Chapter 7: Job Offers, Bad News, Old Friends, and Whiskey
Owen stretched as best he could in the jump seat of the Blackhawk, and adjusted his chest rig. With a yawn, he glanced around to check his team, DuLaney was napping, as usual, Perez was flipping through pictures of his family on an old beat up tablet, and Jenkins was locked in a life or death game of rock, paper, scissors with Lazinsky over who would have a shot with a female Corporal who just got transferred into the Logistics unit. After a week in the field, they were filthy, tired, and on the scrawny side. Everyone had a beard beginning to grow, except for Perez, who had a small mustache trying its best to grow.
Owen's headset crackled to life.
"2-1, this is 2-3, I think we took damage to our tanks during pick up, can you verify?"
"Copy 2-3, standby."
Owen watched out of the door as his Blackhawk doubled back, dropped altitude, and came alongside another Blackhawk flying low to the ground by itself. He could see JP-8 spraying out of the bottom of the helo, causing a partial rainbow to form as the sunlight reflected off the spray.
Owen's pilot let out a low whistle, "Hey 2-2, come check this shit out, 2-3 got so scared during the pick up, even his Bird is pissing itself."
A third UH-60 dropped down and formed up on the other side of Valkyrie 2-3
"Bladder control is a real bitch for FNGs*." Valkyrie 2-2 quipped.
"Fuck both of you guys, this is third time I've taken rounds this week. The maintenance guys are gonna be fucking pissed." 2-3 complained.
"Have you tried...y'know... getting shot at less?" 2-1 asked.
"Laugh it up asshats, at least my external tanks are still good to go, I'll just transfer into those and keep the main at minimum." 2-2 mumbled into the mic.
Owen chuckled at the exchange, and felt someone slap his shoulder, he turned and saw that DuLaney had woken up from his nap long enough to see what was going on outside, Owen handed him a headset.
"Hey man, what's going on?" DuLaney asked, adjusting the microphone.
Owen motioned to the leaky Blackhawk, "One of the Crashhawks got tagged by AA during dust off, the other guys are giving him shit for it."
A pause, then, "Sounds like 2-1 forgot to mute the kids in the back." 2-2 said.
"Fuck you, nerds. Stop eavesdropping!" 2-3 added.
"Why? Don't want them to know you're a fucking failure as a pilot?" 2-1 asked.
"Sick burn." 2-2 gloated.
"Oh shit, I got a radar lock missile! Missile in the air, popping flares!" 2-3 yelled before a SAM streaked up and hit a flare, causing it to explode. The explosion was close enough for the missile's warhead to rip through the tail.
Owen's eyes flew open and he tried to jump up, but something held him down. Panic jolted through his body until he felt someone petting his head and whispering to him.
"It's ok, just another bad dream, you're going to be ok." Nines voice whispered in the darkness.
Owen laid his head back down in Nines' lap, his eyes closed again.
"What time is it?" He croaked out.
"Just before 0400, you can go back to sleep if you want, we don't have to be at the Embassy until 0900." Nines replied, still stroking his hair.
Owen brushed her hand away, rolled off of the couch in the small hotel room, turned the lights on, grabbed an open bottle of Glenlivet off of the floor and swirled it around. He heard the slosh that told him there was still some left. He drained the bottle and dropped it in the trash can. Nines sighed and stood up, straightening her nightgown, Owen looked away as she did so.
"I seem to remember buying you clothes, also, I remember giving you the bed, also also, I remember you having your own room." Owen said as he made his way to the sink.
"I can't believe you remember anything after drinking so much, aren't humans supposed to die after consuming too much alcohol?"
Owen snorted as he applied shaving cream to his face, "I'm barely human anymore, besides, today is going to fucking suck."
Nines began tidying up around the room, "In order," she began, "It's a nightgown, it's made to be worn at night. I was in the bed, until you started having nightmares, and third," she stared at him through the mirror, "I vowed never to let you out of my sight if I can help it." She gestured to the mess of pizza boxes and empty bottles, "Besides, someone has to look after you apparently, you've been a mess ever since we left the hospital."
Owen didn't say anything and continued shaving. The past few days had been ones of rough discovery. He found both of his parents had died, his sister was nowhere to be found, and what was left of his team from the war was either KIA or had dropped off the face of the earth after the war. Coupled with a pending forced retirement from the Army, he had spiraled into a week long depression and alcohol fueled bender, sponsored by ten years of back pay from the Army.
