HORTLAK'S STRIFE
A shattered soul moves from one war to another.
Reclamation of S09
Chapter 2
In the quiet of the Nerve Center, I found myself wondering when’s the last time I had a proper night’s sleep. Perhaps when I was a child? No...even then...an eight-hour sleep had eluded me.
To take my mind off the ill-legends of the Long Night, I watched the UAV feed recordings from the past twenty-four hours. From them, I learned that our enemies had trickled into subsector 2 and 3 whilst I was busy with Scarecrow’s forces. Worse, subsector 4 is teeming with the Sangvis.
My first thought was that this place was not to be my prison but my gallows. That indeed, my jailors had tired of me and had sent me here to be executed by our enemies. Yet, the boss-lady’s assertion and the elite T-Dolls that now...slept... in the barracks of this base suggested otherwise.
Perhaps what Grifon intended of me was simpler, that they only want me here to fight against this superior enemy, to inflict upon them what I had inflicted upon my Istanbul adversaries for the past decade. That, I am uncertain. Kryuger, the warlord of this PMC, is an inscrutable one and I have yet to ascertain his motives.
What I can be certain of is that the Sangvis outnumber the base’s garrison greatly. Yet they have not brought their overwhelming numerical advantage to bear against us. They hadn’t swept down from the highlands of subsector 4 like sandstorm-driven dunes when they could easily do so.
Why?
…
The answer to that question can likely be found in the computer blocks in that ruined manor in subsector 2. However, having heard nothing and read nothing about the matter, I believe the boss-lady isn’t inclined to share that information with me.
...
Perhaps I don’t need to rely on the boss-lady for that information. Perhaps Skorpion knows. I will have its memory module mined for information. Particularly on what had stirred up the Sangvis and what Scarecrow was seeking in subsector 1. I will do this once the sun rises. For now, I must look to our defence.
…
This subsector 1 is ill-suited for the task. Too many open fields, too few forests to take refuge in, villages too scattered. Not enough hills. I need a better fallback position prepared in event of a Sangvis invasion.
...
Perhaps subsector 2 or subsector 3?
…
I need Kalina’s assistance in the scouring of the Data Room for map data on these subsectors. That will have to wait until sunrise.
…
The night is still long.
​
​
0300
“You alright there?”
My eyes snapped open and I pulled my pistol at the source of the voice.
“Hey! Easy there, Tovarisch,” the voice said again. The haze cleared, and I saw that the person speaking to me was an Auxiliary Guard. His name patch read ‘Grigori Fedorov.’
I cautiously lowered my firearm. I realised that my heart was palpitating and that my throat had tightened.
“Is he up yet, Griga?” another person asked. The source of this young voice looked greener than the pastures of subsector 2. He was wearing a sneer similar to Hameed’s when he recounted his kills with his MG.
I found myself looking at the pistol held loosely in my hand again.
The sneering guard patted Grigori’s shoulder. “This one’s Grigori,” he said. He slapped his left chest. His name patch read ‘Dimas Volkov’.
“I’m Dimas. Dimas…”
“The Gopnik,” Grigori remarked.
‘Dimas Volkov’ scoffed. “I have a surname, you know.”
“Yes, yes, Dimas the Wolf,” Grigori rolled his eyes. He then gazed at me with probing eyes. “You are the Turk Lev told us about, aren’t you? Commander Cetin Yilmaz?”
I did not answer.
A taunting whistle. “The Commander’s a terrible shot,” said Dimas while pointing his flashlight at a stationary target dummy. “One whole mag and he’s only hit the target dummy once.” He turned his attention to me and grinned slimily. “Maybe that’s why he needs his girls.”
“Who are you to criticise?” Grigori said. “You didn’t even hit the target dummy the first time you handled the AK-15.”
“It’s not my fault that the piece of shit is so hard to control,” Dimas snapped.
“Anyway, Commander,” Grigori turned to me. He looked sympathetic. “What’s your story? Why are you sleeping in the range instead of your own quarters?”
I replied to his query with a stare. After a few minutes of hanging silence, I got up, gave them both a nod and left the range. “Sorry for bothering you,” were my parting words.
My pulse raised as I cut through the fog. My true palm, resting on my pistol, was drenched in sweat. I kept looking back despite myself. I had glimpsed Yellow-Eyes in the fog at the corner of my eye.
Yellow-Eyes was not the only thing lurking half-concealed in the fog. Other shadows, always in pairs, flitted about under the radiant street-lights. Some drew close enough for me to identify as Auxiliary Guards.
“Hello.”
“Cold morning, isn’t it?”
I answered their greetings with nods.
I slowed my pace once I got through the door.
The hallway’s still uncomfortably bright, though my eyes did not sting as much this time. They must have gotten accustomed to the brightness. My throat still felt tight. I went straight ahead, pass the unoccupied receptionist’s table and into the Mess Hall. Grabbed a plastic cup, dispensed the cold water, gulped it down. Two glasses. Three. Bubbles erupted from the bottom of the dispenser.
A light giggle from the counter.
“What?” I snapped at Springfield.
“I’m sorry, commander,” it replied, smiling serenely. “This is the first time I see someone jump to the sound of a water cooler.”
My skin crawled. The T-Doll was studying me with disconcertingly gentle eyes. I looked away from it and stared into my plastic cup.
“Are you unable to sleep, Commander?” it asked with a gentle tone. “I can make you some warm almond milk if you like.” Noting my silence, it added, “It helps you sleep.”
“I am fine,” I croaked. “What are you doing in the Mess Hall at this hour?”
It held the tray out a pitted aluminium tray towards me as though anticipating my inspection. There were doughs in its pits.
“I’m making muffins.”
It pulled back the tray.
“Not just muffins, of course,” it continued, still wearing that gentle smile. “I will bake cinnamon rolls and chocolate brownies next. It won’t do for any of the little ones to feel left out.”
It opened the oven’s door and slid the tray inside.
“I will hide away half the chocolate brownies,” it said as it twisted the oven’s knob. “That half is meant for FNC.” It then winked slyly, “Rewards for good behaviour. Please keep this a secret between us. ”
The oven ticked.
“So,” Springfield started while removing its mitts, “how about it, Commander?”
“How about what?”
The T-Doll tilted its head. It then giggled and beamed. “My my, have you forgotten about the warm almond milk already?”
