HORTLAK'S STRIFE
A shattered soul moves from one war to another.
Reclamation of S09
Chapter 1
First day in the office. What an impression. Scarcely any time to settle down. Got used to the command equipment and a crisis reared its head. Wonder if the boss-man knew this is going to happen.
0900
“You are Cetin Yilmaz, correct?” said the receptionist. The patch over his left pocket read ‘Lev Kuznetsov’. “Tactical Commander Cetin Yilmaz?”
I nodded. He glanced up at me. “Memo mentioned a tactical commander coming in but never said anything about him being a Turk. So, what’s your story? How did you end up here, in the Glorious Union of Soviet Socialist Republics?”
“Took work as radioman in ‘Protsvetaniye Benzina’,” I lied.
“Protsvetaniye Benzina, huh?” he put down my papers. “I see. You must be one of the lucky ones then. A pretty bad accident, I hear. So...what did you lose?”
My false fingers twitched. “A pound of flesh.”
“A pound of flesh? Feeling cheeky, aren’t we?”
I replied with a hard glare. If that had affected him, he showed no indication of it. He kept that posed smile on his lips. He gave me a look-over in a manner that reminded me of that machine in the Kiev Hospital.
“I see, I see.” His smile took on a pitying quality. I stared at him, unmoved. He nodded with posed empathy. “You must owe Grifon quite the sum. Well...well...how did you end up as a tactical commander instead of an auxiliary guard like myself?”
“Hey, Lev! Don’t keep the commander! Orientation’s starting in ten minutes!”
“Right, right, Kalin.”
Lev looked at me right in the eye. He slid a plastic card across the counter-top. “Barely put your bags down and it’s already orientation, eh?” he said. He smiled like a bazaar fishmonger. “Welcome to S09 subsector 1, commander.”
I proceeded towards a woman who looked too young and dressed too strangely for this place. As I left Lev, I heard him regard the T-Doll who had followed me here, “You are Nagant Revolver, correct?”
“I am Kalina, your logistics officer,” the woman introduced herself. “Just call me Kalin. You are?”
“Cetin Yilmaz,” I replied.
She gestured straight ahead down the hallway.
“Choose us, Join us, Grifon Security Contractor, the shining beacon in a brave new world,” she recited with practised cheerfulness.
We took a right turn.
“Grifon’s run into some trouble last year. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure we are getting a new tactical commander at all.”
I could feel her eyes on me, studying me, probing me.
“Who’s been running this base in my absence?”
“Ahaha~” she laughed wryly. “I did.”
“I see.”
“Well, you are here now so…”
We stopped before a steel double door, pulled out her plastic card and tapped it against a pad beside the door. The door slid open. I noted the thickness of the door before I stepped through the portal. Inside, right before me, was a large table with a glossy screen for its surface.
“...welcome to your new workplace.”
She walked around this central table, clutching the table’s edge as she did so.
“This is your tactical map.”
I searched around the table. Clean, not a single speck of dust. No scrolls, no photos, no radio, no markers or pens or stacks of notes or intel reports. Nothing. Nothing like what I used to work with.
“I see no maps here. Just a table.”
Kalina giggled. “The table is the map. Don’t tell me you had only ever seen paper maps?”
She reached the opposite side of the table, rested both her palms on the table’s sides and leaned forward. “Use your keycard to switch it on.”
I stepped forward, studying the slanted edges of the table as I did so. A pad on one side of the ‘tactical map’. Looked the same as the one by the steel door. I lifted up my plastic ‘key’ card and flipped it back and forth. Both sides were blank, except for a series of numbers on the bottom right edge. I tapped the card on this pad and the table’s surface lit up. It displayed what looked to be the environs of the base.
“Let’s see, let’s see…” Kalina mumbled as she looked into a white slab I recognised as a ‘tablet’. Junk back in Istanbul but it seemed to be used extensively in Europe. Or at least in this Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. “Right. Hover your hand, and I mean either one of your hands, over the tactical map and pinch to zoom in.”
I extended my left hand into the light and did so.
“A south-paw, huh?” Kalina commented. “Flick your index finger and thumb away from each other to zoom out…”
After a few minutes of instruction, I understood the basics of navigating this strange ‘map’. It felt strange, operating this contraption. It reminded me of those pre-war sci-fi movies Phillipes used to show me.
She handed me a pair of headphones with a mic attached. It’s identical to the one I used to use back in The Nest, if I ignored the fact that it was missing its cable. I looked around, looking for the source of these pair of headphones and found a stand from whence it must come from.
“These pair of headphones will be how you will communicate with your T-Dolls. Put them on.”
As soon as I wore them, she informed, “Nagant Revolver should be positioned for deployment.”
Nagant Revolver. That red-eyed child machine.
She showed to me her tablet. It displayed the contents of a manual. A set of numbers were highlighted in it. Coordinates.
“Punch the coordinates into the keypad on the tactical map.”
The display switched to what appeared to be an airstrip. I could see the aforementioned T-Doll on one end of the airstrip and a target dummy on the other end.
“This is where we launch our Predator Mk III UAVs,” said Kalina. “We have four of these stationed in our base. It’s how we monitor area S09 and the AO. Alright, press the button beside your headphone and say something.”
“...Hello,” I said. The voice that replied made my hair stand and my false limbs ache, “Hey, commander! What are your orders for old me?”
I looked at the instructions on the manual and stated my command, “Target dummy, straight ahead.”
“You mean that dot at the far end of the airstrip?”
“...Take it out.”
“Roger! Witness the ability of an old Imperial soldier!”
The T-Doll ran along the airstrip towards the target dummy. Thirty seconds, a screen appeared over the tactical map, displaying the target dummy and the T-Doll’s shoulder and right arm.
“Every T-Doll echelon comes with micro-drones for combat visuals,” Kalina clarified.