Nines was right about one thing though, he had a few gaps in his memory. Not that he would ask Nines, especially since she decided to become his unofficial caretaker, her personality seemed to have changed a bit. She seemed angry most of the time now.
Owen rinsed the razor and wiped his face down, studying himself in the mirror. He almost looked presentable, almost. He still needed a hair cut, but fuck em, what were they going to do, kick him out?
He turned and found that Nines had laid out the set of dress greens he had bought. He stood there, staring at it for a while. When it was clear he wasn't going to move, Nines hugged him from behind.
"You just need to make it through today." She told him.
He nodded slowly, "Yeah." But still didn't move.
She stepped in front of him, arms now wrapped around his neck, and locked eyes with him. She stood on her toes, pulled him down closer to her face, then smacked him on the back of the head.
"Let's go get breakfast." She said, then grabbed her duffle bag off of the ground and went into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it.
Owen stood there stunned, then burst out laughing. Once he had calmed down, he started putting the uniform on, still chuckling.
In the bathroom, a hyperventilating Nines tried to get over the fact that she had been that close to kissing him. The sound of laughter shocked her, she hadn't heard him laugh since they left the hospital.
She allowed herself a smile, maybe things would work out after all.
"Listen son, I hate to see a soldier of your caliber going to waste, especially given the state of things right now. But after the war, well, my hands are tied at every level. Retention rate is at an all time high and the high risk/high tempo operations that a team like yours was involved with are being phased out by those damn Tactical Dolls. All branches, with some major kick back from the Marines, god bless em, are seriously considering going to minimum human manning and going to a completely 'Synthetic Fighting Force'." Colonel Lindstradt made air quotes at the last part.
Owen stood at parade rest, listening to the man speak, trying his best to maintain posture. It was going exactly as he expected, but what he wasn't ready for, was how Lindstradt's obvious distaste of T-Dolls made him think of Nines, and bristle at the thought of the Colonel talking down about her.
Lindstradt sighed and looked wearily at Owen, he then rose, closed the door to his office, and took off his uniform coat, draping it over the back of his chair. He motioned to Owen as he sat down. "Sit down, Sergeant, let's have an off the record talk.
Owen came out of parade rest, followed the Colonel's example, and sat down. Lindstradt produced a box of cigars and a silver plated cutter, he offered one to Owen, who accepted out of courtesy, cut the tip of his own, and lit it with a match.
He eyed Owen as he puffed on the end, before resuming. "I'm sorry son, truly I am. I read up on your..." he paused, his eyes fell to the file on his desk, "circumstances and realize that for you, it's still ten years ago, but the world moved forward. America isn't what she used to be, hell, she's not even a quarter what she used to be, though I guess the same could be said about the rest of the world."
Owen sat there, puffing on his own cigar, working up the courage to ask the question on his mind, "How bad are things back home sir?"
Lindstradt studied him a moment before answering, "Sergeant, what I'm about to tell you, absolutely does not leave this office."
"Of course not sir."
"Not great, we're on the verge of collapse, and I'm not exaggerating. We're hanging on, but it wouldn't take much for the whole house of cards to come tumbling down. There's not a whole lot of liveable land in North America, let alone the US. We're actually in talks with Canada right now to start combining the two countries."
Lindstradt paused, puffing on his cigar, "We have next to no money, and right now, there are former third world countries that probably could knock us out. There's next no funding either, hell I had to beg, borrow, and steal just to get you your back pay."
Owen immediately thought of the amount of money he dropped on alcohol, and felt a small amount of regret.
Lindstradt chuckled as if he could read Owen's mind, "Don't worry Sergeant, I started life in the Army as a lowly private, I know how it goes and you've more than earned the right to blow off ten years of steam."
Owen let out a nervous chuckle, and puffed on his cigar, more to calm himself than anything else. His thoughts started to wander back to getting bounced out of the Army and the fact that he more than likely had nothing left to go back to in America.
"Sir, may I ask you something else?"
Lindstradt waved his hand, "Of course son, what's on your mind?"
Owen took a deep breath, "I already know most of my family is gone, but I had a sister..."
Lindstradt shrugged, "Get me her information, I'll do what I can."
"Thank you sir, I genuinely appreciate that."
Lindstradt let out a humorless chuckle, "No promises, but I do have a few connections left stateside, anything else?"
Owen placed his cigar on the ashtray and leaned forward, exhaling as he did, "Sir, what the hell do I do now?"
Colonel Lindstradt gave him a smile, "I heard you did some work with a merc group, Griffin and Kryuger?"
