In the time she'd been on Sector 9, SV-98 couldn't say that she'd seen the Commander genuinely upset about something that happened on base. Frustrated, sure, annoyed, yes. Angry, no. The sniper didn't think she could articulate the differences to an outsider either, but her gut told her they existed.
There and then, she decided that it was a good thing this particular mess was in no way shape or form her fault. Between the piercing eyes, the imposing presence, and the feeling that he knew the answer to any question he asked, and merely wanted to see if she would have the guts to lie, SV-98 didn't think she'd have been able to avoid burning up on the spot.
"You know, I can't decide." SV-98's sense of danger spiked in spite of the conversational tone of that lead in. A minefield stretched out around her, and she lacked even the most basic protection. A mental note to find some way to get even petty revenge on Five-seveN did little to ease the feeling. "I have four soldiers, with various wounds. I have a room, absolutely destroyed by an 'event', and those four wounded soldiers found therein."
SV-98 nodded. They did not disagree on any of those basic facts, even if she could have done without the reminder of the knife that got shoved in her side. The agreement seemed to be received well.
"Now. Visual evidence would suggest to me that a fight broke out, between four combat capable Dolls, which trashed a room, and left them with injuries." SV-98 did her best to keep her face blank. "Logical reasoning further backs this idea. However, all four Dolls insist that it is 'nothing for me to worry about' and that the problem will resolve itself. One, even had the cheek to suggest that a suicide Dinergate or equivalent found its way onto the base."
SV-98 wanted to scream. There had been no formal agreement, or even an informal one, to keep quiet about what happened. Part of her had been tempted to just lay out the details as they were, because frankly, none of this mess was her fault, and the only thing she'd tried to do was keep it from getting worse. But, at the same time, she'd always seen this sort of thing dealt with between soldiers, and in her experience, officers getting involved meant trouble. Five-seveN putting that in jeopardy with some cheeky excuse did not help anything.
Pretending to be ignorant of her discomfort, the Commander kept going, without so much as a shift in tone. "Now. I'm not so gullible a man as to believe for an instant that a suicide bomb robot blew up my mess hall." How nice, being told that Five-seveN being a pain didn't even achieve anything. "Instead, I am forced to conclude that some variety of altercation took place."
Before either of them could continue the door burst open, M16 and SOPMOD piling into the room. "Commander-"
For a moment, SV-98 saw his eyes flash with anger, lips tightening as some instinctive snarl lived and died. It was, by all accounts the most human moment she'd seen from the man, a brief burst of anger that he swallowed down when interrupted while chewing on her for something she had little to do with.
Briefly, SV-98 expected him to lay into the new arrivals, for the frustration to win. Instead, he drew himself up, fixing the one-eyed Doll with a piercing glare. M16 tried to meet it, with little success. The Commander, when he wanted, carried a surprising gravitas, and while M16 tried, she simply couldn't match up. Or maybe SV-98 was just jaded. In the end, he looked back to her, expression opening for a moment.
The unspoken message was clear, they would be talking about this more later. SV-98 dipped her head. "Sir." SV-98 could live with that, provided she lived through the angry pair behind him.
"I will be suitably annoyed about further trouble." The warning went for the new arrivals, not for SV-98 it seemed as he swept from the room.
SV-98 watched the man leave, before turning her attention back to M16 and SOPMOD. "Well?" She suspected she knew what the real purpose behind this was, just the thought made her head hurt.
The AR team member's lone eye narrowed. "Well, what the hell happened?"
That had a lot of answers, and frustration tempted SV-98 to revert to pettiness. "Why are you asking me? Figured you'd go ask your sister first."
"She didn't say anything." SOPMOD piped up, seeming torn between anger and confusion. "Alfa told me to 'see our previous talk', and Five-seveN-"
"Claimed a Dinergate exploded." M16's eyes rolled, showing that she too saw that for what it was.
"Which is a load of crap." SV-98 didn't feel bad about that confirmation, getting the Belgian in hot water with M16 didn't worry her too much. Of course, that didn't mean she intended to let M16 know anything else about that. "What I don't see is why any of this matters to you."
"Huh?" That, at least, seemed to take M16 aback. Her expression suggested she felt that answer to be self-evident, or at least that she didn't expect SV-98 to push back.
"What does it matter?" SV-98 repeated, wincing as she stood. A synthetic body, in her opinion, shouldn't retain the feeling of pain quite so well. "AR-15 doesn't want to tell you, so why should I be any different?" She might have thought the pink haired Doll to be a stuck-up pain in the ass, but SV-98 saw it as a basic courtesy to keep her mouth shut about what happened. Before M16 could muster up her response, and undoubtedly annoy SV-98 more,the sniper forged ahead. "And what do you think having that information is going to do?"