The T-Doll barely stopped in its tracks when it lifted its revolver and opened fire. I looked away as seven flashes filled the screen.
Kalina looked at me and grinned. “You can use the same gestures you used with the map to zoom out the micro-drone visual.” She had misunderstood. She must have thought that the flashes stung my eyes. That flashes weren’t what bothered me, it was the spectre of Captain flashing in the screen.
“Look at what my experience has accomplished!” it cried over the headphone.
My throat was too tight to answer. I clutched my chest, over where my heart should be. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead.
“Huh...that’s strange,” mused Kalina. I kept silent. “When did we deploy those? Hang on, those aren’t ours. Those are...PROWLERS?”
“Commander! There are Sangvis Prowlers here!” cried the voice over the headphone.
I shot towards the tactical map. My heart pounded the moment I beheld a group of familiar machines on it. Quadruped autonomous vehicles. Same as those things that prowled the opposite side of Channel Istanbul.
“Commander! Do I engage or do I withdraw?”
“Take them out. Take them all out.”
0945
I was awoken by an infernal beeping sound. I had learned to despise it since I first heard it two months ago. I tapped on the button on my table. The holographic projector conjured the ghostly image of the boss-lady in response. She glared at me with the intensity of the desert sun. I felt compelled to glare back in kind.
“I have received the report from Kalina. Excellent work eliminating the Sangvis scouts around your base with a single T-Doll.”
“Skip the empty praises, Helianthus,” I scoffed. “You know as well as I do that even Kalina can do this.”
“I’m more impressed that your T-Doll is still functional. I was under the impression that you would have sent your T-Doll off on a suicidal charge.”
“Your T-Dolls are more than a match against the Prowlers. I had seen them in action. Position them in the right cover, alert them of enemy approach, and they will wreak havoc on your enemies.”
“In the right cover, Commander Yilmaz. That is the deciding factor in this case. I had seen the feeds. You had Nagant Revolver hold out in the hangar as soon as she eliminated the first four Prowlers. You had her lure them close while taking potshots at them the moment they get within effective range. You had her reposition to the higher floor when they broke through the front gate, and you had her exiting from the window to flank them once they are boxed in... ”
“You aren’t here to discuss my tactics.”
I looked at the screens arrayed on the walls. The Sangvis T-Dolls, Scouts and Prowlers in every zone in subsector 1 shown on the feeds were moving in a sweep formation.
“You are here about all these...Sangvis that are currently scouting out subsector 1.”
Boss-lady pursed her lips and studied me hawkishly. “Your assessment is correct. I see you had gotten yourself acclimated to the hardware we’ve provided you.”
“I had time to read the manual.”
I looked at the glossy surface of the tactical map. Not glossy anymore, what with the base layout and perimeter on display. I imagined if the display was off, I will see a sunken, emaciated skull staring back at me.
Thirty Prowlers and Scouts, split into four groups, stationed around the base’s perimeter. I looked at the command tablet clutched in my hands. 0:00:30 estimated time of repair completion.
“So, this is what I am here for. Me, and this one T-Doll.”
I glared at Helian. She looked back, unaffected. My dry throat rumbled as I spoke, “You plucked me out of Istanbul in hopes that I can do to your enemies what I did to your vaunted Grifon and Kryuger.”
“We did not expend so much effort and resources to acquire you just to send you out on a suicide mission, Commander Cetin Yilmaz.”
Flashes. Death-cries of my brothers. The rickety door shattered. Captain dead at my feet. Bullets riddling his chest. Yellow eyes gleaming in steel-tinted smoke.
My throat tightened. My heart ached. Burning in my prosthetics. The fingers contorted. I croaked and uttered, “Then why pluck me from Istanbul. Why deny my rightful place in the grave alongside my brothers?”
“I’m not here for your melodramatics. I’m assigned the task of investigating the cause of this incursion. You’ll be assisting me. Your first order of business is to eliminate these scouts positioned at the perimeter of your base. You’ll not move out immediately. I’ve sent a contingent of T-Dolls, plus dummies and additional ammo supplies, to assist you on this task.”
“These Sangvis of yours are not interested in attacking this position, but that could change at any time. Am I expected to hold this carcass of a fort for another five hours until your ‘contingent’ of T-Dolls arrives in this ruin of a base?”
I glimpsed on her a loathsome smirk.
“No, the ETA is one hour. I’ve forwarded their dossiers to Kalina. Take this downtime to finalise your echelon formations. You’re to send these echelons out as soon as they arrive at your location.”
The hologram winked out. As if on cue, the steel door slid open.
“Commander, Nagant Revolver is repaired and ready for duty,” reported Kalina as she walked through the door. She was tapping on her tablet. “She asked if you have any words of praise for her.”
“I have none.”
Kalina looked at me and blinked. “Come on, commander! She just took on and defeated seventeen Prowlers by herself! You should go see her at least. Praise her and give her a headpat.”
“It simply did as it was designed to do.”
“‘It simply did as it was designed to do,’ commander? She took on these seventeen Prowlers not simply because she was ordered to, she did it because she wanted to impress you! She wanted you to acknowledge her! She has feelings, you know. She is a...!”
“She is a T-Doll. She is a machine.”
We stared at each other. I can tell, from the look of her eyes, that she must despise me, despite the smile she was wearing.
“Helianthus called me a moment ago. She states that you have the dossiers of the incoming arrivals.”
She made a series of taps on her tablet and uttered, “...Right. I’m forwarding the dossiers to your command tablet now.”
“How many Auxiliary Guards do we have stationed in base?”
Kalina gave me a hard stare. Her smile faded slightly. “Grifon policy states that the Aux Guards are to be the last resort, commander.”
“Until the reinforcements arrive, we have to take the last resort. Nagant Revolver took on seventeen Prowlers and lost its arm. There are thirty Prowlers and Scouts out there. Are you banking our survival on just this one T-Doll?”
