"Viktor, to what do I owe the honor?" The commander tried to hide the growl in his voice and put on a welcoming -if not forced- smile for a colleague. The man on the other side of the telecom didn't deserve such kindness- but with G36 at his side, the commander felt that he must show the same level of discipline and respect.
"The combat exercises that command issued for the IOP contract. You know of them, right?" Viktor looked away, already disinterested despite being the one who called.
"I do. I was about to-"
"I have already declared that you and I will be facing off. Command has okayed it. You will be the opfor."
The commander frowned. The way the idiot grinned at the declaration of an enemy was revolting, like Viktor was some schoolyard thug shaking down kids for their crackers. Using military terms as if he were some general on high- disgusting.
"Send the information then. I need the arena, rules of engagement, team compositions- I'm sure you have them prepared." The commander reluctantly demanded. Viktor looked surprised- was he expecting some groveling, some begging for mercy?
"I'll send you the location for the exercise and IOP's rule-set, but echelon compositions are to be kept hidden until the operation." The self-important clown seemed downright indignant at having been reminded of basic protocol. He pointed a finger at the screen, as if he were trying to jab the commander with it, "Your echelons will need to be ready for anything, after all."
Who was this little fly telling him to be ready for anything; to adapt to adversity? The commander had spent ten years fighting military fascists, bandits, and infected alike in those shitty mountains and this little worm has the gall to-
A gentle hand upon the commander's shoulder made him realize just how tense he had grown- he was grinding his teeth. The commander gave a slight nod to G36, showing that he was okay once again.
"See you on the field, then." The commander didn't even wait for the man's reply, walking away from the display without even hanging up.
"I apologize for my master. He is excited for the-"
The door closed behind the commander, though that seething, lingering hatred had followed him through it. He made his way to the briefing room. Though he passed dolls that greeted him happily, many stood aside when they saw that look in his eyes. The sound of G36's heels echoing behind him, quick words of apologies on his behalf.
"Master-"
"Yes, Thirty-six?"
The maid doll straightened out her blouse, before returning to her usual demure posture.
"Is there a reason why you do not like commander Obolensky?"
"He sees me as a terrorist." The commander's response was blunt, something that would have made another human frown, but G36 remained expressionless.
"You are not a terrorist by definition, nor are you in the FSB's database. You are an employee of Griffin and Kryuger."
"I used to be, according to him." The commander frowned, "City-folk don't understand the struggle out there, they just eat whatever lies the government feeds them. Just because some people want-"
G36's stare was unrelenting, meaning that she was focusing on trying to piece together what the commander was referring to with her limited definitions.
"Does this have to do with your prior work experience before being hired to Griffin and Kryuger?"
"Yes." He sighed, simply wanting this conversation to end.
G36 remained silent, knowing full well that it was a taboo topic. One could not elicit the information out of the commander, he had to part with it willingly.
"Viktor... He will probably make this a show of force." The commander changed the topic, pulling up support echelon rosters and scrolling until he found Obolensky's. "The man is a show-off, we can expect to face his top echelon." He tapped at the keyboard. Yes, most likely they would face an echelon with an absurdly high combat efficiency rating as projected by IOP's nonsensical metrics- Viktor showing off his favoritism with their company's benefactor.
"Master, do you have a plan?"
"Always." The one thing the commander prided himself on was his ability to understand the enemy; even more so when that enemy was arrogant in their perceived power. Viktor was no better than the hounds that the FSB sent to their deaths in those mountains years ago. Egotistical, so cock-sure in their material and technological advantage that they underestimate the tenacity of their enemy.
"Always vigilant," He mumbled his old unit's creed, "always ready." He took a deep breath. This was going to be nothing more than an exhibition match- a data collection exercise for IOP, yet it felt like the old days- being the scrap of meat held out to reward an obedient hound. The cold wind of the Urals cutting through the trees, the gentle snowfall through the boughs… holding the ambush positions, trying to keep your breath from revealing you until it was all over, waiting to dive into the enemy's midst. The mythical David versus Goliath, the thrill-
"Master?"
