Strategy. Oh, how Makarov loved it. It was unbelievably cathartic to see everything slot together, to plan, to coordinate… though the last was often as tedious as it was rewarding.

She stood in front of Major Bezpalov, Captain Koksharov, CBJ-MS, Welrod MkII, NTW-20, Tokarev, and Grizzly. This was the auxiliary briefing room, much smaller than the main one, and her audience sat with arms crossed or hands clasped atop the tables.

Makarov sighed and began speaking. "Okay, here's the plan. We're pushing up through this narrow part of the valley, so Rose and Chrysanthemum teams will land initially to secure the area. Then the mortar team and Grizzly will land here afterwards. Then all three echelons will push towards Gestalt's location–"

"Which is?" Grizzly cut in. Makarov glanced only briefly at the American.

"We haven't got a fix on the exact coordinates, but somewhere within this circle. Once that area is reached, it will be cleared of Sangvis. Then, Hunter will insert here, move in, and finish off the Ringleader, with mortar and echelon support as necessary."

"So long as Gestalt actually engages and doesn't run, I anticipate it to be a quick engagement," NTW-20 said.

Welrod lowered her mug of tea from her mouth. "That sounds too simple."

"I agree," CBJ-MS nodded. "Do we know anything about Sangvis troop strength?"

"Preliminary surveillance and scans would indicate a medium to heavy presence with a strong unit composition," Makarov replied. "That's why we're sending the best in."

Grizzly snorted. "Sure…"

"What about the cordon? Will it hold against breakout attempts?" CBJ-MS continued asking.

"Yes, we're deploying nearly full-strength echelons and organic mortar teams as part of the cordon, with fairies and a few spare echelons on standby for support." It'll be a nightmare to resupply and keep everyone coordinated, but that's what Zener is for. They'll be kept in line enough to keep everything running smoothly.

Another thought ran through Makarov's mind, that no plan survives contact with the enemy, but she ignored it for the moment.

Captain Koksharov sat forward and raised his hand. He was the CO of the mortar section that was part of Griffin's 6th Organic Infantry battalion, the detachment of human troops that formed S17's base garrison. He was younger than many of the other officers in the garrison, and Makarov was surprised that he wasn't in the NSU military at the moment.

"Is Sangvis expected to try and assault our position?" Koksharov asked, his brow creased in worry. "We won't be able to defend ourselves for very long without some sort of escort."

Makarov frowned. She had paid less thought to that matter than she should've, and she didn't have the answer that Koksharov would want. "Our guess is that Sangvis will focus on the invading echelons rather than you. If you are the subject of an attack, one of the on-station echelons will move to assist. Our forces are already stretched thin just holding the line while the assault is under way, so we can only spare forces when necessary."

Koksharov nodded silently, sitting back in his chair. Makarov looked back to Bezpalov before continuing. "Because most of the helicopter wing has been assigned to duty with the cordon, we'll only have two with which to insert the troops. There'll be about a ten to fifteen minute delay between Rose and Chrysanthemum landing and Grizzly and the mortar team landing."

"Are we going to have any other form of support?" CBJ-MS asked.

"No," Makarov replied bluntly. "Our fairies are being concentrated in the cordon."

The room deflated a little. "Great…" Grizzly sighed, raising her eyebrows and sliding down in her chair a little. "Just great."

"I know it's not ideal," Makarov allowed. The exchange with Kerr in the Commander's office came back to her: They don't have to like it. They don't have to agree with it. They have to understand it. "But it's how it's going to be."

After answering a few more questions, Makarov declared the meeting adjourned and said that she would convene a second, final meeting to discuss any changes in the plan or intelligence before the deployment. As the others filed out of the room, Welrod approached Makarov, arms akimbo.

"Well, it won't be a milk run, I can say that."

"Yes," Makarov agreed, thinking about what the operation would take. A huge amount of coordination, resources, and stamina, not to mention what utter chaos the command center would be in with Makarov, Jericho, and Major Bezpalov commanding their individuals facets of the assault, Kerr running around supervising and coordinating everything the entire time. Then there was Lieutenant Salmela running logistics, MP41 managing comms, MP-448 handling repair orders and manpower, and Serdyukov providing everyone with intelligence as needed. MP41 would help ease the load when actually communicating with echelons, but the stress would still be considerable. Makarov knew the command center better than anyone besides Kerr and Jericho, but she would be commanding in real-time against a real enemy, something she didn't have as much experience with as she would've liked. The Commander seemed to believe in Makarov, that was true, but that didn't make it any easier.

"That Koksharov fellow, he's a bit strange, not at all like the normal Soviet vets you get in Griffin."

