"You will be placed under the command of an operator who will ensure that you perform to specifications in a combat zone. You are no converted C-doll, you are a T-doll in the purest form."

"Affirmative."

"Your purpose is to accrue combat data in every conceivable operational capacity. Your mind map is unique for this task. Do you understand?

"Affirmative."

[A small, disappointed sigh]

"The data you acquire and process will be invaluable for the survival of your sister."

"... I have a sister?"

"You will. A younger one. She is still… gestating."

"... I do not like that word, Miss Persica."

[Laughter]

"The fact you can form that opinion is a positive sign indeed."

[Sound of bare feet on tile, approaching closer]

"M-Four will be my pride and joy. You will protect her at all costs, won't you, M-Sixteen?"

[Silence. Processing.]

"My little sister…? Yes. I will, Miss Persica."

"Good... good."

"Fire! Don't stop firing! This damn ineffective doll. Just what garbage did sixteen-lab send us?"

[Shouting over communication net. Fear detectable in FSB trooper voices. Gunfire drowns out radio]

:Data collection enabled: Practical combat v. ELID infected.

-Center mass: Ineffective, target operational.

-Legs: Effective, target mobility-killed, not pacified.

-Head: Effective, target neutralized_

:Assessment: Continue engagement of target heads.

[Confused shouts, screams]

"Fall back! Leave the doll and fall back!"

[ELID howls]

:Data collection enabled: Practical CQB v. ELID infected.

-Arms: Effective, target threat-killed, not pacified.

-Legs: Effective, target mobility-killed, not pacified.

-Head: Effective, target neutralized_

Continue engagement of targets- prioritize threat-kill.

:WARNING: Unit sustaining frame damage: Prolonged CQB Unadvised. :WARNING: Unit sustaining frame damage: Ocular sensor efficiency reduced. :WARNING: Unit sustaining frame damage_

"You left my doll behind. The one you were contracted to safeguard."

"Your doll was shit! Five of my men are dead because of its inability to-"

"And how is that any of M-Sixteen's fault? You signed for this position, you decided to take her into the Yellow Zone when she is programmed for Sangvis. If she was shit, she wouldn't have fought her way back to your position."

[Low decibel sound of teeth grinding]

:Alert: Stress levels detected in Miss Persica and Operator Yegor. Intervention necessary.

"If I may, Miss Persica?"

"...What, M-Sixteen?"

"My firepower is insufficient in large-scale operations, crowd dispersal roles, and sustained combat against hardened combatants. I wish to request new combat protocols- software for grenades or some form of secondary weapon would be efficient for such problems."

[Shouting] "You can't be serious! My men are dead because-"

[Older male] "Lieutenant Yegor, please leave. Your bias is negatively effecting your judgement for these trials."

[Low-tone: Anger?] "You should stick to your civilian toys, Welkin."

"Goodbye, lieutenant. Your contract for these trials has been fulfilled and we not longer need your services. Allow me to see you out."

[Sighing; Persica's. Two sets of footsteps leaving]

"..."

[Sound of bare feet on tile. Touch of a hand on cheek]

"My poor child, look at you. That man… he didn't even bring you to the repair bay before this debrief?"

"My damage is largely superficial, Miss Persica. Only decontamination was deemed necessary before this meeting."

"..."

[Bare feet on tile, moving away. Shuffling of papers, creak of a chair]

"I will find you a new operator. Until your mind map expands you will still need one…"

[Shuffling of papers, scratch of a pen writing rapidly]

"Now lets get that eye of yours fixed…"

"If I may, Miss Persica?"

"Hmm?"

"I would prefer it to remain this way. A… reminder of my failure to protect my charges."

[Sharp sound of a mug breaking on the floor]

"...S-Say that again, M-Sixteen?"

"I would prefer it to remain this way. A… reminder of my failure to protect my charges."

"I meant… not so literally... "

"It was my fault that the infected ambushed the recovery team. That was why Lieutenant Yegor was upset with my performance."

[One minute, fifty seconds of silence, followed by quiet mumbling]

:Audio setting: Decibel adjustment_

"...developments! Her digimind framework shouldn't have expanded so quickly…"

[Papers shuffling, rapid scribbles of pen]

"..."

"Miss Persica?"

"I will update your fire-control core's software to allow explosive and thrown weaponry, but it will be up to you to determine the tactical deployment of them."

"Affirmative, Miss Persica."

"Head to the maintenance bay… I'll… make sure that your 'reminder' remains untouched."

"Thank you, Miss Persica."

"However… having an empty ocular socket just… there… it's a bit unnerving, wouldn't you say, M-Sixteen?"

"If it causes emotional distress for my operators then… concealment of the damage would be necessary?"

"Agreeable suggestion. I will find you something appropriate, so no complaining."

"Affirmative, Miss Persica."

[Hesitation]

"Miss Persica?"

"Yes, M-Sixteen?"

"Is… will my little sister have to fight?"

[One minute, fifteen seconds of silence]

[Whisper] "Yes. Harder than anyone will."

"Affirmative. I will bring better results next time. I promise."

"...M-Sixteen…"

"Operator Orlov, status?"

[Filtered static] "All good M-Sixteen. Good call on the Vespid flanking us."

"Affirm."

[Sounds of weapons being reloaded through radio static]

"One pack left. M-Sixteen, dash for that barricade down the street and divert their fire. Bang 'em too. We'll cross fire them while they're distracted. Sound good?"