"Yes, Thirty-six?"
The maid doll was at his side the exact moment he had begun to slip, and she quietly drew him from the scarred memory with a gentle hand upon the shoulder. He placed his hand over her white glove, checking to see if his numbness was gone.
"I shall prepare some tea for you, commander, you seem a bit cold." G36 bowed, and with a gentle smile, motioned that she would be back before the meeting would begin. The door quietly shifted behind him as he turned his full attention to the data sent to him for the competition.
Designated landing zones as the "command centers", capture of which wins the match. Destruction or complete reduction of the enemy echelon's combat efficiency wins the match. Driving the enemy echelon from the field wins the match. No fine print, no tricks. It was certainly expected to simply match echelon for echelon, and whichever simply performed better would come out on top- but a commander's ability to assess and plan would come into play, certainly.
And oh yes, a plan was coming together. If Viktor wanted an OPFOR, he would get one; it was the exact reason why Kryuger hired the commander, after all. And if Viktor wanted to play pretend in stamping out partisan militias, by God willing, the commander would show the spoiled child exactly why the military and FSB learned to respect the wolves of the Eastern Liberation Front.
"Team meeting." The commander announced over the base intercom, "I need UMP Fourty-five, UMP Nine, FAL, M-Fourteen, and NTW-Twenty at the briefing room in the next ten minutes."
The girls had gathered in the first five, despite most coming from different teams, they all seemingly had an idea of what was going on- that they were being combined into a single echelon; an entity outside of their usual team affiliations.
"This will be a training exercise." The commander's words had deflated his girls somewhat, but they all still seemed ready. That was what he needed.
"A skirmish operation against another commander and his echelon. IOP will be collecting the data from it, so we will be giving it our everything."
"May I?" FAL held up a lithe hand, which the commander gave his acknowledgment with a warm smile, "Will this be live fire?" she asked.
"No, never." The commander was appalled at the thought, "We will be running with tag rounds and sensor data. IOP will be transmitting the 'damage' directly to your network so your processes know."
"Like laser-tag?" 9 butted into the briefing, causing everyone but the commander to frown at the interruption. The man just laughed.
"Yes, Nine; kind of like laser tag. Much more data will be transmitted than just that, however."
45 had raised her hand, gently elbowing 9 back into line. The commander pointed for her to voice her question.
"What will our opposition be?"
"I'm glad you asked, Forty-five." The commander clasped his hands together, G36 taking it as the signal to pull up the display. Support echelons from neighboring sectors lit the screen, and the commander scrolled through until her found the correct one.
A machine-gun and shotgun based echelon. In a straight up fight, there was enough firepower there to reduce most dolls to scrap. Naturally, everyone in the briefing room had frozen stiff.
"Now, I know what you are all thinking. I'm here to tell you not to think in that way." The commander reassured his dolls, motioning for them to take seats around the round table so that he can begin. "We will be conducting ourselves outside the normal bounds of this exercise. Do you all recall the training I gave you?"
It was a redundant question. Learning processes for a doll was as simple as downloading them, though the memory capacity of a mind-map and the doll's personal processing power limited what they could reasonably "know" at any one time. The commander, however, believed that there was an essence to physical training- even for T-dolls. Call it muscle memory, call it instinct, but for his dolls he believed that even small fragments of this personal training, when defragged from their neural networks and consolidated, added up. A way to cheat as much memory out of a doll's mind-map that the sometimes shoddy and inefficient coding of their actual combat protocols didn't.
And it was a way to train the exact skills that IOP thought obsolete or unnecessary.
When his girls acknowledged him, there was no need to doubt their resolve. They understood their commander, they knew where his experience came from, and how he wanted to turn that knowledge to something good- despite faith being a quantifiably human trait, it certainly was their faith in him.
"We will be engaging in non-standard operations. As such, I want Forty-five to lead the team."
Again, the girls all quietly agreed. 45 was the only one of them with a command module as well as a penchant for tactics that others considered unsavory.
