When she opened them again, her face was pale. “You felt nothing,” she whispered. “Not rage. Not justice. Not relief. Just… a checklist. Another box ticked.”
“Excuse me?”
She tilted her head.
Stella. Not a Judge—not yet. She was a psi-cadet on loan from the Academy, forced on him by Chief Judge Hershey as part of her “inter-departmental cooperation” initiative. She was twenty-two, with tired eyes and a shaved head that made her look like a wounded soldier. She also had a Grade Two psychic ability: tactile empathy. She could read the last five seconds of emotion from anything she touched.
But Dredd hadn’t come alone.
“And?”
Dredd looked down. His right gauntlet was smeared with Murmur’s blood. “Standard residue.”
Dredd finally looked at her. The visor hid his eyes, but she felt the weight anyway. “You’re not here to psychoanalyze me, Cadet. You’re here to scan for residual psychic traps. Did you find any?”
When she opened them again, her face was pale. “You felt nothing,” she whispered. “Not rage. Not justice. Not relief. Just… a checklist. Another box ticked.”
“Excuse me?”
She tilted her head.
Stella. Not a Judge—not yet. She was a psi-cadet on loan from the Academy, forced on him by Chief Judge Hershey as part of her “inter-departmental cooperation” initiative. She was twenty-two, with tired eyes and a shaved head that made her look like a wounded soldier. She also had a Grade Two psychic ability: tactile empathy. She could read the last five seconds of emotion from anything she touched.
But Dredd hadn’t come alone.
“And?”
Dredd looked down. His right gauntlet was smeared with Murmur’s blood. “Standard residue.” dredd and stella
Dredd finally looked at her. The visor hid his eyes, but she felt the weight anyway. “You’re not here to psychoanalyze me, Cadet. You’re here to scan for residual psychic traps. Did you find any?”