I said nothing. I simply turned around and left the Mess Hall.
Lights blinked on the moment I stepped through the threshold into the Nerve Center. The feeds activated, showing the dark interrupted by pinpoint lights. The lights marked the various outposts the Sangvis had established in S09.
I sank into my chair and opened the lid of my laptop. The screen lit up, showing the news articles I had browsed a few hours previously. All dating from up to a year ago. They carried headlines such as ‘Unexplained Blackout of Sangvis Ferri Holdings’ and ‘Establishment of Quarantine Zones in Ivano-Frankivsk Oblast.’
I flipped open my dictionary and continued the night’s reading. This, I did, until sleep overtook me once more.
​
​
​
There was a night at around this time, where Ahmed shared tales about Phillipes.
Ahmed told us that Phillipes came to the Middle East from his native France to pursue the most brutal of warlords. Ahmed told us that no bullet could stop him, no explosion could scare him. He was persistent, as befitting a man on a Jihad.
Ahmed admired the man.
I learned this was why Phillipes was in the Middle East and not in his native France. Once the green rain fell and the green mist settled over the desert, he was trapped with us. The border closed. He can’t return to his homeland. Yet, he didn’t stop. Even when he can’t go home, even though he can’t tell his tales of infamy and bloodshed to the people of his homeland, to make others see the horrors he had seen, he continued with his Jihad.
You called him a real pain in the arse but I think you also respected him. Perhaps that was why no matter how fiery the spats go, you never considered removing him from our midst.
You respected his persistence and his dedication to the truth. To the free press. The desire to lift the wool which blinds the world from the brutality of men. You respect him for his dedication to his Jihad.
...
This land perverted the aims of his Jihad.
...
I saw what this free press he praised and held in great esteem is like in this country. News flow freely in the Soviet Union, but they are buried under layers upon layers of lies and fabrication.
This Pravda, it reported the Sangvis uprising as a communications blackout. Then it claimed that it was an ELID outbreak.
|Mirthless laughter|
Yes, an ELID outbreak. We saw what those monsters are like and what they did to the land. Such a brazen lie. When that didn’t suffice, the Pravda then said that the Sangvis deployed their robots to deal with the threat, then the robots were hacked and turned against the rest of us.
Perhaps the last part is true. I wouldn’t know. My search for clarification was met with the same story. The Krasnaya Zvezda? The Sovetskaya Rossiya? The lies were repeated there as well. It’s even worse in the Sovetskaya Rossiya. One journalist of that paper claimed that the Germans did the hacking, while another claimed that the French did it.
If Phillipes knew of this, he could very well bring his Jihad here.
...
So, apparently, the robots I was sent here to quarantine were fighting the ELID. I walked in the mist. Perhaps tomorrow I will turn into a mindless beast.
…
|Sound of drinking| That’s a good joke.
…
It’s Smirnoff. Stronger than the Kvass I brought here. Stronger than the moonshine we used to drink in The Nest. You might like it once you taste it, I think.
...
I don’t know if you knew, but Phillipes used to work with the newspaper company named the Le Télégramme. I tried to look it up and found that I can’t access it. Likely blocked.
The Soviet Union is more willing to be open with their news because they have better control over the news. This ‘free press’ of the Soviet Union is a sham.
…
|Sound of drinking|
…
Yeah, Phillipes would bring his Jihad here.
​
0845
Thunderclap. The house of wood and stone shattered. A rain of shells, ashes and debris. My right arm and leg ached.
T-Dolls pouring fire at their encroaching adversaries. Sangvis dolls riding on what looked like motorcycles on legs. With an extended roar, their miniguns loosed a hail of flashing bolts. The T-Dolls’ measly cover evaporated under the weight of the miniguns’ fire.
The last of them fell. Fiery claws raked my flesh.
I picked up the bottle. Last drops dripped into the shot glass. Another crack of thunder. Metal blades gouged into the earth and stone.
A man in a red coat crawled out of the helo’s carcass. The black and purple tide advanced. A Dragoon kicked the man down and planted its leg into his chest. Blood spurted out of his mouth. My right fingers stiffened. Burning in my throat.
The lights flickered on.
“There you are,” Kalina’s said.
I did not reply.
“Good morning to you, too,” she greeted. I could feel her hands pressing down on my shoulders and her shadow falling over me. “What were you watching all night?”
I did not reply. Silence fell. One minute. Two minutes. My chair creaked, the pressure lifted from my shoulders.
“...Wash your face, Cetin. Helian will be calling for you in fifteen minutes.”
0900
I turned up in the Nerve Center at exactly 0900. Kalina was there, with her tablet in hand. A steaming mug of coffee, a packet of dry foodstuff, carrying the label ‘Caloriemate’, and a disc rested on my desk. The infernal beep which heralded the boss-lady sounded.
Kalina whistled. “Right on cue.”
The boss lady gave me a stern look. “Commander Yilmaz,” she greeted. “Today, you will be participating in a special training.”
“Special training?” My left brow arched. “In these trying times?”
“It is in response to, as you put it, ‘these trying times’ that HQ has drawn up the additional training regimen. With it, we intend to accelerate the familiarisation of all rookie commanders with their duties.”
The boss-lady turned her attention towards Kalina and said, “Kalin, I will speak with the commander in private.”
“Ho…” uttered Kalina. “This is a first. Are you making a move on the commander, Helian?”
The boss-lady shot her a withering glare. “Yes, yes, I understand. I’ll let you have the commander to yourself.” Snickering to herself, she left the Nerve Center. As soon as the steel door shut, I commented deliberately as though disbelieving every word that I had uttered, “I am a rookie commander?”
“You are registered as a rookie commander in our database, Commander Yilmaz. As such, you are not exempted from taking this training regimen.”
“All this effort to avoid bureaucratic complications,” I muttered. I sighed and continued, “What does this training regimen entail?”
“This training regimen is a series of four simulations based on your battle records. You will complete the first simulation today.”
Apparently having sensed my discontent, she added, “It may be the same operation, but we have greatly increased the enemy’s troop numbers. You will find that the challenge has not lessened.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Prove to us that Director Kryuger’s faith in you is not misplaced. The disc containing the simulation program should have arrived in your base along with the day’s supply shipment. If you can’t find it, ask Kalin. Insert it into your tactical map and complete it. I expect the submission of your simulation results before 1200. Helian out.”
