This isn’t the first sacrificial altar I’ve been on,” he said defiantly, “You don’t scare me, creep.” She held the blade over Dredd’s heart, closed her eyes and began to chant. “In the name of the Callieach, accept this offering. In the name of the Callieach, accept this offering,” “Great priestess!” shouted the chief druid, “Look!” She opened her eyes in a fury. What possible reason could he have to interrupt her when she was invoking the name of the goddess? She looked up and saw the reason – the signal fires on the beacons had been lit. Something was coming. Something big. “What’s going on?” said Wilberforce to Buchan, looking around at the agitated pagans all around them. “I’ve no idea, but whatever it is, it’s saved Dredd,” said Buchan. The two Judges had drawn their handguns and were about to fire at the priestess when she stopped in the middle of the sacrifice and looked up. She was now moving around with her minions trying to find out the nature of the danger the signal beacon was warning of. A call went up from high up on the battlements of the Citadel. “The Templars are coming! The Templars are coming!” The assembled Cultists looked at each other in confusion. The priestess shouted above the clamour and demanded silence. “The followers of the false god dare to defame our most sacred place with their presence?” she spat, “We shall meet them in battle and slay them all! For it is death to seek battle with the followers of the Callieach on Iona!” She turned to the leader of her wolf guards and ordered that he lead the attack. He bowed reverently and gathered his men. The Cultists started to go to attack the Templars. The Templar fleet had arrived at Iona only a short time before. They had come out of their boats and assembled on the beach. Small parties had headed out and killed any sentries or guards that they had run into, but not before the signal fires could be lit in warning. The green robed clerics said a quick blessing on the army and then stood back. The Grand Master of the Order of the Knights Templar rode his horse up and down in front of his troops and addressed them all. “Here is where we take the battle to these savages!” he declared. “Here is where the greatest chapter of our story will take place. For it is here that we shall bring back the word of God to this most corrupted of places! Onward! Onward to glory!” he said, pointing his sword towards the Black Citadel. The knights on horseback thundered on their steeds onward and the footsoldiers ran after them, eager to prove themselves worthy of God and the Grand Master.

Judge Jamieson slowly opened his eyes. Looking around, he saw that he lay on the top of a pile of bodies. He had been dumped with the rest of the day’s sacrifices in a blood-soaked chapel within the Black Citadel. The wound from his wife’s attack still wept blood, but it was already closing. If he had been an ordinary man, the blood loss or the shock would have killed him. But Cal-Hab Judges were not ordinary; they were genetically redesigned to withstand the rigours of law enforcement in this radioactive wasteland. The wound was far from fatal, but it represented something far more painful. The woman he had tried so hard to find, the woman that he had loved above all others, was finally and irrevocably lost to him. He had spent the years after the creation of the Flux searching in vain for Eilsa, only to give up and to try and lose himself in the Radbacks of Oz. And in the end, when he was finally reunited with his lost love, she was no longer the woman he had sought. She belonged to the Callieach now, and always would. With this realisation, he was utterly devastated. It would be the easiest thing in the world for him to simply give up. But one thing made him rise once more – he had let down his comrades. He had betrayed them when they needed them most. Despite the terrible feelings he was experiencing, despite the pain and the hurt and the grief he was racked with, he stood up. He started to walk out of the black chapel, acting on sheer determination now. Outside the Black Citadel, the Cultists were in disarray, trying to organise the counterattack. From inside the wicker man, Judge Larter looked down at the altar far below him and saw his old comrade, Judge Dredd lying there. He quickly turned to his colleague, professor Rutherford. “It’s Dredd!” he said to him, “He’s here. He must have come to rescue us!” The professor strained to see out. “It looks like it’s Dredd that needs the saving,” Rutherford said. “But if he’s here, then there must be others,” Larter replied, “There is still hope!” The pagans hurried to meet the Templars before they arrived at the Citadel. Just as they were