Disclaimer: Girls' Frontline belongs to MICA Team. I'm just doing this for fun and I get no monetary compensation from it.

A/N: English is not my mother language, so feedback is appreciated.

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Chapter 1
SIG 510: Doubts of your own, the World goes on

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Another round of laugher filled the room. The dolls inside were sporting wide grins on their synthetic faces, their emotions' modules working fully to keep them enjoying their great time. It was a Girls' Night, one where the members of multiple Echelons got to stay together in one dorm for the duration of the curfew to share stories, tell jokes or simply pass time with comrades with who they didn't interact often.

It had already been a couple hours since curfew started, along with the official beginning of the occasion, when one of the veteran dolls of the base turned to her, still with a grin embodied on her face, but this once accompanied by a curious glance.

"Hey, 510" she turned to her senior in her new assigned area, an eyebrow raised. "You were previously assigned to Area S12, right? The base with the two Commanders." She felt part of her joy died inside of her, already knowing where the question was going. Like following a well-choreographed sequence, most of the other dolls turned to her, anxious to know the answer as well. "How was it? I've barely seen dolls from that Base, even less met one that remembers well their time there and whose conscience wasn't restored to the cloud's backup."

'Well, that'd be for a reason' she thought to herself. That same reason was why she couldn't tell them all the things that happened in that base. Most of it wasn't exactly classified information, of course, but she had already soaked herself in the secrecy imposed to most of the dolls at her old Echelon. She still had the fear that her old Commanders would get wind of her 'spilling the beans', as humans called it, and would hunt her down and have even her backup cloud wiped clean. She doubted they had that actual power, but it was a fear, nonetheless. Fear wasn't supposed to be rational, after all. Nevertheless, there were things she could tell that didn't involve getting herself dismantled in her dreams. Reorganizing her thoughts, SIG 510 hawked to recompose herself before speaking.

"Well... it was a bit weird, to be honest," she kept her voice not too loud, trying to not freak out and get pass the fear of finally speaking after many months. "The two Commanders weren't exactly eccentric, but they had their quirks too. They had a small obsession with law and order. When they first arrive, the first thing they did was to suspend almost all operations for a week and reassemble the teams in the base, as well as requesting or sending away dolls for whatever reason they could find. Most of us were too stunned by the fact that there were two simultaneous commanders to really give any serious opposition. The predominant comment was 'Did Helian's mind finally broke because of her failed mixers?', but that was also denied by an official statement from HQ. Nevertheless, it was weird, but after a week or so of constantly getting new teammates we finally hit the field with operations again."

One of her Echelon teammates interrupted her story. "Given how you describe your commanders, operations must have been really tight-schedule."

She gave a small chuckle. "We wished they were like that. But reality was different. Regarding operations they were chaotic to an extent, firm believers of the phrase 'no plan survives contact with the enemy.' Our missions were always planned with an improvisation element included. Echelon leaders had a certain degree of autonomy for orders, depending on their group."

"Group?"

"Oh, yeah, that was another thing. They loved, and by that, I mean loved, to form up echelons in groups." She raised her hand to start counting with her fingers. "First a group that had inside all Echelons deployed in the field. Then a group of elite Echelons. Then a guard group. To that followed another elite group that worked as emergency backup. Later, they realized they didn't trust any of the elite groups, so they created yet another elite group whose task was to check on the other elite groups. It was all a mess, but an organized mess. To this day I barely remember what doll belonged to what group: they changed continuously, always at our commanders' discretion."

"Yep, sounds totally like a mess. I couldn't bear to live like that."

"You can't live freely either way, so shut it!"

At the mean worlds in a friendly tone, all the dolls laughed again, her tension somewhat diminished.

"And? What about your missions? I think Area S12 had different sorts of missions, besides, you know, fighting Sangvis' patrols."

"Well, there were a few other missions. There are had some small population centers, which meant there were government personnel present. Sometimes we had to help them. There wasn't much to do either way, besides patrols, though a few times we did get into big fights."

"You mean you sometimes had to do things like escort missions and rescue VIPs?!" Another doll smacked the one that asked, almost shouted, the question, getting another round of laughs. Relaxing a bit, she tried to answer the best she could while her memory started to travel back to the sort of missions she did back then...

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One month earlier...

Area S12
Night

The helicopter shook another bit. The dolls and humans inside of it hold into their seats as if their lives depended on it, though that was at least partly true for the ones being made of flesh and bones. The pilots moved the machine in the dark night whose sky was light up by anti-air artillery tracers fired from the ground, though they weren't very accurate.

"I thought you said it wouldn't be that hard to get into the battlefield?!" Was the snarky comment made from one of the pilots via their comms link inside their helmets. Her commander shrugged, thought the pilots weren't able to see it, before answering.

"Neither did I say it was going to be a walk in the park, did I?!"

"Alright, fair enough!" Came the reply, this time in a more neutral tone. "ETA to the observation point, 1 minute!"

