The exciting series charting the collpase of America and the rise of the Judges continues – pre-order the special edition paperback now!
JUDGES: Necessary Evil by Michael Carroll is the latest in the JUDGES novella series exploring the origins of Judge Dredd’s world.
United States of America, 2051 A.D. Chief Eustace Fargo is dead…
A routine stop, a gunshot, and the world changes. It’s been twenty years since Francesco Deacon first put on the badge, and it grows heavier every year; but today more than ever, there’s work to do.
And then Judges in Philadelphia pick up Dallas Hawker, a long-time fugitive and Deacon’s closest ever link to a crime-lord he’s been chasing his whole career…
The Necessary Evil ebook will be available from shop.2000AD.com, the 2000 AD app and Amazon’s Kindle store on 7 July. Or you can pre-order one of 150 copies of the special edition paperback from the 2000 AD webshop now!
These are Judge Dredd’s earliest cases – and Mega-City One has never been this dangerous! The omnibus prose collection of Judge Dredd: Year Three is OUT NOW!
Available on 2 February and collecting prose novellas by Michael Carroll, Matthew Smith and Laurel Sills, in two short years Judge Joseph Dredd has made a name for himself on the mean streets of the Big Meg. He’s tackled hardened killers and would-be revolutionaries; he’s taken beat-downs and bounced back; and he’s even arrested his own brother!
But there’s no such thing as a “normal year” in the Big Meg. In his third year on the sked, he’ll become embroiled in the growing anti-robot movement; he’ll head back out to the Cursed Earth; and he’ll fall afoul of the secretive SJS – and not for the last time…
In 2081, SJS Judge Marion Gillen staked her reputation on proving that Joseph Dredd was as corrupt as his brother Rico—and lost. A year later, Gillen is on the run from her own division, and must navigate a world of secrets and lies. She approaches the stolid, inflexible young Judge she once tried to bust — two years out of the Academy and already making a name for himself — and finds he may be the only person in the city she can really trust…
Machineries of Hate by Matt Smith
Droids! They’re everywhere; they clean for you, cook for you, grow your food. But don’t they deserve rights like everyone else? Following up on rumours of an unlicensed robo-surgeon, Judge Joseph Dredd uncovers a growing robot revolution… and the mek-hating humans who want to stop them at all costs.
Bitter Earth by Laurel Sills
Flying out to the Cursed Earth to babysit Tek-Div nerds working on soil reclamation is hardly Judge Joe Dredd’s idea of useful work, but everyone has to do their bit. But an explosion goes off when Dredd and his fellow Judges arrive, and then people start disappearing, and it turns out he’s got work to do after all…
These are Judge Dredd’s earliest cases – and Mega-City One has never been this dangerous! The omnibus collection of Judge Dredd: Year Three is available to pre-order!
Available on 2 February and collecting prose novellas by Michael Carroll, Matthew Smith and Laurel Sills, in two short years Judge Joseph Dredd has made a name for himself on the mean streets of the Big Meg. He’s tackled hardened killers and would-be revolutionaries; he’s taken beat-downs and bounced back; and he’s even arrested his own brother!
But there’s no such thing as a “normal year” in the Big Meg. In his third year on the sked, he’ll become embroiled in the growing anti-robot movement; he’ll head back out to the Cursed Earth; and he’ll fall afoul of the secretive SJS – and not for the last time…
In 2081, SJS Judge Marion Gillen staked her reputation on proving that Joseph Dredd was as corrupt as his brother Rico—and lost. A year later, Gillen is on the run from her own division, and must navigate a world of secrets and lies. She approaches the stolid, inflexible young Judge she once tried to bust — two years out of the Academy and already making a name for himself — and finds he may be the only person in the city she can really trust…
Machineries of Hate by Matt Smith
Droids! They’re everywhere; they clean for you, cook for you, grow your food. But don’t they deserve rights like everyone else? Following up on rumours of an unlicensed robo-surgeon, Judge Joseph Dredd uncovers a growing robot revolution… and the mek-hating humans who want to stop them at all costs.
Bitter Earth by Laurel Sills
Flying out to the Cursed Earth to babysit Tek-Div nerds working on soil reclamation is hardly Judge Joe Dredd’s idea of useful work, but everyone has to do their bit. But an explosion goes off when Dredd and his fellow Judges arrive, and then people start disappearing, and it turns out he’s got work to do after all…
The Judges: Psyche novella ebook is just 99p in the Rebellion Publishing sale!
