NINETEEN
A WHISPER NO MORE
"We go in hard and heavy," the Judge commanding the tac-team said, his voice raised to make himself heard above the roar of the H-Wagon's engines as he stood in the passenger compartment addressing the assembled Judges. "Latest intel has the Sector House under siege by a crowd of hostiles. Our job is to re-establish order and secure the scene, then let the Exorcists go in to do their work."
He nodded toward the squad of four Judges sitting at the back of the H-Wagon, away from the others. Exorcist Judge Damon Merrin was no longer listening. Like his colleagues beside him, he sat in quiet contemplation, attempting to steel himself for the confrontation ahead. Before taking his place in the H-Wagon, he had checked and re-checked his equipment. Psi-focus, holy water, silver-tipped shells for his Lawgiver: he had everything with him he would need to do his work. Now it was time to see to the most potent weapon in his arsenal. His
mind
.
This is going to be a bad one,
Exorcist Judge Karras communicated telepathically from the seat opposite him. Karras's eyes were closed, his crucifix-shaped psi-focus gripped tightly in his hands as he used his psi-talents to scan ahead of them.
I can sense Anderson's mind, but there's something in the psi-flux blocking me from getting through to her. It's like there's a shadow lying over the entire Sector.
Push harder
, Merrin told him. Karras had the strongest psi-talent in the squad. If anyone could get through to Anderson, he could.
We need to know what we're up against
. Merrin could see into the minds of the other Exorcists and knew they were all experiencing the same disquiet. They could sense the presence of the shadow blanketing the sector below. Whatever kind of entity it was they were dealing with, its power had grown to truly terrifying proportions.
Use your psi-focus, Karras. You have to break through.
I'm trying
. Even through the mind-link Karras's telepathic voice sounded strained, as though he was pushing with everything he had. His mind-voice became anxious.
Wait, the entity knows we're here. Holy Grud, I think it's in the H-Wagon with us.
Karras's eyes snapped open, joining the eyes of the other Exorcists as they nervously scanned the confines of the H-Wagon around them in search of the intruder. Merrin saw it first: a small patch of shadow flitting among the Judges as the entity tried to find a receptive mind. It leapt from Judge to Judge inside the H-Wagon, eventually coming to rest on the shoulders of the Judge giving the tac-team briefing.
"H-Wagons Five and Six will lay down a cloud of Stumm gas first to clear the plaza," the tac-team leader said. "The rest of us will..."
His words trailed away to nothing as his eyes glazed over. Merrin and the other Exorcists were on their feet in an instant and desperately running toward him, but it was too late. The tac-team leader had already pulled his Widowmaker from the strap on his shoulder. He clicked off the safety as he levelled the gun at the Judges in front of him.
"Sinners." As the bullets hit Merrin, the last thing he heard was the tac-leader's voice, calm and determined above the sound of gunfire. "You're all sinners. You must be judged."
"Look!" Standing beside the doors of the Sector House as the mob threw themselves against the electro-cordon, Judge Hass called out and pointed a finger up at the sky. "It's the reinforcements. We're saved!"
Rushing with the others to join him, Anderson saw the SJS Judge was right. In the distance, speeding over the rooftops of the blocks on the other side of the plaza, she could see a flotilla of six H-Wagons skimming the rooftops towards them. Finally Central Control had come through on their promises to send reinforcements. The Judges rejoiced, cheering and laughing with relief, but even as the flotilla drew closer, Anderson felt a tingling sensation at the back of her scalp and experienced a foreboding premonition.
"Wait." Standing next to her, Symonds was the first to see it clearly. "Something's wrong. The lead H-Wagon is breaking formation."
It began with a visible wobble in the flight of the first H-Wagon as though, inside it, the pilot was struggling for control. Then the entire flotilla broke formation. Anderson saw one of the H-Wagons explode without warning in a ball of fire and beside it, two more banked hard towards each other and collided. While the cheers from the Judges died as they watched the horrifying spectacle unfold, another H-Wagon turned its guns on one of its brothers, shooting it from the sky, only to be shot down by the remaining H-Wagon which in turn exploded. Where there had been hope and the prospect of salvation, there was now only the sound of more screaming outside as great pieces of burning debris rained down from the sky to land on the crowd thronging the plaza. But that was as nothing to the horror Anderson felt as she spotted one of the H-Wagons falling flaming toward the plaza like a meteor.