Watching M16 flounder at the sudden about face, SV-98 started to understand what Groza saw in all of this. "I'd rather like to know if someone's taking a swing at my sister-."
"Good for you." SV-98 didn't roll her eyes but that was a close thing. "What does knowing change? You going to take a swing at someone in return?" From the murderous look on M16's face that's exactly what she intended. "Have you thought about how that's going to end?"
Neither doll seemed to have, based on expressions, and if anything, M16 didn't look like she cared.
With a long-drawn-out sigh, SV-98 crossed her arms, doing her best to find an intimidating stare. "Let's say, for sake of argument, that you decide to pick a fight with Ak-Alfa because she said your sister's a flat-chested wannabe." Being the calm, rational person in the room did not suit her, nor did being normal. Talking people down remained firmly Groza's job, in her mind, as did being the adult. "I'd wager you can probably beat Alfa senseless. She's got a better base model than me, but none of the experience to use it." Perhaps finally realizing that SV-98 was going somewhere, M16's eyes narrowed. SOPMOD didn't quite catch on. "You do that. Know what happens after that?" Both Dolls shook their heads. "KSG and MG4 come to find you and have a 'talk'." She didn't need to dip into her past to make that implication clear.
"You sound awfully sure of that." M16 took a step forward, obviously not intimidated, by the implication.
A part of SV-98 wanted to shrug, and tell M16 to try, and then sell tickets to the murder that followed. But being the sane person meant trying to talk them down. "I'm entirely sure that in a fight between you and either of them, you lose." That took both SOPMOD and M16 aback, although M16 more so. "Sure, you four have some kind of crazy military grade hardware going for you, but you've never really had to use it. Not in the way that you'd need to in order to not get yourself turned into a pretzel by a pissed off American or Kraut."
"I've dealt with pissed off Krauts." M16 countered, and SV-98 allowed herself a mirthless smile.
"Sure. A mercenary, or a civilian. Not one whose life experiences include fighting in the desperate defense of her land. Not one who has the respect of every soldier here for her ability to commit incredible violence." Recognizing that she wasn't making headway, SV-98 wobbled a bit on her feet before changing direction. "And, let's say that I tell you what happened. You go tearing off to pick a fight in defense of your sister. How well do you think she'll take that?"
Of all the questions to really take M16 aback, SV-98 didn't expect that one to stump her, but watching M16's expression twist it seemed to succeed. SOPMOD however, seemed to be catching on to what the sniper wanted her to.
"Doesn't seem to me she wants you to fight her battles, if she isn't telling you what happened. And, at the risk of projecting my own screwed up existence onto her, pretty sure you start doing that, she's going to resent you for it."
"I just-"
"You just want to protect her." SV-98 cut across, having built up her head of steam and not interested in letting M16 get her own. "Maybe. But in case you missed it, your sister is a bona fide soldier now, and besides that she's got it in her head that she's some kind of special forces…" SV-98 flailed for the word, then shrugged. "Doesn't seem like the type to let others fight battles for her."
"What would you know about that?" M16 crossed her arms. "And you aren't exactly the type to give advice, if word on base is to be believed."
No, SV-98 agreed, she wasn't, but this idiot just had to try and get in her face about this, and something compelled her to stick her neck out. Probably some disgusting misplaced sympathy for Groza. "I'm no special forces, but I am a bitter resentful markswoman with a chip on her shoulder, and something to prove." While the admission hurt, it did surprise M16 again, and let SV-98 get in her face in turn. "People trying to fight my battles for me just annoys me, it doesn't achieve shit." They were eye to eye now, or as much as they could be given that SV-98 was several inches shorter than M16. "And, from talking to her, and watching her, I'd be willing to bet my rifle on the fact that holds true for your sister."
"So we should just not care?" SOPMOD's growl served to intimidate far better than anything M16 did to that point.
Not that it did much to SV-98. "Yes. If she brings it up, listen to her, ask her questions, and don't go running off like the halfcocked moron that everyone thinks you Americans are." M16's expression twisted at the insult. "And let's not forget, that getting involved will just make things worse with those two."
"Not including yourself in that?" Finally, she seemed to be getting through to M16, the hostile tone fading, a bit of genuine question finally there.
"I'll just conclude that you're a moron, and pity her, which she'll hate more." SV-99 rattled off without a bit of hesitation.
"Experience speaking?" Slouching into a more normal stance, M16 backed off, now standing directly beside SOPMOD, who just looked lost.
"I was Russian infantry." If they didn't get it, SV-98 didn't care anymore. "Anything else?" She didn't care if they had anything else, she wanted this talk to be over. M16 shook her head, and lead SOPMOD out of the room, letting SV-98 collapse back onto the bed, trying to soothe the pain settling deep in the core of her Neural Cloud.