Written by Maura McHugh, Psyche charts the beginnings of the psychic cops of Psi Division – one of the most powerful tools at the disposal of Justice Department in its fight against crime!
Read the first chapter below and then buy for just 99p from the Rebellion Publishing webshop!
Washington DC, 2044: Phoebe Wise has always known she was different; she joined the Judge programme to get away from all that. But the Department has other ideas. Radical, outrageous ideas.
Mega-City One, 2141: Pam Reed is the best pre-cog Psi-Div has, rushed to a crumbling block in one of the oldest sectors of the Meg to dig through files thought long-lost.
And something has reached across the decades to bring the two Judges together, and protect a future that almost never was.
Psi-Division, Mega-City One
Tuesday, 19
September 2141
03:38
Judge
Pam Reed dreamed.
As one of Psi-Div’s most
dependable and senior pre-cogs (current rating: 81% accuracy), she trained her
dreaming mind as hard as she trained her body. She viewed her talent as a
virtual Lawgiver, which required skill and discipline to wield effectively. The
intel about future potentials she fished out of the entropic currents of time
and probability were vital to the preparedness of the Justice Department and
the safety of Mega-City One. This was how she uniquely served the citizenry,
and she prized her contribution to their welfare.
A scene began to swim
into view, one different from the mundane information her unconscious mind
sifted through and ordered during sleep. It was overlaid with the indefinable zing of an important vision.
Distantly aware of lying
in bed, she brought the thumb and forefinger of her left hand together, which
connected a circuit—thanks to embedded nanites—and activated a recording of her
vitals as well as video and audio output of her experience. Sometimes she said
words or phrases aloud she didn’t remember afterwards. All data could be useful
in trying to piece together a better understanding of a prescient dream, which
were often jumbled and symbolic.
First, a symbol. Ψ,
rotating, followed by the word Psyche,
which reverberated with a myriad of associations: secrecy, doubt, power, and
fear. She forced the word past her slack lips so it could be noted.
A girl’s face appeared,
as if through rippling water. Young, with an engrossed expression. Pam knew
that face as well as she knew her own. As if this woman was her—despite her being white, wiry and black-haired, and Pam
being black and tall with a fauxhawk. The jolt of recognition startled her enough it nearly knocked her out of the
dream, but she was used to tugging on slippery dream-strands; she pulled them
back into focus with gentle determination.
The woman was sitting,
very still, in the woods.
Woods!
Where are there woods any more?
Pam’s sense of self slipped in and merged with the younger woman’s, and the whole scene snapped into being: she could smell the damp mulch under her boots. A slight breeze stirred the branches and leaves into casting shifting puzzles of light and shadow across the forest floor. Birds called to each other sweetly. It had rained earlier in the day; light droplets of water fell on her from above. She was perched on a moss-covered rock, and its cold, hard surface numbed her ass through her water-resistant camo combat trousers. She held a hunting rifle, but mostly she was enjoying the isolation, practising extending her senses as far as she could through the area, seeking light tendrils of thought.
Pam
probed slightly, and snagged the woman’s name: Phoebe, or Fee to her friends.
But this jostled the woman’s awareness and alerted her to the presence of an
alien observer. She stood up and placed her hand upon the rough bark of a large
beech tree beside her, reflexively using it to ground and steady herself.
Who’re
you, lady?
And Pam sensed a
surprisingly hard push against her defences and an attempt to scoop information
from her mind. She slammed up her shields, but she was no telepath.
Pam,
eh?
Phoebe was looking around
the forest, casting a mental mesh that unfurled rapidly out from her, seeking
Pam’s physical location.
Didn’t
your Mama teach you it was rude to enter a mind without her say-so?
Pam made no reply. The
strength of the woman’s focus was unnerving, if a bit raw. Pam began to recoil
from the dream: it didn’t feel like prescience. It had the tone of… memory.
Phoebe had narrowed her
eyes, and her curiosity transformed into irritation.
Shoo!
And Pam was booted out,
unspooling back to her bed, and the darkness of her quiet apartment.
She sat up, and pressed
her hands against her heart, which felt like it was going to burst from joy.
She had been in a healthy
forest. She’d heard birdsong. She had touched a tree! She inhaled the recycled
air in her small bedroom, but the richness of fertile earth and healthy trees
lingered.
There had been many times
she had hated her talent, especially when Psi-Div separated her from her mother
when she was five years old. In this moment, as tears slid down her cheeks, she
praised her talent, thanking it for giving her a doorway into an impossible moment.