With that, the hologram winked out. Immediately after, the steel door slid open. “Is she gone?” Kalina asked as she walked through the door.
“Helianthus mentioned a disc. Is it the same one you have placed on my desk?”
Kalina snapped her fingers and grinned. “Pretty observant, aren’t you?” She then curled her fingers into an imitation of a gun. With her ‘finger-gun’, she pointed at me and answered, “Yep! That’s the one.”
“So…” she rubbed her hands together, cracked her neck and then her knuckles. As a show of enthusiasm, I suppose. “Before you start, what are your orders for the day?”
I passed to her my memo, written on paper the previous night. She gave it a look-over. Her smile’s brilliance faded. “Shouldn’t you speak to Skorpion regarding the extraction of data from her memory module?” she asked.
I looked at her quizzically before replying, “Do I need to ask a machine for the permission to operate it?”
She broke eye contact, looked at the note and let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, you know…” Her body language displayed her reluctance. “She would prefer it if you ask for her permission first. She would throw a fit if you just...”
Again with this.
“It can throw all the fit it wants but it will ultimately comply, Kalina. You know this.”
Kalina dropped her smile and said sternly, “She has feelings, Cetin. We had gone over this already.”
I sighed. “A machine is still a machine. Just order it to hand over the data. It is obliged to comply.”
Kalina gave me a hard glare. Her cheeks were red with anger and frustration. She did not voice them, however. Instead, she inhaled, exhaled and inquired, “So, what memories are you looking for?”
I answered, “Anything relating to Scarecrow. Anything that may point to the cause of the Sangvis breaking their one year of silence and inactivity.”
“I will tell Skorpion and Pierre that.” Kalina sighed. “I should get the data before lunch.”
“I’ll leave you to your work,” I said before turning to my desk. I picked up the disc, glanced at the feeds before moving towards the tactical map. The Sangvis were gathering at the border between subsector 4 and subsector 2.
“Prioritise the UAV visuals and maps of subsector 2, Kalina. Feeds going back 24 hours,” I instructed. She left the Nerve Center at around the same time I slotted in the disc into the tactical map. The machine on and spat out my mission objectives as well as the map of the simulated AO. With a flick, I brought up the roster of deployable T-Dolls. The same ones available in this base.
T04. Same forest, same town, same fields. Two Ripper Echelons, one Scout Echelon and one Prowler Echelon. Prowlers positioned at top of a cliff east of the forest. Rippers in the town north of the forest. One echelon at the town’s southern border, the other in the town square. Scouts roaming the flat strip between the forest and the town. Mission objective...destroy all enemies.
Lure the Scouts into the forest. The density of the woods should limit their mobility. See if the Rippers will follow them into the woods. Hold the forest if the Rippers move in to back the Scouts. Else, keep their attention to the forest as rest of echelon move along the mountain-side to the west to flank the Rippers. Second Ripper Echelon will move to support the first.
Prowler on cliff’s edge may drive down south of the forest to flank Grifon T-Dolls from there. Another Echelon is needed to prevent this.
I need two Echelons.
First Echelon: PPSh-41, Ingram, FNC, BAR, 416.
Second Echelon: Springfield, FAL, Skorpion, IDW, Nagant Revolver.
Team 416 will draw the Scouts into the forest and eliminate them there
Team Springfield will move along the mountain-side and take positions at the west of the town.
If the Prowlers move in to support the Scouts, Team 416 will turn around and deal with them. If the Rippers move to the forest, Team Springfield will fire at them to pin them down, buy time for Team 416 to finish with the Prowlers and turn towards the Rippers.
If the Prowlers hang back, Springfield will fire at the Rippers in town while the rest of its Echelon move in to flank the Rippers. Team 416 must move in to support as quickly as possible. Pincer the Rippers before the Prowlers move in.
If Team 416 is unable to capture the town before the Prowlers’ arrival, BAR will turn around and suppress them. Springfield will pick them off.
I started the exercise. I intended to finish it within the hour.
1000
After reviewing the simulation overview, I sent it to my laptop. From there, I completed the submission process. I slumped on my chair and sup on my now lukewarm coffee.
The caffeine kick was much stronger. I felt it coursing through my veins. This wasn’t instant coffee.
Before I could puzzle over the beverage, the door slid open. To my surprise, it was Skorpion which had barged through the threshold.
“Oi! Cetin!” it shouted.
“What’s the bright idea, ordering Tech to extract my memories?”
Its cheeks were flushed. Its single blue eye was glistening as though it was about to shed tears.
Seemingly infuriated by my silence, it stamped its feet and demanded, “Cetin! Answer me! Why didn’t you speak to me about my memories first?”
“Skorpion,” I enunciated with calmly and with clarity, “report to Tech for memory extraction. I require your memory data starting from 24 hours ago.”
“No!” it exclaimed its refusal, to my surprise. “No! I am not going anywhere, Cetin! Not until you explain yourself!”
It seized my collar and lifted me up. “Why didn’t you speak to me first, Cetin?” it inquired while shaking me violently. It shed a single tear from its single eye.
“Skorpion!” I said again with a harsh tone.
“I am not going anywhere until you answer me, Cetin!” Tears were beginning to stream down its cheek.
“Seriously! Why can’t you speak to me first? Why won’t you treat me like a person?”
My silence inflamed its indignation further. “I’d been trying!” it cried. “I’d been trying to help you open up, damn it! Why won’t you open up? Why won’t you speak to me? What is wrong with you?”
I replied with a hard, remorseless glare.
“Why won’t you speak to me? We are family, aren’t we?”
Flickering, swaying yellow light. Fading gunfire echoed outside my door. Muhammed’s MG had gone silent. Statics. Phillipes’ excruciating cry in the radio.
“Cetin…” Captain’s voice was pained. “Cetin...we are on our last legs. They did a number on us.”
I heard him coughing. A gurgled cough.
With sweaty, trembling hands, I pressed the button and wheezed, “Yellow-Eyes...Orange-Eyes... where...are they?”
Another pained cough. “Killed them *coughs* for the fourth time.”
I asked, with increasing dread and sorrow, “Where...where are the rest? Suleiman? ...Amir? Ahmed?...Muhammed?”
“Dead.” He coughed again. “Phillipes will join them soon. *coughs* I don’t have long *coughs* myself.”
“Get out!” I barked.