-Faded Glory-
The two helicopter pilots, PP-2000 and OTs-39, were not at all what 9A-91 expected, when she agreed to sign on to a Griffin Sector. Nor, from the looks on AR-57, PPD-40, and GSh-17 wore, neither pilot matched up with what they were expecting either. Based on her observations, PP-2000 was the senior of the duo, possibly even teaching OTs-39, although 9A-91 didn't feel entirely confident in that assessment, given that the flight remained smooth.
"So, what's this base like?" GSh-17 spoke up after a while, with 9A-91 catching the glance between the pilots, OTs-39 yielding to PP-2000. 9A-91 caught the glance between the pilots.
"Lively." PP-2000 spoke first, slowly. "I can't' say that anyone is boring, although I could do without the demands to hot drop into a combat zone."
"The Commander still hadn't backed down on his insistence that we're 'on break'." OTs-39 chimed in. "So, things are quieter right now. We have a couple crazy weeks."
"What kind of crazy?" 9A-91 joined in.
"Insane hunt for some Dolls that went missing. You'll get to hear all about that part, I'm sure." PP-2000 adjusted her helmet. "Everyone should be back by the time we land."
"Back?" AR-57 this time.
"Commander had the Echelon leaders, and one of the logistics staff visiting Prague." PP-2000 offered. "I caught something about a 'teambuilding exercise', and immediately decided I did not want further information." Nervously laughter filled the cabin, and 9A couldn't help a small smile. "We're a bit of an odd case."
"Odd case?" PPD-40 picked up. "What sort of odd case?"
"From talking to others, we do a lot less patrolling, a lot more weird, specialized operations." PP-2000 "A lot more ex-soldiers here than usual for a Griffin Sector, and we get strange requests from up the food chain."
"Define strange." 9A
A look traded between the pilots. "Hunt down these four specific Dolls, don't get outside help, don't tell anyone, this one is more important than the rest, but they are equally important." PP-2000 rattled off. "Actually, thinking about it, you three make the largest group of non-military Dolls to join at once."
9A-9a hid her frown as best she could. That sounded like a very specific mission profile, and the bubbling undercurrent in PP-2000's words stuck out as resembling people she'd worked with in the past. GSh-17, AR-57, and PPD-40 didn't appear to catch it, although they did trade a sharp look. That left 9A to ask the questions. "Sounds like more special forces work than PMC."
Both pilots shrugged. "Maybe? Lots of soldiers, but I think only one ex-special forces." PP-2000's head cocked as she thought. "Not counting the Commander."
"What is he like?" PPD-40 leaned forwards, elbows on her knees. "Transfer orders did not say much, and my old superiors didn't know him."
"Super intense." OTs-39 threw out. "He can stare a hole into you if he wants." That matched what 9A might have expected from a former special operator. A man who knew what he was doing and had a presence to match. "Then again, so are KSG, Groza, and FAL."
"A Russian, American, and Belgian?" PPD-40's brow furrowed. "That is a rather bizarre grouping."
"Welcome to Sector 9, we're a mess." PP-2000 shrugged. "Granted, a functional mess, which from listening to SV-98 talk, is an improvement of her past, but a mess nonetheless."
"What was her past employment?" 9A got the question out first.
"Soviet Infantry." 9A grimace, already realizing just what that meant. While she never personally worked with straight up infantry, she'd heard the horror stories. AR-57 and GSh obviously didn't know what that meant, and PPD-40 didn't seem to buy into the idea that being Soviet infantry created a lot of suffering. "I wouldn't bring that up to her, unless you want a fight."
"Noted." AR-57 spoke for the group, and 9A filed that away for further reference.
"And what of the rest of her squad?" PPD-40 spoke up.
"Well, you're my replacement so you'll deal with her the most. Groza's relatively normal." PP-2000 continued. "Surprisingly good at listening, and she stays out of your business. OTs-12 seems to think she's some kind of secret agent."
"Tiss is a weirdo, but she's a friendly weirdo." OTs-39 threw in. "She's good at listening."
PP-2000 hummed in agreement. "74M's the odd one out there. I don't know the exact details but she'd some kind of Spetsnaz hardcase from the war. Fortunately, she's also extremely laid back." 9A-91's breath caught. She didn't realize that this was where 74M had been reassigned.
The rest of the flight went in a companionable silence, as each of them mulled over what they had learned.
-Faded Glory-
As the brief base tour and introductions wound down, 9A-91 got the impression that neither KSG or the Commander were very comfortable with this sort of thing. KSG obviously disliked being the focus of so much attention, given the tension hanging over her, and the Commander's general lack of commentary suggested the same from him.
They'd gradually shed members as they went, PPD-40 joining OTs-14 and SV-98 on the range, GSh-17 falling off to speak with the two logistics officers, and finally AR-57 vanishing into the unused armory, leaving her alone with the Americans.
