DVANDOM _____ ______ _____ _______ THE CENTURY PACT PART 1 of 12 [ ]__ [ ] [] [ ]__)) [ ] ` [ ]__ #73 - "To Belle The Kat" [ ] [ ] [] [ ] \\ [ ] [ ] copyright 1996 Dave Van Domelen [_] [_]__[] [_] \\ [_]___/ [_]____ -------]==+ <*> +==[------- [cover shows Kat, now human, in "mutant cuffs" with head hung down as jeering faces in the background scream. The entire background is a collage of faces, some of which are human and some robotic] "What do you mean, 'What should we do with Kat?'" Anna shouted, rising to her feet and slamming her fist on the conference table in anger. "We throw her out and make sure she's tried for her crimes! Even if Doug won't press charges, the state will!" Doug just sighed and looked to Squidman, who sat at the head of the table. The Deepsea Detective shook his head. "It's nowhere near that simple, Anna. The Looniverse isn't overrun with telepaths like some other worlds, so there really isn't an established set of precedent for dealing with mental crimes. While a case for rape could be made if Doug consciously remembered it, it gets harder when he didn't." Doug nodded. "Case law's probably changed in the last sixteen years, but I did research the issue while I was working for the C|Net.ral City Police Department. I let Kat into my mind. She decided to look where she wasn't invited explicitly. It would be difficult to get more than a voyeurism charge to stick...and that would require me to press the charges myself, which I won't." Anna sat down in disgust. "Bull. What Kat did was the ethical equivalent of date-rape, if not worse. Just because the personality which remembers it isn't around anymore [Jubatis apparently committed suicide last issue. - Ed] doesn't mean it didn't happen." "I know," Squidman replied. "But ethics and law don't always agree completely. And if Kat went on trial she probably wouldn't get a penalty that matched what she did. While I don't totally agree with Doug's decision, I can understand it...and know that without him actively helping, Kat could not be convicted of anything more serious than 'Peeping Tom' crimes." "Assuming the courts even have jurisdiction," Stan interjected. "Kat isn't from the Looniverse, much less the Loonited States. And given the truly thorny issues a trial could raise in her case, I wouldn't be surprised if the courts declined jurisdiction and moved to deport her." "Fine. Deport her then," Anna snorted. "I'm sure her own society has plenty of laws about what she did...not to mention her being a wanted criminal there anyway." "Oh, come ON," Kid Pocky exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Are you really so uptight about this that you think Kat should be sentenced to DEATH? Because that's what deporting her to 2163 would do, now that she's human again. Between the MACE faction wanting her dead and those within the Guardians who wouldn't really mind if she had an 'accident,' she wouldn't last three days if we deported her." Squidman paused and looked at Kid Pocky, as if considering something, then looked back at Anna. "He's right, she wouldn't last very long with both sides hostile to her and no real defenses. Besides, I'm not sure we could even get to her home dimension anymore. Do you want her dead, Anna?" Anna's eyes smoldered for a moment, then she closed them and frowned, slumping back in her chair. "No." "So we return to the question. What do we do with her? The simple solutions of a trial or deportation are either too light or too severe forms of punishment," Squidman noted. "I really don't think punishment is what we should be thinking of," Doug said. "She's not a child who needs to be spanked for stealing a cookie, she's a woman of more life experience than any of us. She's been trying to adapt to a new life here in the Looniverse, and she does know the difference between right and wrong. But old habits are hard to break, and punishment won't help her any. She's just been reborn, I think we should give her the second chance that this symbolizes, and try to rehabilitate her, not punish her. If anyone here has the right to demand punishment, it's me...and I don't. "I say we keep her in the group, but keep a closer eye on her. And TRY to help her, not harm her. If you can't handle being around her, just avoid her until you're over it." "Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and the ones you're not sure of closer still, eh?" Sidewinder said, getting in the last word for perhaps the first time in his career. * * * * Kid Pocky nervously knocked on Kat's door. He'd asked to be the one to tell her of the group's decision, and Squidman had grudgingly agreed. But he didn't know what kind of mood she'd be in, how she'd react to the news...or if she'd decide to take the opportunity to start asking him questions about the other day's events that he couldn't answer yet. "Just a sec," came her muffled voice from the other side of the door. At least she didn't sound angry. "Okay, come in," she said, opening the door for Al. He paused for a moment, trying not to stare. She was barely wearing a bathrobe, and as she noticed his face flushing a deeper shade she quickly pulled it tightly around her.. "Sorry...trying to achieve a happy medium. It's been decades since I wore clothing that wasn't part of me...it's still uncomfortable. But I've got enough of a residual nudity taboo that at least I didn't answer the door starkers," she grinned. She seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, but at the same time sharing it. "I'm..." Al caught himself before his voice could completely break. He coughed, "I'm here to let you know what the team's decided to do about you." She waved him to a chair and tied the robe closed before sitting down herself, pulling a thin sheet over her legs. "There, now you can concentrate on looking me in the face. Anyway, I already know...I