"Listen up, team. Kerr's assigned us on clearing duty in a five kilometer radius around this old Soviet military installation. Operations have been raised to threat level Shchuka following last night's events, so Zener only, scrambled radio frequencies if necessary."
The transport rattled as it passed over a bump in the road. StG gripped her rifle tighter. Even her voice annoys me. CBJ-MS, ever the cutest in her cute little coat and cute little boots. For all her diminutiveness, she made up for it personality and presence. StG felt the doll's eyes on her back ever since she walked into the dorm. This is what Chrysanthemum Team is like.
Kerr had held a base-wide emergency briefing late at night, waking up half the base and having them dragged to the briefing room for the meeting. The presence of a Ringleader was already common knowledge, and StG had heard it from Kerr's mouth in the meeting before, but when it was openly said at the briefing, the doll knew it was for real. Threat level Shchuka meant that Sangvis was capable of organizing full-blown offensives and had increased responsiveness, so Chrysanthemum would need to be on the alert for Sangvis reinforcements during their clearing sweep.
Not that we can't handle them, thought the doll. There was a great excess of ordnance in the echelon: K11 carried around a crate's worth of antipersonnel grenades, Z-62 hefted a belt of incendiary grenades, Type 56-1 toted a pouch of rifle grenades, and StG prided herself on her grenade marksmanship, not to mention her self-made rifle modification so it might mount rifle grenades. All in all, they could crater any Sangvis company trying their luck against them.
This was far from the first clearing mission they had been sent on. Over the past two days, StG had accompanied the four others sweeping vast swathes of S17 to repel Sangvis probes and renew or expand established borders. StG came to understand that the value of expert dolls lay not in their skill, but their stamina. Even the simplest doll would be able to sweep a section, but to do it several times a day took quite some perseverance.
Luckily, StG had plenty.
"I was busy reading when Kerr called that meeting," Z-62 said from the driver's seat. "I'm looking forward to one night of rest, and that happens."
"It was useful information." Type 56-1 ran a gloved finger along the edge of her bayonet subconsciously. She was the one StG44 liked the most out of them all. "We know what the Ringleader is, we know what it can do – like using Griffin signals."
"Maybe it only comes out at night," StG pondered. "That's why we didn't see it before."
"Wouldn't that make things difficult," grumbled Z-62.
"Nothing we can't handle." CBJ-MS crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall of the truck, unperturbed by the bumpy ride or new Ringleader. "Rose and Chamomile will take care of it. We'll be cleanup, if anything."
"Won't 44 over here handle the Ringleader?" said K11, prompting Sturmgewehr to look up, mildly irked. "Right?"
"Of course," the doll replied, her tone chill. Just another piece of Sangvis trash.
K11 grinned a toothy smile of lunacy. "I knew it."
StG turned her eyes to see CBJ-MS staring at her, but the smaller doll quickly averted her gaze. She had been watching StG like a hawk ever since she joined the echelon, as if looking for a gap in her defenses. For all her attempted coolness and indifference, StG was made deeply uncomfortable by the doll's probing. Perhaps it's how quiet it is. FAMAS was at least obvious, and half the time she did it only to boast about her own skill. CBJ-MS merely watched. StG knew that she couldn't be kicked out of the echelon, since that would be a violation of Kerr's orders, so perhaps CBJ-MS was just looking for something to criticize. I won't give you anything.
The truck rumbled to a halt. "We're here," Z-62 announced from the front, popping the door and climbing out of the cab. Type 56-1 was the first out the back, followed by StG, K11, and CBJ-MS.
"So… where are we?" asked K11.
"Checkpoint Anna," CBJ-MS said. "We're going to move north-by-east from here, which is right towards the last known location of the nearest Sangvis patrol."
"Sounds like lots of walking," said Z-62.
"What of it?"
"Nothing we can't handle," Type 56-1 asserted. "Mao did this sort of stuff on the Long March!"
"Could you shut up with that stuff? Let's just get moving and mop up these Sangvis so we can move on," Z-62 said. CBJ-MS nodded.
"Well said. Type 56-1, you're point."