"Yes," Makarov said again. She was distracted with thoughts on what she was doing next – the past week had been a storm of trying to coordinate everything for the operation. The Commander had given it the codename Hammerhead. Try as she might, Makarov could not shake the deep sense of worry she had about it. She assured herself that she was just overthinking it.

"Right. Well, I've got to go meet with my echelon," Welrod said. Makarov nodded.

"All right. I'll let you know about any developments."

Welrod nodded and stepped out. Makarov then turned to the two dolls still seated – NTW-20 and Tokarev, the two dolls from Hunter. They had sat quietly, but now NTW-20 leaned forward.

"Yes?" Makarov said.

"Have you determined anything else about Gestalt's location?"

"No, Serdyukov has come up with nothing. Our airborne survey data from last year indicated nothing out of the ordinary there."

Tokarev's eyes flashed up. "Could there be another survey made, or a ground reconnaissance mission done?"

"No, the area is considered too dangerous. We don't want another incident like with Yew Team."

"I respect that, but this circle is nearly twenty square miles. I'd rather not spend precious time searching for a Ringleader that happens to be very good at not being found. There must be some way to narrow it down," NTW-20's tone was a deal different than it had been in the command center during the last meeting. This time she wasn't playing up her confidence at all. Makarov considered their options briefly.

"No. Nothing that would work in time. Once the cordon is in place, we'll try to begin closing the circle, which will help with search efforts. It's hoped that the initial three-team landing before you will locate Gestalt beforehand."

"And if they do? If they encounter Gestalt? Could turn into a bloodbath real quick."

NTW-20 looked genuinely concerned, which piqued Makarov's curiosity. Since when did she care about the well-being of other doll units? Her squadron wasn't even from S17 – none of them were – they had gotten other dolls killed before. Maybe the pink-haired hunter had something at stake here besides the mission.

"It won't," Makarov assured her. "These are some of our best teams." That we can afford.

"Grizzly, really? Why not Cornflower, Lilac, Carnation, even Leonid?"

"Too many dolls had their neural cloud backups stolen and we can't afford to put them in such a dangerous position. Cornflower is directing the cordon, we need at least one of the elite echelons on the line there."

"Fine," NTW-20 ceded. Makarov nodded. She agreed with NTW-20's wishes, but the world of logistics and effective unit distribution was what really dictated what assets went where for this operation. They don't have to like it. They don't have to agree with it. They have to understand it.

"Well, please contact me if you have any questions, and I'll let you know of any developments." Makarov turned off the map projector and closed her folder, holding it against her chest with one hand. "Thank you for your time."

"Of course," said NTW-20.

The next stop was Logistics. As Makarov walked, she continued thinking about NTW-20. She didn't doubt that she and her team could deal with Gestalt, but Makarov wondered what it would take. Sacrifice? Time? A change in tactics? The last was what really worried her. Sacrifice was allowed – expected, even – there was leeway built into the plan if one part of it wasn't completed on time, which would happen, Makarov knew, but changing tactics to accomodate for Hunter and Gestalt would have ramifications that simply could not happen.

Everything about Operation Hammerhead, from the biggest maneuver to the single cartridge, had been and was being meticulously planned with an amount of deliberation Makarov had never quite experienced in her life. Hours of tactical meetings with Commander Kerr and the rest of the command team, with logistics, with Major Bezpalov, with Captain Koksharov, with the individual pilots, with the echelon leaders, with NTW-20 and the finicky members of Hunter, with MP-448, even with the IOP scientist Schuhart to discuss the nanites and Gestalt. He always, always emphasized the danger of contact with Gestalt, the nanites – the danger they posed to it all. Contact was dangerous, if not outright fatal, and dolls were to be destroyed immediately if they were showing signs of nanite contamination. It was a sickly order, but Makarov had seen RPD, seen what she was like, knew that contamination was a necessary evil.

She was loathe to let anything get in the way of the plan. It was inevitable that something would go awry, yes, even dolls weren't infallible, but it was the worry of the unknown that spooked Makarov. She had accounted for nearly every possible problem that could arise, but the variables – how many troops did Sangvis have? What could Gestalt really do? Would a Griffin echelon mess up? – were what tugged at her mind. The possibility that something could go wrong and that Makarov wouldn't even have a contingency in place to deal with it. There would be other command personnel, even Kerr herself, but Makarov was intent on proving herself in this operation. It would simply look bad to need help.