Kalina’s smile had turned into a frown. “Sixty. We have sixty Aux Guards stationed in our base.”
“Weapons?”
“PKPs, AK15s, PP2000s…”
“Tell me the weapon classes.”
“LMGs, ARs, SMGs…”
“Get them to plug the breach to the north of the airfield, near the hangar where Nagant Revolver fought in, and the west of the main building. Six LMGs on each breach. Two in front, one flank, against the walls, three elevated position. Stay in these covers, they are out of their direct line of fire. Twenty two ARs on elevated positions for each breach. These Scouts, the Sangvis Ferri product catalogue states that they are very agile and can easily sidestep machine gun fire. Is this true?”
Kalina made another series of taps on her tablet. “Yes, I had seen the live demonstration videos of the Scout units, back when Sangvis Ferri was still a business. If you like, I can show you the vids…”
“Do we have claymore mines? Anti-personnel grenades?”
Kalina squinted at her tablet. “We do, commander.”
“Plant claymores around the breaches. Try to herd the scouts before launching the grenades into the midst of them.”
“What about Nagant Revolver?”
I stood up and walked off to study the tactical map. The Prowlers and Scouts were circling around the base’s perimeter. No build-ups visible anywhere.
“Do we have light vehicles?”
“Four jeeps.”
“Put Nagant Revolver in one of them. Take one AR out of the hangar and have him drive that jeep. I need it mobile. Prepare to transport it to reinforce any particularly battered positions, on my word.”
Kalina looked up from her tablet with an arched brow but decided to say nothing.
1000
1000. Four dolls arrived. IDW, Sten Mk II, FNC, Springfield. Noisy...Cat, Schoolgirl, Schoolgirl, Old Soldier. Enough for the task at hand.
First group engaged. Second group engaged. The attacked retaliated. The others...did not reinforce. Why? They weren’t even looking towards us. What were they looking out for?
“Hey, Commander! You are watching, aren’t you! Hey! Look at the accomplishments of an old imperial soldier!”
“Djinn 1. We have cleared the barracks. Now moving towards their storehouse. Over.”
“That’s unfair nya! You only shot one of thyem nya! If I didnyan distryact them, you wouldnyan have pulled thyat shot off nya!”
“Djinn 2. Sighted three LMGs. Two-men patrol on the ground. Taking the shot on your order. Over.”
“Commander! We took out the last group! We did it, commander! We did it!”
“Djinn 1. Secured the storehouse. Seems we have stirred up the hornet’s nest. Holding position. Get our trucks over here. Over.”
Stinging in my throat. My flask ran empty. I stared blankly at the feed screens on the wall.
That infernal beeping again. Head on north, she said. Zone T04. Smokes at the border. Sangvis spilling out. Fierce fighting on the roads. Helos evacuating. Two trucks moving out.
Clear out T04. Protect the convoy transporting injured T-Dolls.
‘Injured’.
Strange word to attach to damaged machines.
I gave the order. The T-Dolls complained but they obeyed. Five dolls and twenty dummies filed into the helo. It was 1030.
1200
I stared out towards the white-tipped Carpathian Mountains, with a freshly filled flask and an empty wrapper in my hands. I brought my radio, in case someone called.
The boss-lady was here. She arrived thirty minutes ago. She’s had gone to Tech to speak to the damaged T-Dolls I had extracted from T04.
I took one last sip, then got up to return to my post. Eyes on me, as I trekked past the motor pool and the hangar, as I crossed the compound towards the headquarters. These damned clothes were attracting too much attention.
Red trench coat with fur-lined collar. Who designed this uniform?
Lev nodded at me as I passed Admin. As soon as I reached the cross-junction, a T-Doll in thick woollen clothes intercepted me. “Commander!” it cried. It clutched my right hand. A sharp pain stabbed into the false limb. “Commander! You have to send me for the next mission!”
I grunted and tore my right arm away. “Commander!” it cried as it caught my right arm again. “Please! The next mission is to rescue Skorpion! I have to go, commander! Skorpion was captured because I was a coward! I left her behind when I fled the safehouse in subsector 4! You have to let me rescue her! I have to do this! I have to make amends!”
‘Cowardice’. ‘Make amends’. Human concepts uttered by a machine. Who programmed these machines to utter these words? I took a deep breath and gazed upon it. Its eyes were tearing. I felt my skin crawl. Such human-like behaviour exhibited from the machine.
“I will consider it,” I uttered, hoping that it will let go of my false hand.
The T-Doll took a step back and bowed deeply. “Please,” it pleaded again. Pleaded. Like a regretful human seeking penance. I felt my skin crawl and looked away.
The boss-lady was waiting in the Nerve Center.
“You arrived promptly,” she said. I grunted in reply.
She tapped on the tactical map.
“From the intel provided to us by the injured T-Dolls from T04, we have located Skorpion here.”
More taps. Tactical map centred on the next AO. A blinking dot over a building at the far end of an airstrip, by the riverbank.
“A Sangvis command post. Your objectives are to rescue Skorpion and to scour this command post for operational records.”
“Rescue? Why?”
Helian looked at me as though I had said something banal.
“Skorpion may be in possession of valuable intel.”
“Shouldn’t the retrieval of its memory module be sufficient?”
The boss-lady stared at me but kept her silence. I thought I saw a flash of perplexity on her.
As soon as she departed, I looked to the tactical map. More flat terrain. Enemies...one mixed Scout-Prowler echelon, one Prowler Echelon and one scout echelon. Rippers guarding the command post.
Road cutting through the south forest, leading into a village right beside the airfield. I punched in another coordinate. The tactical map changed to that of a zone south of the AO. A suitable landing site just beside the road leading north. No enemy presence there.
Yes. This will do.
I looked at my command tablet. Two more T-Dolls, rescued more than half an hour earlier, added to the roster. PPSh-41. The one in the wool clothes. Ingram MAC-10. Crazy grin. Already fully repaired.