Hitting the ground at tremendous speed it bounced once, then came skidding towards the Sector House - a great juddering piece of wreckage trailing a tail of smoke behind it, crushing everything in its path. The Judges dived for cover and Anderson found herself transfixed, her legs mysteriously paralysed, her eyes watching in appalled fascination as the H-Wagon slid inexorably towards her. She saw it plough through the electro-cordon, destroying the emitters. The Justice Department insignia on its side started to bubble and melt in the heat of the fire. She saw the nose of the H-Wagon come closer, closer. So close she could see the pilot sitting dead at the controls through the viewport, his lolling head jumping at every shudder running through the airframe as the H-Wagon slid across the ground. It was almost on top of her now. Her legs finally responding, she tried to leap out of the way as the H-Wagon hit the doorframe in front of her and came crashing through the front entrance. She heard the awful screech of twisting metal, she smelt the stench of burning oil and human flesh, she felt a sudden pain as something struck her head. For a moment, she could have sworn she heard the whispering voice of the entity laughing at her from the shadows.
Then, there was only darkness.
"Anderson!" She felt hands grabbing at her body, hauling her upright.
"Anderson!" The smell of smoke, the sound of shots being fired, answered by screams of rage and pain.
"Anderson!" She felt herself being pulled along, a strong arm around her side, her feet faltering and stumbling beneath her.
"Anderson!" She opened her eyes. Everything seemed strange and distant. She saw a dizzying kaleidoscope of images: the burning nose section of the H-Wagon sitting incongruously in the centre of the room amid a pile of debris, a cavernous hole in the Sector House wall behind it, a throng of citizens spilling through the hole, mad-eyed and screaming with bloodlust, their faces filled with hate. She saw a Judge trip and the crowd closed around him, blood splatters rising in the air as dozens of clubs rose and fell in an awful rhythm. She tried to move to help him, but the arm around her restrained her. She caught glimpses of other Judges through the smoke and dust. Hass, Symonds, a Street Judge - Jurgens? They were firing their Lawgivers, shooting at the crowd, trying to hold back a tide of screeching psychotics.
"Anderson!"
Dully, she realised Whitby was shouting in her ear, with one arm around her waist, dragging her with him as he and the other Judges retreated behind the check-in desk. The last Judge through tried to slam the door closed between check-in and the waiting area, but the weight of the crowd pushing against it from the other side made it impossible. The retreat continued, the Judges pulling back into the corridor behind check-in as the crowd spilled through the door towards them.
"Anderson!" His arm still around her, Whitby was shaking her.
"Grud, Whitby, I hear you." She put a hand to her scalp and saw blood staining her fingers as she pulled it away. "Anybody ever tell you that you shouldn't shake a concussion victim?"
"I had to try something." He fired a salvo of shots at the crowd, cutting three of them down. "We're out of ammo for the riot guns. We're using execution rounds just to hold them back. I hope to Grud you've got some ideas."
"The foyer," she said, pushing free of his arm to walk unaided. Her ears were ringing and her head felt like a dinosaur had stamped on it, but she started to come back to her senses. "Head for the elevators."
They followed her lead, fighting a retreat through the corridors as the crowd pushed hard on their heels. Then, as she stepped into the wide expanses of the foyer and saw the elevators before her, Anderson pulled her Lawgiver from her boot holster.
"Rapid fire," she said. "Hi-ex!"
She fired six shots, two for each of the three elevators, blowing them apart. Behind her, as the ringing in her ears diminished, she heard Whitby gasp.
"Anderson, have you gone crazy?"
"We can't let the psychos use the elevators," she said as she ran, hoping the others were still following her. "Head for the emergency stairwell. That's our escape route."
Sprinting across to the other side of the foyer, she grabbed the stairwell door and pulled it open. Then, as the other Judges caught up and hurried inside, she turned to the crowd and fired Standard Execution rounds. The situation had developed past the stage where she could afford to worry about using lethal force. It was bullets or nothing, kill or be killed.