Owen nodded, "A little, they lost an Outpost, I helped them take it back."
Lindstradt nodded approvingly, "I read the report, you made us proud, not a bad last hurrah for your career." He tapped a finger on the desk as he looked Owen over, "I know Kryuger, good man, even if he is a Russkie. I already know he offered you a job, talk to him. Take his offer, personally I'm not a huge fan of T-Dolls, but only a fool would deny their usefulness."
Lindstradt opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a slip of paper, he slid it across the desk, "One more thing, go to this address. Consider it a professional courtesy from one Old Guard to another."
Owen stood, and snapped a salute. Lindstradt returned it, then held out his hand, "Good luck Sergeant, I mean that, you've done us proud, the Army was lucky to have you. If you need anything, my door's always open."
Owen shook the man's hand, "Thank you again sir." He grabbed his uniform jacket, made his way to the door and opened it, but stopped and turned, "Sir, I do have one question, about that last operation."
Lindstradt's face twisted into a scowl, "Sergeant Owen, I am not allowed to speak on that matter." His voice was cold.
Owen's face held no hint of emotion, "Of course sir."
"I would, however, speculate that the operation was handled poorly and good men were done wrong." Lindstradt said to no one in particular, puffing on his cigar and staring at the ceiling.
Owen nodded in understanding, "Thank you sir." He closed the door behind him.
Lindstradt sighed and sat back down, staring at a photo on his desk. He then pulled a bottle out of another drawer, opened it up, and took a swig. He then picked up his phone, dialed a number, and waited.
"I'd like to talk to Mr. Kryuger, it's Lindstradt," a pause, "Benny! It's been a while...I'm doing fine, thanks. Hey listen, I just got done talking to Sergeant Owen, I think he'll be headed your way soon."
Another pause, "Glad to help, he's a good man Benny, look after him for me, will you?"
He took another swig, "Yeah, if you help him out, I'll think about calling you by your actual name. See you later Benny." He hung up the phone and chuckled to himself, he looked at the picture on his desk again, raised the bottle in a salute, took a final drink, and placed it back in his desk.
Owen stepped into the main floor of the building, no one was around except for a dark skinned Marine Corporal sitting at a desk in his dress blues. Owen had to give it to the Marines, they never once strayed from tradition. He went to the desk to return his visitor's badge, as the Marine looked it over, his eyes got wide and he looked back up at Owen.
"Are you Sergeant Nate Owen, with the CAG?" The Corporal asked.
Owen shrugged, "I was until thirty minutes ago, why?"
"I heard about what happened, with you getting turned into a popsicle, that's like some shit you see in a bad sci-fi movie." The Corporal said as he handed Owen a clipboard to sign.
Owen chuckled and signed his name. "Yeah, yeah it is."
"Listen, my dad," The Marine rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, "This is awkward as fuck, anyway, my dad was a Marine in the war, a Cobra pilot. Your team saved his ass when he got shot down near London, I don't know if you remember him."
"Short dude, ripped as hell, had a thick accent and a mean temper?" Owen asked, "What's his name...Mataan?"
The Marine chuckled, "Yeah, that's him, Caalin Mataan."
"No shit, that's your dad? How's he doing?"
"Retired, he and my mom are living in Georgia now, he's a part time flight instructor for new Marine pilots." The younger Mataan told Owen.
"I'm glad to hear he made it through. That dude drank me under the table as thanks for saving him."
Mataan winced and nodded, "Yeah, he's good at that."
Mataan stood and shook Owen's hand, "Anyway, he talked about you guys a lot when I was growing up, and I just wanted to say thanks, y'know?"
"Luck of the draw man, there were a lot of teams working a lot of rescues in that area at the time, tell him I said hey." Owen replied.
"Will do, you need anything, call the Marine barracks, I'll let them know you're alright for an Army bitch." Mataan said with a smile.
"High praise from a knuckle dragging crayon eater." Owen shot back with a smile of his own, then turned and left, he felt his mood lift a little as he did.
Outside the embassy Nines stood across the street watching children play on an old playground. She was wearing the light blue zip up hoodie he had bought her earlier in the week and blue jeans, she turned around and smiled and waved him over when she saw him. Owen felt his spirits improve immediately.
'Maybe things won't be so bad,' he thought as he made his way across the road and came to a stop next to Nines.
"So how did it go?" She asked.
"Well, I'm officially a retired old man." He tried to joke, his voice was flat.
She offered him a sad smile, "I'm sorry Owen, truly, I am."
Owen shrugged, "It is what it is."