get to be belled." Al frowned. "How do you know already? Did someone else beat me to it?" He could see Anna teleporting in to lay down the law, and didn't like the idea. "Nope. Hacked into the security system and watched the meeting," Kat replied, absently scratching at her left arm under the sleeve of the robe. When she noticed the puzzled look on Kid Pocky's face, she asked, "How big do you suppose a MAC mind has to be to duplicate everything a human brain does, within a reasonable margin? Keep in mind, I used to have storage on the molecular level." Taken aback slightly by the apparent non-sequitur, Al guessed, "Oh, about the size of a walnut?" "Yes and no. That's how big the personality core is, and it's just one huge algorithm for determining how the MAC will process information and react to situations. Scans like me had slightly smaller cores, because our personalities came in one big chunk instead of being built out of pieces. But for all the memories and processing and so forth, a MAC mind has to be about a cubic meter to even come close to doing everything a human brain does. Of course, at that size it also does a lot of things better and faster, but it's still only about two-thirds of the way to being human." "So...everything fit back into your brain once you became human again? I find that a little hard to believe," Al replied. "No, not everything. I lost a lot of detailed information I don't need anyway, and a lot of processing speed for simple tasks. And my recall is no longer perfect. But the essentials of 80 plus years of life experience are still there, still crammed into this brain," she tapped at her head, knocking a strand of hair loose from her ponytail. "So while I may not have intrusion programs built into my head anymore, I still have the skill needed to write one, as well as all the other technical skills I learned both as a human and as a RoboMAC. And I certainly still retain enough to break into just about any security system native to this era, given the right tools." Kat looked pleased with herself, and Al realized that she'd probably only stay in "house arrest" as long as it suited her. "So, how long before you decide to walk out past these native era security systems and never be seen again?" Al asked, a cold dread sinking to the bottom of his gut. Kat looked away, staring at the closed window looking out on the verdant lawns and scattered trees of the King estate. She had the look of a caged animal that had gotten used to its cage. "I won't," she said, her voice lower and sadder than it had been moments before. "I wish I had it all over to do again, but trying that is what got me in trouble. Remember that little walnut-sized personality core I mentioned?" Al nodded. "Well, it's almost completely read-only. Too much flexibility was found to lead rapidly to madness, especially in scans, since the new MAC's personality would rapidly degenerate under the stresses of body alteration. So our personality cores are locked down to almost total rigidity to help avoid this, and to help avoid being rewritten in combat. But the price is that it takes a lot more time, a lot more effort to change. And the last two years weren't anywhere near enough to overcome decades of slow conditioning that made me a mercenary." "And now that you're human again, you think you can change more quickly?" Al asked. "I hope so. I hope I get the chance to, but I don't know if the others will let me. I know Anna expects me to stay the same or get worse, and it's going to be hard for me to run counter to those expectations if I run into them every day," Kat sighed. Al nodded. "Yeah, it's hard to change when everything around you reminds you of the way you once were. I've been there myself, but I found a way around it. I'm sure you can too." The two locked eyes, and for a moment there was a certain tension in the air. But then Kat turned away, and it was gone. "Perhaps," she said. "Go tell them I agree to the terms, I'll be a tame housecat for now." Then she stood and walked through a door into one of the other rooms of her suite. After a moment, Al stood and left. If he'd stayed a little longer, he might have heard the quiet sobbing from the other room. * * * * "HELLO, DETR.ALT!" the voice enthused over the loudspeakers. A ragged cheer went up from the crowd, although Mark wasn't one of the voices. He wasn't the kind of guy who cheered just because he recognized the place he lived being said into a microphone. Mark was only here because the TI-gers had such a lousy record this year. Seriously. In a fit of foolish optimism he'd planned to be going to a playoff game that afternoon, and had moved heaven and earth to get the day off. Now he had a day off and nothing to do, so he'd come to this rally thing he'd seen fliers for. Maybe they'd try to buy his vote...he could use the cash. The cheering had gone down and the man behind the podium was starting to talk again. "Have you ever felt that you didn't make a difference, that everything was in the hands of the rich, the powerful, the special people?" the man asked. Mark found himself nodding along with the rest of the crowd. "Well you can DO something ABOUT it!" the man shouted, pounding on the podium with his fist. "You're only helpless if you do nothing, only inferior if you don't realize you're equal! Sure, you don't make much of a difference all alone, but you make even less of a difference if you give up your chance! And it starts with getting out there and casting your vote on November 5th!" the lights behind the podium lit up, forming the word "VOTE" in pulsing colors. Some of the people in the crowd started to go wild, which struck Mark as odd. The man was a fairly good speaker, but he wasn't THAT good. Must be drunk guys being impressed by the lights. "It all starts with the simple act of voting, everyone! If you can't