The Logistics wing was, technically speaking, the second largest section of the base, behind the IOP wing. It would be the largest if IOP didn't keep their immense parts storage warehouse of parts next to the construction chamber, but Logistics still took up a gargantuan chunk of the S17 installation. A great deal of it was just the storage space: space for food, water, ammunition, weapons, heavy weapons like mortars and launchers, fuel for the helicopters and ground vehicles, spare parts to repair the vehicles, medical equipment for the humans, clothing and uniforms, construction materials in case the base needed repairs, and the wealth and wide variation of personal items that the hundreds of dolls and humans residing in the base ordered every week. The stocks would hold for six months of continuous, steady usage, but those calculations only held true if the base was operating normally, with minimal Sangvis presence. The logistical strain of Operation Hammerhead was unprecedented for S17, since they had never needed to fully encircle an enemy like they would Gestalt.

Lieutenant Salmela had served, Makarov knew, in the Finnish military at the tail end of World War III, and the battalion scale that S17 operated on was miniscule compared to the literal armies of men that Salmela likely helped to keep clothed, fed, and supplied. Operation Hammerhead was a relatively small battle to veterans like Kerr and Salmela, but for Makarov and Jericho and the other command dolls, it was quite the jump up in scale from previous engagements. Technically speaking their Digiminds could easily handle the strain, but as with all things, Makarov's efficiency was dragged down by worry. Even putting aside tactics, the amount of coordination required to keep well over twenty echelons of dolls supplied in the field boggled the Digimind. Helicopters that were not tasked with actual combat asset transportation would be used to ferry the tons of ammunition and MREs to dolls in the cordon at what Makarov anticipated to be a constant rate – though that too would depend on how much Sangvis pushed the cordon and how effective each echelon was at supply conservation. If a helicopter was somehow shot down or disabled or broke down, it would slow the rest of the supply line and would need compensation.

But that was not the only problem. Because almost every doll in S17's combat echelons used a different cartridge, it was impossible to actually standardize supply packages. Every echelon needed different ammunition, so Lieutenant Salmela was forced to create customized packages for each echelon. This meant that certain supply packages could only be delivered to certain echelons, and therefore, whatever helicopter was carrying that specific package could only deliver to that specific echelon. The little to no cross-compatibility in ammunition types meant that if one supply package delivery was missed for whatever reason, another supply package could not be shared between echelons to temporarily fix the discrepancy. This lack of standardization was what irked Makarov the most about Griffin's inane practice of assigning every doll a different weapon. At least Soviet and NATO weapons shared similar cartridges – 7.62x51, 5.56, 5.45, and so on – but there were an equal amount of weapons that had absolutely no shared cartridges.

All of this worried Makarov as she entered the Logistics wing. Her only reassurance is that logistics was not her jurisdiction, it was Lieutenant Salmela's. He was a capable individual, one of the best (aside from the insane logistics officer from S09), and if anyone would go wrong, it would not be his fault. But Makarov still worried regardless. Gestalt seemed to know exactly how to hit Griffin the worst, and Makarov suspected that Operation Hammerhead would be no different. That couldn't be planned for, not really, and Gestalt was the root of almost all uncertainty in the plan.

The Logistics wing was bustling with activity. The sections that were not used for storage were mostly staging areas for the supply packages to be put together and sorted, as well as administrative space for all the dolls and humans that staffed Requisitions and Logistics. Several dolls at the wheels of small carts were tugging around crates of supplies, continuously bringing up new items from the warehouses on the lower levels. Despite the wide hallway, Makarov had to watch her step so she wasn't sandwiched between two carts, even as dolls from the Logistics wing maneuvered the chaotic hallways like there was no danger at all.

Makarov stepped into one of the staging areas and quickly moved outside of the flow of traffic. The Logistics wing would be like this until the operation was over, and then for some more time after that, transferring all the extra matériel back down to the warehouse and inventorying it all. Makarov was glad she didn't have Salmela's job, though she wondered if it would be easier or harder than tactics. They do say that all strategy is logistics, after all.

From one side of the warehouse, Webley approached. The doll waved at Makarov in a subdued fashion as Makarov turned to look at her. Webley had been assigned to Logistics when her neural cloud backup was stolen, so it was pure coincidence that she had seemingly found her calling there.

"Miss Makarov," the doll said, stopping in front of her. "Welcome to Logistics."

"Is Lieutenant Salmela present?"

"Yes, he's on the opposite side of this floor."

Webley gestured and began walking, and Makarov followed. "You've got quite the number of dolls going out on this one, huh?"

"Yes."

"At least you come down to check in person. The Commander almost always sends her bloody adjutant."