They watched a group of boys play king of the hill on a mound of sand. A scrappy kid currently held the title, as the rest of the group tried to take him down. He held on for a while, until three of them teamed up to drag him down.
"Hey Nines?"
"Yeah?"
Owen turned to face her, "I'm going to the local G&K office, I'm going to take the offer."
Nines nodded, but didn't turn away from the kids, "I think that's a good idea."
"Offer still stands, nothing is keeping you here. I'll even give you money if you're worr..." Nines turned and placed a finger to his lips, a hint of a glare on her features. It always surprised him at how...human she was.
She locked eyes with him, searching for something, "Do you want me gone, honestly?"
"It's not about me, it's about..."
She shook her head, "Not what I asked." She spoke quietly.
Owen was quiet as he thought about what to say, in the end he felt guilty for giving an honest answer, "No, I'd rather you stay."
Her eyes kept searching for a few more seconds, before she closed them and gave a small nod, "Where you go, I go." She told him.
"Ok." Was all he could manage.
"Come on, let's go get you a job, you bum." She teased, then turned and started walking. Owen followed.
Owen held the door to the local Griffin office open for Nines as they entered the building. They were immediately greeted by an A-Doll who took their names, and gave them both visitor passes. A few Griffin employees eyed his uniform, he wished he had changed before coming here.
The A-doll led them to a waiting area and gestured for them to sit, "I apologise, but Mr. Kryuger is in a meeting right now, he will see you shortly."
Owen thanked her and looked around the room, he saw that they weren't the only ones there. A woman sat in one of the corner chairs, tapping away on her tablet, next to her a blonde woman in a maid's outfit stood glaring at him. Owen waved politely, but she didn't move.
Owen nudged Nines, "Hey, we should get you an outfit like that." He whispered to her.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, pervert." She whispered back, her cheeks threatening to turn red.
Owen shrugged, "I mean, I wouldn't say no, there's no way it would be more revealing than your nightie." He teased.
"It happens to be comfortable, and I like how I look in it," she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "and I know you do." She said in a rare moment of smugness.
Owen coughed and stood, Nines looked up at him curiously, "What are you doing?" She asked.
Owen hooked a thumb at the maid, "Just saying hi to the locals." He said innocently.
Nines frowned and stood up as well, "I'll say 'hi' as well."
Owen shrugged, "Mmkay."
They stood up and made their way over, as they approached the maid glared hard at Owen until he got close, "So you did survive." She stated as she recognized him.
Owen raised a hand in greeting, "Hey G36, long time no see, how's your sis doin?"
"Very well, thank you. She told me what you did inside the Outpost," she nodded to Nines, "you as well, you have my sincerest thanks. You-" she paused, "-you saved my sister's life."
G36 bowed, "I am forever in your debt."
Kalina noticed G36's movement and finally looked up from her tablet, "Oh! Hi there!" She greeted them cheerfully, then looked at G36, "Why are you bowing to them?"
G36 glared at the Logistics Officer, "These are the ones who saved G36c." She informed Kalina.
Comprehension dawned on Kalina's face, "That explains the uniform!" She said as she stood to properly greet them, "I don't think I've seen an American uniform since I was a kid!"
Owen gave an embarrassed chuckle, "Yeah, I've had a busy morning or I would have changed."
Kalina eyed him up and down, "I don't know, you kinda rock it." She told him with an appreciative grin.
Owen heard a noise that sounded like someone had strangled a mouse, he turned to see Nines glaring Kalina down, cheeks puffed out and clearly struggling with the fact she wanted to throw down with the Logistics Officer.
"Is...she ok?" Kalina asked, mild concern in her voice.
Owen stroked his chin, "I think I know what the problem is."
Nine's looked at him in shock and horror, "You do?"
Owen nodded gravely, and placed a hand on her shoulder, "It's ok," he said comfortingly, "I understand."
He turned to G36, "Earlier she was telling me about how much she wanted to wear a maid outfit like yours, but she wasn't sure how to ask where to get a good quality one."
Nines was speechless. The betrayal and anger was clear as day on her face, unfortunately G36 couldn't see that.
Before Nines could defend herself, the door to Kryuger's office opened, revealing a short woman in a Griffin uniform. Her eyes swept over the group, finally landing on Owen.
"You must be Sergeant Owen." She stated.
"I am, and you must be Commander Gentiane." Owen replied with a nod, "thanks for your help during the Operation, we couldn't have all made it home without you."