even be bothered to head down the street to the polls and cast your vote, how can you ever think you can make a difference? Less than half the people in this great nation even bother to vote in most elections...is it any wonder that most of you don't like who's in office if most of you didn't even express an opinion until it was too late? "I'm sure some of you are thinking, 'It's just a choice between two rascals I wouldn't want running a Pizza Pit, much less the country!' Well, you may be right. But think of this...if you don't vote at all, it just encourages them to keep feeding you those two bad choices. And if you start to make a real difference at the local level, you can start to force changes on the national level. But it all starts with your one vote. If you can change your neighborhood...your school district...your city... your state...can the nation, or even the WORLD be far behind? "Real equality starts with taking advantage of what power you do have, the power of your vote. If you just ignore that, the rich and powerful and superhuman will stay where they are, and YOU'LL stay where YOU are. But if you start to use what power you DO have, soon you WILL be equal to even the mightiest of men and women!" The speaker went on in that vein for another half hour, and Mark started to really think about what the guy was saying. Right now, equality was just something on paper...the fact was that he wasn't equal to his boss...or his congressman...or a net.hero. But if he could take the effort he'd wasted on the baseball playoffs and put it into something more meaningful, maybe he wouldn't always be one of the little guys. Heck, if all the little guys got together, they could probably make the big guys give up some of that extra power. The rally was starting to break up, and Mark absently started walking and thinking, trying to come up with something he could do about this whole thing. He was registered to vote already, thanks to that Motor-Voter law, but now he was definitely going to actually vote for once. Maybe he'd head for City Hall and find out what some of the local issues were. Or.... "Hello," said a man in front of Mark. Mark blinked. The guy looked like the speaker, but it was hard to tell if it was the same voice or face. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dirk Hart, I was up on stage a few minutes ago. I can see my little speech gave you a lot to think about... you almost walked right into me." "Oh, ah, hello Mr. Hart. I'm Mark...Mark Dante," Mark was a bit flustered. Mr. Hart was a very imposing figure despite his average height and build. He somehow managed to quietly radiate power and competence. "Y-yeah. I was trying to think of something I could do, y'know, to..." he trailed off, somewhat dumbstruck by Hart's presence. "You want to know how you could create an equal society within your own lifetime, am I correct?" "Yeah! That's it!" Mark said, glad that Hart had found words for what he was feeling. "What if I told you that my organization isn't just about getting people to vote...although that *is* a very important goal? What if I said you could help us bring about at least the beginnings of a truly equal world before the end of this century?" Hart asked, a glint in his eye. Mark paused a moment, doubt gnawing at a corner of his mind. "But isn't that kinda impossible? Aren't things too hard to change right away?" "If you try to change them at the very top right away, certainly. I even said as much in my speech," Hart admitted. "But the key is to start out locally. Start small and build big. There are so many apathetic people in this country that sometimes it makes me weep...but if we can give them something to believe in, something to follow, we can make the great changes despite the opposition of the small percentage who currently give a damn about anything. Look at yourself...did you really care much about anything political before today?" "No...not really. Well, I didn't like taxes..." Mark admitted. "No one does, Mark. But now you're motivated to do something. And there's millions like you out there waiting to see what one man can do if he tries. Join us, Mark. Help us make our promise of a better tomorrow come true." "I...sure, where do I sign up?" * * * * "15-all," Squidman said as he bounced the tennis ball lightly. "You sure you're up to this?" he asked. "Just serve, and I'll show you," Doug mock-sneered. "You serve like an old man." "And you move like one, slow-poke!" WHACK! Squidman served the ball up, barely missing the net. Doug didn't seem to be moving quickly enough, but managed to just get his racquet on the ball, dropping it lightly over the net. Squidman ran to reach the ball before its second bounce, barely making it, and sending the ball almost directly at Doug in the process. Doug grinned and smashed it past Squidman. "15-30," Doug grinned as Squidman leaned on the net. "Something I picked up from an old sergeant on the force...if you have control, you don't need to be able to run all over the court. He'd regularly beat the young rookies, and they'd come out of the game all sweated up and tired, while he was still fresh as a daisy." "Heh. Seriously, though, are you okay like this, without your wristcomps?" Doug peeled back one of his sweatbands to reveal a watch on his left wrist. "I've got my damper on. It helps me keep to normal speeds, although it still takes a lot of concentration on my part. It's more of a safety net, really, making me freeze up before I can go into convulsions if my concentration is broken. Believe me, I'll be as tired from just standing in one place as you'll be from running all over the court. But this helps me practice staying slow under stress, something I may have to do in a fight someday." Squidman pulled another tennis ball from his buttpack and bounced it on his racket. "Okay, you're