I put on the headphones.
“PPSh-41, Ingram MAC-10, Springfield, FNC, Nagant Revolver. Report to the helipad. Sortie in five minutes.”
1400
“Commander!” Kalina said. She looked angry. “What’s with you?” I glanced at her, then returned to the tactical map. The helo has entered our airspace. “You act as though your entire family had died!”
I did not make mention about how right she was.
She made some strange noises. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. She immediately grabbed my right arm and tugged at me. “Come! We are going to welcome the T-Dolls!”
“Welcome the machines? Why should I?”
I felt my neck crack. I felt nothing on my right cheek. Her eyes were teary. “Why should you? These are our girls, commander! It’s only right that we welcome them back! What would you feel, if you returned home to find nobody waiting to welcome you?”
The Nest. Statics. The Nerve Center. I sat in my wheelchair, facing towards the door. It had been three days. They should have returned. Footsteps. The door slammed open. Suleiman and his long rifle. Ahmed and his Skorpions. They had returned from their scouting expedition. They were laughing about some adventure they just couldn’t wait to share with me. I tried to smile. Hand on my shoulder.
Captain. Crinkles at the edge of his eyes. He was smiling. His teeth were yellow. When was the last time he brushed his teeth?
“Close enough,” he said. “Close enough.”
Down the hallway, compelled by a force not my own. Right turn. Lev was reading his newspaper. Out of the door. Left turn. The sound of rotors. A shove forward, as the landing gear touched the ground.
The T-Dolls filed out. The one they called Skorpion limped out of the hatch, supported by PPSh-41 and Ingram MAC-10. PPSh-41 was crying. Ingram MAC-10 was grinning like a boy with a cage full of rats. Skorpion said something and laughed merrily, despite the fluids leaking from its sides and the absence of three of its fingers. It locked eyes with me. It shook itself free from its fellow machines’ clutches.
It limped towards me, one plodding step after another.
“Commander!”
“Hey, Cetin.”
It held my left hand with both its hands. I could feel the warmth behind its gloves on my palms. It wrung my left hand. It was smiling. A toothy smile like those of a child’s. A radiant smile unmarred by the dust, the ‘blood’ and the ‘scars’ on its face.
“Thank you! Thank you for saving me!”
“You can’t believe what Ahmed did yesterday. The idiot…”
I yanked my hand away from its grasp and walked away. Away from the helipad. Back to the Nerve Center.
1415
A call from the Boss-lady.
“Your target this time is the Sangvis Ringleader - Model SP65 ‘Scarecrow’.”
The image of the target emerged from the holo-projector. It took the form of a pale-skinned woman, wearing a rebreather. Three drones hovered around it.
“Memorise the information about this target. According to information provided by the rescued T-Doll, she knows the details and objective behind the recent Sangvis raids. Our objective is to capture her and extract her memory module. Unlike previous minor skirmishes…”
I scoffed. Minor skirmishes?
“...this time your troops will be up against an advanced T-Doll.”
Clearly.
“But you’ve made it this far. I’m sure you can handle this.”
“I’m delighted by your show of confidence.”
The boss-lady gazed at me, unaffected.
“Begin the operation, Commander, and good luck.”
I immediately studied the trove of Intel provided by HQ. The intel provided included the details about this Scarecrow model. Recon unit. Armaments, three drones armed with particle weapons. Effective range, 400m.
Movement records…
The radio beeped. An accented female voice emitted from the headphones.
“Commander, this is FAL, reporting from T03, captured Sangvis command post.”
Same place we recovered the captured T-Doll called Skorpion.
“Grifon Intel team was scrubbing the Sangvis command post in T03 when a large number of Rippers, Prowlers and Scouts emerged from the forest to the south.”
I looked to the feed showing T03. Large numbers of Rippers, Prowlers and Scouts cutting across the airfield to attack the captured command post. Their movement origin point, the southern forest. The same route I took to flank the defenders of the same command post.
The southern forest...elevated position, a cliff overlooking the command post…
I activated the tactical map. Flat terrain in a kilometre radius around the forested cliff. Can’t see what’s under the foliages.
“Intel team’s still there?
“...Yes. They are still here, commander.”
“How long do they need?” I asked.
“We are consulting the Intel team about it and will advise once we receive an answer. Commander, will you assist us?”
“Expect reinforcements in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, commander.”
I supped from my flask and switched the radio channel.
“Sten, Ingram MAC-10, FNC, Springfield, Nagant Revolver. Report to the helipad. Sortie in five minutes.”
The radio beeped. It was Skorpion.
“Commander! Send me out!
I looked at my command tablet. “00:22:00”
“You are not fully repaired.”
“...Commander, no, Cetin. You are going after Scarecrow, right? Send me! I have to take revenge!”
I cut the T-Doll off. The radio beeped again.
“Cetin! You have to send me!”
“You are not fully repaired. I will not deploy you.”
“But…Cetin! Scarecrow’s the one who led the task force that scattered my comrades! For their sake, I have to…”
“PPSh-41 and Ingram are also victims of Scarecrow. They can take revenge on your behalf.”
“Cetin! I was their leader when we took on Scarecrow! We were routed because of my failure, Cetin! It is only right that I put her down myself!”
I continued to stare at the command tablet. “00:19:10”.
“Denied.”
“Cet-”
I cut her off and set her frequency to mute.
I then called up Tech and uttered a single phrase, “Tech, confiscate Skorpion’s radio.”
1430
FAL, FN49, BAR, HK416 and G11. Strangely-dressed, strangely-dressed, sunglasses, German and sloth. Three elite models, a...veteran...and a...greenhorn. Veterans and greenhorns. Strange terms to apply to machines. Were the writers of these dossiers afflicted with the same sickness Kalina had? Was it contagious?