The ground was soft and wet from the storm. StG was careful to avoid any particularly swampy parts of the forest floor, fearful that her heeled boots would be the catalyst for a bad fall. She was second to last in the convoy, Z-62 bringing up the rear. She turned around to see the doll scanning the forest for threats, her gaze resting on StG's face for just a moment before sliding away. The doll had added a sling to her namesake weapon, handing it off her shoulder as she walked. She was the only one in Chrysanthemum with the same IOP commercial star rating as StG, yet they were worlds apart. Good in combat, anyway. StG looked forward.
K11 was another matter entirely. The doll was what StG could only describe as criminally insane. Not only did she carry enough explosives to level an apartment building, but she had the personality of a crazed demolitions expert to match her arsenal. StG found it simply unbelievable that K11 was the superior doll. Everything about her got on the other's nerves. It was a painful reminder of StG44's inadequacy. Blanketing the entire field in grenades hardly counts as skill.
StG saw Type 56-1's fist rise up into the air, and the small troop halted. "Sangvis ahead," the doll reported. Quickly and silently, the five dolls spread out into a line, moving towards the forest edge.
"Well, that's quite a few," Z-62 said mildly. StG estimated that there was about a platoon's worth of Sangvis dolls in the field in front of her. They were marching steadily, in a long, five-abreast column. "CBJ-MS?"
"StG and K11 can stay in the treeline to provide supporting fire and launch grenades towards concentrated enemy formations. The rest of us will keep them moving in the same direction and distracted from you two."
"Wouldn't it be better if we set up position further down the treeline and simply take them down at once?" StG suggested. "If everyone concentrates their firepower, we can take the column out easily."
"Negative. They're too tightly packed for that sort of fire, and it wouldn't matter in the long run how fast we do it. I'd rather we not come back missing dummies, especially on a milk run like this. If there're no further objections, let's get moving. You two, hold fire until I give the command."
StG ground her teeth. Stuck with K11, and CBJ-MS shooting down her suggestion once again. Over the past two days, every one of her objections to a plan had been dismissed out of hand or debunked by CBJ-MS. It was a dynamic she was wholly unused to: after all, the non-verbal bond shared by Hunter was something that CBJ-MS could only hope to achieve for her team.
As CBJ-MS and her cohort prepared to move, StG and K11 spread their dummies out along the treeline. It was quiet as the five prepared for action, checking magazines and readying ordnance. K11 pushed airburst grenades into her magazine before slotting it into the gun, aiming down at the Sangvis column.
"What makes me a good grenadier?" K11 had replied to StG's skepticism when they first met in the dormitory. "Well, if I were a bad grenadier, I wouldn't be sitting here discussing it with you now, would I?"
If carpet bombing counts as being a good grenadier, StG thought. She was a proponent of quality over quantity, at least one thing she and FAMAS could agree on. Every spent cartridge from Hunter Squadron was a well-spent one. Some members of Chrysanthemum, on the other hand, seemed content to douse their enemies in lead and hope for the best. A foolproof plan, at least, though one that StG found rather crude.
"Go," said CBJ-MS, and in an instant she and Z-62 had cleared the forest and were running along the edge, firing at the back of the Sangvis formation as Type 56-1 remained in the tree cover, matching pace. Like a great wave, the column halted its forward movement and reversed direction, marching towards the Griffin dolls as the frontrunners raised their weapons and began returning fire. Both of the dolls were skilled enough to stay ahead of the enemies' aim. StG had to marvel at CBJ-MS's agility.
A rifle grenade arced out from Type 56-1's position, landing in the middle of the Sangvis vanguard and exploding in a brief flash and cloud of dust, laying out a dozen of the pale white androids flat on the ground, twitching in their death throes. Good launch, thought StG.
"Fire at will!" CBJ-MS ordered over Zener. K11 was the first to shoot, her grenade blowing away another section of the Sangvis formation. StG took aim and squeezed off shots at stragglers, felling them with a single bullet. Though a few of the Sangvis had taken note of their position, most were rushing away from it, following CBJ-MS and Z-62 as the two dolls led them off. For all their numbers, the SF dolls moved with surprising rapidity, rippling like a wave as they charged towards the Sangvis dolls. Idiots, StG thought as she fitted a rifle grenade to her barrel.