Skorpion froze. Its eye was wide open. “W...what?” it stammered. “After all this, why...”
It hit its head against my chest and cried, “Why can’t I get through?”
“Get out!” I growled harshly. “Get out! Clean both helos in the hangar and do not return until you are done!”
Its cheek was wet with tears. Its shoulders shook, as though sobbing. Its grip on my collar slackened enough for me to shake myself free. With heavy feet, it went for the door. It gave me one last look before crossing the threshold.
As soon as the door slid shut, I clutched my right arm and limped towards my desk. I pulled up my chair and sank in it. My right fingers were acting up again. Pain stabbed into my right leg.
I looked about. The flask was empty. There were no Smirnoff anywhere. Just the coffee mug. It will have to do.
One minute. Five minutes. I watched the feeds, watched the Sangvis trickle down the mountain pass at the border between subsector 2 and subsector 4. Gathering, growing into a malignant mass, poised to metastasize.
I looked away from the screens and into the black beverage in my mug. No reflection. The shadow of the mug was too deep. I wondered what I would see if the lighting was right. I pondered over the meaning of its words and gestures. I wondered what it was I saw in its eye.
1400
Four hours had passed since my...confrontation...with Skorpion.
“Kalina,” I asked, out of the blue.
She stopped tapping on her tablet. “Hmm?”
“You had stopped by the hangar an hour ago, yes?”
She made another tap on her tablet. “Yep.”
“Had Skorpion finished cleaning the Mi-17’s?”
Kalina peeled her eyes from her tablet and gazed at me.
“She’s already finished, Cetin,” she said, her intonation carried a hint of pride. “Cleaned the helos nice and spiffy. Polished to mirror shine.”
“Where is it, now?”
She paused momentarily before shrugging, “No idea.” I noted that she had averted her eyes slightly. “You can ask around for her whereabouts. Check with the gate guard tower. The T-Doll posted there should have seen her.”
Noting my silence, she added, “As long as you don’t repeat what you did with Skorpion, she should be more than happy to answer your questions. In fact…” a grin crept up her face, “...why don’t you try conversing with her? She would appreciate the distraction from her boredom.”
Before I could protest, Skorpion’s outrage flashed before my eyes. My lips flapped, yet I uttered not a word. Twice, thrice. I shut my mouth and kept my silence. Upon seeing this, Kalina’s grin took on mischievous quality.
“Just get out of the Nerve Center and do as I suggested, Cetin.”
I looked aside towards feed of the subsector 2-subsector 4 border. The black and purple blot on the screen was starting to trickle into subsector 2.
“It’s not like we can mobilise immediately to subsector 2 anyway,” Kalina continued. “While I prep the supplies and equipment, you go stretch your legs and build rapport with our staff. That includes our T-Dolls.”
1420
“And by shooting at my dummy, she bit my bait,” MAC-10’s voice rung from the Mess Hall. “That is how I took out her last drone and closed in on her at the same time.”
“Why didn’t she shoot you right after she put down your dummy, miss?” a male voice inquired inquisitively.
A manic laugh. “Her drones have a one-second delay. Too slow to stop me from getting in her face.”
I took the right turn towards the exit.
“So, as Scarecrow reared up her fist, I emptied my chamber, all seven bullets, into her back, I did!” Nagant Revolver noticed my approach and fell silent immediately. It, and IDW, retreated as though seeking refuge inside Admin. “Afternoon, Commander,” Lev greeted. His smile was strained. “Didn’t see you in the Mess Hall. You missed Springfield’s beef stew.”
“I took my lunch in the Nerve Center,” I replied.
Lev arched his brow. His posed smile remained fixed. “You should join us for dinner, Commander. Don’t be a stranger.”
I gave him a nod and exited the building.
Scorching summer sun hanging high in the sky. The air shimmered over the cement floor. A fleeting illusion of home. I stood at the foot of the guard tower. Before I could speak, I was immediately greeted cheerfully, “Hey, Commander!”
My throat tightened as I gazed into the yellow eyes peeking at me from behind the ledge on the top of the guard tower.
“Hey! Hey! Commander!” it greeted again. “I’m M14! Nice to meet you!”
I swallowed my saliva and gasped. “Comm...Commander Cetin Yilmaz. I’m...I’m here to inquire on the whereabouts of Skorpion.”
“Skorpion?” M14 looked straight ahead, towards nothing in particular. “Ah!” it said a moment later, as though it had come upon a revelation. “You mean the yellow girl who was giving the Mi-17’s a wipe-down, right?”
Whether it had seen me nodding in affirmation, I did not know. “I saw her talking to Kalin for a few minutes before heading north. Can’t see where she went. The helos were in the way.”
I nodded again and turned to leave.
“Ah! Commander! Wait right there!”
I fought down the urge to growl. “What?”
“The cans!”
It directed my attention towards the shredded aluminium cans on the roadside opposite of the guard tower, just three paces away from me. Bullet holes were gouged into the cement floor just behind the remains of these cans. A clear plastic bag loaded with cans was lying against the wall just beside.
“Help replace them with a fresh batch of cans? Pretty please?”
Kalina was right about T-Dolls being capable of experiencing boredom.
1600
It’s been almost two hours. Kalina did not answer my summons. Pierre, the Tech foreman, reported that he did not see Skorpion.
I called the radio, used the PA, again and again and again. Nothing has happened.
I looked at the feeds as I waited. Looked at them so many times I got sick of them.
…
Even now, I am staring at the holographic projection of subsector 2. The single marker over this town taunts me. I will build a base camp there, and then what?
My objectives in this subsector elude me. They will continue to elude me if I do not know what the Sangvis are seeking there.
I need Skorpion’s memory data. I can’t have it if I don’t know where it is.
...The flask is empty. It’s still empty.
…
I suppose I need to talk about Skorpion. It...disobeyed my orders. It disobeyed the first time. It only obey after I shouted at it, albeit reluctantly. Now, it has failed to answer my summons despite the use of the PA system.
...
I understand that T-Dolls are programmed to be unable to refuse a direct order. In that case, it must have found some kind of method or came up with some kind of interpretation of what constitutes an order. Neither should be doable by mere machines.
The fact that it found some way to disobey my first and third orders puzzles me. The fact that it did so because it...believed...that I was being unfair and unjust puzzles me even more.