leaving, the leader of the wolf guards quickly turned to the priestess. “Great one,” he said, “You must go to the Citadel for safety! We cannot lose you to the evil of the Templars.” “He’s richt, great priestess,” said the chief druid, “You are our link to the Callieach. The followers of the false god would love to sever that link. Go with your guards.” Surprisingly, she did not argue. As she left, she looked at Dredd on the altar and to the wicker man. She would not be denied her sacrifices. “Druid,” she demanded, “Ah want tae see the wicker man ablaze and that non-believer sacrificed in the name o’ the Callieach! See tae it!” “But, great one,” he started. She gave him a withering look, which gained his instant obedience. “It shall be deen,” he said. She departed with several wolf guards and headed inside the thick walls of the Citadel. The chief druid ordered the wicker man lit and headed back to the altar. “Trouble, creep?” Dredd said to him. “Nothing that need concern ye,” the druid answered, and raised the sacrificial knife once more. “Not this time,” said Phoenix, shooting the blade out of the chief druid’s hand. The man looked at his attacker and picked up another blade from the altar. He ran screaming at the damaged wardroid. Phoenix fired once more and the druid fell dead

to the ground. Buchan and Wilberforce were seen running towards the altar, but Dredd shouted at them to stop. “Don’t bother with me!” he ordered, “Get back and stop them lighting that fire!” The two Judges stopped in their tracks and saw some guards with the lighted torches heading towards the wicker man. They ran after them. The ABC Warrior walked over to the altar and started to pull the chains out of the stone, freeing Dredd. “I ordered you to stay with the boat,” Dredd said to him. “My power is almost gone,” Phoenix slowly explained, “I wanted to be useful one…more…time….” His one good red eye started to darken. “I’m…not…coming back…from…this…one…,” he said. His eye went black and he went down. Dredd got down from the altar and looked at Phoenix. It was never easy for Dredd when it came to robots. The Robot Rebellion and the Narcos Insurrection left their marks when it came to them. But despite himself, Dredd had finally accepted the ABC Warrior as more than just a pile of metal and plastic. He was a soldier. “Let’s get this mission finished!” he said to himself, and headed off towards the wicker man. Buchan and Wilberforce pursued the guards who were ordered to light the wicker man. They drew their handguns and started shooting. Several of the guards went down, but one managed to reach the kindling and throw the torch in just as he was shot himself. The flames quickly spread. Panic and cries of terror gripped the captives inside, as they realised that they were close to a terrible death. “Get those people out, now!” Dredd shouted as he came over. More guards were closing in, outraged that they were trying to deny the will of the priestess. Their weapons were raised; swords, axes, spears and hammers. Dredd turned to them and raised his shotgun. It had only a few rounds left. He would make them count. “There must be a release somewhere!” Wilberforce said in a desperate voice as they tried to find a way of freeing the captives. “This thing wasn’t designed to let people out once they were in,” Buchan said grimly. The flames were starting to catch on to the structure itself. The smoke and the heat were rising. Time was not on their side. The Templars had reached the base of the hill on which the Black Citadel stood. Urging his troops forward, the Grand Master sang a hymn of the glorious destruction of the infidels as he galloped up to meet them. Then the Cultists appeared. Hundreds, if not thousands of them began to swarm down on the Templar army, screaming and shouting and waving their weapons above their heads. The Grand Master turned to his troops. “Behold the tide of evil that sweeps down upon us!” he declared, “But we are the soldiers of Christ and we are not afraid. We shall overcome! We shall overcome!” And with that, he charged forward with the conviction of the zealot. The army charged after him. The two forces met with an almighty clash; swords and lances meeting shields and flesh. The initial charge of the Templars smashed a great gap in between the Cultist’s lines, and the footsoldiers ran in to exploit it. “Once more onto the breach, dear friends!” the Grand Master announced, his own lance broken and bloodied. He discarded it and drew his sword. “We have God on our side!” he assured. “Death to the non-believers!” shouted the leader of the wolf guards in return, “They shall all die in the name of the Callieach!” The pagans renewed their attack.