"Yeah, easy enough."

"Ready? Go-"

[Heavy footfalls, buzz of energy weapons firing, the pin of a grenade being pulled]

[An explosion, gunfire in close three-round bursts. Further gunfire in the distance]

[Filtered static] "Clear?"

"Clear."

[Filtered static] "...Good work, M-Sixteen."

"Risking myself to protect others was why I was made."

[Filtered static] "That sounds like a Persica line to me."

"Well she did create me, lieutenant."

[Filtered static] "...true enough. Anyways we're done here, command is picking up no more signals. M-Sixteen regroup with us at the trucks and lets get the fuck out of here."

"Copy, Operator Orlov. M-Sixteen returning to rally point."

[Rapid footsteps- running at a pace faster than a human. Rushed sounds of multiple boot-steps, human grunts of exertion. The rumble of a large engine starting up.]

"Dolls really have changed huh?"

"Well, she's not civilian spec. Nothing at all like the one that cleans up the officer's bunk."

[Sound of sliding glass- a window. Nervous laughter abruptly stops]

"M-Sixteen is a specific support model assigned to us. Don't compare her to other market goods."

"I can speak for myself, Operator Orlov. Private first-class Yanu, even a maid doll could shoot straighter than what I saw from you today, and I only have one eye."

[Crowd howling and laughter]

"Hey, M-Sixteen… You going to join us at the watering hole later?"

"Yeah! I've never seen a doll drink before. I mean, nothing would happen, right?"

"You've got to. After saving our asses like that."

"I'm not sure it will do anything? My bio-intake would just burn it up."

"But you're some kind of new model right? Ain't you supposed to… what was it you said before? 'Accrue data'?"

[Mirthful agreement from the troops]

"The lieutenant- Hey! Lieutenant!"

[Banging against a window]

"What is it, Koskov?"

"You got the good stuff, right? That Ami-shit that's popular back in Saint Petersburg?"

"What'sit to you, private?"

"M-Sixteen is more Ami than all of us, so how 'bout we crack that bottle open for our… eh… field experiment in… energy conversion efficiency for T-dolls?"

[Excited agreement]

"Look at you, Koskov! Since when did you learn such big words, eh?"

"Listening to good ol' big sis over here. Got me some good ol' learning, lieutenant!"

Big sis.

:Emotional reaction permitted: Routing emotional reaction… recording_

Happy. Proud. Useful. Worried.

Routing… finding appropriate response to negative emotion_

Determined.

:Logging emotional state: Marked for consolidation.

Big sis… Big sis_

M16 came out of sleep mode on full alert. Night time, low moon, high concealment chance. Instinct told her it was time to move. Instinct that was boiled down and derived from probability calculations and pattern recognition run a hundred-thousand times over in a nano-fraction of what it would take human genetic memory to form.

Nothing had tripped her motion sensors, nor her audio. If anything, she was safest when in sleep mode; if her body and processors were shut down, she wasn't generating heat for enemy thermal detection. Nothing short of a foot patrol stumbling over her little hide would have compromised her. A lot like playing dead in front of a bear, though, according to net advice, this was an ineffective measure, particularly when one had a gun to deal with the threat.

M16 slowly wound herself down from full capacity when she was sure it was clear. It was always safe to start at max, but those memories… when disconnected from Zenner and using a false Level One consciousness, even simple voice recordings were the closest thing to a dream that a doll could get. M16 enjoyed those memories; cherished them in their own little partition in her digimind, but she wasn't about to wax poetics about them.

There was no need for it, and the heightened state they put her in was only a drain on her resources right now.

Day prep: refuel, check armament, plan route, reconnoiter area, pack up, move out.

M16 broke off half of a conversion bar and stuffed it in her mouth, no one here to judge her for not chewing before she swallowed. Spacing and rationing what she had left for every twelve hour interval, she could keep in-field operations going for another two weeks. If she foraged for efficient biofuel material, she could theoretically stretch it out even longer. Unlike humans, a doll only needed water to cool her internal systems.

But she wouldn't need that much time. The "breadcrumbs" she had left behind would be more than enough for M4 to determine M16's whereabouts. The older sister had trained her, and though the level of experience was still a wide gap to bridge, it all stemmed from the same mind-map pattern.

Weapon maintenance completed and battle-ready. Seven magazines and three flashbangs left, though she hadn't had the need to engage any units when she went to ground. That would change if a ringleader came sniffing around. Calculate and predict her own movements using what data she had left for SF to track, most common routes and most predicted paths both scratched from the plan.

No evidence of enemy patrols through the area- at least not by foot-mobile units. Scout drones still a very real possibility; keep planned route to foliage cover as much as possible.

Not a spark of doubt. Not a shred of worry. Everything M16 had experienced, every little scrap of combat data and study she had eked out from those painful and lonely days, every byte of information she had passed on to M4 would lead to salvation.

Even now, awaiting rescue by her sister, M16 was preparing her, training her, so that even something as simple as a rescue op would teach a valuable lesson.

To help M4 stand up on her own.

"Three more days for a passing grade? Hmm, perhaps that might be a little harsh. Five days." M16 grinned to no one as she slung the hefty weapon case over her shoulder. "Though if she gets this ringleader off my back first, maybe I'll give her some extra credit."

Perhaps, if she got the chance, M16 would try to find a reward, a little "gold star" for her sister when they finally did catch up with her. She laughed to herself, pondering just what she could get as she slipped into the dark of the night.