"Move it," she shouted. Seeing the last of the Judges were now on the stairwell, she abandoned the foyer and ran up the steps after them. Her hands scrabbled at her utility belt, pulling out more hi-ex shells and reloading her Lawgiver. "Head for level one."
The others had reached the landing for the floor above. The last one up, Anderson looked down at the crowd surging up the cramped confines of the stairs after them. You've got no choice, Cass, she told herself. If you don't stop them, they'll rip us to pieces.
She fired again, more hi-ex, aiming for the roof above the crowd and causing it to collapse in an avalanche of rubble. Pushed back choking as the dust from the collapse enveloped her, Anderson saw that the hi-ex had done its work. The stairwell was clogged with rubble - a solid wall of debris separated them from the mob on the other side. She had created a breathing space and could only hope it lasted longer than the last one.
"You blew out the elevators so the psychos couldn't use them, then brought down the stairwell to stop them from following us," Whitby said. "Sorry if it seemed I was doubting you before, Anderson. The only thing you're crazy like is a fox."
"Only problem is we're cut off up here," she said. She saw Whitby and the others standing on the landing, staring at her strangely. "What is it? You're looking at me like I'm having a bad hair day and everybody's too embarrassed to say anything."
"Your left eye, Anderson," Symonds said after a moment. Seeing her raise her fingers toward her face, he reached out to stop her. "No. I wouldn't touch it."
"Okay. Seeing as there doesn't look to be any mirrors around here, somebody want to tell me how bad it is?" she said.
"Bad," Symonds said. "The eye's swelled up and red like it's filling with blood. I'm no Med-Judge but it looks like..." He paused again, the bad tidings dying on his lips.
"An eight-ball haemorrhage," she finished the sentence for him. She put her hand down by her side, fighting the urge to probe at her face. "It's all right, Symonds - I know what it means. I've got blood leaking into my eye socket, probably from a brain haemorrhage. Must have been hit by a piece of debris when the H-Wagon crashed through the front doors." She shrugged and immediately regretted it as she felt a stabbing pain in her head. "Guess that explains the headache."
"I still got some med-supplies left." The owlish Acc-Judge she had seen earlier pushed towards her with a medi-pack in his hands.
Thorley
. She remembered his name. Somehow, she found herself surprised he was still alive. "I could put a dressing on it."
"No." She put her hand up to stop him. "No offence, Thorley, but I'd rather wait until I find somebody who knows what they're doing."
"Wait," Whitby said, his head raised as though he was trying to hear something. "Listen. What's that sound?"
As the others fell quiet, Anderson heard it: a scratching noise coming from the other side of the wall of rubble blocking off the stairwell.
"It sounds like digging," Symonds's voice was a whisper. "The crazies are trying to dig their way toward us with their bare hands."
"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised." She saw the faces of the other Judges looking at her. Anxious, nervous, looking to her for guidance. "We have to get ready. I want two men to go to the Armoury to stock up on more ammo, while the rest of us prepare to hold this landing. They'll get through that rubble eventually. When they do, we'll hold on here as long as we can, then retreat to the next landing above us. We'll fight floor-by-floor, collapsing the stairwell roof at each landing as we go, then only retreating when the crazies break through again. Hopefully that way we can buy some time while Justice Department decides how the hell they're going to deal with this mess." She shrugged again, not knowing whether she should be worried or relieved that the stabbing pain did not return. "It's not much of a plan, I know, but if anybody else has any bright ideas, I'm open to suggestions."
"I have a suggestion, psi-bitch." She heard Hass's voice behind her and felt the barrel of a Lawgiver press against the back of her neck. She had not even noticed the SJS Judge work his way behind her. "An
excellent
one, in fact. Why don't you die?"
For the second time that day, Whitby saved her. Lashing out with his Lawgiver, he caught Hass's arm with the barrel, causing Hass's gun to ride upwards as he pulled the trigger. Deafened by the blast as the bullet whizzed past her scalp, Anderson turned in time to see Whitby and the others wrestle Hass to the ground and take his gun from him. She saw Hass struggling, biting and spitting at them as they held him down. Then she saw a Judge point his Lawgiver at Hass.