The pagans attacked as individuals, demonstrating great skill and courage in the face of battle. Ever since the Flux, they had strived to hone their fighting skills, living as they did in a warrior society. But the Templars fought differently, they fought with discipline and according to the battle plans of the Grand Master who led them. Knights were backed up by the footsoldiers, the Turcopoles, who in turn were backed up by the auxiliaries. Outnumbered as they were, the Templars still had the edge in this battle. But in one thing at least both sides were the same; they both fought in the name of their deity, and they would die rather than fail them. Dredd emptied his shotgun into the oncoming guards and drew his daystick. The remaining guards ignored the bodies of their comrades and ran at him, screaming a guttural warcry. Dredd took two of them out with one sweep of his daystick and brought it back to render the next one unconscious. More guards appeared and charged at him. Dredd called out to the other Judges. “Hurry up, both of you,” he shouted. Up at the wicker man, the two Judges were cutting at the bindings with their boot knives. The people inside were trying their best to push the wooden supports aside, but they were weak and frightened and didn’t help much. At last, some of the rope bindings were cut through. The two Judges worked at the supports until a large opening was created. People started to escape, but some were too weak to move. The Judges tried to get the captives to help one another to escape, but it was useless; the people were either too weak or too afraid to help anyone else. The fire roared beneath them, mingled with the screams of those unable to escape. It was a terrible way to die. “Coming?” Judge Buchan said to her comrade. “Absolutely!” Judge Wilberforce replied and they both pushed their way into the wicker man against the current of people streaming out. Away from the Black Citadel, the battle raged on. Neither side was willing to give a centimetre. Both were determined to serve their deity or die in the attempt. The Knight Commanders rallied their troops in the name of the Grand Master and they charged once more at the pagans. The leader of the wolf guard threw his battle-axe and it sailed through the air. It struck one of the Knight Commanders and unhorsed him. The pagans fell upon the wounded man and killed him where he lay. The Templars were enraged by this and attacked the elite wolf guards’ lines with increasing energy. The battle was rapidly turning into a mêlée, with all the knights, soldiers and warriors in a desperate life-or-death struggle. The white and red robes of the Knights and the brown and red robes of the footsoldiers mingled with the animal skins of the pagans. Seneschal Larmenius rode over to his Grand Master, along with D’Aumount. Clad in armour and robes, they took their place next to their leader and defended him with all their might. With the Standard Bearer of the Templars close by, they shouted out orders and inspired their troops forward once more. Inside the wicker man, the two Judges helped who they could escape the flames. Most of the captives that could escape by themselves were already out. Some were too weak, or had been overcome with the smoke or the heat. They had just finished evacuating some more captives when they heard a familiar voice from deep inside the wicker man. “Hello there!” came the voice, “We need help here!” They climbed in the direction of the voice and found their lost survivors at long last. Judge Larter and Professor

Rutherford were with Judge Washington. They had not abandoned their comrade, despite the fire. “Help us with him,” Larter said to them both, “We can’t lift him!” The two Judges grabbed the unconscious Washington and carried him between them, up to the opening. The elderly Tek-Judge and the Brit-Cit professor followed behind. Just as they left the wicker man, the flames engulfed the rest of the structure. There would be no going back in there for more of the captives. “Those poor people…” Wilberforce said sadly. “If not for you, there would be far more deaths,” said Rutherford, “I can’t begin to express my gratitude for what you have done.” “It’ll have to wait,” said Judge Buchan, “Dredd’s down there, heavily outnumbered and needs our back-up. Stay with Washington and see that he’s safe.” The two Judges drew their handguns and headed back to help Dredd. Deep within the walls of the Black Citadel, the priestess of the Callieach hurried down a corridor towards her private chamber, closely followed by five of her wolf guards. “Ance ah am safe, ah want ye tae barricade the doors,” she ordered them as he moved, “Dinnae let onybody near me….” Suddenly five shots rang out and her wolf guards fell dead to the ground. She turned in shock and saw the silhouette of her husband standing at the far side of the corridor. He dropped his handgun and it clattered to the floor. Then he started to walk towards her. She in turn started to run for the safety of her chamber. She ran into the room and turned to push the doors closed. But just as they were closing, Jamieson put out his arm and stopped them. Using the remainder of his strength, he prised them open and came in. The priestess took a few steps back. For the first time in a long time, she felt fear. Judge Jamieson calmly walked into the room, and then very quietly closed the doors behind him. He then turned to his wife. “Hello again, Eilsa,” he said simply. The pagans were swarming around Dredd now, looking for their opportunity to strike. Many of their number lay dead or unconscious on the ground around Dredd’s feet. Some tried to attack at once, hoping their numbers would seal Dredd’s fate. But the Judge was more than a match for them. Then support arrived, as Wilberforce and Buchan came up, their handguns blazing. More of the guards joined their comrades in death. “Good of you to join me,” said Dredd, dryly. “We got held up,” Buchan returned. “What about our people?” Dredd said, “Did you find them?” “Found them and got them out of that wicker man,” Wilberforce said, dropping her empty gun and drawing her daystick. “That’s something then,” said Dredd. He looked over at the Black Citadel, where more pagan warriors were spilling out and heading over to them. Then he turned in the opposite direction and saw the banners of the Knights Templar heading towards them. They had driven their heathen enemies back to the Citadel and were pressing home the attack. Dredd didn’t think that the Grand Master would be pleased to see them. “I’ll take the pagans to the left, while you two take the Templars to the right. It’s time we went to work!” They stood with grim determination as the two forces charged on another. “Ye should be deid!” the priestess said, as Judge Jamieson took a step towards her, “It wis the will o’ the Callieach!”