Why is a machine like this permitted to exist? Why was it designed this way?
…
There is also the matter of Yellow-Eyes. I had encountered a yellow-eyed T-Doll and, embarrassingly, reacted poorly to it.
…
I do not believe that this T-Doll was the one that attacked us. This yellow-eye, this M14, is etched to a battle rifle. The weapon’s report does not sound like the one I heard in the sewer.
…
This will not be last time I encounter a yellow-eyed T-Doll throughout my sentence here, I believe.
…
I’m going to return to that ill-omened night every time I meet a T-Doll with yellow eyes, aren’t I?
…
Skorpion and Kalina haven’t responded.
…
I’m wasting time.
My restlessness and need for Smirnoff had driven me to the Mess Hall. MAC-10 and an Auxiliary Guard were playing poker, close to the silent television. FNC was at the serving counter.
“Sten! Choco brownies! I’m hungry!”
“Eh…” Sten, who was behind the counter, exhaled. “...you already had a choco brownie an hour ago.”
FNC slammed its hands on the counter surface. “That’s not me, Sten!” it insisted. “That’s my dummy! I hadn’t eaten the brownies at all! Give me a brownie!”
There was a twitch at the edge of Sten’s lips.
“But FNC…”
“My my,” uttered Springfield as it emerged from the kitchen. “Telling lies?”
FNC trembled slightly. “I’m...I’m not lying, Springfield,” it stammered. “I really haven’t eaten any brownies.”
Springfield kept her frozen smile. “There won’t be any more brownies for a week,” it enunciated calmly.
“One...one week?” FNC shifted uncomfortably. “I...I can’t survive one week without choco.”
“Yes, FNC,” Springfield nodded. “So, to survive this one week, what must you do?”
“Mmmmm…” FNC puffed its cheeks.
“If you do not say it, I will withhold brownies for a week.” Springfield’s tone seemed to have taken on a menacing aspect.
FNC turned its gaze towards its feet. It then said reluctantly, “I’m sorry, Springfield…”
“Who else should you apologise to?”
FNC turned to Sten. “I’m sorry, Sten.”
“For?”
“I’m sorry for lying.”
Springfield leaned forward and rubbed its cheek. “Good girl, FNC.”
It fidgeted. It rubbed its shoe-tips against the coated floor. “Can I have a brownie?” it asked. It sounded hopeful.
Springfield still smiled. “Not until supper.”
“But…”
“What did we agree on this morning, FNC?”
FNC looked at its feet. “...One for breakfast, one for morning tea, one for lunch, one for tea-time, one for dinner and one for supper…”
Springfield beamed. “You remembered. Good girl.”
“So…”
“You are only getting one brownie for dinner and another for supper, as we agreed.”
There was a feeling of creeping menace as its rub turned into a light pinch. “We agreed on this, didn’t we?”
FNC shuddered. It backed away by half-a-step. It was still shuddering when it replied softly, “...Yes…”
“Now then,” said Springfield as it released FNC’s cheek. “How can I help you, Commander?”
I tore off my ticket and placed it on the counter. “One bottle of Smirnoff.”
Instead, I found myself staring at a cup of hot tea.
“I didn’t order for this,” I remarked.
Springfield’s smile remained fixed, “You do seem to need it, though.” It tapped its index finger against the counter and continued, “Why not stay a while and have a chat with me?”
I glared at the T-Doll. Sten had retreated into the kitchen. FNC had already dragged its heavy feet away. Springfield’s poise was unaffected. “You T-Dolls have a knack for disobeying or reinterpreting orders,” I uttered. Springfield placed its right palm against its right cheek. It was wearing a small grin that was at once gentle as it was mocking. It uttered, “My, that was an order?”
I motioned to tap on my ticket only to find that it was gone. Deciding to count my last ticket of the month as a loss, I turned towards the exit.
“If you are going to look for Kalina or Skorpion in the warehouse or the armoury, you won’t find them there.”
I froze on the spot. How much does this T-Doll know? Springfield remained behind the counter, still wearing that gentle-yet-mocking grin, still with that cup of hot tea sitting on the counter.
I suppose I’ll humour it to find out what it knows.
I gave the tea a little sip before inquiring, “When you said I won’t find any of my quarries in the aforementioned locations, you meant…”
“They are there, Commander.”
The tea was sweetened with honey. Springfield’s grin had become inscrutable. I mulled over its words for a while. “My quarries are sequestered away in the warehouse or the armoury.”
I received no replies.
I put down the cup of tea. Before I could motion to leave, Springfield asked gently albeit mockingly, “Do you intend to turn over every shelf and rack to look for your miscreants?”
“If that is what it takes, so be it.”
“You are our Commander, aren’t you? Why not ask for assistance?”
“It doesn’t seem like you T-Dolls are keen on following my orders.”
“I said ‘ask’ for assistance, Commander,” Springfield clarified. “Not ‘order’ for assistance.”
I scowled. Springfield replied with the same gentle but mocking smile. I sighed and relented. “Say your piece.”
It started, “I know someone who can help you locate Kalina and Skorpion. She is a...” it paused, seemingly considering its words, before continuing, “...’natural’ in navigating hidden passageways and finding hidden places.”
“...It is a T-Doll.”
A slight twitch on the edge of its right brow. “Before I can call on her to provide assistance, I want you to promise me that you will be patient with her and that you will treat her with the same respect you afford to our human friends.”
“Promises are not for machines.”
“Then,” Springfield’s smile turned into a more obvious smirk, “I wish you the best of luck finding Kalina and Skorpion on your own.”
After a moment of consideration, I relented, “...How can you be sure I won’t break my promises as soon as I make them?”
It tilted its head slightly to the left and placed its index finger at the edge of its lips. “My, you don’t strike me as one to break your promises, Commander.”
I exhaled irately. “Fine, I promise.”
“What do you promise on?” it asked, coyly.
I glared at the T-Doll. It continued to smile, unperturbed. I sighed and replied, “I promise that I will be patient with it…”
“Her...”
“...her and I will afford her the same respect I afford to my fellow humans.”
“And recorded,” the T-Doll said as it produced a dictation machine and depressed its record button. It tilted its head slightly to its right and beamed.
I grumbled irately.
Springfield looked to the ceiling. “Tiss,” it said gently. “Would you kindly come down and greet the Commander?”