Gentiane shook her head, "It was a joint effort, you helped ensure my teams made it back safely." She dug into one of her pockets and pulled out a business card, "If you wind up working with us, don't hesitate to call if you need help. It's the least I can do to say thanks."
Owen took the card, "Thank you ma'am."
Gentiane nodded towards the open door, "Better head in, they don't like being kept waiting." She told him.
"They?" Owen asked in confusion.
Owen stood at parade rest, going through his choices in life that lead to him being berated by a woman in a monocle. He came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this. Dear God, he wanted a drink.
"He's not a soldier, he's a neanderthal wearing a uniform. He lacks even the most basic knowledge of commanding our Dolls. The fact that any of them made it out alive is due solely to the fact that a competent Commander was on the scene, and able to coordinate with our Dolls on the ground." She adjusted her monocle, which had slipped for the second time since she started.
"He's reckless, arrogant, and refuses to follow orders. There is no reason to hire him, there are plenty of other capable individuals to whom we can issue a Command posting to." The monocle slipped for the third time, Owen wanted to suggest that she use super glue to hold it in place, but decided that would be rude.
Kryuger sat at his desk and studied Owen the whole time, he let Miss Helian catch her breath before he spoke.
"Please, relax and have a seat." Kryuger motioned to the chair in front of Owen.
He sat and took in the office, it was a lot nicer than the one at the Embassy. It was clear who was doing better these days. As he looked around, he idly wondered if they were actually going to play good cop, bad cop with him.
"First things first, I want you to know that I've reviewed your service record, even the parts your Army didn't want me to see." Kryuger started off as he flipped through a file on his desk.
Owen decided they weren't, they were going straight for the power play.
"Let's see, grew up in a small town in Missouri, raised with your sister, who is currently missing, by your parents who, sadly, are now deceased. Enlisted in the Army at the age of seventeen into the infantry, applied for the Ranger Regiment four times, was rejected once and washed out due to injury or illness twice."
"Demoted," Kryuger's eyebrow rose, "three times was it? That's pretty impressive, considering you still ended your career with your own team and with the rank of Sergeant. Once was early in your career for starting a bar fight."
"Technically the other guy started it, but I finished it." Owen replied.
"Another for assaulting a superior officer, and third for assaulting an Italian officer."
Owen shrugged, "I had good reasons, the Italian stepped on my MRE cookie."
Kryuger continued, not responding to Owen, "You were a part of every major theater since the start of the war, including two trips to the Exclusion Zone in Ukraine. That area was particularly nasty, especially Pripyat."
Helian looked surprised at that, "I've never heard of any fighting in..."
Kryuger held up his hand, "Because there never was any." He replied, giving her a knowing look.
Owen struggled to keep his face impassive at Kyruger's words, he had expected the man to be well informed, but he had just all but admitted to being involved in one of the biggest joint cover-ups by both sides of the war.
He took a drink of water and continued, "After that, you were injured in one of the last major skirmishes of the war, were declared 'Missing In Action', and presumed to be 'Killed in Action'. You have quite a few skills, skills that we need and skills that would go to waste if you tried to get a normal job, plus you've already proven that you can lead our assets in battle."
Helian let out a quiet snort at that, Kryuger continued, "Not to mention, that one doll that has grown quite attached to you, what was her name?"
"Nines." Owen replied.
"Speaking of which," Helian interjected, "That doll is property of IOP and by extension, us. We will be taking ownership of it again, starting today."
Owen blinked, "Come again?"
Helian adjusted her monocle and scrolled through her tablet, "IOP model designation 9A-91 will be returning to service with Griffin and Kryuger starting today, after this meeting actually."
"I mean, you can try." Owen told her.
"What does that mean?" She asked in a threatening tone.
"It means that she doesn't have to, if she doesn't want to."
"It doesn't matter what she wants, she is our property, and we need her data on how she managed on her own for ten years." Helian glared at Owen.
"As far as I'm concerned ma'am, it does. If she wants to return to service with you, then I have no problem with that. What I do have a problem with, is you treating her like a misplaced weapon. As weird as it is, and as far as I can tell, she has free will. They all do actually, which, like I said, is really weird for Dolls made for the battlefield."
Owen paused, trying to find the right words, "If you're going to try to force her to do something she doesn't want to do, then I will step in and make sure that doesn't happen." He didn't sound like he was threatening them, he was just stating a fact.
"But if she has information you need, you could try, y'know, just asking her. She seems like a helpful person, or...Doll, if a bit clingy." He finished.