"Our opponent will be relying on the overwhelming firepower and the ability to absorb damage." The commander pointed to the doll list, all of them considered five-star, elite tier dolls. KSG, SAT-8, PKP, MG5, and a Negev... all of them top in specs and equipment. A full loadout of dummy-links brought their number in to twenty-five combatants, and with fifteen of that being machineguns… it meant that a lot of "lead" would be going downrange when they were set. It was a daunting task, with the projected combat efficiency ratings of their opponent easily double what he wanted to field.
This was as much of a test of his hypothesis as it was of his dolls.
"Name the weakness." The commander ordered, knowing full well that the five dolls had already linked an ad-hoc team network.
"Mobility!" 9 blurted- given the scout doll's specialty, it was only natural she would be the one most excited to answer.
"Exploit the weakness."
"Forcing them to move and break formation." FAL answered succinctly.
"Another."
"Pinning them down so they can't get away!" M14's eyes were wide with excitement, eager for the chance to prove herself.
"And then picking them off at range beyond their machineguns." NTW-20 gave her natural response.
All were sufficient enough assessments. The commander quietly motioned for G36 to continue recording the data. The next test of the autonomy theory- planting the seed.
"Nine and Forty-five, you are to provide the bait to draw the enemy echelon into the firing lane. It will be-"
"Dangerous, but doable." 45's face had gone cold, the smile gone as she intently focused upon the mission's parameters. No doubt she was pulling up a satellite image of the combat zone, already taking into consideration the plan. "Establish the ambush point, infiltrate and disrupt the formation." She had already predicted the course of action.
The commander nodded.
"Engagement should be no more than a minute tops. Drop your dummy-links once the enemy is in place so you can move into their formation faster." The way that 45 grinned, it seemed that even she didn't need the specifics- it was already considered. The commander turned his attention to his two sniper-rifle dolls.
"Fourteen, you and NTW will be operating in tandem. M-Fourteen, I want you with three dummy links, with the last bit of your processing going to assisting NTW in target identification."
"Got it commander!" The twin-tailed rifle doll saluted just like an American soldier from those old posters, though instead of the stoic grimace, there was a jubilant smile upon her face and an excited bounce.
"NTW, you will be operating with only your primary frame. Focus on making every single shot matter."
To this, the pink-haired sniper grinned ear-to-ear. So often she lauded herself as a sniper platform, and yet equally as often the course of a mission dictated that she be laden with dummy links to engage enemy massed formations.
It was finally time for her to shine in the role designated for her- precise removal of a heavily armored target. A tag round from her weapon would still be at velocities enough to send a doll to the repair bay, so there had to be a minimum standoff distance… but the commander doubted that the enemy would get that close.
"There-" NTW had already identified one of the five possible avenues for which she could engage from, just from the satellite picture. They were assessing their ambush point and extrapolating the plan based on the parameters given and abstract instructions.
"We still need to recon the area." 45 sighed at NTW's hasty decision before turning to the commander, "What are the rules of this little competition?"
"No outright traps placed in advance, so no IED's, booby-traps, or otherwise altering the field for our benefit." The commander frowned somewhat, reminded of some of the more… questionable tactics he had taught his girls, "But recon of the area is allowed beforehand, and implied to be necessary."
"We shall handle it with personal reconnaissance, right girls?" FAL spoke up, now that the discussion had turned to the room. UMP-45 and 9 both looked to the auburn-haired doll in agreement.
Inwardly the commander breathed a sigh of relief. The newcomer H&K girls, while accepted by their cousins G36 and MP5... they had a bit of bad blood with some members of Team FN. Even though he had handed field command to UMP-45, it seemed like the girls had come to respect one another out of the commander's desires.
"Are we permitted to find high-ground firing angles?"
"I encourage you to do so."
"What about the use of the building interiors?" 9 chirped.
"Again, encouraged."
The commander took a step back for a moment, watching as the girls began their discussion in earnest, eventually consolidating their ideas into the exact finale that the commander had devised.