Or, a trap. The Ringleader would set the dolls to an automated defense protocol, hoping for a less-experienced team to show up, and then take control of the troops and surprise the Griffin attackers with advanced tactics. StG boosted her radio range, hoping to pick up a Sangvis signal. Sangvis Ringleaders tended to emit certain radio frequencies that were part of their OGAS protocol, and if she detected a signal than it meant that her hunch was correct.
K11 laughed aloud as another explosion disrupted the Sangvis, who were now snaking back around as CBJ-MS doubled back. Their once ordered column had nearly dissolved into a teeming pass of the androids, and in their jumbled state they were unable to organize into any useful formation. StG let off her grenade and smiled to herself as it found its mark, blowing Sangvis left and right. Despite the ease of it all, it was extremely gratifying.
"They're trying to form up again," Z-62 said.
"Throw another grenade, keep them broken." CBJ-MS's gun was audible even over the discharges of Sangvis plasma rifles and StG's own fire, the rip of her submachine gun matching the row of Sangvis collapsing to the grass. K11 had also switched to firing off bursts as the Sangvis mass slowly grew closer to the forest edge.
StG had found no sign of a controlling OGAS protocol signal, so she upped the intensity, continuing to search every frequency for any sign of use. K11 let off another grenade, the explosion blasting StG's eardrums momentarily. The Sangvis were considerably thinned, but still tried to push through the cordon CBJ-MS and Z-62 had formed. Their efforts were stymied by Type 56-1, however, who put an end to any attempted escape.
Positive result on the radio search. StG's anxiety spiked as she checked to see what it had pulled up. Two Griffin signals. What were dolls doing so far out here, and only two of them? There were no authorized excursions, and any activity not directly ordered by Commander Kerr was prohibited. And we're at Shchuka. They'll be on KP for the next month.
"CBJ-MS–"
"Not now!" replied the doll. "Keep those Sangvis away from that forest, we're not losing any of them in the trees!"
StG redoubled her efforts, slotting any Sangvis frontrunners firing on her position or trying to reach the forest. The two submachine guns worked in even closer, engaging the Sangvis at close range as Type 56-1 mopped up remains. Less than a hundred SF dolls remained. Easy prey, StG thought. It had taken them less than half an hour to do the job.
As the enemy group got smaller and smaller, StG stood and stepped out of the forest, continuing to fire. The Sangvis were too preoccupied with trying to survive and escape that barely any fired at StG, those that did missed. Switching to automatic fire, she cut down any Sangvis shooting at her as quickly as she could pull the trigger.
A shockwave knocked her sideways, but StG was able to keep her footing, using the momentum to launch the butt of her stock into a Vespid's chest, knocking the doll over and giving her time to put a round through its skull. K11 had fired another grenade, completely disregarding StG's safety. At least the Sangvis bodies absorbed the shrapnel. To her right, Type 56-1's gun chunked as she fired into the rapidly thinning Sangvis ranks.
Z-62 raised her gun to her shoulder and put down a still-struggling Ripper as the other three gathered amongst the corpses, K11 emerging from the forest. CBJ-MS looked down at the ground as her lieutenant spoke. "You left your position, Sturmgewehr."
The doll let her rifle rest on its shoulder sling as she looked up at Z-62. "I felt the need to finish the battle quicker. If anything, you should be reprimanding K11 for continuing to use her grenades when I was within the effective range. CBJ-MS–"
"You're right in mentioning K11, but had you remained in your ordered position the danger would never had been present in the first place," Z-62 interrupted. "K11 acts without acknowledging risk, but you do as well."
"Had you done so earlier, it might have endangered the success of the plan," Type 56-1 added. "Obedience is key to effective tactics."
StG looked to CBJ-MS, who continued to look away and remain silent. "Don't talk to me like you have the high ground. There was no risk to the success of the mission at that point, why does it matter?"
"Because such behavior can escalate in scale until you get someone killed!" Z-62 said, a flicker of annoyance crossing her otherwise taciturn face. "No wonder you aren't in a mainline echelon if you can't even figure that out."
"That's enough," said CBJ-MS. "Sturmgewehr, your actions were insubordinate and out of line. Do so again and I will have to take disciplinary action."
You're not Kerr. StG forced herself to swallow a retort. "I understand. I did have something to say."
CBJ-MS looked up at StG for a moment, staring her directly in the eyes. "What?" she offered after a moment's pause.