“Derr`mo!” a groan rattled from above. “How did she uncover this secret weapon so easily?”
Springfield merely smiled.
1645
A thin bed with brown sheets at the corner. Directly opposite the bed, a fat box-like television sat on a small splinter-filled desk.
The floor was littered with screwdrivers, rolls of duct tape and half-assembled electronics. Their casings were of faded wood or black plastic. Their repaired brethren lined the shelves forming the perimeter of this makeshift residence.
I picked up a radio on the nearest shelf. The same model as that which had entertained us and sped us through countless sleepless nights. Its antenna and dials were mismatched. Geometrical holes on the casing exposed circuit-board and wiring. Hardened glue filled the crack on the analogue display.
Alim’s marks were all over this radio. Yet, this wasn’t Alim’s room. The seven polaroids taped to the wall beside the bed were not his.
“If I were the Enemy of the People, where would I hide?” OTs-12, the T-doll Springfield called ‘Tiss’, said suddenly. It giggled to itself, as though it was amused by its own words. Grinning, it asked, “Kommandir, what do you think?”
I grunted. I would have left my reply at that if I hadn’t made that promise to that robot that called itself Springfield. “How would I know?” I said as I returned the radio to its place on the metal shelf.
OTs-12 booed before stating, “You are no help, Kommandir.” It paused before continuing, “You haven’t issued a single command since we left the Mess Hall. Are you sure you are up for this secret mission?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Floorboards are off the board, heh heh.”
OTs-12 looked at me expectantly with its strange eyes. “Ha ha ha,” I droned. There was a brief look of disappointment on its face. Beyond that, it said nothing.
“Kommandir, help me up to the vents?”
I looked up before replying, “You won’t reach the vent with my help.”
The T-Doll boo’ed again. “You are no help, Kommandir. You have no future in the NKVD.”
“Use the shelves,” I suggested.
The T-Doll grinned and gave me a thumbs up. “Good idea, Kommandir!”
I rolled my eyes in reply.
It got onto the shelf closest to the vent. The radio started to shake. “Don’t look up,” it said as it clambered towards the vent. The radio rattled closer to the edge.
“Really, don’t look up.”
I secured the radio teetered at the edge of the shelf. I pushed it back to secure it. The grilles overhead emitted an ear-piercing creak.
Fifteen minutes since I last heard the banging in the vents. Statics and faint voices from the radio’s speaker. A sudden clatter from five aisles away. I twisted the radio’s dial and returned it to its shelf.
With brisk steps, I followed the direction of the noise to catch Kalina crawling out from under one of the shelves. She shot back to her feet, raised her hands and exclaimed, “I can explain.” I recalled that I had run into several stacks of ammo boxes. “An ammo box fort?” I uttered. “With several other stacks around as decoys?”
A metallic wince from overhead. OTs-12 poked its head out of the vent-hole. “Found the Enemy of the People,” it said.
“Eheh…” Kalina stuck out her tongue. “You caught us.”
One of the boxes on the shelf shifted slightly to expose a gap. Kalina gesticulated. A few moments later, a voice I recognised as Skorpion’s shouted from behind the shelves. “Dammit, Kalin! Why did you have to run out?”
“Ehehehe.” Kalina shuffled her feet while rubbing the back of her head. She stuck her tongue out. Beyond these gestures, she said nothing. Instead, she moved along the aisle, made a right turn, then a left, and stood before a wall of ammo boxes. Skorpion was peeking from the top ledge. I sighted ear protectors on its head.
The logistics officer gesticulated at Skorpion and the T-Doll gesticulated in return. After several minutes of gesticulating back and forth, Kalina looked at me, shrugged and grinned. There was a smug quality to that grin. “Skorpion has delivered her ultimatum,” she said.
Another loud bang from behind the wall of ammo boxes. Skorpion gesticulated wildly again. Kalina, who had watched, returned to me and said, “She insisted that you record our conversation.”
I put aside the question of how the T-Doll knew about my dictation machine and asked, “What for?”
She frowned, “Until we can see you press the ‘record button’ on your dictation machine, we are going to stand around here staring at each other.”
I felt a tug on my sleeves. “Tovarisch Kommandir,” OTs-12 said, its tone pleading. “I don’t want to miss dinner, Kommandir. Please accede to her demands?”
I looked towards Kalina. She was wearing a mask-like smile. Skorpion glowered at me from atop the ammo boxes. Its face lit up as my fingers tucked into my fatigues’ breast pocket.
Upon the sound of button-click, Kalina cleared her throat and started, “Well, here goes. In Skorpion’s words, ‘I am not leaving this fort unless you promise two things! First, I know you had been referring to us T-Dolls as ‘It!’. Stop that! You will refer to us as ‘She’ and ‘Her’!’”
“You are that kind of person, Tovarisch Kommandir?” OTs-12 exclaimed. “I mean…” it recomposed itself, “I guessed you are that kind of person when I heard Tovarisch Springfield made you promise but to hear the confirmation…”
The T-Doll reared back in a dramatic manner. “Shocking!”
“Why are you surprised?” I asked rhetorically. “You are a machine, are you not? Is this not how one treats a machine?”
“Ehhh…” it puffed its cheek. “You really are that kind of person.”
Kalina ahem’ed loudly. “‘Second, ask us directly when you need anything from us! Ask us like you would any other person!’”
“This is a waste of time, Kalina,” I grunted. “Tell Skorpion to get out of there and surrender its memory data.”
“You have no allies here, Commander,” Kalina said, sneering. “I guarantee you anyone else you ask for help is going to make excuses and go somewhere else. Really. Make this easier on yourself and just promise her.”
1730
Lev was away from his desk when I sought his assistance. Every other guard I spoke to were ‘busy’ with one thing or another. One said he had to help ‘Papasha’ plug the breaches. Another said he had to go clean his gun.
I wound up acceding to Skorpion’s demands.
What looked to be the entire base had gathered in the Mess Hall. It seemed as though they had all magically heard the news through some kind of communication scheme I wasn’t aware of.
No mutters, no whispers, not a single word from any member of the crowd. No murmurs whatsoever. As soon as I stepped through the threshold, Kalina’s recorded voice sounded:
“Well, here goes. In Skorpion’s words, ‘I am not leaving this fort unless you promise two things! First, I know you had been referring to us T-Dolls as ‘It!’.”
