M4 kept low to the ground, her teammates following suit as they moved through the trees. It was slow going and of course there were those impulses of impatience over the neural network from SOP II, but luckily for M4, STAR's own lack of patience balanced it out without the need for command impulses. She hated using command impulses, even more when they were used on such inconsequential things like behavioral reprimands.

Doubt had crept in once or twice, infiltrating her emotion module much like how the team moved- slow and barely noticeable- but when she did notice it, alarms blared in her digimind. Stamp the fires out, don't let the emotions hijack decision making… but when it came to M16, M4 found her distress levels were the highest they had ever been. Without M16 here to point it out and to talk her down, M4's processes became inefficient, shackling her functionality.

It all made M4 painfully aware of just how much she had to rely on her older sister's experience.

The last breadcrumb had pointed them east- a small clutter of spent 5.56 brass casings, with three of them lined neatly together, pointing east. Three kilometres east it was, and they were approaching the two and a half mark. Hopefully it would be M16 this time, and not just another clue they had to scour for.

M4 hated the comms silence. She wanted to talk with the commander, not just to get his read on the situation, but just having someone to talk to-

A pulse shot through the network, akin to a twitch or a muscle spasm, but it brought with it the feeling and image of STAR holding up the sign for halt. Even low-level network communication carried a risk of being picked up, and STAR had kept herself isolated except for those little moments- but now she was fully connected. A bad sign.

'Contact, aerial patrol.'

Drones. Blessing and a curse. They were buzzing off east too- not north where the commander was operating. It meant the enemy was here, and they were searching for something.

A sudden urge to swat the damn things front the air, how simple it'd be to take them out unawares-

'SOP get yourself under control.' STAR pinged, tagged with annoyance to further her voiceless emphasis. The warning had shaken that bit of SOP's influence from M4's processes as well; she'd have to be more careful of that in the future when they began syncing data again.

But the doubt? That plucked at M4's digimind alone. It was hard to stop it, given how tightly connected her emotion module was to almost all of her processes. She was supposed to be the leader of the team, shouldn't it have been her to reprimand SOP? Reprimanding seemed harsh though, the eagerness for combat was a part of SOP-II's core programming, it wasn't something she could just change.

'SOP, track them remotely but do not engage.' M4 ordered, hoping that SOP could hold her excitement back if she had a task to put it towards; though M4 still had to slave a command line to the 'do not engage' part of her order, just in case.

The scouts were on roughly the same route AR team were moving, and they were spread out and zipping around semi-erratically instead of the smooth pre-planned flight paths. More bad news that M4 could feel echoing in the network; whenever SF units deviated from their standard operating procedure, it meant that they were being directly controlled. There was a ringleader present.

The team trailed behind, the faint buzzing of the drone propellers louder than their footsteps until completely suddenly, the things stopped mid air. A quick, panicked signal and the three AR team members went to ground. At first, M4 thought she had screwed up, alerting Sangvis to their presence. The drones had fanned out from their formation, buzzing around the canopy before slowly lowering near ground level; they were searching for something.

That impulse again from SOP- the desire to tear into them now that they were within reach muddling with M4's worry that they might have found a clue that M16 had left. M4 forced it down, playing a silent battle of wills over the network. Of course M4 would win, she had the command module. The point was moot, when the scouts formed up again and buzzed off, continuing eastward. When the team was sure that the patrol was gone, they stood and silently fanned out.

It was exactly three kilometres from M16's last breadcrumb: a straight, precise line that no human could hope to match. There had to be something here.

'Found it.' STAR beckoned everyone over to a very obvious set of broken twigs and the signs of someone breaking camp. More obviously, boot-prints in the leaves heading east. Obvious, surface level details- not M16's style at all. Enough to fool a drone that had no hands in which to investigate further with. Instinctively M4 crouched down, gently overturning the branches and leaves until she found the real sign. A single spent bullet casting, pointing north by northwest to a discarded flash-grenade pin.

One kilometre north by north west, next point of contact would be in that vicinity, but not exact- spread out and search. It was a sign that gave M4 hope- if M16 wasn't sure of her next move, she might still be in the area. M4 swept up the evidence and made sure that M16's feint was still convincing.

She sent a single encrypted message back to the commander, wanting to share her little ray of hope.

'We're close.'

"Master, encoded message from AR Team." G36 announced. It was her duty to keep her master informed, but any message received from M4 while she was out in the field brought a wave of relief through her digimind. She couldn't properly explain why- it wasn't anything particular hard-coded into her digimind. When she had talked it over with the commander, he had made a largely unquantifiable claim-

'Maybe because she reminds you of your little sister?'