"During the battle, I scanned for Ringleader OGAS radio signals in case the battle was a trap. What I found instead were two Griffin IFF signals." StG checked to make sure they were still present. "Maybe…"
"Impossible," said Z-62. "How the hell would two Griffin dolls be out here without us knowing, or at all?"
"Maybe it's some sort of spec ops team," K11 offered. "You know, like AR Team? Man, I'd love to meet SOPMOD II."
"I'm sure you'd get along well," Type 56-1 said dryly, turning to CBJ-MS. "Gonna call this one in?"
"...yeah." The team leader reached for her radio and turned it on. "Throne, this is Chrysanthemum actual. We've picked up friendly… Two friendly IFF tags near our location, unknown dolls. What do you advise, over?"
Whatever the response was, it was long, or long in the making. CBJ-MS covered her ear to better hear through the earpiece, turning away from the others.
"If it's Parapluie, I'm running," K11 said. "I'm not joining SF."
"It's not Parapluie. OGAS protocol disables your IFF tag when it takes over," Z-62 explained.
"Give me some other explanation, then…"
"...incorrect signal?" CBJ-MS asked the command center.
"Look, if it is Parapluie, we slot them and move on," said Type 56-1.
"I just don't like the prospect of shooting our own dolls," Z-62 confessed.
"...but there's two of them..." said CBJ-MS.
"I'll do it," StG44 offered. CBJ-MS turned around.
"We've been authorized to find the source of those two IFF tags and return it to base, if possible. Throne has taken our signal and trilaterated it. It's fairly close, only a few klicks away. Let's see what dolls have the nerve to head outside at a time like this, eh? Back to the Tigr."
They returned to the truck and piled in, Z-62 once again taking up the driver's seat and CBJ-MS joining her in the cab. A trailer had been attached to the vehicle to transport their dummies, and the clones returned to their transportation pods now, folding up into neat, compact packages. Z-62 pulled away, turning on the vehicle's tracker as her team leader plugged in the IFF tag coordinates.
"To be honest, I kinda thought you were just gonna be extra muscle," K11 joked to StG. "Good job on the detective work, though."
StG kept quiet. It was empty praise to her, tainted by K11's poor standing in her eyes. Just the muscle? You misunderstand me. It wasn't the worst thing she'd been called, at least.
"Who's she? Fodder?" FAMAS had said when they first met.
"She's our new member," NTW-20 replied forcefully. FAMAS looked down her nose at the blonde doll.
"Well, the Commander better know what she's doing to send someone like her down here. She looks like a kicked puppy, you know?"
"Hey, she's the same IOP commercial rating as me," Tokarev put in. "She'll do fine."
"If she does her job well, that's all that matters," said Type 79, and so did CBJ-MS.
"But can she keep up?" Type 56-1 had said. "I mean, spec ops does things differently."
"It's a temporary assignment, she'll be fine," said Z-62.
"She's got grenades, so she's gotta be good." K11 grinned devilishly at StG, who gave a disdainful gaze. Chrysanthemum's dorm had felt quite claustrophobic.
"We're nearly here," Z-62 said from the front seat, dragging StG back to the present. CBJ-MS turned around to address the other three.
"We'll be able to track their IFF signals within metres, so there's no need for dummies on this search. Just keep scanners active, this shouldn't take long."
StG kept her rifle in both hands as she stepped off the truck. They had stopped on the road in the middle of the forest, as close to the signals as they could get. "Did Throne offer any drone feed?"
"Nej," said CBJ-MS. "Not high enough priority, nor enough time to get one in the air."
Type 56-1 took point again, leading the five into the woods. The canopy was thick enough that only small amounts of light made it to the floor, mottling the wood and leaves with sunlight. It was quiet as they plodded through the undergrowth, but every crack of a leaf or snap of a twig tested StG's patience.
"Warning sign," said Z-62, pointing to a tall placard with flaking yellow paint that warned all trespassers away from what lay ahead.
"Soviet, and very old. Maybe some sort of abandoned base ahead," StG suggested. CBJ-MS looked up.
"Stop right there." CBJ-MS blinked, accessing her intelligence database. Certain high-ranking dolls were granted access to the S17 information database without needing to ask permission, she was one of them. "We… may not be finding a Griffin doll."
"I beg your pardon?" said Z-62, speaking for the others. "What do you mean?"