"Mm." Type 81 was an exemplary assistant, and she had a unique propensity for efficiency and an uncanny ability in wielding the Commander's authority as an adjutant, something no other doll could claim to have. To many, Type 81 was the Commander, since Kerr rarely chose to interact one-on-one with dolls outside of the command staff. She was quite aloof, so Type 81 handled nearly all the personnel and administrative duties that other Griffin and Kryuger commanders usually worked on. It was perhaps not the arrangement G&K intended its Commanders to have, but with such a large base, no one could reasonably expect Kerr to familiarize herself with every doll and deal with each the personality quirk of each one. Most dolls were left to their own devices with minimal monitoring from Type 81, MP-448, and some of the other command staff and human doll technicians, though a select few who required the Commander's supervision, like G41 or P7, were kept in a single echelon. Likely so Kerr can deal with them all at once.

As they approached the other side of the floor, Makarov caught sight of Lieutenant Salmela conversing with Mosin-Nagant. The Lieutenant had forgone the typical Griffin logistics officer uniform in exchange for the same type of fatigues the rest of the human garrison wore, the Griffin patch placed above the Finnish flag on his arm. "...bring up more of the 82 millimeter shells," he told Mosin. "We'll need to put together additional supply packages for the mortar teams."

"Yessir!" Mosin-Nagant saluted and stepped away, smiling at Makarov as she went. Salmela caught Makarov's eye and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Miss Makarov. Webley, how's it looking?"

"Everything's all Sir Garnet, Lieutenant."

Salmela smiled lightly. "Right. Wait here, then, while I talk with Makarov."

The command doll didn't miss a beat. "Thank you for your time, Lieutenant. I know you're especially busy at the moment."

To his credit, Salmela merely shrugged, as if coordinating logistics for the entire base was a minor thing. "It's all fine, I can afford to leave everyone alone for a few minutes. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Not especially, I was just coming down to check on the progress." Makarov placed her hands on her hips and turned to survey the staging area. "Where are we at now?"

"Well, the assembled supply packages are enough to keep the cordon running for twenty-four hours, presuming a mean supply consumption corresponding to, say, one engagement with Sangvis every half-hour. Do you have any clue how often–"

"No, we're not at all sure how much Sangvis will press the cordon."

"Unfortunate. Well, I'll prepare for another twelve hours, and depending on how the operation plays out at the beginning we can continue putting together more packages. In the meantime, I've got teams sorting sets of night vision equipment, if it at all becomes necessary."

"That is acceptable," Makarov said in approval.

"All right. What about the human garrison?"

The organic battalion. Even Makarov could not envision a scenario where the operation went so poorly that the human soldiers would need to be sent in, but she supposed that, as with so much else, anything was possible. "I don't anticipate them being deployed."

"Well, it's what commanders don't anticipate that causes them the most trouble," Salmela espoused, grinning. Makarov knew that. Was he just kidding around? "I've already had some surplus 5.45 and 7.62 brought up for them, don't worry."

"I see," was all Makarov could think of to say at the moment.

Salmela looked to Webley. "Why don't you head over to requisitions and help AKS-74u do an inventory?"

"She can do it herself," the British doll replied. That's true enough, Makarov thought.

"Fine, I order you to go help her inventory."

Webley stared at Salmela for a split second, visibly unhappy, before marching off toward the exit. The logistics officer watched her go, then turned back to Makarov.

"One more thing, Lieutenant. There's been a change in echelon composition."

"Which?"

"Chrysanthemum and Hunter. I've sent it to your PDA, but suffice to say that any seven ninety-two Kurz you put in Chrysanthemum's packages can be removed."

"Ah," Salmela said. "And what am I replacing it with?"

"Five fifty-six."

"Easy fix." Salmela brought out the tablet he used for all logistics work and started tapping, presumably altering supply orders. "Any reason why?"

"We got a doll back, MP-448 had to shuffle around an echelon to make space for her."

"Interesting. I wouldn't have done that so close to the start of an operation, but..."

Makarov couldn't resist. "You sound like you were a Commander once."

"I was offered the position," Salmela said. "In a rearline echelon. Logistics, light patrol duties, something to ease me into the role. They needed officers after Butterfly, you see. I declined, so they pushed me up here, to one of the frontline sectors."

He grinned again. "I liked it more here than where I had been, so declining the Commander's position was a win-win for me."

"I see," Makarov reiterated, not quite sure how to reply. All of the Commanders she knew – admittedly few – were always willing to do their job. Makarov had never considered all the Griffin officers who might've turned down promotion. She herself was utterly devoted to strategy and tactics and couldn't imagine a life without them. Salmela seemed quite the opposite. "Well, thank you for your time, Lieutenant. Please contact me if you have any questions, and I'll let you know of any developments."

"Of course. Good luck, Makarov."