A preposterous idea that any sort of logic dismissed. G36's protocols were specific to the 36C model T-Doll. It mattered not if there was a second or third on base, all 36C models would be treated with the same doting older sister protocol. The M4A1 of Anti-Rain was not matched to any doll that G36 could run through the IOP relationship database and pull up a preexisting connection with.

But she was similar to G36's little sister. Quiet, humble, a tad bit nervous at times, and completely unawares of her potential as thought by the commander- but her code in G36's database was nothing like 36C, so why was she seeing them as similar?

"What'd it say, Thirty-six?"

"We're close."

The commander let out a sigh; seventy-four percent of it relief, the other twenty-six percent of it as anxiety. Not enough to push 36's empathy protocols to address it.

"We still need to keep up the pressure." The commander turned back to the displays, monitoring the battle once again. G36 remained silent, she knew that he was more than capable of processing both situations at once, he just had the human fault of speed and needing analogue updates to the data. She would be the second brain that he needed to help process everything simultaneously.

"Has the allied recon team broken contact yet?"

"Yes, they have dropped off local scans. I can no longer find their IFF signal."

"Good. We'll keep our teams in the AO until… twenty-two-hundred. At the current rate of contact, they should be at half-supply then." The commander began relaying the commands to the Echelons, moving them with a grace and purpose like a conductor guiding his orchestra. 36 watched him silently, the act of monitoring the statuses of the teams was something that she could do with her spare processing. With his back turned to her, he wouldn't see her tilting her head, regarding him with a quiet smile.

His confidence had returned, those sighs that had once plagued him, that weight of some unknown mistake were now gone. He was back to the same bold man that G36 had been assigned to two years ago. At first, her observations into the man's behavior were purely on Miss Helian's request. However, even once Miss Helian had cleared her suspicions of the commander's motives, G36 found herself fascinated by the man and the contradiction he presented.

Other G&K commanders followed standard doll-operator protocols. T-dolls were an efficient, expendable source of manpower on the battlefield and should be treated as such. It made pure, logical sense that they were tools. The time, effort, and cost to train a basic human soldier was easily double or triple that of converting a standard A-doll into a T-doll... but at the same time, a T-doll also lacked the development and experiential growth capabilities of a human soldier; there was a fundamental hardware cap on just how much memory a T-doll's mind-map could hold. Dolls were, in a sense, a fraction of a human.

So why did the commander treat the dolls under his command as one would treat a human? It puzzled 36's logic at first. She spent countless hours reiterating the logic, trying to parse out just why.

'Just because you're expendable on paper, doesn't mean you are. I've seen enough people written off as "expendable" to know that that word is a lie.'

Hope was a human emotion that, in many cases, ran contrary to logic. The commander's hope was just that; a contrary to predictive logic. Given the trolly dilemma, the commander would strain against the rules, would try to find some loophole that would come out to everyone's benefit- but ultimately, the answer would always be the same; sacrifice the expendable for the sake of the valuable. It was an answer that a doll could make in the fraction of a second, and yet he would agonize over it long after.

But… G36 admired that he was even willing to try to begin with. She had seen the mettle of the man, and vowed that she would faithfully serve him.

The command communication line rang only once, but the first bleating note had played all the way through- a lapse of 36's usual attentiveness, but she had answered it before further noise would distract the commander.

"Hello, Miss Helian."

"Ah, Thirty-six."

"The commander is currently conducting micro-control of operations." 36 bowed apologetically, despite Miss Helian not able to see.

"Urgent intelligence that will require a shift of priorities."

"Understood Miss Helian. If you send me the data I will parse it for-"

"There is a ringleader present in the AO. The model is-"

A shock pulsing from G36's emotion module ran through her, one that had temporarily severed her audio processor from her digimind. She stood frozen, recording Helian's words but not functionally processing them. Every bit of her digimind was running predictive processes at a thousandfold, panic pumping more and more into it.

M4 was in the field. Ever since Operation Stargazer, 36 had begun to interact more and more with Anti-Rain's leader. Despite the more aloof nature of the elite team, 36 found that she got along well with M4. The nervous nature, for some inexplicable reason, triggered the protocols that were meant for G36C model interactions-

"-advises that he consolidate his forces in preparation. Understood, G-Thirty-six?"

"Understood, Miss Helian." G36 hung up, her pseudo-heart pounding more and more coolant through her rapidly overheating hardware as she consolidated only the most important information… at least, that was what she thought her processors were doing.

"Master, urgent communique."