A beep indicated that
Psi-Div Monitor wanted to speak to her.
She quickly wiped away
the tears and pressed the sensor on the wall by her bed. A light screen
shimmered into view before her, displaying one of the on-duty officers. Behind
him other officers sat in front of arrays of screens, listening and noting
streams of information from the psis working throughout Mega-City One. They’d
been alerted once she started recording her dream.
The man had a neutral
expression and an efficient tone. They were trained to deal with agitated psis
trying to explain their visions.
“Judge Reed, do you wish
to log a warning?”
She shook her head,
settling back into the familiar, calm demeanour she worked to maintain. Many of
her dreams were bloody visions of death and destruction that lingered with her
for weeks or years. It took a great deal of effort—and some meds—not to keep
hearing the screams and the cries for help.
“No, nothing like that.”
He looked down and a
slight flicker of surprise registered. He’d read something on a feed. “There’s
been an alert raised about your voice recording.” He raised his gaze and his
tone slid into something more official. “Report to Judge Shenker for debriefing
at oh-seven-hundred hours. He will take your verbal report in person.”
“Roger that,” she said.
There was no point questioning why the head of Psi-Division wanted to meet her.
She’d find out at the meeting.
She rewound and replayed
the recording, and watched an IR image of her relaxed face on the pillow, her
eyes moving behind their lids.
The latest Judge Dredd prose novella is now available to buy in print, ebook, and on Kindle devices – and you can read the first chapter, for free, now!
Judge Dredd – Year Three: Bitter Earth by Laurel Sills is the latest in the Judge Dredd: Year Three novella series, following Judge Dredd as he undertakes his third year on the mean streets of Mega-City One.
It is now 2082 and flying out to the Cursed Earth to babysit Tek-Div nerds working on soil reclamation is hardly Judge Joe Dredd’s idea of useful work, but everyone has to do their bit.
But an explosion goes off when Dredd and his fellow Judges arrive, and then people start disappearing, and it turns out he’s got work to do after all…
Dredd clenched and unclenched his fists, shifting against the safety harness holding him in his seat as the Landraider armoured tank grated along the dirt road, leaving MC-1 far behind, now a smudge on the distant horizon.
Soon the Cursed Earth stretched out in an endless haze in all directions, the sheer space of it all doing strange things to his mind. It wasn’t his first—or second—time out here, but it didn’t seem to get easier.
Where were the towering blocks, the teeming traffic, the looping pedways? And that sky! A muted light seeped through the floating rock field that rolled lazily above them, the reason they were in a tank and not an H-Wagon. The sky was supposed to be viewed in small glimpses between the pillars of human invention. It wasn’t supposed to stretch, limitless, exposing all and everything beneath it to any casual glance. The only cover out here was the Landraider itself; no backup maze of backstreets and buildings. He itched to order the outer shields down and cover the wide viewing hatches, but as the youngest Judge on the mission, he kept quiet.
“Don’t like the look of those rocks,” said Judge Deng, strapped to the opposite wall, next to Judge Smee. He pursed his lips.
“There have been no recorded instances of a Judge being killed by a stone falling from a Death Belt,” Judge Smee said, breaking her silence for the first time since they had deployed.
Deng looked a little shocked she had spoken. “How do you know that?” he asked. “There was nothing about that in the mission notes.”
She frowned and looked at him like it was a stupid question. “I read everything the archive had on the Cursed Earth for this mission, didn’t you?”
Deng didn’t answer, and instead went back to scanning the sky through the viewing hatch. Smee leant back in her chair, and resumed staring into space.
Dredd was familiar with Judge Deng, who’d come up in the Academy in the same year as him, but he hadn’t crossed paths with Judge Smee, who’d trained with the other psi-cadets. Judge Deng was clenching his jaw, maybe as displeased as Dredd was that he’d drawn the short straw and been assigned to a babysitting operation, but Smee didn’t seem similarly afflicted. She actually looked relaxed; relieved, almost.
Wearing her straight dark hair cropped just below her ears, she looked as though she had some East Asian heritage. Sometimes, Dredd looked at a person and found himself wondering what it was like for your genes to be a mystery to you. Being a clone of the Father of Justice, he knew exactly where he came from, and whose shoes he needed to fill. He liked the certainty of it, but knew from hard experience that genes meant nothing when it came to personality. His disgraced twin brother Rico was a case in point.