getting pretty good at handling physical shocks to your concentration. What about KAT?" he asked, serving the ball as he said the last word. Doug smoothly returned the serve, "What about her?" Squidman backhanded the ball across the net, "No problems?" "Nope," Doug replied, lobbing the ball over Squidman's head. "It's...in, crud," Squidman noted as he let the ball go. "15-40." "Look," Doug said, idly spinning the racket in one hand, "Like I said before, I've had a year and a half to come to grips with the whole thing. I know that it's something you guys just found out the other day, and some of you still need to work through the issues it raises." "Anna," Squidman mumbled. "Well, looks like you do too," Doug countered. "But there's not even a scab for me to pick at anymore. I'm over it, which is why I really don't wanna get involved in how everyone else deals with it...I'd just seem way too casual about it. Fact is, about the only emotional problem I have to deal with right now is the fact that I was dating my aunt for more than a year. That still kinda freaks me out, and I don't know how to break it to her that I was Alan Berry. Or if I even should." Squidman snorted. "Yeah, what a bunch of weird head cases this team is...we might as well be mutants. Anna's father became a madman and she killed him, you went back in time and almost became your own uncle, VAXX is an extradimensional Lenny, Kat's Kat, Kid Pocky seems to have some sort of major mysterious past and I used to pal around with a squid. It's only a matter of time before Sidewinder finds out he's the son of Acton Lord from another timeline or something." "Cute. Your serve, Squid Boy...and game point." * * * * Crabwise, he scuttled along the floor, evading the infrared beams and laser grids. He moved in a way no human could hope to, but then again, he wasn't really human anymore. Not in body, at least. In spirit? Sometimes he wondered if he'd stopped being human in spirit decades before his body was ruined by the fallout of a conflict between powers greater than his. He paused. Here was something he didn't remember from when this building had belonged to him, from before SHE took advantage of his recent incapacitation to move in like a vulture. Nor was it on the floorplans that his tactical computers held before his eyes like phantoms. That statue was new. And probably not just there for decoration. A slight thrill ran down his spine (one of the few original parts he had left). This was like the old days, before he'd carved out his little kingdom in Sig.Ago. The excitement of living on the edge, looking for that next big score which would help him buy the loyalty of a few more men. It had been decades since he had last needed to do this sort of thing, and almost as long since he had been capable of it. Now, though, he was more capable than he'd ever been. He switched his primary vision array to IR. The statue was suspiciously warm, as if it were powered. UV showed nothing new, but when he shifted to his high end hearing, he heard a faint wail. The junction was bathed in ultrasonics, motion detectors. He hadn't been expecting them, so he didn't have any direct countermeasures. But sometimes a little experience can make up for a lot of technology. This section of hallway had a false drop-ceiling, concealing the various ducts and wiring. He extended his legs and rose to the ceiling, carefully opening a soundproofing panel without breaking the alarm tripwires on it. THAT part hadn't been changed. There wasn't much space above the drop-ceiling, and it couldn't support anything near his new weight, but that wasn't a problem...he clung to the ductwork and eased himself past the junction. After that, it was a cakewalk, and minutes later he stood atop a nearby roof with two bundles in his hands. One contained certain papers which would prove useful in leveraging his way back into power in Sig.Ago. The other contained enough cash and bearer bonds for him to buy a lever. The final test run had been a success. There was now only a piece of personal revenge to arrange, and then Coppermane would once again be a feared and respected name in this city.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------- NEXT ISSUE: Coppermane exacts his revenge on (who else?) Dvandom Force! More of the mysterious Century Pact! Kat gets a new costume! And maybe more if I think of it! Author's Notes: First off, some webstuff. There's a new group shot of Dvandom Force on my Dvandom Force archive page, as well as on the LNH Gallery page. http://www.physics.ohio-state.edu/~dvandom/ with LNH/forcestories.html for the first and lnhgallery.html for the second. The LNH Gallery also has pics of Kat's new gear, which she hasn't built yet. }-> As mentioned in a previous post, the Century Pact I started this issue is not a crossover. It's more like a "spillover," with enough plot points floating around that those who want to get involved can easily bring in Century Pact elements without having to coordinate all the details that go into a real crossover. The first two scenes of this issue are bound to get under the skin of some readers, mainly because I'm trying to deal with sexual issues, and that always gets you in trouble. Apologies if I offended anyone who has strong feelings about anything I touched on in those scenes. While Dirk Hart is cynically manipulating the issues in the third scene, I do believe much of what I had him say in his rally speech. It's important to get out there and vote on November 5 (presuming you're a US Citizen, 18 or older and not convicted of a 1st Degree Felony). Especially on the local issues, like bond issues and referendums. Finally, the fourth scene was originally going to be a handball game, but I realized that it would be difficult to write a convincing scene with a sport I didn't know the rules to. }->