Kryuger chuckled, it sounded odd coming from the large man, "Do you feel this way about the rest of the Dolls you worked with?"
"Pretty much, they all have some weird quirks but, so do people. Why do you ask?"
Kryuger sighed, "I'm not going to explain everything to you, but seeing as there's a decade long gap in your knowledge, there's a couple of things you should know. Dolls' rights are a bit of an issue right now, people feel threatened by them, and are under the impression that they want to replace humanity."
"All hail Skynet?" Owen quipped.
"That is the typical mindset, yes. However, we treat them like any other employee, they receive a salary, benefits, vacation, and lodging."
"Which is everything we offer to our human employees," Helian said in a business-like tone, all hostility gone as if someone had thrown a switch.
Owen looked at her in confusion.
Kryuger nodded, "Shockingly enough, most people disagree with this treatment. They view Dolls as a convenience at best, and as electronic devils at worst. However, if you work for us, they will be your subordinates, not your equipment, and they will be treated no differently than your fellow soldiers from when you were in the military, are we clear?"
Owen nodded, "We're clear, but why the disclaimer, and," He pointed to Helian, "why is she bipolar?"
Helian adjusted her monocle, and glared at him. He assumed she adjusted the monocle to amplify the glare.
"We typically don't hire Commanders right out of the gate like this. They have to go through a rigorous training program and have to be able to prove they can work well with our employees." Helian explained through gritted teeth, "However, we have a base that needs a Commander and experienced veterans such as yourself are essentially non-existent." This sentence seemed to cause Helian a great amount of pain.
"Essentially," Kryuger explained, "We wanted to gauge your loyalty to the dolls you work with, if you had given the 9A-91 unit up without an issue, we would have told you to have a nice day, and that would have been that."
"Oh ok, cool, so do I have a job?" Owen asked.
Kryuger held out his hand, "Welcome to Griffin and Kryuger, Mr. Owen."
The man had a handshake like a vice.
Owen looked over the Outpost from the door of the Blackhawk as they circled once before landing. Nines sat next to him, her duffel bag, plus a new garment bag holding a maid's outfit, a gift from G36, sitting next to her. She seemed to have mixed feelings about the maid's uniform.
"I still don't understand why I got dragged along with you." She griped to him.
"I said you could leave, many, many times. You're the one who keeps following me like a lost puppy." Owen teased as he reached over and ruffled her beret.
She ducked away from his hand, swearing. Her cheeks puffed out in a pout, "I'm not a puppy." She muttered as the Blackhawk settled onto the ground.
Owen leaned over to be heard over the noise of the rotors, "Nah, puppies aren't nearly as cute when they're mad."
Owen slid the door back, grabbed their bags and hopped off of the Blackhawk, leaving a stunned and blushing Nines frozen to the seat.
MP-40 stood at parade rest, alone, waiting for their new Commander to arrive. She was sure that G3 and the rest of her team would have been here, but they were off patrolling. But surprisingly, no one else wanted to be here. Even more shocking was the fact that the majority of the Dolls that remained at the Outpost seemed unhappy at the fact they were getting a new Commander. Personally, MP-40 was nervous but excited, she hoped the new Commander would help her re-establish order. A tall order MP-40 learned when she took over after M3 resigned.
As the UH-60 flared to land, she hurriedly double checked her uniform and made sure everything was in place. The door slid open and her core sank. Instead of the standard Griffin and Kryuger dress uniform, a man wearing a flannel shirt, blue jeans and a pair of worn out combat boots stepped out of the Blackhawk. On his head was a ratty camouflage hat, and a pair of dark Oakleys covered his features.
MP-40 double checked the side of the helicopter, and saw, to her dismay, that it belonged to Griffin.
"May I help you sir, are you lost?" She hoped he was lost.
The man regarded her for a moment, then broke into a large grin.
"Well shucks lil miss, I sure hope so." He began in a thick southern drawl. "Now see, I'm lookin fer the Griffon Outpost seventeen. Y'all reckon this is it?"
Sheer terror gripped her, she felt systems shutting down, trying to protect her from the creature that was going to be her Commander. She tried to stammer out a response, but couldn't.
"W-who..are you?" She finally managed.
"Names Owen, Nathanial Owen. I'm y'all's new Commander!" He announced proudly.
Nines suddenly appeared and smacked him in the back of his head, "Stop scaring her, you backwater country bumpkin."
Owen's accent and demeanor immediately changed back to normal, "Aw, Nines, you're no fun." He moaned.