A swarm of red blips advanced across the airstrip towards the captured Sangvis command post, the T-dolls' position. Their numbers thinned out as they went. A large mass of red blips followed, thrusting towards the perimeter, from behind the thinning clusters of the previous wave. Clear circles radiated from among their throng, three in total, annihilating multiple blips at once. The rest of the blips vanished soon after.
Another mass of red blips rushed their positions from all directions a few seconds later, surrounding the command post. Again, their numbers thinned out as they closed in on the perimeter, then vanished entirely.
“Siskin 1. LZ’s hot. Please advise alternative LZ.”
“Head south to this town and deploy at the outskirt.”
“...Commander. The town is 400m away from the command post. The T-Dolls will have to fight their way through that throng of Sangvis all over the airfield to relieve the defenders.”
“This LZ is unoccupied and puts them closer to Ringleader in the forest.”
“Ringleader? Are you sure?”
“High likelihood. Deploy there now.”
The radio beeped again. FAL. I ignored its hail and focused on the tactical map.
The helo touched down in the town square. I watched as the T-Dolls and their dummies poured out of the helo’s hatch.
“Team Skorpion, ready for your orders!”
I blinked. If the tactical map wasn’t active, I may see that my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. I took a sip on my flask. The Kvass stung my throat. My voice rumbled.
“Team Skorpion, move along the houses facing to your left towards the town square. Engage the Scout-and-Prowler echelon as soon as you get within range.”
Flashes of light. Beams of energy shot out of the forest and struck the houses and assorted cover.
“Scarecrow is engaging us! I repeat! Scarecrow is engaging us!”
“Follow your orders.”
Five blue blips winked out. Three Ingram MAC-10, two Skorpion. Dummies all. I watched them cut in half or split asunder by green beams of light. They weren’t aimed for the SMGs, they were aimed for Springfield and FNC. The SMGs, with their dummies, had formed a mass between Scarecrow and the aforementioned to intercept the shots.
Skorpion had called its fellow T-Dolls ‘comrades’. It had intercepted the shots meant for its ‘comrades’. Was this programming or did it truly consider its fellow machines as its sisters?
Focus on the battle.
The Scouts and Prowlers in the Town Square turned towards the Grifon T-Dolls and moved to intercept them. Smoke shrouded their path, concealing the Ingrams as they charged into the fray. The rest took cover behind the abandoned vehicles and buildings. As soon as the smoke cleared, they opened fire.
Ingram MAC-10’s blips did not disappear on the tactical map.
A wicked spine-shiverin laughter echoed from the radio. “Heh, weaklings!” Ingram MAC-10 said, voice filled with manic revelry. “Send something tougher, Scarecrow!”
Three green beams scythed through the town square as though answering the T-Doll’s hubris. Multiple beams struck the fountain, charing its chalk-white surface. Ingram MAC-10 had dived behind the fountain.
“Springfield, cut through the houses and cover the rest of your team from the Church. FNC, assist Ingram MAC-10. Skorpion and Nagant Revolver, use the houses to your left and flank the Rippers closing at Ingram MAC-10.”
“Aye, aye, Cetin! Hey, Nagant! Hurry it up!”
“You are running too fast, Skorpion! My short legs can’t keep up!”
“You can run faster than that, granny!”
Kvass burning my throat.
“Springfield, in position.”
“Scarecrow in your visuals?”
“Yes, commander.”
The micro-drone feed lit up. Flames blanketing the middle of the street. The Rippers were devoured by its scorching embrace.
“Did you see that, Cetin?”
“Springfield, fire at Scarecrow. Take its drones out if the opportunity presents itself. Ingram MAC-10, deploy smoke grenades and get to the houses. FNC, take cover behind the fountain and prepare to lay down covering fire.”
Tracers flashed on the micro-drone feed. Two beams of light scythed through the smoke as Ingram MAC-10 and its last dummy rushed to the house on the right side of the street.
“Nagant Revolver, Skorpion, Ingram MAC-10, cut through the houses to reach Scarecrow. Springfield, pin it down. FNC, open fire.”
Bright flashes on the feed. Blips cut through the houses on the tactical map. Sangvis forces surrounding the captured command post had begun to retreat, with FAL’s team in pursuit. The radio beeped again, and again, I ignored it.
Ingram MAC-10 ripped its way towards Scarecrow from amongst the foliages. The Ringleader’s remaining drone swung towards it and fired. Bullets poured from behind the dummy before it hit the ground. The lead hail slammed into the drone, sheared off its carapace and pierced its internals.
Ingram MAC-10 trampled on its own dummy as it closed in on Scarecrow. The Ringleader hovered back, narrowly evading the T-Doll’s daggers, only to be caught by Skorpion’s and Nagant Revolver’s collective fire. Before it could respond, its arm was torn off by Springfield’s shot. Moments later, FNC’s bullets ripped through its false skin and splattered metal and fluids all over the street.
Not long after, Scarecrow laid limp on the ground. FNC had emptied its mag into its hindquarters.
Five minutes later, FAL’s team arrived at the town and were making their way towards Scarecrow. FAL dropped an object. The unmistakable blue glow of a hologram emerged from it. The boss-lady conversed with the vanquished Ringleader.
A minute later, the blips scattered. An inferno had erupted at Scarecrow’s position.
1500
“Well? What do you think of us now?” Skorpion, its hands on its hips, grinned toothily. “We are very strong, aren’t we?” Its wound was hastily patched up with some kind of hardened foam. Its right arm, which used to be missing three fingers, was entirely replaced with a crude skeletal limb.
I walked past it and took a left turn into the mess hall. Dispensed a cup of instant coffee, took it to a corner and sank on the white bench.
“The Anti-Android Group has issued a statement…” said the television on the wall to my right. It was of the same make as the screens hanging in the Nerve Center. “Let it be known that this will not be the last IOP factory we attacked. We will not stop until all the automatons are excised from human society. These abominations have no place among us!”