“Ah guess ye are gettin’ rusty usin’ the knife oan a person that isnae tied doon,” he said to her, “The blade cut me deep, but nae as deep as the last time, Eilsa.” “Don’t ca’ me that!” she shouted, “That name nae longer hus ony meanin’ tae me!” “Aye,” he said slowly, “Ah realise that noo. But it does tae me. Eilsa wis ma wife an’ ah loved her. Ah spent years tryin’ tae find her, but she is lost tae me forever. There is only a’ thing left fer me tae dae.” He reached into his belt and took out a grenade. He held it up to her. “A wee present frae the Rangers Squad we ran intae recently,” he said and pulled the pin. He held it in his hand for a moment. The priestess’ eyes widened in terror. “Whit are ye daen? Ye’ll die as weel!” she shouted. “Aye,” Jamieson said, “Goodbye, Eilsa.” He dropped the grenade. The two forces clashed with each other with a renewed hatred. Templar fought with pagan to the death. Somewhere caught up in the confusion, Dredd, Buchan and Wilberforce fought back to back against anyone who came close to them, Templar or pagan alike. Then from the Templar lines, the Grand Master looked over and saw them. Shouting in rage that his enemies should still be alive, he spurred his horse towards them, with several knights including his advisors close behind. He tore through those in front of him and closed in on the Judges. “You should have met justice at the hands of my squad!” he shouted above the battle noise, “My word is law!” “Wrong, creep,” Dredd replied, picking up a nearby spear and throwing it at him with deadly accuracy, “I am the law!” The spear struck the Grand Master with so much force that it breached his armour and embedded itself deep in his chest. De Molay fell backwards from his horse. He crashed to the ground, dead. The knights that were following stopped in their tracks. “Ma God!” exclaimed Larmenius, “Grand Masterrrrr!!!!” The Templars slowly turned from the dead form of their leader to the three Judges. The only thing they had left was revenge. “Satan himsel’ winnae come up wi’ instruments o’ torture we shall hae ye suffer,” said a Knight. From the other side of the battle lines, the wounded leader of the wolf guards shouted in triumph at the death of the leader of their enemies. So emboldened, they surged forward once again. Suddenly, an explosion could be heard from within the Black Citadel. The windows of a room high up in the tower suddenly blew out, showering glass. The leader of the wolf guards knew what room that was. “Priestess!” he shouted, “Nooo!” “What the…?” Buchan started, “How?” “Judge Jamieson,” said Dredd with conviction. Grief tore into both sides of the battlefield as word spread of the two deaths. The Templars and the pagans squared off for a battle to the death, with the three Judges caught in the middle. Then a large shadow moved over them all. The hoverwagon flew swiftly over the imposing structure of the Black Citadel. Its crew watched the monitors intently, looking for a sign of their quarry. One of the Brit-Cit Judges called over his commander and pointed to a screen. Dredd, Wilberforce and Buchan could be seen in the midst of the battle. “Looks like they’ve got themselves in a spot of bother,” said the commander. Go in low and release the stumm gas.” The craft swooped down just above the heads of the astonished Templars and pagans and gassed them all. After a few passes, the entire

battlefield and the Black Citadel was completely enveloped with the misty gas. With no protection against the gas’ effects, everyone, Templar, pagan and Judge alike, were rendered unconscious. The commander watched the viewscreen with satisfaction. “Right then, let’s land and have a look around, shall we?” he said. The hoverwagon landed and the Judges pulled down their respirators. They walked down on to the mist-covered land and sought out the Judges. Medical droids placed them on stretchers and took them aboard. The Judges searched the Black Citadel, which also was quiet. Only one or two pagans had escaped the gas. They were quickly dealt with. On approaching the priestess’ chamber, the Judges noticed evidence of explosion. They entered the room and found the prone forms of the priestess and of Judge Jamieson. “What happened here?” asked one of the Judges. “No idea, but this one’s wearing a Cal-Hab Judge’s uniform. He might be one of the ones we are looking for. We had better take him back with us. “Hold on,” said the first Judge, “I think he’s still alive…” Judge Dredd opened his eyes and found himself in a medical ward. The first person he saw was a surprise. “Judge Joyce?” he said, confused, “Where am I?” “Sure an’ you’re in Saint Mary’s Hospital, in the Emerald Isle,” said the Emerald Isle Constable, “I heard you and your people were taken here and I came to make sure that you were alright. It’s good to see you again, Joe.” “What happened,” Dredd asked, ignoring Joyce’s familiarity. “The Brits were told by some scientists that were rescued by the Royal Navy that your team was heading for the island of Iona. A few days ago, the disruption to flight and communications