The Commander stood up and looked outside the window, watching the ground below them. She turned her gaze to her teammates. They weren't as curious as her as to why exactly one of her human commanders was going with them to the battlefield shared with Sangvis Ferry, so she deduced they have must already done it before. They were mostly checking her weapons and equipment: besides her main weapons, some of them carried personal defense ones, and to that they added their own combat helmets. As to why dolls had to carry helmets, she had no idea. They usually deployed with their own berets or hats, so the reason of why helmets now of all times was a mystery to her.

"Arriving now!" Resounded the voice of one of the pilots, and her commander opened the side door of the cargo bay. A whistle, barely audible, was heard through the channel.

"HQ, Delta-1, do you copy?"

"Delta-1, HQ. We receive you."

"Our intel was off. Like, way off. Also, we need to improve our surveillance elements. The image we had at the base isn't worth shit compared to what I'm seeing."

"Can you give me an idea of how off it is?"

"For once, the enemy artillery, both ground and anti-air. There's a shit ton of them here. Currently I'm..." he turned to the pilots, who shouted something off the comms link. Her commander nodded. "...three quarters of a mile up, and still seeing explosion around the chopper. Don't get me started on the city itself: it looks like tracers were in a big sale today, because there's an endless supply of them being shot, and besides the ruined buildings it appears that at least a fifth of the place is on fire."

Moved by curiosity, she approached the lateral window and looked below, accompanied by her teammates. Suddenly, the reason as to why they had to wear combat helmets was clear. Very clear.

The amount of artillery firing into the city was enormous. Shrapnel and debris were flying in large amounts, along with the aforementioned tracers, and she was quite sure more than most of those could take her or any of her teammates out cold for sure. She had no wish to wake up in the repair bay with a new body and her neural cloud restored from a backup. She worked hard to get there: if she screwed up it was probably that she would go back to her original unit.

"What about the enemy numbers?" The voice of the other commander, the one in their Base, kept speaking in the communications channel. She couldn't help but frown at the indifferent, if slightly excited, tone used.

"Looks like Moscow down there" came the reply from the commander currently aboard with them.

"That doesn't sound like much if you ask me."

"I meant pre-war Moscow."

"Oh. I see..."

She couldn't understand what they meant by that but judging by the tone and serious look on the commander's face it wasn't something pretty.

"Just how important can a VIP get...? Ugh, whatever. Cole!" He called one of the pilots, who in turn looked at him. "Take us down to one-kilometer height!"

"Roger!"

"HQ, what's the status on the precious cargo?"

"Team 2 is still holding position, but they are two dolls and several dummies down. Doesn't look good from here, and that being that we can barely see anything."

"Patch me through." He then turned to the inside of the cargo bay, where her and the dolls of her team were waiting. "Sten, Garand, get ready."

"Yes sir!"

"Patching in three, two, one... link stablished."

"Commander?! Is that you?!"

"Aye, it's me FAL. What's your status?"

"F2000 and Five-seveN are down, are most of our dummies are gone too! Sangvis forces are swarming the place!"

"Alright, hear me out. I'm landing with another team in your area in a few minutes. I need you and your team to keep nearby roofs clear of hostiles. I'll send a couple dolls to help you hold the area until we arrive."

"From where are they arriving, commander?! The streets are packed with Sangvis dolls!"

"Above. Watch your sky, they'll be paradropping soon onto you." He cut off the comms, no waiting for an answer he already knew. Then the commander turned to the already prepared Sten Mk. II and M1 Garand dolls, who were using helmets that surely were based, if they weren't actual, helmets of the second world war. The commander kept using the inner communication's channel. "Sten, Garand, you know the drill. HALO jump, land at the roof and secure the LZ so we can land later." He then turned to the rest of the team. "We are going to land there, secure the VIP and get the hell out of there. Each one of you knows their task, right?" Every doll abord nodded. Satisfied, the commander got to the side of the door. "HALO jump, go!"

Sten and Garand ran and jumped off the vehicle, falling towards the battlefield with their weapons crossed to their bodies. 510 kept following them with her gaze until their parachutes opened, seeing them land seemingly safely on the target building's roof. A few minutes later, they received news from them.

"Commander, LZ secured. Land quickly, they will be coming back" came the voice from Garand. The commander nodded to the pilots, who in turn started to lower the aircraft's altitude.

"We'll jump as soon as the helicopter stabilizes itself. No more than 10 seconds, understood?!" His only answer was three nods. "Good!"

As he told them, as soon as the helicopter approached the roof and stopped going forward, the group of three dolls plus their commander jumped and the vehicle took off. With a small hand gesture, the commander led his dolls to the border of the structure, where both Garand and another doll of the already there team was located.

"49, Garand" he acknowledged both, who in turn nodded at him before going back to shooting the approaching enemies. "Where's the VIP?"

