PKP watched from the door gun position as the chopper approached the landing zone- the remnants of Echelon Two's dummy containers had barely been pushed out of the way to make room for Five's chopper to land.
"Standby!" She called back to her teammates. The Mossberg sisters were already preparing the team's dummy containers, PK and Mark 23 were double-checking statuses within their network.
Just like every other training exercise, as soon as the wheels touched the ground, the team flew into their set-up. The door slid open and before the assist railings were fully extended M500 and M590 were already hooking up the heavy dummy containers and shoving them out.
"Twenty-three, cease set-up and scout." PKP modified their standard operating procedure, causing the handgun doll to lock up momentarily- the overly chipper doll wasn't a usual addition to Echelon Five so she wasn't used to PKP's more... purportedly abrasive nature. PKP didn't need to send the order impulse, however, because the logic was clear even for a low-tech doll like Mark 23. This was a hot area- Two didn't have the time to clear the landing zone or extend the zone of control- so Five would have to do so.
The first dummy pod had opened and PK was already establishing her dummy-links. 500 would be next, then 590, 23, and finally PKP.
The whole of it should take less than three minutes. Fully operational by the three-minute-mark exactly.
"PKP, status."
The commander's voice over the radio was elevated. Stress- it could be picked up quickly. Something was not going according to plan. PKP shot a glare to Mark 23 to silence her, the handgun doll was clearly upset that something was wrong with her "darling".
"We've made touchdown and are securing the landing zone."
"Don't. Two is taking casualties. When you are all linked up, wave off the chopper and push forward."
It came coupled with a command impulse- that overriding sting to the digimind. It was wholly unnecessary, but PKP still understood why the commander sent it. His stress levels were elevated, his sense of urgency being sent as electronic impulse. Casualties for dolls usually only meant expendable dummies, frame-death at most... but the risk of losing a mainframe doll always met with anguish back on base.
It was why the commander was making calls he historically did not make.
"Sending the tactical data. Parse it with PK."
Two was falling back, they had unexpectedly run into SF armored units and would wind up dragging some of them into Five. PKP tapped her older sister's digi-mind, pulling processing power to run quick and dirty simulations for a plan.
'Wedge makes the most sense.' Her older sister chimed in, pinging that PKP should begin linking with her dummies while PK continued the sims. Still, the process was largely pre-programmed, PKP's body going about the motions without need for the digimind aside from some partitioned memory.
'I agree with that assessment.' PKP sent back approval for formation. Even with the simulations, there was no room for fancy maneuvering that the lighter Echelons were built for. Five was heavy and ponderous, a walking wall bristling with machine guns, all they could do was determine how that wall was angled in its advance.
M590 and her dummies formed one half of a wedge, 500 the other as they drove froward to the VIP's signal. Mark 23 set herself near the spear tip, her ocular sensors better built for night operations and ready to laser designate targets for PKP and PK, who marched in the center of the formation- ready to fire through the gaps.
'Map data is limited, darling is trying his best but-'
'We push, we kill.' PK cut Mark 23 off, 'Straight line in.'
It didn't matter what Mark 23 was used to, this was how Echelon Five operated, she was just to be their eyes for tonight and then she could go back to whatever team she had been assigned to before.
"Contact." 590 called dispassionately, "Aegis units." Her call-out was punctuated by a thumping chorus of shotgun blasts.
PKP and her older sister PK dropped prone in concert with their dummies. The networked targeting data between their shotgun teammates and the PK sisters' own similar builds meant that the two machine guns could reach out and hit that which they could not see yet- Sangvis, foliage, or trees be damned as a wall of bullets hosed out from their cross-fired fusillade, trying to catch as many Aegis as possible before they made danger-close levels of contact.
PKP didn't care what they were shooting at. The only thing that mattered was that it stopped moving after they shot at it- they didn't have time to waste sitting in a firing position.
A panicked signal ran through the network, from the wing of the formation- 590's mainframe was engaged in close quarters and PKP's dummy couldn't get a good shot in without risking friendly-fire. The IFF signal was locking the dummy's trigger- PKP had to assume direct control-
590 blocked the shock-prod, batting it aside with a quick pivot of her shield. She stepped in, shield to shield with the Aegis before it could pull its weapon back for another strike. Like an old-fashioned sword-fight, they pushed back and forth, each trying to maneuver their weapons on the other.
It made PKP's job even harder as her dummy dropped prone, waiting for the right moment.
590 managed the shift the Aegis shield slightly out of the way by throwing her own shoulder into it, bracing her shotgun in the crook of her arm.
"Stand aside!" 590 grunted, firing point-blank into the armored chest-plate, staggering the Sangivs unit before it could jab again with the shock prod.
"Sidestep left!" PKP called out. 590's blast left a nice pock-marked dent, a good center-mass aim point.
The moment 590 was just out of the way, the machine gun chattered its lethal notes.