dissipated to such a degree that they could send a hoverwagon over there. But when they tried to contact you, you didn’t answer.” “All our communication equipment had been fried by a disruption wave generator,” Dredd explained. “That would explain it. Anyway, they sent a hoverwagon and when they arrived, they spotted you in the middle of an almighty battle. So they gassed the lot of you and got you all out of there.” “Did they get everyone?” Dredd asked, “Including the survivors of the Alpha Seven?” “Don’t worry yourself,” Joyce said to him, “They got them all out an’ rushed you here, as it was the closest medcentre to Iona. You’ve all been here for at least a day.” A robodoc came over and examined Dredd. “You are doing very well. I guess they make them tough over in the Big Meg,” it said. “What is the condition of the others?” Dredd asked the robodoc. “Judges Wilberforce and Buchan are already awake. Judge Larter and Professor Rutherford are undergoing therapy to combat the malnutrition and exhaustion they have suffered in their ordeal. Judge Washington has had some additional head trauma, but should also make a full recovery,” the robodoc explained, “Oh, and the other Judge is just coming out of surgery now.” “What other Judge?” Dredd asked. “The Cal-Hab Judge called Jamieson, “He suffered massive injuries after an explosion. Really, we don’t know how he is still alive. But he pulled through.” Dredd started to rise from his bed. The robodoc started to protest, but Dredd waved him aside. He went with Judge Joyce to the intensive care ward, where the other survivors were. Buchan and Wilberforce were sitting up in bed as he came in, while the Alpha Seven survivors were still unconscious and receiving treatment through an

intravenous drip. He nodded to them as he passed and headed over to a room at the far side. In a bed there, hooked up to machines that monitored his condition, Judge Jamieson lay unconscious. He was covered in bandages and his bed linen was stained with blood, but it was still him. Somehow, he had survived the explosion. “Get well,” Dredd told him, “That’s an order.” A few days later, Judges Larter and Washington and Professor Rutherford were declared fit as well as Dredd, Buchan and Wilberforce. Only Judge Jamieson remained in the hospital, still languishing in his bed. Judge Dredd went to visit him. The Cal-Hab Judge looked up as Dredd came in. He didn’t want to meet his eyes. “What’s the problem, Judge Jamieson?” Dredd asked him firmly, “You gone soft?” “Ah…let ye doon,” said Jamieson ruefully, “Jist faun ye needed me maist.” “Garbage,” the Mega City Lawman answered, “You faltered, but considering the circumstances, it is understandable. In the end, you were willing to do what had to be done. Now get better and get out of that bed.” Dredd was called to the Brit-Cit hoverwagon and met with its commander. “Glad you flyboys showed up,” Dredd said to him. “I’ll think you were,” the commander said, “It looked like you were on a pretty sticky wicket until we arrived.” “How’s Brit-Cit taking the news of the mission?” Dredd asked the commander. “Judge Hastings returned to Brit-Cit a while ago and tried to stir up some trouble against you, but the returning scientists stood up for you. Judge Wilberforce and Buchan also testified that you were correct to assume command of the mission. Brit-Cit’s official position is that you needed to take over after Hastings suffered head trauma during an attack. We’re happy to leave it like that.” “What is going to happen now with the Templars and the Cultists?” Dredd asked, “Is Brit-Cit just going to leave them to it again?” “No, not really,” the commander explained, “You see, we always believed that Brit-Cit was going to have an official presence north of the border once again, it was just a matter of time. We placed certain agents up there to facilitate this. I think you know one of them.” Dredd looked around and saw Seneschal D’Aumont standing there. “Nice to see you again,” D’Aumont said in a rich Brit-Cit accent. “Judge Oxford here has been working undercover in Cal-Hab since the time of the Flux, gaining position within the ranks of the Templars. Now with the death of the Grand Master, he is in line to lead them,” the commander revealed. “What about the other advisor, Larmenius?” Dredd asked. “Didn’t survive the battle either, I’m afraid,” the commander said simply, “Now that the Flux has been taken care of, we can start to rebuild our interests in Cal-Hab once again. The Templars will go a long way to tame the Highlands for us, especially after the defeat of those damned pagan cultists. They shall pave the way for our return. And many leading citizens and rulers in the cities will welcome us back as well. This whole affair has given our interests in Cal-Hab a new lease of life. It’s all turned out very well.” “Tell that to those that didn’t make it back,” Dredd said. Wilberforce and Buchan met up with Dredd later. Buchan had come to a decision. “I’m not going back to Brit-Cit,” she told them, “I’m finished with them.” “What are you going to do?” Wilberforce asked.