"Forty-five and Nine will disrupt the machineguns from their flank and fix them into place before egressing, from which I shall engage them from high ground with forty-millimeter grenades and accurate fire." FAL announced the conclusion. The commander smiled, eagerly awaiting.
"During which, I will keep the shotguns from turning around and blowing them away!" M14 shouted happily, he twin-tails flailing as she jumped in excitement.
"Until I neutralize the mainframe shotgun dolls and render their echelon ineffective." NTW nodded, quietly stepping aside from her energetic spotting partner.
The commander clapped, a proud smile warming all of his soldiers that looked upon him.
"It is a high-risk, high-reward stratagem, and not applicable in all situations-"
"Close-quarters battle always poses such risks, commander." UMP 45's smile was cold, acknowledging the dangers of the plan… but there was a glint in her eye, an excitement to her ready acceptance to the risks of it.
"Luckily sis and I are the best close combat dolls you'll find!" 9 grinned wide, latching onto her sister, "We can outperform any doll in close range, so don't worry about us!"
"I'm more concerned about the fire coming in rather than what you'd face from the enemy formation." The words slipped from the commander's mouth before he could catch them. To this, NTW furrowed a brow, and M14 instantly puffed pouty cheeks to his doubts.
"Commander! We're far more accurate than a human and we're interfaced on a neural network! There's no way we'd hit friendlies." M14 threw her arms up in frustration that he would dare suggest such blasphemy, all the while NTW quietly nodding behind her spotting partner.
The commander hated to admit, but it was a dream come true to ride the knife's edge of performance like this. To be able to dream up and enact plans he'd never dare give to human subordinates.
"Grab them by the belt and wrestle their guns from them… as made famous by the Ghost of the Urals." The commander gave a simple, self-deprecating chuckle at his former life. The girls all gave him quiet, curious looks. Only two dolls in the room knew of the Ghost, specifically because the commander had told them. The rest had only here-say and net-rumors from the Troubled Times.
And he wanted it to remain that way. It wasn't as if the information would make his girls less loyal or question his decisions… it would simply make G&K's Public and Military Relations department come knocking again.
And the commander would rather avoid the red tape that the suits brought down on him. This little match though… it'd do him no favors in IOP's eyes even if he won. He was already on their grey-list after all, and what corporate executive wanted to be the one responsible for handing a notorious former militia commander more soldiers?
"We won't let you down, commander!" His dolls all snapped salutes, perfectly synchronized in a most unsettlingly inhuman manner.
"I know you won't." He smiled as he dismissed the team, watching as they excitedly went about delegating the task preparations on their own.
"Did you copy the neural-net from the meeting?" He turned back to G36, who was rapidly tapping away at the console.
"I did, master." Even while focused on the task, she furiously typed with one hand while holding out the external drive that housed the copy.
"Thank you, Thirty-six." He took what he needed for the inevitable meeting while his diligent maid finished up. They would meet back in the office to start preparing the reports, but the commander hesitated in the doorway.
"Thirty-six-" He looked back, seeing the maid quietly await his question, despite her tapping away still, "Do you ever wish to return to field operations?"
Her hands stopped as she silently tilted her head. Behind that unflinching, harsh blue stare the commander knew that the logic processes were going through thousands of permutations to try and find the answer that G36 would determine as most pleasing for her master.
"I equally enjoy my duties as an adjutant as well as field unit. However, adjutant duties pose far less physical risk."
An answer well within the parameters of the G36 model's programming.
"What do you want." The commander pressed. His adjutant's expression shifted from her usual stoic grace to quizzical as she straightened herself up. She placed one of her pristine white gloved hands over where the "heart" would lay as a small smile pulled upon her lips.
"I want your continued success and happiness, master."
Still within parameters of the civilian model she was based on, right? The commander frowned, wiping away the small smile that had instinctively pulled upon his face upon hearing her answer. It did nothing to shift G36's demeanor.
"Right. Thank you for your work, Thirty-six."
"Of course, my master."
There was more work to be done. There was always work to be done. Ever vigilant, always ready, as it were.