Being a clone of the big guy hadn’t stopped him from being assigned to this backwater mission either. When Chief Judge Goodman had summoned Dredd to his office to tell him he’d been temporarily reassigned to the Cursed Earth, Dredd had to grind his teeth to stop an insubordinate protest escaping.
Goodman must have noticed, as he’d felt the need to explain himself, which was out of character.
“Just until the heat from the Carver killings case cools off,” he’d said, pacing behind his desk. “And lest we forget, there’s still folks in the SJS gunning for you after the unpleasantness with the Santon family.”
Goodman sighed and rested his hands on the back of his chair. “Frankly, son, I just need you out of the picture for a few months.” He smiled reassuringly. “Nice, quiet, boring job out of the city.”
Dredd had ground his teeth some more and kept his objections to himself. The way to keep the heat off would be to take down more criminals and clean up the streets, not slink off to put his feet up for a few months. Reaching up to his harness, he pulled the release and pushed himself out of the seat, grabbing onto a handhold that hung from the ceiling to steady himself. “Going to check on the prisoners,” he said, before making his way to the driving deck.
“Don’t you mean ‘volunteers’?” Smee corrected as he left.
He grunted in response and curled his lip. These were perps grabbing hold of a good deal—too good, in Dredd’s opinion. Medical experimentation in return for a shortened sentence. Injecting a prisoner with drugs didn’t change what they’d done or what they were capable of. He’d assumed the offer would be reserved for low-risk offences, but after scanning the crimes of the dirtbags they had loaded into the tank holding cubes that morning, he was dismayed to see a string of high-violence offences stacked up beside every name.
Dredd nodded to the tank driver as he entered the driver’s compartment. Garrison, a grizzled old Judge with a bitter twist to his mouth, was serving out his twilight years as a glorified chauffeur.
“Hear anything from below?” Dredd asked, standing over the hatch that led to the holding cubes.
“Not a whisper. Hold on,” Garrison pulled down a lever, and the whole tank shook as they began to go up a steep incline. Dredd planted his legs and braced himself against the back wall.
“Not the perps below I’d be worrying about if I were you, but the mutie in the back.” He shook his head. Dredd frowned at the older Judge’s statement.
“No point lying out loud, son; if you’re thinking it, then so are they. Those things can get straight into your head. No secrets around Psycho Div, I’ll tell you that for nothing.”
“I’m just going to check the volunteers,” Dredd said, itching to escape the conversation.
Garrison let out a bark of laughter. “More like ‘lab rats.’ Tell you what, they sure are going through ’em. Twenty of ’em in this transport. Used to trickle through, no more than five or so every few months. But now—” he whistled.
“Must be more like a hundred of ’em.
Dredd reached down to open the hatch.
“—and I’ll tell you something else. I haven’t driven any ‘volunteers’ back to a life of freedom. Makes you wonder where all of them are getting to.”
Dredd’s boots clanged against the metal steps as he descended into the vibrating darkness, hitting the lights on the way down. Eyes blinked at him through the bars of the travel cubes lining the far wall. One of them started barking and a few of the others took up the game, some hitting the bars and others laughing. All seemed as it should be.
“Judge,” a big perp called from the cube closest to the bottom of the stairs; he hadn’t been one of the ones barking. “I hear that right? We being sent to die out here?”
Drokk. He must have heard what the Judge had said as he opened the hatch. Ignoring him, Dredd began to walk slowly past the cubes, checking none of them were hiding any contraband or weapons.
“That wasn’t part of the deal!” the perp called as he walked away. “Safe, they said it was. Just some last-round drug tests and then we can go live our lives free again.”
Dredd turned to look at him properly. He was older than Dredd, maybe in his thirties, with a cloud of ugly bleached-blond hair, the roots growing dark and long now, and gang tattoos covering his neck and forehead. They marked him for a high-up in the BoJo gang. It had been taken down recently, exposing their seemingly respectable leader for the crooked self-serving scumbag he really was. They’d made mega creds running so called ‘charitable’ MC-1 projects, enslaving the cits they were supposed to be sheltering from vagrancy to work in their factories. Dredd had seen the reports. A full block had been turned into glitzy condos for BoJo’s enforcers, living it up on the suffering of everyday civs. A guy used to that sort of high life wouldn’t stay straight long outside of a cube, whatever it was he’d signed to say otherwise.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Dredd said, his hand moving to his Lawgiver.
“Typical Judge. Let the crazies bark as much as they want, but hear one word of the truth—”
“You want to make the rest of this journey conscious?” Dredd asked, setting his Lawgiver to stun and aiming it at the BoJo scum’s chest. “Either way, you’re gonna shut your mouth. Understand?”