“I think I’ll go to Ness. The commander of the garrison there said I could join if I wanted. I think I’ll do the most good there and I like the way the Laird of the Highlands runs his estate.” “What if Brit-Cit wants you back?” Dredd asked. “Emerald Isle is an independent territory,” she said, “Brit-Cit has no jurisdiction here. I’m going back to Cal-Hab, and I’m taking Phoenix with me.” “The wardroid was taken here?” Wilberforce said. “Yes, the Judges knew that we had one on our team and brought it with them. But they looked it over and have decided to scrap him. I know that there is a place in Ness that knows how to fix him. I think we owe him that.” “No arguments here,” Dredd said. “I’m heading back to Brit-Cit with the hoverwagon,” Wilberforce explained, “I’ve been given a clean bill of health and have been recalled home. We are leaving today.” “Then before you all leave, we need to do one more thing,” Dredd said. The memorial service was held in the St Mary’s Hospital, with people including Dredd, Wilberforce, Buchan, Larter, Washington and Rutherford in attendance. Towards the back, Judge Jamieson sat in a wheelchair, still sporting many bandages. As the leader of the mission, Dredd was expected to say some words. He stood in front of a podium in the chapel and faced the gathered assembly. A board to his left displayed the various badges and identification of those who didn’t make it back. There were Mega City One, Brit-Cit and Cal-Hab Judge badges, a doctor’s ID badge and one ABC Warrior serial number badge. All of them silent testaments to lives lost. “Death is never far from a Judge,” he said, “We face it on a daily basis. People die. It’s a fact we all have come to accept. But it doesn’t make it any easier. The people who died in the Alpha Seven crash and those who gave their lives in the rescue mission are honoured here today. Some I did not meet alive, such as Judge Briers, Dr Fosdyke and Judge Brubaker. Others stood with us and fought to preserve life to the very end. In either case, they will be remembered.”

Epilogue The hovership arrived in the city of Ness and Judge Buchan and Judge Jamieson disembarked. They were met by Commander Salmond, who greeted them warmly. They would be starting a new life in the Highland city, doing their duty and protecting the innocent. Phoenix was taken down from the cargo hold in a crate. “Ah hope he can be repaired,” Judge Jamieson said, “He deserves it.” “We will put our best engineers on it,” Commander Salmond assured, “We can certainly use a wardroid of his battle experience in the garrison.” The Commander went off to arrange this. Judge Jamieson looked at Judge Buchan. “Ah still cannae understand how ah wisnae killed,” Jamieson said to Buchan, “Ah wis reedy tae die.” “It wasn’t your time,” she told him, “Just as it wasn’t my time when the Flux was created. We have a chance to do some good here. I think we can. Put the past behind you, as I did.” The Cal-Hab Judge smiled, for the first time in a long time. “Aye, yer richt,” he said, “Ah’ll gie it a go.” Wilberforce returned to Brit-Cit along with Professor Rutherford, where she took up a post in the Royal Air and Space Force. In memory of her old mentor, Judge-Pilot Bader, she chose to fly the same Strato-fighters that he flew. Dredd returned to Mega-City One with Judge Larter and Judge Washington. After a medical check, which found him fit to return to duty, he spend ten minutes in a sleep machine and then returned to the mean streets of the Big Meg to dispense justice. His mission in Cal-Hab was over and he was back where he belonged.