"Unfortunately, you are the one person I don't have a good idea of what they needed ahead of time." KSG admitted, as they stopped outside the command building.
"Likewise and dealing with a few squabbles has kept me occupied the last few days." There was a subtle anger to the word squabbles, such that 9A doubted that to be the entire story on the Commander's side. "I usually attempt to be more prepared than this.
And so they arrived at the truly interesting part of this entire affair, at least in 9A-91's opinion. She'd had plenty of time to build up a long series of questions and observations, all of which only added to the confusion around Sector 9? "You don't seem bothered either." Probing at KSG first seemed like the best bet.
"Psych evals were a common thing in the Corp." KSG stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Especially dolls. When the top brass realized we needed more freedom in order to fit into the system, someone had the thought that, without the limiter on shooting people, we could just as easily shoot friendlies."
"Thus, monitoring to make sure you didn't snap." Which made the process, and general truth of dealing with KSG a lot more frustrating. "Was that true for all Western Militaries?"
KSG looked to the Commander, and got a shrug in return, before the man spoke. "US Army did. Not sure about the Germans. Based on what I know, I don't think such protocols were in place, as the shift to more autonomous doll units happened in a more scattershot and disjointed manner than the Corps, or Army. Belgium almost certainly didn't." From the way KSG's eyes narrowed, 9A could tell a story lived there. "Given what we know, not doing so could be classed as a poor choice, yes." That seemed to assuage some of KSG's feelings.
For her part, 9A found the byplay fascinating. Both of these people were closed off, but they obviously knew how to read one another, after only a short time, and obviously knew those they worked with well, given the exchange that 9A herself seemed to have missed in there. "You expect there to be some pushback against me then."
A thin smile flashed across the Commander's face, while KSG's expression vanished entirely, the doll herself fading away, making it clear just whose idea this all was. "I'd be a fool not to, given the personalities in question." A long pause, then a sigh. "Truthfully I'd rather be more circumspect than I am, but after those four idiots decided to…" He trailed off.
"You still haven't explained just what you think happened." KSG's bristled. 9A suspected this had to do with the squabble that had been mentioned before.
The Commander took a while to formulate his reply. "And I admit I don't plan on doing so. From talking to SV-98, I am inclined to agree with her assessment for once, in that getting people in charge involved will only make that situation worse."
"Sir, I was a Staff Sergeant. I'm familiar with that sort of shit, and I don't think letting it go is going to help."
"Not letting it go, letting them sort it out." He nodded to 9A. "And that is part of why she's here. I'm not doing anything."
"But she is. And if she says that someone is unfit for combat duty, then your hands are tied." KSG shook her head. "Slippery."
"I feel as if I missed something." 9A looked between them both. The conversation went from hostile to exasperated in an instant.
"There is something of a disagreement about what kind of bastard I am." The Commander shrugged, as if unbothered by the idea. "I'm of the opinion that I'm a complete bastard, and KSG holds that I'm merely a slippery one."
"Given the evidence to hand, Commander, I would have to side with your adjutant." 9A admitted.
"Course you would." The man shook his head. "We can discuss things further tomorrow."
Watching the man leave, 9A-91 caught the brief flash of amused frustration on KSG's face.
-Faded Glory-
Settling into Sector 9 took a few days. While the base itself remained fairly quiet, outside of the two pilots going out on daily flights for what 9A now knew to be training. She spent some time talking to AR-57 and GSh-17, getting to know the two Dolls that she expected to work alongside quite a bit. The former proved surprisingly sharp under her formidable stare, and GSh-17's upbeat nature stood out against the starkly dour Sector 9. It made for a comfortable routine, and further discussion with the Commander revealed that he intended to stall further combat operations long enough for 9A to make at least a preliminary opinion on everyone there.
"Hi, Miss 9A!" Among the least 'colorful' characters on base were FNC and FN-49. They two weren't quite constant companions, but she saw them together frequently, usually in the context of FNC doing all the talking, with the sniper scared of her own shadow.
"FNC." The duo were surprisingly non-judgmental about her presence. Then again, from what 9A could tell, FNC didn't care about anything that wasn't chocolate and not getting shot, and FN-49 jumped at everything, as a result of something that KSG described as likely a warcrime with the sort of unvarnished disgusted that 9A came to expect from her.
"You still hunting for Ballista?" FNC popped another chocolate into her mouth.
"No." Hunting for Ballista felt like an unsafe life decision, at least without a little forewarning. Unlike AR-57, whose harsh expression concealed a normal person, Ballista's harsh expression concealed a cutting personality and actual coldness. Also, 9A already knew where Ballista was, if she really needed to talk to her, which she did not. "At the risk of personal danger, where might Five-seveN be?"
