mean we’re in for a busy night.’
Judge Warner shook his head in mock sadness. ‘You really suffer for your art, don’t you? Psi Division always makes a meal of things. If it was up to us regulars there would be a lot more hard graft and a lot less agonising.’
‘While you and Troughton ride shotgun on this team you’ll keep your opinions to yourselves,’ Anderson retorted. ‘These souls deserve respect and consideration, not brute force.’
‘The workers’ compound is just ahead. We’d better make tracks – Neill the I.B.I. rep has requested assistance nine times in the last hour,’ Troughton observed.
‘I sense... persistent jackass,’ groaned McKern.
‘I was right,’ he whispered to Anderson, as Neill scurried toward them in the lobby of the workers’ compound.
‘About time!’ he snapped. ‘Do you have any idea of the seriousness of the situation? Work ceased three days ago. I.B.I. are facing interest charges in excess of nine trill. Phoenix Block is over budget and behind schedule. What do you intend to do about it?’
Anderson shrugged. ‘Not my problem. We’re here to locate paranormal disturbances.’
‘And when you do?’
‘Once I’ve located the problem telepathically, Judge Stokes, our empath, will categorise and contain it, allowing our telekinetic, Judge McKern, to expel it from this dimension. Problem solved.’
‘And what do the other two do? Chant and burn incense?’
‘They’re here to support us in more... physical encounters,’ said Anderson.
‘We break heads,’ added Warner drily.
‘I don’t care what you have to do,’ Neill raged. ‘Just make damn sure you do it quickly. This place is falling apart around my ears. I’ve got four thousand discontented construction workers and their families refusing to pick up tools or step out of the compound over some superstitious crem about demonic forces and walking dead! I’ve had nine workers injured in clumsy accidents that are gonna cost me a spitload of creds, and another three flash-fried yesterday when their work cradle fell into the magmatic vent, for reasons that will no doubt become painfully clear in an expensive negligence suit. Now if this is because I’m playing host to the Devil, show him the damn door so we can get on with our work!’
Anderson turned her group with a sigh. ‘Okay team, you know the drill. Exploration, exculpation, extradition! Stokes, what have you got?’
The petite empath frowned, shaking her head.
‘A headache? Sorry, Cass. It’s a psionic blank as far as I can sense, just like outside.’
Warner snorted. ‘Drokk! You said it, it’s a wild ghost chase! All we need is an H-Wagon and a crime blitz. What’s needed here is a liberal dose of work ethic, not exorcism.’
Exasperated, Anderson turned toward the window, gazing grimly out as though the night sky might help her. Above the massive Geo-Stability Tower, a full moon glowed crimson through a pall of exhaust fumes. Anderson felt a slight tremor... like a whisper, as though someone was speaking. It took Anderson a moment to realise it was herself.
‘“And the moon became as blood...”’
‘What did you say?’ asked Warner.
Anderson ignored him and put her hand to her temple. ‘There is something here after all,’ she said. ‘And I don’t like it one bit.’
‘ ...May 22 nd : It’s all coming together now. The moon’s been red for several days, just as God told me it would be. As for the six hundred three score and six, that’s obvious to me now too! Three sixes... The Antichrist will be born on the sixth day of the sixth month at six o’clock, the son of a jackal. That’s soon now. I must find this jackal. I must wait for its offspring and I must kill it! ’
June 6 – 5.52pm
The apartment door crumpled like tissue paper under McKern’s telekinetic onslaught, and Warner and Troughton swung into the room, Lawgivers at the ready.
‘Empty,’ reported Warner. ‘Are you sure this is
Judge Warner shook his head in mock sadness. ‘You really suffer for your art, don’t you? Psi Division always makes a meal of things. If it was up to us regulars there would be a lot more hard graft and a lot less agonising.’
‘While you and Troughton ride shotgun on this team you’ll keep your opinions to yourselves,’ Anderson retorted. ‘These souls deserve respect and consideration, not brute force.’
‘The workers’ compound is just ahead. We’d better make tracks – Neill the I.B.I. rep has requested assistance nine times in the last hour,’ Troughton observed.
‘I sense... persistent jackass,’ groaned McKern.
‘I was right,’ he whispered to Anderson, as Neill scurried toward them in the lobby of the workers’ compound.
‘About time!’ he snapped. ‘Do you have any idea of the seriousness of the situation? Work ceased three days ago. I.B.I. are facing interest charges in excess of nine trill. Phoenix Block is over budget and behind schedule. What do you intend to do about it?’
Anderson shrugged. ‘Not my problem. We’re here to locate paranormal disturbances.’
‘And when you do?’
‘Once I’ve located the problem telepathically, Judge Stokes, our empath, will categorise and contain it, allowing our telekinetic, Judge McKern, to expel it from this dimension. Problem solved.’
‘And what do the other two do? Chant and burn incense?’
‘They’re here to support us in more... physical encounters,’ said Anderson.
‘We break heads,’ added Warner drily.
‘I don’t care what you have to do,’ Neill raged. ‘Just make damn sure you do it quickly. This place is falling apart around my ears. I’ve got four thousand discontented construction workers and their families refusing to pick up tools or step out of the compound over some superstitious crem about demonic forces and walking dead! I’ve had nine workers injured in clumsy accidents that are gonna cost me a spitload of creds, and another three flash-fried yesterday when their work cradle fell into the magmatic vent, for reasons that will no doubt become painfully clear in an expensive negligence suit. Now if this is because I’m playing host to the Devil, show him the damn door so we can get on with our work!’
Anderson turned her group with a sigh. ‘Okay team, you know the drill. Exploration, exculpation, extradition! Stokes, what have you got?’
The petite empath frowned, shaking her head.
‘A headache? Sorry, Cass. It’s a psionic blank as far as I can sense, just like outside.’
Warner snorted. ‘Drokk! You said it, it’s a wild ghost chase! All we need is an H-Wagon and a crime blitz. What’s needed here is a liberal dose of work ethic, not exorcism.’
Exasperated, Anderson turned toward the window, gazing grimly out as though the night sky might help her. Above the massive Geo-Stability Tower, a full moon glowed crimson through a pall of exhaust fumes. Anderson felt a slight tremor... like a whisper, as though someone was speaking. It took Anderson a moment to realise it was herself.
‘“And the moon became as blood...”’
‘What did you say?’ asked Warner.
Anderson ignored him and put her hand to her temple. ‘There is something here after all,’ she said. ‘And I don’t like it one bit.’
‘ ...May 22 nd : It’s all coming together now. The moon’s been red for several days, just as God told me it would be. As for the six hundred three score and six, that’s obvious to me now too! Three sixes... The Antichrist will be born on the sixth day of the sixth month at six o’clock, the son of a jackal. That’s soon now. I must find this jackal. I must wait for its offspring and I must kill it! ’
June 6 – 5.52pm
The apartment door crumpled like tissue paper under McKern’s telekinetic onslaught, and Warner and Troughton swung into the room, Lawgivers at the ready.
‘Empty,’ reported Warner. ‘Are you sure this is
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