'Don't engage them in CQB.' PKP shot the direct order through the network. While she wouldn't call the stinging pulse currently looping through her emotion module "anger", she certainly felt frustration…
'Drive through. Tighten up, switch to walking fire.' A change in formation again, and PKP could feel her sister echo the order through the network, though a line of annoyance seemed to attach itself to the pulse.
PK's systems were simple, not fully capable of integrating non-standard combat protocols. It was why the younger sister was placed in charge of the team- she had a wider array of protocols to call on.
It was also why PK would never catch up to Pecheneg.
"PUSH." Every single one of PKP's dummies parroted the verbal order. Paired with the injection of electric stimuli from her command module, it was perfectly clear there was to be no second guessing orders.
The machine guns formed up behind the shields of their respective shotgun partners, tucking their weapons under the armpit and bracing using the carry handle. If SF wanted to fight close and personal, well they were only reducing the needed accuracy co-efficient for PKP.
'Another line of Aegis- they've got other models behind them.' 23 updated the situation map, 'Standby, I'll ID them-'
'Doesn't matter what they are. We go through them.' PKP shifted a private line to 23, who was already under some duress from the commands. 'Assist PK with targeting. I can handle my own.'
PKP let rip with her machine gun as soon as those tanned armored androids came into her sight. Ten bullets for every step she took forward, she had ten more steps until reload. More and more of her shifted to the glorious bylina of combat.
"Pecheneg! Nemeum!" 590 called out, pulling PKP from her marching beat. Her partner shotgun had dropped into a crouch and pulled her shield panels fully to the front to block the concussive blast of energy. Without even a skipping of the beat, PKP braced her weapon on the platform 590 set. The blue glow of a Nemeum's cannon made a fine aiming point-
Each blast from 590 was a thud of a bass drum, each pull of Pecheneg's trigger the roll of a snare until there were no more bullets left. Luckily, 590 had already prepared a second box from her pack and had placed it conveniently nearby.
Even piecemeal like this, every engagement was costing precious seconds- and PKP had to question whether or not they were still at the beginning of the poem, or nearing the crescendo.
"Two is on your rear covering you." The commander's voice crackled through PKP's combat haze. He sounded more in control- more assure of the plan after seeing their advance.
It had to be because of PKP- she was making the right tactical calls that supported his idea. That idea sent a shiver through her circuitry, one that PKP was more than happy to tint the network with. Call it… boosting morale before the final push- one that was needed.
M500's dummies had all taken some damage from Nemeum fire, despite PK's best efforts to put them down. Even in the final drive to the target building, 590 and PKP had taken glancing fire from unexpected Vespids or Rippers. While it wasn't a perfectly clean engagement- it was certainly better than what the commander had hoped.
'Iron Curtain' PKP's order flashed through the team's network, lighting up 500, 590, and PK's combat protocols before any had a chance to rest their processors. It was a defensive formation they had practiced so much that it had hardened into its own memory fragments. Pair up shotgun dummy to machine gun dummy, using the shotgun's shields as a firing platform and cover. It could be narrowed to a firing line, like olden day pavise formations, or it could be extended out into a full circle for complete coverage- and that was in open terrain. In a fortifiable position, they would be harder to dig out than a hungry tick.
The only problem was that Mark 23 was not usually a part of their team, she didn't have a place in the formation.
"Scout the hatch with a dummy, secure it if necessary until Two can get in." If it sounded dismissive, Pecheneg wouldn't apologize- her emotion module was shifting to support combat, not "feelings".
'Pecheneg.' PK called to her sister, 'Movement west.'
'Not ours. Our friendlies come in from the south.' PKP pinged back before wordlessly urging 23 to go. They wouldn't need her sensor array up here- it was a target rich environment on three sides- anything that moved was fair game.
The comforting chorus of machine gun fire echoed through the empty cabin, the tiny pinging notes of casings dancing upon the floor. PKP wanted to join in, but west was her sister's hunting grounds.
"A murder hole here would give better angles." M590 had been holding the majority of the building's mapping data after she had cleared it, crunching the calculations to create optimal defensive positions.
"Do it then, before we take contact."
The tanned shotgun doll nodded, precisely placing the muzzle of her namesake firearm before blasting chunks from the wall at about breast-level- the perfect height for firing over her shield. The next set of holes she knocked were at the base of the wall, low and wide so that PKP could sweep either side from her cover. More thumping snaps from the other rooms of the abandoned homestead- the shotgun dummies were doing the same during the lull in contact.
'Five-hundred, I sent the data.'
'I got it, sis!'
'Shotguns, set to assistant gunner modes.'
'Get Two to hurry up!'
'Movement north-'
'Ensure each position has an angle of thirty-five.'
'Movement east.'
"Come, Sangvis scrap." The keen finality of the PKP's feed tray cover snapping shut silenced the ghostly voices in Pecheneg's head. She pulled her collar in place and the goggles over her eyes to guard from the coming hail of hot brass casings.
"You shall not move us."