Risk of personal danger seemed right, given the look the duo traded. "With Kalina?" FN-49's lack of confidence seemed more genuine than her usual crippling lack thereof. "They've been spending a lot of time together?"
"Miss Fleur would know." FNC confirmed, with a thumbs up. "Whatcha need with her anyway?"
Because 9A wanted to find out if her initial impression of the smug doll as a real piece of work held any merit or if it was merely an act put on as some kind of defense mechanism. Luckily there was an easy out. "I have a theory about the…altercation…that apparently destroyed the mess hall."
"Oh." FNC's frown grew. "You think it's Five-seveN's fault?"
"I don't know." That, at least, was the truth. "But I'm quite certain it was not an explosive dinergate." Fortunately, that got the laughs she wanted.
Getting a hold of herself briefly FNC choked out, "She actually said that." 9A nodded, and FNC devolved into more giggles. Leaving the amused younger duo behind 9A set off across the base again, towards the repurposed logistics hangar.
Finding Fleur proved easy enough, the teenager in the process of shuffling around crates in the warehouse, and muttering invective as she did so. Upon catching sight of 9A she left the work to wait, waving in greeting.
"I don't suppose you're the reason we got a mystery shipment yesterday?" She asked as 9A got closer.
"No. I would suggest asking AR-57." Weird shipments sounded like they'd be her fault, bringing in things with which to tinker.
"Nah, not hers, she got weird crap yesterday." Fleur shook her head. "I'll blame this 'Persica' lady then." 9A didn't know who that was, but sounded reasonable enough to her, and she indicated that there were no problems with that idea. "You looking for Kalina?"
"I'm told Five-seveN is with her, so yes."
Fleur hummed. "Weird. I can't say I've seen Five-eveN around today. Kalina's in her 'office' though. Motioning for 9A to follow, Fleur started weaving deeper into the warehouse. Despite the seeming chaos, there seemed to be a method to madness as Fleur's motions were confident. Kalina's office sat in the back corner, one of the few parts of the building made of concrete. Muffled sound came from inside if 9A strained her hearing but she couldn't pick out the details. Fleur knocked on the door without a response.
Looking back at 9A in a way that suggested this outcome to be expected, Fleur knocked again. After almost fifteen seconds without any kind of reply, she went for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Obviously used to this, Fleur pushed the door open.
The realization of the series of mistakes came in slow motion. The garbled sounds that 9A thought were muffled speaking were in fact something else entirely, which 9A should have realized, but had just chalked up to not knowing either person well. Second, thinking back, FN-49's lack of confidence could easily have been a desire to not really tell 9A where to find Five-seveN but lacking a way to avoid doing so. Third, given Fleur's behavior, Kalina not answering when her door was knocked on, and being unavailable in general stood out as unusual behavior.
Sadly, 9A-91 realized these things a few fractions of a second too late, and instead could only watch in slowly processed amused horror as Fleur opened the door.
"Kalina, do you know where-" Fleur's words trailed off as her brain caught up with her eyes, the teenager frozen in place, a flush running up the back of her neck. Likewise, Kalina turned a brilliant shade of red, as the situation sank for everyone.
To add insult to injury, it took a few seconds for Five-seveN to realize what happened, the doll turning, to give them an even better view of the act in question, expression flashing from a pout or some sort of actual surprise.
9A called on years of professional experience dealing with all kinds of weirdness to step up and pull Fleur back out of the doorway. Only the knowledge that she'd seen worse, and walked in on worse, that kept her face perfectly straight, and her mind well enough to speak. "Perhaps a more suitable location next time, or a sock on the door would be appropriate?"
Both parties spluttered, Kalian with embarrassment, Five-seveN probably in disbelief. Her embarrassment faded fast, replaced by a casual disinterest in changing the situation.
"When you're done, I would like to take some of Five-seveN's time." A pause, looking them up and down. "For professional matters." That drew a pout, before the door shut. Turning her attention to Fleur, 9A let the girl work it through her system, jaw working without letting out any sound.
Then, the floodgates burst, the string of profanity in at least two languages that 9A did not know. Her flush died down, as did her cursing, before she caught on to the fact that 9A didn't seem bothered. "How are you fine?"
"After a while you get a bit numb." A truth that applied to far more than just walking in on things you did not want to see.
"How do you become numb to-to that?""
"After the second or third time you learn to shrug it off." Waving a hand, 9A paused, and thought it through a bit more. "Accidents happen, and in a place like this they are more likely than usual. Walking in on people in the middle of various activities that relieve stress is not uncommon."
"Right." Fleur nodded, slowly. "I just-" Words failed her at last.
"Didn't need to see any of that?" Fleur nodded mutely. "I don't disagree with that." 9A could have gone without herself.