The commander spun from his console in an instant- he knew that it was not often when 36 minced words, nor spoke so rapidly from processor stress. Her heightened state had her process the numbers and data so quick that her words moved to try and convey just how urgent a tactical shift was. It was beyond her ability to reign in and she was already trying to find a way to summarize as best as she could when, to her surprise, the commander nodded.

"Understood, thank you Thirty-six. I'll have the echelons ready a perimeter and set up observation posts. Warn M-four and requisition additional supply while I prep a team for a quick reactionary force-"

"I would like to make a request, master."

She knew why he was so stunned in that instant. This wasn't 36's standard operating procedure, but something in the back of her digimind SCREAMED for her to take action. Watching over the commander and tending the command room, she knew it was her programmed duty to do so… but for so long now she had been simply watching.

Helpless when the other dolls were beleaguered, just as trapped as field teams when they requested support, all she could do was simply relay and process situational information- something that the commander already proved more than capable of. Operation Stargazer… it had shown 36 that even a logistics-focused T-doll like herself was capable of going toe-to-toe with a ringleader.

She was meant to fight. Dammit… she was programmed to fight. M4 helped her see that, and she hadn't had the chance to thank her for it.

"Speak it, Thirty-six." The commander seemed ready for what she was going to ask. His voice was grave, expectant to something that he didn't want to hear.

"I wish to be deployed as part of the reactionary force. Please."

'M4. Urgent.' STAR pinged suddenly after an hour of controlled silence, 'Check the data I sent.'

An increase of traffic on the SF network. If it had been a gentle river of data back and forth before, it was like someone had opened the dam's pressure valves now. Worse yet, Griffin intelligence had all but confirmed a ringleader down to its unit name, "Intruder". S09 was lighting up like a city with the amount of command signals being sent out. Whoever this "Intruder" model was, subtlety had gone out the window. They were pulling units from all across the sector and sending them… north- straight to the commander.

M4 had command access, she knew exactly what the commander had available to him, and the numbers she was predicting… the current echelons in-field would be overrun by the morning.

A panic, a conundrum that M4 didn't need right now! They were so close! If M16 moved again then…

M16 was the priority, but leaving the commander's dolls…

It felt wrong to leave them without support. Even with no dummies, Anti-Rain was fully capable of disrupting and dividing Sangvis formations- they were the elites for a reason.

'Think, M4! Think!' She barked at herself, throwing more processing at her tactical and predictive programs. She could feel SOP and STAR's eyes on her- they were judging her worth, waiting to see if M4 would make the right decision. But what was the right decision!?

'M4?' SOP pinged. It was quiet, cautious, completely unlike the usual boisterous and intrusive SOP, 'Borrow some of my processing.'

'If SOP even has any left from pumping up her combat protocols. Borrow some of mine too.' STAR pinged.

Emotion welled up, lighting up every circuit and neural-connection- so much that it flooded over. Appreciation, thanks, relief. STAR had looked away, a sudden change in her face pigmentation…

A warning cracked through the network, like a gunshot in a silent room. It brought M4 back into focus, shifting everything she had into running two predictive processes at once.

SF was moving reinforcements down four main supply routes, one of which was near where M16's last breadcrumb pointed to. If M16 was in the area still, then the combat might flush her out of hiding to help as well. If not, then they'd simply break contact and go to ground again, using M16's fresh breadcrumb as a rally point.

The only variable with the plan was if the ringleader was nearby their area of operation. That was a pretty big variable. M4 hesitated, biting her lip as she weighed the options.

'We need a decision, M4. The clock has been ticking.' STAR pinged. It was cold- she didn't think that the Griffin teams were worth compromising their mission for. What would her big sister do? What would M16...

No. No this wasn't about M16 anymore. M4 was the team leader, and it would have to be her decision, not M16's.

"We drive for the third marked MSR, closest to M16's clue, and ambush the Sangvis reinforcements that move through." M4 didn't look at STAR, she instinctively knew what kind of expression she'd see on her friend's face. SOP, at least, took the news of coming battle with her usual simple excitement.

But M4? What did she feel now? It wasn't relief like she had hoped- actually coming to a decision wasn't the hard part of this whole affair. Dread. A crushing, paralyzing anxiety that most dolls programmed with its simulacrum would never understand the reasoning or depths for.

She shoved it down, beat it back for now. Ammo and weapon checks, energy levels set for combat, the battle-plan clear. Channel that little bit of M16's bravado...

They were Anti-Rain and they were more than capable of fighting a little bit of an entire Sangvis-controlled yellow-zone. Just a little sideshow to their main mission. They'd make their big sister proud.