MP-40 collected herself and took a shaky breath as she processed what had just happened. "Wait, Nines? Oh! Sergeant Owen!" Relief flooded over her, she gripped him in a hug. "Mein Kommandant has returned! Frau G3 will be so happy to see you! I didn't recognize you in this ridiculous get up and I thought you were just some inkompetente Amerikaner! But you are just an inkompetente Owen!"
"Wait, repeat that last?"
"As much as I hate to intrude on this overly physical reunion," Nines said through gritted teeth as she tried to pry MP-40 off of Owen, "shouldn't you show us around the base?"
MP-40 unlatched herself, "Ja! Follow me, mein Kommandant!"
"Just Owen, please, being called a Commander is too weird." Owen told her.
MP-40 frowned for a moment, then beamed up at him, "Very well, then follow me, mein Owen!"
Nines glared daggers into the back of MP-40s head, "Ya dolzhen zarezat' etogo rasputnogo nemtsa." She muttered under her breath.
Owen coughed, and it sounded suspiciously like him covering a laugh. He started to hum and quickened his pace. Nines quickened her own and caught him humming what sounded like the Russian National Anthem. Did that mean he understood her? Or did he just hear her speaking Russian? Either way, she would have to watch what she said around him.
In the daylight, the Outpost looked completely different. It was mostly open land, but Owen could make out the remains of a rusted fence around the perimeter when he was in the air. The main building, which was the one they had entered in the night before, was now partially collapsed. The other four buildings, which looked like rusty metal Quonset huts, were lined up near the main building. At the other of the Outpost was a large metal building that looked like a hangar, long since abandoned. Owen gave a sigh.
"This place looks like no one has lived here since before the war." He grumbled.
"Nein, it's not so bad Herr Owen. " MP-40 motioned to the huts, "These don't look like much, but the Kommadant of Sector 09 gave them to us after our Command Post collapsed. Thanks to her, we all have separate rooms now!"
Owen nodded towards the large building, "What's that over there?"
"That used to be an aircraft hangar, there's an abandoned airstrip that was used during the war. At one point this was a resupply base for transient aircraft, or so I've been told, now it's used to store our vehicles." MP-40 informed him.
That bit of information represented a small glimmer of hope for him. He immediately began thinking of a way to get Colette and her Hind out here.
"Speaking of vehicles, how are we set for transportation?" Owen asked.
"We have the van, and the technical." MP-40 said.
Owen shook his head with a sad look on his face, "That's it?"
MP-40 nodded, "We were never authorized to operate an aircraft out of this location, we also do not have a drone. Though, S09's Kommandant will fly her drone over our mission area if we need to, so long as she isn't on a mission herself."
Owen lifted his hat and scratched his head in frustration, "So what else don't we have?"
"It's faster to tell you what we do have." MP-40 said sadly.
"Which is...?"
MP-40 took a moment before she spoke, "We have one five doll combat team, which is Frau G3's team, and Frau Makarov's Logistics Team, though she is down a member until SVT-38 comes back from repairs, those two teams usually alternate jobs as they are the only fully staffed teams."
"We have two vehicles, though the technical has a flat tire and we have no spares. The van is operational, but ever since the assault, the engine has been making a weird knocking sound." MP-40 gave a helpless shrug.
Owen took out a pack of cigarettes, plucked one out for himself, and offered the pack to MP-40, who declined. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag.
After exhaling he glanced at MP-40, "Ok, no biggie, how do we go about ordering parts?"
"I'm not sure. A logistics officer would handle that."
"Who's that?"
Another shrug, "We don't have one."
Owen nodded, "Yup, that tracks. How many personnel do we have?"
"I already told you, Frau G3's and Frau Makarov's team. We have a handful of other Dolls who stayed behind, but almost everyone else either resigned or requested transfers."
Owen shot Nines a look, "I may have made a mistake here." He informed her.
Nines just gave him a smile.
Owen took a final drag on his cigarette, then dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his boot. "I have to say, Miss 40, you seem well informed and oddly motivated, given the circumstances here."
MP-40 beamed at his praise, "Danke!"
"Bitte." He turned to Nines, "Any chance you want to help run things?"
"Nyet." The reply was immediate, Owen nodded, expecting the answer, and turned back to MP-40, "Congratulations, you're going to help me run this dumpster fire until you either quit or are unable to."
MP-40 froze, staring at Owen in shock, her eyes grew to the size of saucers.
After a few seconds, Owen and Nines shared concerned looks.
"Did I just break her?" He whispered, Nines could shake her head in wonder.