--Faded Glory-
Nearly being flattened by MG4 took 9A by complete surprise. Both seeing the other doll out so late, and just how quiet she had been. Even accounting for the fact that 9A was tired, she'd expected to be able to catch on to MG4 approaching. A flash of annoyance crossed her face, before vanishing behind blankness.
"Can't sleep?" 9A knew she'd have to be the one to ask the question. MG4 rarely seemed to volunteer to speak, outside of her siblings, and the few cases where politeness demanded it.
"Not yet." Not yet. That implied some ritual, or task needing to be completed. 9A could feel herself slipping into 'work' even as she looked MG4 up and down. There were no signs of outward discomfort so the follow up question didn't seem likely to be poorly received.
"Mind company?" For a while, the stare was cold, judging. 9A did her best not to squirm, given that she really didn't have anything to hide, but that didn't make the German's stare any less weighty. Even some of those she'd worked with early in life struggled to match the gravitas the smaller doll had.
"Eh." That wasn't a no, and lacked enough conviction to feel like a suggestion of one, so 9A fell into step beside her. The walk around the base perimeter took a while, given the slow pace that MG4 set, eyes narrowed into the darkness. 9A kept quiet, knowing that if the other doll would speak it would be on her own time. "You weren't a soldier before."
Not really a question. "No. Psychological assistant to Neo-Soviet Special Forces, but I did not see combat."
MG4 kept walking. "Good." Good? "I'm not blind. You're in the process of building up a file on all of us." 9A kept her face blank, unsure how to feel about being called out so directly. "KSG does a similar thing. She rarely asks the questions directly, instead just collects knowledge on the fringe. She learns things, and files it away in the back of her head, only to dig them out later when she feels it will be useful."
"I did not know that." A truth, albeit with a hint of a lie, as 9A did suspect that to be the case. Everyone knew there was more to KSG than appearances, the question was just what. After all, she got along with the Commander in a way the other Echelon leaders did not.
"You wouldn't have, she isn't likely to do it to you. She'd figure you'd know or something like that. And she'll hold that information for years." MG4 rubbed her upper arms. "I'm only here because of that."
Now that proved interesting knowledge. "Meaning?"
"Bundeswehr. They started modernizing about a year and a half ago. Part of that meant Doll upgrades, replacements. Griffin reached out. Offered me better pay, better, well, everything. All I had to do was accept a Civilian chassis, move to Minsk, and get assigned to a combat team."
"How does KSG factor into that?" The American could do a lot but from what 9A knew, she couldn't have made all that happen alone.
MG4's eyes danced in the distant base lights, betraying some feeling under the surface. "Because KSG remembered me. She knew that the modernization program was happening, and she made the educated guess that I didn't enjoy being a soldier-soldier. She gave some recruiter a nudge to visit me. Minsk was her station, and they were in the process of adding new combat teams. She'd already gotten Alfa, and anyone with a brain would know that pairing us three together made sense if you had us."
"I don't take her for a schemer."
MG4's smile felt more like a grimace. "Less scheme, more plan and think." The other Doll stayed quiet for a long time. "That's one example. There are others."
9A decided to take a risk on her next question. She could figure out the least about MG4 prior to this point, and this also represented the largest number of words she'd heard the other Doll speak to this point. "You don't sound happy."
"I was happier when we didn't have a stark raving lunatic on our team." A mutter, just loud enough to hear. That made two people who didn't like Honey Badger's antics. "And when Alfa didn't decide to antagonize the new girl for her own amusement."
"Oh?" So many things seemed to fold back on that idea.
"AR-15. She's…" MG4 frowned, then huffed, stuffing her fists into her pockets. "Alfa isn't wrong. She's an overconfident dummkopf who doesn't realize that her life has value." 9A opened her mouth to ask why MG4 phrased it that way, when others put it very differently, then she swallowed it. "It annoys Alfa, and SV-98. I'm not sure about Five-seveN."
"Even I don't fully understand her. If that helps." That coaxed a smile from her companion.
"It is." MG4 looked away, the humor fading just as fast. "Antagonizing her won't achieve anything." The small Doll touched a spot just off from her collarbone, fingers holding there for long enough that 9A knew it meant something, but she couldn't begin to fathom what. Eventually she decided it didn't matter.
"What would?"
"I don't know." MG4 tapped that spot again, almost reflexively. "I just hope she learns in a more painless fashion." Some old wound then, likely before she even had this body.
"We are past those years."
A shallow nod, as if MG4 didn't quite believe it. "The years have moved on." MG4's lips thinned. "You are dangerously good at being easy to talk to, Frau 9A."
She took that in stride, absently noting that MG4 was much more 'German' now than usual. "It is my job." That didn't satisfy her, but MG4 nodded anyway.
Once more, they walked in companionable silence. This time, MG4 didn't say anything else, and 9A didn't want to push her luck.