"The team that encountered the Ringleader last… it had a Griffin doll's signature. Authentic, it tricked the dolls there. That was in an unsecured Soviet installation… maybe this is full of Sangvis too."
"So, you're saying that this is a trap." Z-62 looked skeptical. "This is above my pay grade. All our pay grades."
"Not all," said Type 56-1, and everyone looked at StG44.
"It's Sangvis. We're paid to stop Sangvis." CBJ-MS looked at each of them. "We can do this. We aren't the top general ops echelon for nothing. If there's a Ringleader in there, we'll kill it, collect a bonus, and be done with it."
"That's a rousing speech, but I think we're a little over our heads on this one," said Type 56-1. "We're not AR Team. This isn't a fight we can just jump into like that."
CBJ-MS took a breath. "Right. Yeah. Sturmgewehr?" The doll looked up, not expecting to be called upon. "What do you advise?"
StG stopped a derisive laugh. How funny. "I don't know everyone's full combat ability, but we have the ordnance, if not skill, to at least retreat. I would not advise taking on a Ringleader in close quarters, without all our dummy links."
"I can live with those odds. Z-62, lead on."
They came upon the gate to the Soviet base only a short walk later, hinges rusted and chain pulled tight. Type 56-1 yanked the links apart and pushed the gate in, ear-splitting screech echoing around the empty forest. "Well, they'll know we're here now."
"Hey, those are T-80s," K11 said, pointing to the row of disabled tanks against the far end of the fence. "This is probably one of those bases abandoned and forgotten during the war."
"Everything was," said CBJ-MS as the five walked past one of the compound buildings.
"Too bad the government doesn't let Griffin salv– Sangvis!"
The five threw their weapons up as StG glimpsed several Prowler legs sticking out from behind a wall.
"...they're dead," said K11, disappointed. The Prowlers had been neatly lined up against the wall, and several seemed to have been torn open. "Something got to them."
"Say, didn't you say that SV-98 was missing parts when you found the corpse?" Type 56-1 asked StG.
"Yes."
"So maybe…"
"Ringleader cannibalizing its own troops for self-modification?" proposed Z-62. "Grisly. Would Sangvis protocol even allow that?"
"We don't know a lot about it, so it's very possible," said CBJ-MS. K11 approached the Prowlers, probing the dead bots with the barrel of her rifle. "Careful, any SF tech can–"
"–transmit Parapluie. I'm not that careless," K11 said. "So, Ringleader's definitely here."
"Pretty much," agreed Z-62. "I say we retreat and blow the site up from the air. It's the only way to be sure."
"We're going in," said CBJ-MS. "StG, sweep that building. K11, take that one, Type 56-1, the third there. Z-62, with me, we'll cover the rest of the grounds."
StG pushed open the door to the building. The inside was sparsely illuminated by grimy windows, half of which were broken by poor weather or intrusion. At least there was no spilt coolant, which meant that a doll had not been one to break in. Certainly not one with synthetic skin, though StG knew no doll that lacked it to begin with.
It smelled old. Damp wood, mold, animal droppings, and the faintest traces of nitrocellulose reached StG's olfactory sensors as she stepped through the hallway, broken glass snapping underfoot. The doll looked at the IFF tag tracker. The two tags were near, just a turn to the left. StG peeked around the corner with her rifle. Clear. The Sangvis Prowlers outside seemed to have been a fluke.
The door at the far end of the hall was closed. StG stepped towards it, holding her rifle steady with one hand as she reached for the knob with the other. It was dead silent in the building – maybe the Ringleader isn't here. With a single quick twist of her hand, she opened the door and shoved it in, bursting into the room.
A single Prowler sat on the floor, half-disassembled. StG looked around the rest of the room before approaching it. The entire side panel had been taken off, with numerous wires dangling loose from their original place. More coolant had collected in a pool on the ground, in which rested two small RFID tags, just like the one StG had inside herself. The pill-shaped tags had obviously been torn out of some dolls' bodies. StG knelt down by the coolant, scanning the tags.
"CBJ-MS, I've found them. The tags."
"...what do you mean 'the tags'?"
The doll carefully picked one out of the pool, red coolant staining the tips of her gloves. "They've been torn out. It's… OTs-12, and SV-98."