“Flush! Again!” cried one of the aux guards gathered at the table to the furthest top-right.
“Again? You are bluffing!”
“I swear the lucksack cheats.”
I got up and left the mess hall, taking the coffee with me.
“Commander,” FNC drifted towards me as soon as I exited the Mess Hall. It showed me its hand. “Give me my reward.”
I looked at its hand, then back at it. Its eyes seemed to glow with anticipation. False eyes glowing with anticipation...Perhaps there was a glitch in my own eyes.
“What reward?”
“Choco! I want choco!”
“What for?”
“I put Scarecrow down, didn’t I? Give me a reward!”
I walked past the T-Doll. It immediate sped ahead of me and blocked my path. It puffed its cheeks and demanded, “Chocolate!”
I rifled through my pocket and just handed over my chocolate ration.
“Ration? Ewww…” it grumbled.
“Chocolate is chocolate.”
Once I passed the hallway leading down to Admin, I could hear Lev puzzling, “HK416...HK416…Strange. I have nothing on you, miss. Are you sure you are in the right place?”
“I am in the right place. Check again.”
“...Huh…”
Kalina brushed past me and strolled towards Admin. “Sup, Lev?” she said as she rested her forearm against the desk and leaned towards him.
“Ah, Kalin,” greeted Lev before returning to his computer. “Ms. 416 here said that G11 and herself are posted to this base but I don’t see any…”
“Oh, that. Right. I forgot. Helian had alerted me about them thirty minutes ago. Sending their dossiers to you.”
Kalina made a series of taps on her tablet.
“Ah, received it.” Lev leaned towards his computer. “Special orders, eh?” Lev looked up from his computer towards HK416. “Are you and G11 some kind of secret weapons?”
HK416 was unaffected. “I’m an elite T-Doll.”
Lev leaned over his desk to look at the snoring T-Doll slumped against the wall. “Same with that sleepyhead over there, huh?”
HK416 glared at him.
Lev looked at Kalina. “Why does the Helian always send to you these things but never to me?”
“Beats me.” Kalina shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe you aren’t handsome enough.”
“Ouch, woman. Ouch.”
I found that I had grown accustomed to the screech of the steel door when I entered the Nerve Centre. I sank into my chair and stared at the feeds. The Sangvis dolls in subsector 1 were still about. I sipped on my coffee.
I continued to stare at the feeds, for no other reason than that I had nothing else to do. I kept watching, watching, watching as the Sangvis dolls moved about seemingly without direction. I took one more sip and realised that the coffee was gone. I laid the mug down on the table and kept watching.
Eventually, I tire of the feeds. I looked at my blank desk. Nothing here but a laptop and a command tablet.
The place was silent. Utterly silent. Completely absent of the bustles that used to erupt around me every time after an Op. No Suleiman and Ahmed to recount their adventures, no Phillipes turning up with some new books he had found, no brothers Amir and Muhammed listing the spoils of our raids…
No Captain and his, “Job well done.”
I buried my face in my hands.
...That infernal beeping again.
1700
Gnawing in my false limbs again. HK416 looked at me as though I were some kind of novelty. Its companion, G11, was slumped against its shoulder. I stared at the command tablet, doing my best to ignore it. I watched as the altitude decreased and the plateaus rose.
“Scarecrow’s memory module was destroyed. However, our Intelligence Department has uncovered our next lead from the Sangvis command post,” the boss-lady revealed an hour and a half ago.
“‘Sequence no. 835492660223’. Intelligence Department has uncovered coordinates hidden in here. I need you to investigate this coordinate.”
The coordinate led us to a farmland and vineyard in subsector 2, bordering subsector 1 T03, where we captured that Sangvis command post. Sangvis Scouts and...Dinergates...patrolling the perimeter of a manor, our objective, on a plateau.
“Where do you want us to land, boss?” the pilot, Nicholai, asked.
“Circle around the manor. BAR.”
“Yesh, commander?”
“Open the hatch and fire upon the enemies below. Controlled burst.”
“Yesh-yesh…” it replied languidly. I found myself sighing in irritation and had to remind myself that it’s just a machine, programmed to be lazy.
Why did anyone program an android to be lazy?
The hatch slid open, and BAR’s weapon thundered. The sound of ejected casings rung throughout the fuselage. “Hahaha! What are they, dumbarses? They are chasing after the tracer rounds!” Ingram MAC-10 exclaimed. I focused on the tactical map on my command tablet. The Scouts and the Dinergates were converging towards the helo’s general direction like mad cattle.
“Take us to the farm.”
“You want us to land there?”
“Just cut across the farm and hover there. BAR, ceasefire. Resume fire only if they break pursuit.”
“Yesh-yesh, commander. Gee, they are really nipping at our heels, aren’t they?”
BAR took aim. “Maybe a little more.” It pulled the trigger.
The animalistic machines did not break pursuit. They followed us into the wilted farm.
“Skorpion.”
“My turn to show off, Cetin?”
My brow wrinkled but I decided to withhold comment.
“Throw incendiaries into the field.”
“Is it slash-and-burn time?”
“...Just throw the incendiaries.”
The dried-out crops made fine fuel for the conflagration consuming our pursuers. The red blips winked out. Eight, sixteen, thirty-two…
“Woah! Three incendiaries and you got yourself seventy-six kills?”
“Cool, huh? I’m pretty awesome, yeah, Ingram?”
“Awesome? That is magnificent, Skorpy!”
Once all the blips vanished from the tactical map, I instructed Nicholai to swing around the voluminous smoke and land a short distance away from the plateau.
The T-Dolls, BAR, HK416, G11, Skorpion and Ingram MAC-10 hopped out of the helo. No dummies. I loaded my service pistol and followed after them. Skorpion hummed a cheerful tune, probably that of a children’s song, as it went up the dirt road. Ingram MAC-10 and BAR followed. BAR was dragging its feet.