Soft surprised gasps. Feminine. T-Dolls. Likely today’s arrivals.
“Stop that! You will refer to us as ‘She’ and ‘Her’!’”
“You are that kind of person, Tovarisch Kommandir? I mean…I guessed you are that kind of person when I heard Tovarisch Springfield made you promise but to hear the confirmation…Shocking!”
Hums of ‘Mmm, Mmmm’s.
“Why are you surprised? You are a machine, are you not? Is this not how one treats a machine?”
“Ehhh…You really are that kind of person.”
“AHEM! Second, ask us directly when you need anything from us! Ask us like you would any other person!’”
“This is a waste of time, Kalina.”
A grunt. Mine.
“Tell Skorpion to get out of there and surrender its memory data.”
“You have no allies here, Commander. I guarantee anyone else you ask for help is going to make excuses and go somewhere else. Really. Make this easier on yourself and just promise her.”
The audio cut forward to Kalina’s soft snicker and my sigh of resignation.
“Fine. I promise to both of Skorpion’s demands. Can I have the memory data now?”
Skorpion’s voice. “No! We are going to sit in the Mess Hall, Cetin. Then we are going to chat! Like people!”
I groaned internally as I pushed my way through the crowd. Just in time to see Kalina switch the dictation machine off. “This is a waste of time,” I complained as I took my seat opposite of Skorpion. “Instead of wasting another one or two hours talking about what happened yesterday, I could have your memory files pulled at this moment. Five minutes, and you can go on your way.”
Skorpion cracked a grin. “What’s so bad about a conversation?” it said. It looked at the crowd around our table and exclaimed triumphantly, “Anyway, you heard the dictation machine, right? You are all witnesses here!”
Excited murmurs. Approving nods from both the T-Doll and the human staff. Another reminder that I am the outsider here.
“I made my promises,” I said. “And by my honour, I will keep my word. Now…” I inhaled and exhaled. My sigh carried my weariness, “Will you follow through with your promise?”
“Who do you think I am?” Skorpion said. It sounded offended. “Of course I will keep my promise! On my honour and the honour of my entire family!”
Honour. Family. It uttered these words as though it truly understood them.
“Heh heh. You think I have parents, don’t you?”
“Cut the nonsense and start already. In fact,” I glared at the gathered crowd. “We should be speaking about this in the Nerve Center or the Data Room, with Kalina as our witness.”
“Nuh uh!” Skorpion shook its head, “I want everyone to hear about the heroic me and how I managed to waste Scarecrow’s time for a solid three hours despite her torture!”
Ingram MAC-10, Nagant Revolver and even this one? Do all T-Dolls love an audience?
“Can you even feel pain?”
Skorpion looked insulted. “Of course I can! Do you think I’m some awkward pre-war era Asimo?”
“...Asimo?”
“Very early humanoid robot from Japan. Tripped over stairs.”
I stared at Kalina. She was grinning condescendingly.
“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Skorpion demanded, with a bang on the table. “Okay, so it all started very early yesterday morning in subsector 4 at 0500. I was camping out with Papasha, Ingram and Sturmgewehr-44…”
“Why were you three camping out?”
“Because we were stranded.”
“How long had you been there?”
“A year.”
I stared at the T-Doll. “...A year.”
“A year.” It nodded in affirmation.
I rubbed the sides of my forehead. “Continue.”
“So yeah, we were stranded in subsector 4 until yesterday. That’s when we made contact with M4A1!”
I looked at Kalina. From her confused expression, she mustn’t have known about this M4A1.
“So...this M4A1…once you made contact with her, what did you do?”
“We followed her orders to rendezvous with her at a location designated as Safehouse 3.”
More murmurs erupted.
“T-Doll following orders from another T-Doll?”
“She’s got command authorisation!”
Even more murmurs. “They actually did it?” I heard Pierre mutter. “Those madmen in 16Lab actually made a command unit!”
“Hey!” Skorpion shouted. “Let me finish! Anyway, we helped M4A1 defend a safehouse, shooting wave after wave after wave of those Sangvis bastards…”
“Skip that bit.”
Its grin faded slightly. “You don’t want to hear about my heroism?”
“No.”
The T-Doll deflated in apparent disappointment. “Booo…Anyway, we held the line until this one Sangvis ringleader just walked right through us and broke through the wall. Tried as we might, we just couldn’t stop that horror-maid!”
“Horror-maid?”
“Agent!” someone cried from behind the crowd. “That’s Agent, isn’t it?”
“Yep!” Skorpion shouted back. “Anyway, M4 took care of her so no biggie.”
More gasps. “She did?” cried someone in the crowd.
“Yep,” a voice I recognised as Ingram’s replied. “I was there when M4 eliminated Agent.”
“Goodness! Now I want to meet her!”
“Anyway!” Skorpion raised its voice. “Turns out that this wasn’t the end of it. More Sangvis in the horizon and M4’s got some very important intel for the brass. We bought her and her team time to extract from the AO. We held the line as long as we could but there’s just too many of them!”
“And you were captured then and there. Where is Sturmgewehr-44 and why wasn’t MAC-10 and PPSh-41 with you?”
“I told them to run as I courageously made my last stand! As for Sturmgewehr’s whereabouts…” Skorpion suddenly sounded morose. Its earlier boisterousness had evaporated. It shrugged its shoulders and continued, “I don’t have a single clue. Could still be somewhere in subsector 4. Or maybe she already wandered into another sector...Anyway!” It suddenly lit up, “I’m thirsty! Can I get some water, please?”
Springfield placed the requested glass of water on the table.
“So, you are captured. By Scarecrow. And brought to subsector 1.”
Skorpion gulped down its drink and set the emptied glass on the table. “Yep!”
“And you were interrogated by Scarecrow. Why didn’t she just pull your memory files for the information?”
The T-Doll shrugged. “How do I know? Maybe the hardware is incompatible. Maybe they just didn’t bring any equipment.”
“Did you see what they brought with them?”
“Just a few consoles…” Skorpion’s brows knitted. “...and computer blocks, I think?” It hung its head. After a moment’s pause, it murmured, “It’s really dark in their hideout...”
“Did you tell Scarecrow about M4A1’s whereabouts?”
“Nope! She spoke to me three times and I lied three times.”
“...You can lie.”
Skorpion averted its eye. “...I can lie…”
“...Do you know why the Sangvis came to subsector 1?”