-Faded Glory-
Sitting across from the Commander, 9A wound her way to the succinct conclusion of her report. "If the question you want to answer is 'Are they fit for duty' the answer is tenuously yes." A careful eye could spot the relief in his eyes at that statement. Realizing that he didn't believe she'd feel that felt both validating and worrying. "If the answer you want is 'should they really be going into active combat, that varies dramatically." That answer did not surprise at all. "If you want to know, is my base going to be destroyed by 'rogue suicide dinergates' then I believe you are in the clear."
"Ah yes. The suicide bombing dinergate that somehow evaded detection and targeted the least effective thing possible." The shared mirth broke some of the tension, as the Commander settled back into his chair. "Broadly speaking, I will infer that steady state is far from ideal, but it will remain at least quasi functional."
"Correct." A more concise summary than 9A's to be sure. "I have a long list of additional recommendations, but that is the summary."
"That surpasses expectations, I admit." That surprised her. "I'm not blind 9A. I'm aware that things simmer beneath the surface, and that I am the fuse atop a powder keg."
"While I dislike the method, the application of violence appears to have somewhat reduced the immediacy of that problem." 9A consulted her mental notes, before venturing the question that came to mind when she got the request. "Is there a reason you wanted a more immediate answer than previously indicated?"
"You are aware that I put my foot down with my boss, and told her that Sector 9 isn't taking more major ops until we get our feet under us." The man indicated as much on her first day. "She's getting pushy. Some major situation came up, and 'Sectors 2 and 9 are the only available to handle the situation, and we would prefer to deploy both'. I can't confirm just what is happening, but I have theories, and I want to be able to confidently say that I can hit something in the face with overwhelming force."
"Then yes, you should not have significant issues with deploying for combat." That, somehow, caused a great deal of relief. "With your permission however, I will continue?"
"You do what you feel is best, 9A. As long as your reasoning is sound, and your argument holds up to scrutiny, I will back you." That surprised her. Usually officers required quite a bit more poking, prodding and cajoling to play along with what was needed. "Tell me, 9A, what did I do before Griffin?"
9A couldn't decide if she thought that this was a test, or just an honest question. In either case the answer couldn't have been considered exhaustive. "Special Forces, United States. Rank, likely Captain, all further information is classified." 9A let her head roll to the side in mock thought. "I've been told you fought in Prague, and North Africa, which does not align with known facts. You worked for the West Germans post war, which means that you likely left the US military in good standing. You are at least bi-lingual," A brow rose. "English, and Russian. You switch smoothly."
He swore. "Didn't think about that."
9A smiled in a brief bit of sympathy. "Military life did not agree with you, and you don't really want this job." They stared each other down, as she moved into the territory that could be called 'pushing it'. "You are not a poor communicator as you might claim, Commander. You merely wish to pass unseen in the night. Whatever argument brought you here, it is not enough to convince you that you belong anywhere but the shadows, even if you don't enjoy them."
"Sharp." He held her gaze, and she didn't back down. Half of that was based on guesswork and conjecture, but the shift in the man's bearing all but confirmed her theories. In the end, he waved a hand in dismissal. "As you were, 9A."
Outside the office 9A let out a long breath, the realization that she'd forgotten that basic function only just settling in. Even that much confrontation felt exceedingly dangerous, or at least, extremely ill advised. She doubted he'd actually do anything, based on how the man acted in general, but past experience told her to be cautious. Hurrying back to her office, 9A couldn't bring herself to be surprised when the door sat ever so slightly ajar. She'd been wondering when this was coming for days, and it made sense that it would happen tonight.
Even if she wasn't surprised, 9A wasn't about to fail to exercise caution. Reaching under her jacket for her knife, 9A pushed the door open. The lights were dim, casting long shadows, and lending a menacing air to someone entering. Or, intended to suggest that the person who previously occupied the room left in a hurry and didn't quite turn them down all the way. Knowing the tricks somewhat ruined
"Natalya." Leaning against her desk Natalya, no AK-74M stood, absently examining her rifle. . The white haired doll glanced up, letting the weapon thump against her torso as she did. 9A kicked the door shut with her heel. 74M's eyes didn't move, instead fixed on her.
"Dahlia." A pause. The tension hung, familiar and altogether normal. 9A released the grip on her knife, turning the lights up as she did. Instead, she went about finishing straightening her office for the evening, pointedly ignoring the very dangerous woman leaning against her desk.
"I think I'm supposed to be the one doing the staring." Pulling the curtains on the one window shut, 9A turned to finally address her visitor. 74M's gaze didn't lose any of its intensity, only a very slight crinkle of her lips suggesting that she found it amusing. "I know you wanted out of your old line of work, Natalya, you can't convince me that you're here to silence me."