The perp raised his hands and took a step back, miming zipping up his lips.
Dredd nodded and lowered his weapon; he couldn’t have that sort of rumour spreading amongst the other volunteers, true or otherwise. Satisfied the cubes were holding up and feeling like his trip below may have caused more harm than good, he left the volunteers barking in the dark. He strode past the driver before he could get another word in, slid the door into the passenger deck shut behind him, and went to strap himself back into his seat. Judge Smee looked him in the eye as he fastened his belt. While her face remained calm, her dark brown eyes glittered with fury. Dredd found himself breaking eye contact and looking at the floor. What was her problem?
“Right, let’s get this cleared up now,” she said, looking at Deng and then back to Dredd. “I know what a lot of Judges think of Psi-Div, or Psycho Div, as our driver so artfully put it. To be honest, I couldn’t give less of a drokk what you think. I just need to know that while we’re on this assignment, as fellow Judges, you’ll have my back, just as I’m going to have yours.”
So it was true, they did read minds. She’d been listening in on his conversation with the driver just as Garrison had warned.
“It is against protocol—”
“—to read the mind of a fellow Judge,” Smee finished for him. “I am aware of that.”
Dredd frowned. “And yet—”
“We could hear you,” Deng interrupted, before Dredd could get any further. He shrugged, as if to apologise for siding with Judge Smee.
Dredd let out a breath, watching the young Psi-Judge as she folded her arms and glared out the window. Reassuring another Judge that he had their back felt ridiculous. He had his orders, and they were both Judges, even if they were in different divisions. While mutants where illegal in Mega-City One and subject to deportation or death, human psychics—mutant or not—were extended citizenship as long as they served the Justice Department. Some people couldn’t bend their minds around that, but Dredd hadn’t put much thought into it. The Law was the Law, and Psi-Judges were protected by that Law, as well as being trusted to enforce it.
“What the stomm is that?” Smee said, half standing until her belt restrained her.
Dredd turned to look out the viewing hatch behind him as Deng let out a strangled gasp. The distant sand dunes were writhing, the earth shaking as if from a small, localised earthquake.
“Probably just a sink hole,” Dredd said.
“No, not that,” Deng undid his belt and crossed to press his hands against the window.
“Just wait for it,” Smee added, rising to stand beside him.
Dredd kept his eyes trained on the moving ground. Suddenly something shot from the earth, rising maybe twenty feet into the sky, writhing with what looked like hundreds of tentacles. Dredd made out an enormous hinged jaw lined with jagged teeth before it plunged back under the surface, as if into water. The three of them watched in silence until the ground grew still, and the Landraider took them around a high dune that blocked the now still earth from view.
“Was that a—?” Deng stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting to Smee.
“That was my cousin, Morty the Mutie,” Smee said, sitting back down.
The big man let out a laugh, his body visibly relaxing, and Dredd approved of the use of humour to defuse the tension.
“Some sort of large sand creature,” Dredd supplied. “We’ll report it when we arrive at the science station.”
The sky was the dark orange of dusk when the double domes of the station came into view, backed by a low range of hills of twisted rock, as if they had been melted in a great heat and reformed. Dredd didn’t like the look of them; they would provide cover for anyone wanting to get close to the facility without being seen—or wanting to get away from it. Dredd couldn’t see much evidence of the work within. The assignment report said it was a research centre to try and make headway in detoxifying the Cursed Earth. It was a noble venture; if they could claw back pockets of desert, they could cultivate crops, help feed the ever-multiplying mouths of MC-1. But it also seemed unlikely. The desert wasn’t called ‘cursed’ for nothing. And from what they had witnessed on the way over, it was no exaggeration.
The Landraider rumbled into a huge airlock that closed behind them, and was then blasted with cleansing chemicals to remove any toxins picked up in the desert before passing through the second gate and into the compound. Three Judges—Tomyo, Felps and Woodhead, from their badges—waited to greet them as the hatch opened, ready to board the tank for the journey home; Dredd, Smee and Deng would be relieving them. Dredd nodded in greeting. Deng clasped arms familiarly with Tomyo as Dredd jumped out onto the dust-blown earth and felt the heat of the dome-magnified sinking sun. It was stuffy inside the domes. The parking hangar was just big enough for the tank to turn, and for a bay of dune buggies. Dredd wondered what they were for. Science expeditions to get samples? The first dome was mostly taken up by an unremarkable white building, the lower storeys windowless. Opening the holding cubes from the secondary hatch, together they got the volunteers to line up, the six Judges training their Lawgivers on them.