“Nope!” The T-Doll refocused its attention. “Can’t ask! They were torturing me, remember?”
“Right...Since we are here, we might as well get to Scarecrow’s destruction…”
“Oh! Oh!” Nagant Revolver cried out from among the crowd. “Hear me out! I also fought Scarecrow, I did! You should hear about how I took aim at her as she’s distracted by…”
“FNC scored the disabling shot and emptied her mag into Scarecrow for good measure. All you did was almost hitting Ingram MAC-10.”
A cold chuckle. “See what I told you guys?”
“Hey! This is my story!” Skorpion demanded.
“We are skipping the unnecessarily embellished battle scene and getting straight to Scarecrow lying on the ground.”
Boo’s echoed in the Mess Hall.
“I understand that Helianthus and Scarecrow spoke briefly before she self-destructed. You are there. Do you know the contents of their conversation?”
The T-Doll averted its gaze again. “...eheh…”
“Skorpion?”
“...well...” It started twiddling its thumbs. “You remembered what I said? About lying? Scarecrow saw through my lies…”
Silence fell. All eyes on Skorpion, all bearing a judgemental gleam. Skorpion stared at the table. It glanced at me, back at the table, then back at me again. With each glance, its face grew redder. Eventually, the T-Doll’s shoulders trembled. The empty glass jumped as It slammed its palms against the table.
“I’m a bad liar, alright!” it cried.
“You are not a bad liar! You are a terrible liar!” responded FNC from amongst the crowd. “An absolutely shitty liar!”
“FNC! That’s rude, da nya!”
“But it’s true! She’s a shitty liar!”
“Shut up!” Skorpion snapped. “Just shut up!”
Its outburst was followed by a tempestuous noise.
The situation calmed after ten minutes. Skorpion, still averting eye contact, tucked its hands between its thighs and rocked its torso. I broke the silence with an inquiry, “What else did Scarecrow do before she self-destructed?”
Another moment of silence. It knitted its brow. “She communicated with somebody else through...radio? Something about coordinates...in subsector 2?”
“Why subsector 2?”
“M4 fled towards the direction of subsector 2.”
“Anything else to add?”
Skorpion knitted its brow again. After a moment, it mumbled, “...No?”
“I believe this wraps it up.”
I got up from my seat and pushed my way out of the crowd. Murmurs and chatters erupted as soon as I left the Mess Hall.
1915
A horned silhouette emerged from the smoke and debris. It was alone.
Gunfire flashed on the screen. The tracer-rounds struck true, yet not a single bullet pierced the horned woman.
“Again, they cry like lost children.”
The horned woman spoke clearly and audibly despite the gunfire. Its voice was frigid like desert night winds.
“Again, they hurl their lead pebbles fruitlessly against my wall of blood-drenched iron. How primitive. How futile.”
A crack of thunder. More dust and debris. A bulwark of light fizzled slightly. Bullets sparked against the bulwark.
“Witness, insects of Grifon. Witness your helplessness in the face of our tireless engines of progress. Witness, despair, writhe in the dirt like the worms that you are and be ground to dust.”
Incandescence engulfed the sparks on its bulwark.
“I am the Agent of Master’s Will, and Master wills your Death.”
Statics. ‘Signal Lost’ interrupted the blackness of the screen.
“Won’t you join us for dinner, Commander?”
I put down my pen and swivelled around. Springfield’s metal tray carried a bowl and a mug.
“It is good to be diligent but you shouldn’t neglect your meals.”
It set down the tray on the central table. Steam rose from the food containers.
“...Thank you,” I found myself uttering.
I glimpsed a crinkle forming at the edge of the T-Doll’s lips. It fished out a bottle of Smirnoff from its apron pocket and placed it beside the tray. I spied my ticket taped to the bottle’s neck.
Springfield winked. “A reward for good behaviour. I hope to see you in the Mess Hall tomorrow. We will be having bread bowl soup for lunch.”
“No soup tomorrow,” I replied. “We will depart for subsector 2 tomorrow, at 1030.”
The T-Doll’s smile remained fixed. “Then look forward to having bread bowl soup for dinner. You will join us for dinner, won’t you?” Its tone carried a hint of menace.
I replied with a hard glare.
“Indecisiveness is unbecoming of you.” Its smile remained frozen on its face.
“...Yes.”
Crinkle by its lips and under its eyes. “Make that your promise.”
The room was saturated with the aroma of beef stew.
Drink with me, Captain.
|Pouring sound|
|Gulps|
|Glass clink|
Today’s events had worn me out.
…
|Drinking sound|
...
I had found the answer to the mystery that is Skorpion being disobedient. It...She was wearing ear-plugs. Likely since our encounter in the Nerve Center. When it was clear to...her that they do not suffice, she...what’s the word...doubled-down by wearing ear protectors.
…
Calling T-Dolls by the female pronoun. It will be a while before I get used to this.
…
T-Dolls getting bored, defiant T-Dolls, T-Dolls who are gluttons, T-Dolls who love to tell stories, T-Dolls who laugh at their own lame jokes, T-Dolls who pressure me into doing things.
|Drinking sound|
I made promises to these facsimiles of humanity. Referring to them with the female pronoun, treat them as though they are people, make requests of them rather than ordering them around, join them for dinner tomorrow. Today is a very accursed day.
…
I did get what I want out of Skorpion, at least. I suppose I should derive some joy out of this small victory.
…
|Drinking sound|
M4A1, or rather, the intel it...she is carrying is the cause of this ruckus. She had fled into subsector 2. Finding her is to be my next objective. I know the ‘what’. Now I have to work on the ‘how’. How do I find M4A1 before the Sangvis?
...
This ringleader they call ‘Agent’ may be leading the search for M4A1. We are bound to run into it...her. The human staff and the T-Dolls utter her name with dread. She may prove to be the most daunting foe I have encountered in my lifetime.
She possesses a shield of light. Yes, just like in the sci-fi movies. She also possesses a weapon capable of annihilating everything in its vicinity with a single shot. This weapon appears to have a charge-up time. This time, which I have yet to calculate, is the window we have to destroy her. She knows this, hence her light shield.
…
The light shield shrugs off multiple grenades.
…
|Drinking sound|
I need a solution to this shield problem. M4A1 has the answer to that problem. I need to find her before Agent finds us.