“G11! Wake up!” HK416 shouted harshly at its sleepy companion.
“Mmm...ueeeh…” G11 stirred. It took one look at the terraces and moaned, “I don’t want to walk. That ramp looks troublesome. Carry me, 416.”
“Walk, or I’ll drop you into the burning field. Your choice.”
“Ehhhh, 416, you meanie…”
Voluminous black smoke rose from the aforementioned burning farm. Its plumes fed an ominous cloud.
A short uneventful trip up two terraces. Left turn from the dried-out fountain. Crosses the courtyard. Stones buried under weeds. Rotten, shattered double-door. Dilapidated roof.
Skorpion and Ingram took their positions on both sides of the shattered double-door. The echelon’s micro-drone moved in to survey the hall. Satisfied that there were no hostiles within, we moved inside.
Our guns were still raised as we looked about. No enemies on the grand stairway, no enemies waiting to ambush us from the hanging corridors, no enemies leaping out of the rooms.
“Think anyone’s home?” Skorpion asked.
“Maybe?” replied Ingram MAC-10.
“Nobody’s home, right? Right?” asked BAR, concerned. Hearing no replies, it did a little fist bump. “Yes. I can take it easy.”
Ingram MAC-10 started shouting, “Hey! Anyone here? Don’t mind if we tear down the place!”
“Shush!” BAR cried in panic. “Gimme a break, people. I’ve been fighting all day. Can we have the rest of the afternoon without any trouble?”
“Sweep the mansion,” I instructed.
“Yes, commander,” replied HK416, nodding in affirmation.
The T-Dolls moved to execute their order. All except Skorpion.
“Sweep the mansion,” I repeated.
“Cetin. You are our commander. You need someone to bodyguard you. There’s no telling if…”
“Skorpion!” I growled.
Skorpion glared at me with its one good eye.
“Sweep the mansion!” my voice echoed through the hall.
Skorpion’s lips twitched as though it wanted to say something. “Hmmph!” it huffed as it walked away, heading towards the rooms below the stairway.
Quiet stillness. No signs of life here other than my own. The still, stale air reeked of years-old dust and mould. Only the footprints on the faded marble floor as signs of recent visitations. Many footprints. Ours and the enemies’.
Swept my pistol around, wary of any unseen foes. Up, left, right, all clear. Slowly backed up the stairs.
Swung around and froze in my tracks. Framed canvas twice my height. Faded colours still retaining an impression of this mansion, on its perch overlooking the river and the opposite cliff. Green below, far too pale. Patches of white floating over it.
Second oil painting I had seen in my thirty-two years of existence. Placed my left fingers on it and traced them down its surface. Its colour rubbed off. Flakes of paint on my fingertips. Sensation like powder.
“Cetin! Do squeeze in a bit more.”
“Van’s...too cramp...Phillipes. We...don’t...have...any more room.”
“Well, throw something out! We need to make room for this priceless treasure!”
“We can’t...throw anything...out...and…you know that. These...are our...radio equipment.”
“Alim can fix us a new radio, Cetin. This painting? It’s priceless! Irreplaceable! A piece of history! Look at it! It’s Suleiman the Magnificent!”
“...Who?”
I blinked. The radio, in walkie-talkie mode, had beeped. “Commander,” a cool voice I recognised as HK416 emitted from the device, “I have located a trapdoor in the wine cellar. Movement detected inside.”
1800
The shattered glass cracked under the weight of my boots. Wine had spilt all over the clobber-stone floor, filling the cellar with the stench of stale alcohol.
Looked at my command tablet. The micro-drone feed had cut off, but I had glimpsed what looked like Scarecrow’s drone facing towards the feed, and thus, the ladder.
“Popping smoke,” Ingram MAC-10 said. “You guys back me up. No telling how many drones are down here.”
It leapt down into the abyss the very moment smoke rose from the trapdoor. HK416 followed immediately after. The sound of gunfire roared from below. “Clear!”
“Ueeeeh…so noisy…” G11, which was slumped against one of the shelves, moaned in reply.
The drone’s sheared carapace shriek under my boots. “Easy peasy. Didn’t even break a sweat,” Ingram MAC-10 announced. Its grin was all teeth. It was waving one of the drone’s leaking modules, impaled on its dagger, with one hand. With its free hand, it showed me a thumbs up.
HK416 stood aside to reveal what looked to be blocks of obsidian. It’s three other guardians lay shattered on the floor. No bullets had marred the obsidian blocks’ glossy surfaces.
I rose back to the wine cellar.
“Ingram kicked their rustbucket arses down there, didn’t she? Cetin?” asked Skorpion, who was kneeling by the ladder. I ignored it and exited the mansion to make a call.
2100
Silence. No sound of fan-blades. No murmurs or chatters or twists and turns. Time...2100.
The Nerve Center was bathed in the eerie blue of the tactical map. Feeds brightened, lights switched on.
I groaned, pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my forehead. No missed calls on the holoprojector's display. Awakened the laptop. No new emails.
The chair creaked. Cold steel under my armpit. Lumbered out of the sliding door.
Lights brighter than the sun in the hallway. The glossiness of the floor exacerbated the matter far worse than the white Turkish sands. I thought to call the prosthetic tech. Complain about the delay in the light compensation. I decided against it. I owed too much as is.
Straight, then left turn. Mess hall.
Ingram MAC-10 was watching the television. Legs on the table, sucking on her juice-box. Skorpion and FNC in the next table.
“You sure you want to take that square, FNC?”
“Of course I do!” replied FNC, in between the munching of its chocolate. “There!” The white token clacked.
“Hahaha! You fool! Take that!”
Black token clacked.
“Just like that, I flipped three rows!”