“Cartwright will be along soon, to tell you where to take ’em,” Tomyo told them.
“Cartwright!” Deng said. “She’s a legend. My sister’s in Tek-Div, she says she laid the groundwork for that new Lunar colony they’re talking about. I’m actually looking forward to meeting her.”
It was strange to hear Deng talk about a sibling, although Dredd knew that some Judges still kept up a semblance of a family affiliation. From what Dredd had experienced of family, you were better off without them. Deng looked up as a woman in her sixties with short silver hair emerged from the building, flanked by two people in matching white lab coats, holding data tablets.
“Welcome to the bio lab,” she said to the Judges as her assistants checked off the volunteers. “If you’d kindly follow my assistants to the volunteer holding cubes—” She held her arm towards the door behind her.
The latest Judge Dredd prose novella is now available to pre-order!
Machineries of Hate by Matthew Smith is the latest in the Judge Dredd: Year Three novella series, following Judge Dredd as he undertakes his third year on the mean streets of Mega-City One.
This new case sees Dredd tackle an issue that will come to haunt his career in law enforcement – robots!
Mega-City One, 2082. Droids! They’re everywhere; they clean for you, cook for you, grow your food. But don’t they deserve rights like everyone else?
Following up on rumours of an unlicensed robo-surgeon, Judge Joseph Dredd uncovers a growing robot revolution… and the mek-hating humans who want to stop them at all costs.
The limited print edition of the latest Judge Dredd novella is out now!
The first in the Judge Dredd: Year Three novella series, Judge Dredd: Fallen Angel by Michael Carroll sees the still-fresh lawman having to help a Special Judicial Squad investigator who once tried to have him join his corrupt clone brother, Rico, on Titan!
In 2081, SJS Judge Marion Gillen staked her reputation on proving that Joseph Dredd was as corrupt as his brother Rico—and lost.
A year later, Gillen is on the run from her own division, and must navigate a world of secrets and lies. She approaches the stolid, inflexible young Judge she once tried to bust — two years out of the Academy and already making a name for himself — and finds he may be the only person in the city she can really trust…
Judge Dredd: Fallen Angel is out now in print (£7.99) and ebook (£2.99/$3.99) from the 2000 AD webshop and apps, as well as Amazon.
The limited print edition of the latest Judge Dredd is available for pre-order now!
The first in the Judge Dredd: Year Three novella series, Judge Dredd: Fallen Angel by Michael Carroll sees the still-fresh lawman having to help a Special Judicial Squad investigator who once tried to have him join his corrupt clone brother, Rico, on Titan!
In 2081, SJS Judge Marion Gillen staked her reputation on proving that Joseph Dredd was as corrupt as his brother Rico—and lost.
A year later, Gillen is on the run from her own division, and must navigate a world of secrets and lies. She approaches the stolid, inflexible young Judge she once tried to bust — two years out of the Academy and already making a name for himself — and finds he may be the only person in the city she can really trust…
Judge Dredd: Fallen Angel is out on 26 August in print (£7.99) and ebook (£2.99/$3.99) from the 2000 AD webshop and apps, as well as Amazon.
In time, the whole world will be a graveyard, a charnel pit for billions.
In time, a tiny few will be all that remains, fighting back against the terrible, rotting “greys” until none are left. In time, the Dark Judges will rule unquestioned over an empty world.
But before the end of Deadworld must come the fall…
Discover new depths to the depravity of the Dark Judges with the omnibus of The Fall of Deadworld prose novellas – now available to pre-order in paperback and Kindle!
Written by Matthew Smith, the omnibus edition includes the prose novellas Red Mosquito, Bone White Seeds and Grey Flesh Flies, and complements the on-going comics series, delving into the dark days of the fall of the Dark Judges’ homeworld.
What was life like when all life is declared illegal? How did the Dark Judges make their terrifying rise to power? And is there any hope in a world marked for Death?
The end of the world is pretty damn nigh … but it ain’t over yet! Misha Cafferly and Judge Hawkins are still on the road, still somehow breathing after all these months, and they’re damned if they’re giving in now. There’s hope on the radio. But the soil is poisoned, the water is foul, the bugs have become killers, the greys are everywhere, and now the terrible Sisters are even turning the survivors’ own minds against them… Time is running out.