"I'm going to be your adjutant?" MP-40 asked in a small voice.
"Uh...yeah, is that ok?" His concern deepened.
"Danke danke danke!" She screamed and leapt into the air, wrapping her arms around him.
"What the fuck?!" Owen cried out in surprise as he caught her.
"Ich verspreche, ich werde der beste Adjutant aller Zeiten sein!" She shouted in rapid fire as she kissed his cheeks repeatedly.
"I have no idea what you're saying!" Owen tried to tell her.
"Why the hell are you groping her ass?" Nines spat, venom in her voice.
"Get me a damn pry bar to get her off!" Owen pleaded with Nines.
Nines grabbed MP-40 by the collar of her uniform and yanked hard. MP-40 made a choking sound and finally released her grip causing Owen to stumble back as she fell.
MP-40 immediately jumped up, straightened her uniform and moved towards Owen again until Nines stepped in the way.
"Why don't you show your new Commander the rest of his base." Nines suggested in a frosty tone.
"Excellent suggestion, Frau Nines!" MP-40 spun smartly on her heels, and motioned them to follow. Owen and Nines glanced at each other and did just that.
"What the hell did I get myself into." Owen said to himself as sat down on the cot in his new 'office' located in one of the metal huts.
It was more of an office/bedroom, but it was private and surprisingly roomy. MP-40 suggested that they arrange a meeting after Owen changed into, "More professional clothing, befitting a Kommandant of Griffin and Kryuger."
He eyed the crimson dress uniform hanging by his desk and immediately decided that, because this was his base, he could set the dress code. He decided the code was casual, he had no desire to wear a dress uniform everyday as a civilian. He had no idea how much that decision would come to haunt him later in life.
Owen sat down at the desk, and booted up the "military grade" laptop. He lit a cigarette while he waited for the thing to boot up.
"Welcome to the future eh Nines?" He joked, then immediately felt foolish as he remembered that she wasn't glued to his hip for once.
That made him pause. For the first time since he woke up, she wasn't by his side, and he was alone. Owen stood up and paced the room. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the company phone he had been given, the card Gentiane had given him was taped on the back of the protective case. He pulled the card off and called the number.
"Commander Gentiane." The voice was professional.
"Hey it's Owen, we met yesterday when I had the meeting with Kryuger. I just got to my new duty station and I have a few questions if you have the time."
There was a pause on the other end, then, "I can spare a few minutes, what's on your mind?"
He spent the next twenty minutes trying to get things in order for The Outpost. Gentiane seemed shocked at how little he was given to work with, and more than a little irritated when she found out he had no one to supply management or parts acquisition. She agreed to have Kalina teach him how to handle logistics until he could get his own officer.
"One last thing," Owen asked as they were wrapping up the conversation, "did they ever find the old Commander of this place?"
"I had two teams searching for a week, the trail went cold with that car your team found. We think he was taken, but by who, we don't know." She told him.
"What about the SF Dolls with their tats removed?"
"Nothing like that has ever been reported before or since the attack on the Outpost. I've informed Mister Kryuger and also put the word out to other Commanders, but that's been a dead end too." Owen could hear the frustration in her voice.
"Well, on the off chance I hear anything, I'll let y'all know." He said.
"I appreciate it, I'll do the same on my end. Is there anything else you need?"
"Nah, I think that should do it. Though, I did want to say thanks for helping my teams out with lodging." He said.
"No worries, have a good evening Owen." She said, and hung up.
Owen set the phone on his desk, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Tomorrow was going to be his first real day as Commander, and he had almost nothing to work with. He suddenly felt exhausted and decided to turn in for the night.
- On a road near Outpost 17 -
G3 watched in horror as the EMP round struck Sig 510 in the chest. Sig's body spasmed and twitched as she fell onto the dirt road next to Spectre. G3 started uploading everything she saw to a nearby storage device she had in a nearby stash used by the Outpost 17 Dolls. She heard the action of the pump shotgun and turned to face her attackers. The man's eyes showed no emotion as he squeezed the trigger. G3 felt pain erupt in her entire body as an EMP round hit her in the gut. She felt her systems fail one by one as she fell to the dirt beside her two teammates.
She tried to stay conscious, but the EMP was too strong, her vision started to fill with static and her thoughts became jumbled. She tried to focus on the sky, but something clouded her view. She narrowed her eyes, and made out a face. The face spoke but her audio was out. It leaned over to look at her, it looked familiar but she couldn't place where. The last she saw was the butt of a gun just before it smashed into her face.