FNC leaned forward and narrowed its eyes. It bit down and chewed on its chocolate again. “...Clever girl,” it then muttered.
Skorpion grinned like a child menace. “No, you are just stupid.”
It noticed me. “Hey, Cetin! Want to join us for Othello?”
Moved straight to the counter. Picked up a packet of MRE and a box of juice. Turned around and left.
Nobody at the desk in Admin. Out of the door. Compound’s brightly lit. Not as bad as the interior of the main body. Cement ground did not reflect any light.
Night shift guards on patrol. I did not recognise their faces. They ignored me as I crossed the compound. Must have thought I was one of them. Should thank Lev for the fatigues.
Got to the back of the hangar. Quiet place. Shaded from the light.
Sat on the cement ground and ate my supper.
Quiet. Boots muffled by the concrete walls. I put the wrapping and juice-box down beside me. Tucked them together nice and neat. Pulled my left leg close and laid my head against my knee.
2300
Woken up again by nothing in particular. Stamping boots in the distance, not loud enough to be picked up by the inattentive. Gibbous moon overhead. No stars in sight.
In Istanbul, there were no city lights. Wheel out of the door, go down three alleys and looked up to the twinkling stars.
Auriga, Perseus, Big Dipper.
What else had I lost?
My left hand fell on my pistol. I looked straight ahead, out into the grass. Blinking lights of the UAV descending onto the airfield. Silent like an owl.
I unstrapped my pistol and cautiously drew it out. I held it in both my palms.
MP-443 Grach. Izhevsk Mechanical Plant. First issues, 2003.
Slid out its magazine. Eighteen 9mm. Slide it back in. Turned off safety, pulled the slide. Turned the pistol to look into its barrel. Finger on the trigger. The plastic gnawed into my skin.
“Cetin. LIVE!”
I dropped the pistol onto my lap and stared at my empty palms.
Five minutes. Maybe more. My eyes stung. Blinking lights fading into the horizon. Mist all around. Cold concrete wall against my back. No stars to see.
Fingers absent-mindedly searched my pockets. Skin brushed against a smoothened edge. Pulled out my dictation machine and turned it around. Blocky. Stick-like. I pressed the record button.
Feelings poured into the machine. Message, meant for the Captain. It will never reach him.
For how long had I spoken to the machine?
I switched it off and clenched it in my fist. Buried my face in my knee again. Ribs ached, lungs groaned. Choked on my phlegm. Coughed into the dirt. My eyes peeked from above my knee. Looked into the grey mist.
“What do you want, Yellow-Eyes? Here to torment me again?”
Yellow-Eyes stared wordlessly.
“Nothing more for you to take. Go away!”
I pulled my pistol at it.
It had already vanished into the mist.
Our enemies are some of the strangest I had encountered so far. Remember those quadruped machines that roamed the other side of the Channel Istanbul? They are called Prowlers. The Sangvis Ferri, our enemies, field these in great numbers. Alongside them are these...Scouts. Agile like crows. I had seen them dodge machine gun fire. Then we have these packs of....robot dogs. Dinergates, they called them. Dinergates. Robot dogs.
...
There are also the T-Dolls, but they are also strange. You know that sci-fi movie Phillipes used to play on the television? Star Trek? How that show had these...phasers? Laser weapons?
The Sangvis androids use those.
Yes, you told us that things are better in Europe. Cleaner, more fertile, more...advanced. Yet, to find myself facing such enemies is just...strange. It felt as though it was just yesterday I was commanding our men to battle other men. Men wielding AK’s and Galil’s. Today? I commanded androids wielding all sorts of weapons to fight strange machines and androids wielding weapons straight out of Star Trek.
…
Yes, Captain, my troops are T-Dolls. Like that Nagant Revolver I told you about at eight-thirty a.m. The T-Dolls are effective weapons. Yet...it feels wrong that I am wielding them. Commanding the things that killed our men. Like I had committed the most heinous of blasphemies.
…
Europe is a mad place, Captain. A mad place. The T-Dolls are mad. They are machines, yet they speak of such human concepts like camaraderie and revenge. They speak of gratitude and appreciation. They want treats, they want praise. They even kill time by playing board games and watching television. It’s like they are people.
The people are mad too. Lev spoke to them as though they are fellow soldiers. Kalina, my logistics officer, demanded that I treat them with care and respect. That I praise them for a job well done, that I welcome them when they return from their missions. ‘They are our girls’, she said. It’s like she had forgotten that these are just machines built in our image for the purpose of war.
Yet, still...I don’t know. Do you remember that raid we had against the Red Shashkas? Our twenty men against their hundred? How Hameed held off wave after wave with his MG? How Suleiman and Ahmed took out their MGs and snipers before any of them could fire a shot?
When I hear the dolls chatter over the radio, I hear Hameed and Ahmed.
…
I can’t get rid of it. The memories. I’m haunted by them. Those tranquil days where we can’t do anything and had to wait for the scouts. That one time Phillipes tried to shove that painting into my van…
Heh. I remember, Captain. You screamed at him for it. Fought with him over it too. About the foolishness of throwing out survival necessities just to preserve a piece of forgotten history. Phillipes won’t talk to you for a week because of this spat. You know what he called you? He called you a Dark Ages Ignoramus. A Dark Ages Ignoramus! Ha!
…
Captain…
I should have died back in Istanbul. I should be in the sewer as food for the rats. Yet I live, as a pawn for someone else’s war. I resent that order you gave me. The first order you had uttered in a decade...and the last one you will ever utter...and it is for me to live?
I have nothing here, Captain. Just this life shackled to your executioners by the chains of debt.
I could have pulled the trigger, Captain. End this miserable existence right here and now. I resent your final order! I resent that promise you made me take!
Tell me Captain. What’s the point of living if I have to endure this life as a prisoner of your killers?
I wish you were alive long enough to rescind that order. I wish you’d allowed me to die.