"I'm not-" That, fortunately caught 74M entirely off guard, a small crack in the tension.
"I figured that." Crossing her arms, 9A tried to look unimpressed, even if she knew it wouldn't work very well. "Even if my girlfriend is ex-Spetsnaz she's not going to break into my office to shoot me."
74M's expression tightened at the mention of their relationship. "Right." So that was what this was about. 9Awould let her work out what she wanted to say on her time, even if she could take a guess.. "We are telling no one."
"That is fine." 9A didn't have any reason to fight that 'request'.
"No one." Her girlfriend repeated. "Not the Commander, no one."
"Okay." Again, she didn't have a problem with that. 74M opened her mouth, prepared to keep arguing, then stopped. 9A couldn't resist a bit of a tease. "Was I supposed to argue more?"
"No, I just expected you to need some convincing." 74M muttered, shaking her head. "I realize we aren't the most public of people, we've never been all that subtle, and you aren't the type to hide your affections."
"I'm already in a precarious position with people here because of my job. Adding in the wrinkle of being in a relationship with the former Spetsnaz doesn't seem like a good idea." 9A paused. "I can already hear you telling someone that you didn't recommend me because we're together, but because you respect my abilities or some nonsense."
"Which I do. And I wouldn't."
"I'm aware of that." 9A couldn't accuse her of that, knowing far too much about how the other Doll thought. "I'm fine with being circumspect Natalya."
"Good." The other Doll's eyes softened, her purpose of visiting done, and able to let her hair down a little. "I shouldn't stay."
"You can spare a few minutes." 9A stepping in front of 74M, leaving very little space between them. "Everyone else is asleep or busy, and the Commander is preoccupied with other things. You have time."
A small, genuine smile pulled at 74M's lips. "As you wish."
-Faded Glory-
Ian didn't bother to raise the lights as 9A slipped out. He really should have known that working with her, she'd get a better than average bead on him, better certainly than anyone else on the base save perhaps KSG, and he made a note to hopefully avoid them ever putting their heads together, and properly getting into her head.
That entire conversation left him with a splitting headache, even if it didn't reveal anything he didn't already know. Half his people were a goddamn mess of issues, some they knew about, some they didn't. Having a professional say they thought it wouldn't cause problems was nice, but it didn't change the fact he'd become a real bastard in everyone's eyes by making psych evals and the like a requirement. Then again someone would probably turn that back on him, but Ian could live with that. He'd deal with worse.
Settling back into the chair, the man sighed. Her parting words bit deeper than 9A might have intended them too. Dragged up uncomfortable thoughts, memories.
Looking down, Ian realized his hands were shaking. Fists closed; he took a long, steadying breath. Getting control of his left proved a simple matter of stilling the swirling thoughts, but the tremors in his right hand stubbornly refused to leave.
"Just what I need." Flopping back in the chair he tried not to break into profanity. Swearing at his quite literally frayed nerves didn't help anyone. These days, it barely even made him feel better about the situation.
Normally, that just meant Ian did what he did best, and threw himself at a problem. But right now, a problem to throw himself at didn't exist. All existing 'problems' were either at a standstill, or just flat going nowhere. Any attempt to dig into Persica, revealed nothing of substantial value. It confirmed that Ian swore he'd heard her name before, but all roads lead to IOP, 16Lab, and some garbage about 90wish that served as an information black box without any further contacts to work with he would dig up nothing new.
Half written messages littered his computer screen. Requests for information, the start of several requests to talk to various people, a half-written letter message that he'd started, and then aborted half a dozen times. Fishing his ring from his pocket, Ian sighed.
"Objectively, it shouldn't be this hard." Hell, subjectively it wasn't that hard. Sending an e-mail to your wife shouldn't be so damn hard, but then again this was the one aspect of things they never truly reconciled, somewhat on purpose. That they did, technically use, and abuse each other's positions for advantage. It had no bearing on their relationship, if anything that mutual benefit is how their relationship started, but with time and distance the situation felt more uncomfortable than usual.
Beneath that scribbled note, however, sat the real concern. A map of the area Griffin covered, the 'Sectors' as it were, annotated with piles, and piles of data. Data that all pointed to a very puzzling trend. Outside of a few disparate areas, Sangvis attacks were up, with the exceptions of Sectors 2 and 9. Those sorts of data trends Ian did not like because they did not make sense. Why ignore two specific areas previously involved in a major operation together, when you could throw troops at them instead.
"Tomorrow problem." Slipping his ring back into his pocket, the Commander pushed up from his desk. For now, he needed to sleep. If his guess was right, he'd need it to handle the chaos to come.
AN: No, I'm not having fun at all. Totally not. In other news, the Sector 9 cast is now set, at least to finish out this opening act.
Blame the slight update delay on Branded doing such forgivable things as getting an education.