"Sixth floor, commander" replied 49, while one of her dummies took out another Sangvis unit. "I believe Sten went ahead to check on them."

"Them?"

"There was more than one person there, and the VIP refused to leave without them" informed the doll with the Belgian rifle, her eyes still on the road.

"Goddamnit."

"All the civilians are with the VIP."

"Alright, let's get going. Garand, stay with 49 here and keep the roofs clear. The rest of you, with me."

"Roger."

Leaving Garand and 49, along with the latter's dummies, the group descended through the stairs of the old building, traveling through the darkness only fought by the lights of flames and combat outside leaking by the glassless windows. 510 couldn't help but notice the small things left inside, most of them remnants from even before the Third World War took place. Posters, toys, old technology, furniture... it wasn't of her style, but it was a curious sight to behold.

They arrived to one of the rooms on the sixth floor, one located at the north side of the building. Inside they found Sten, keeping guard at the door's side, and FAL, who sat in the dark interior of the place, and two of her dummies, who kept watch through the windows. FAL raised her weapon at them but lowered it at the sight of the commander and the dolls that were with him.

"Commander. Glad to see you."

"Same here. Situation?"

"FNC and her dummies are holding the first floor. F2000 went down at the street before reaching this place, Five-seveN got herself and all her dummies killed during the defense, and you probably already met 49 sniping from the roof. That would be all."

"And the VIP?"

"Inside. He is with some civilians who managed to escape the destruction and has refused to leave without them."

"Ugh... I can already feel the headache this will give us" the voice of the other commander rang through their comms. The commander there present simply nodded while he massaged his nose bridge.

"I'll go talk with him. 416, 510, go gather the battle data from the fallen dolls and assess the situation downstairs. M9, you have watch duty along with FAL. Sten, with me."

The commander hadn't ended speaking when HK 416 started moving, she herself following soon as to not be left behind. Before taking the stairs towards the first floor, she managed to see her commander, flanked by Sten, getting into the room with the VIP. She could only wonder what words would be exchanged between him and the person they had to rescue: her commander was sometimes really persuasive, but most of the time he had a bad compatibility with words. Preparing her weapon, she followed the doll with the german assault rifle to the entrance, where they met FNC.

The state of the doll was... well... difficult.

Besides her messy clothes and two of her dummies disfigured at the floor, parts of her synthetic skin were cut, either by shrapnel of bullets and around half her hair was burned. FNC had, also, a bayonet attached to the canon on her weapon: by the sights of it, it had been recently used against Sangvis opponents.

"Y-you... you girls are the reinforcements?" Was the first thing her pained voice muttered after she saw the two of them appear.

"Yes" 510 would have scold 416 due to her harsh tone, but there were more pressing matters at the moment. "SITREP?"

"They went away... for a while, at least. They'll surely be back soon, when the shooters in the roofs come back."

"What about F2000 and Five-seveN? Where did they fell?"

"You mean for the combat records? Here they are" FNC handed them two small chips. 416 store them in one of her uniform's pockets. "Will you stay here to help? I really don't know how much longer I will be able to hold them off."

"We may, but the VIP takes priority. I'll ask the commander if-" 416's dialogue was suddenly cut off, and her face took a gaze of concentration 510 had scarcely seen before. Apparently, she was using a private comms channel. "Roger that, commander."

"What did the commander say?" She asked, anxious to help FNC. She would follow her orders, sure, but she also wanted to help her fellow dolls whenever possible. She wondered if her teammates shared the same will: this was barely her third mission with them, and the first one that involved sensitive cargo like humans.

"510, you stay here and help FNC. I'll go check something at the interior." 416 waited for no answer before turning her heels and disappearing in the insides of the building. 510 approached FNC and sat next to her.

"Well, there she goes."

"You don't seem used to this..." noted FNC. 510 sighed.

"New team. Still don't get used to them. I wonder if they hate me of think of me as a burden sometimes."

"What team are you in, by the way? Your Task... hum... Task-something also works, too. I don't think I've ever seen your unit before."

"The term is Task Force, and well, I don't know if I'm authorized to tell you that. I'm a test member for Team 1 if that tells you something."

"Team 1?! I heard they had a permanent casualty not long ago. So, you are the replacement?"

"Apparently, yes. Third mission with this team."

"I see... I hope you pass, though. That way, I can boast I know someone of the famous Team 1!"

Despite her words, 510 knew that FNC meant good. Team 1 wasn't exactly a legend back at the base, but more like a secret club whose members and purpose were unknown. With the dolls of the place numbering more than one hundred that were constantly deployed and changed in occupation, it was difficult to keep track of every doll in it. Bad tongues always existed, of course, but so far most of the dolls doubted Team 1 even existed, being a ghost created by the human commanders to motivate dolls to keep their efforts up.

The two of them kept chatting for a while, battle sounds in the distance, until 416 returned. Her face had an unreadable expression, and she quickly made 510 stand up.

"To the roof. Now."

"What about FNC...?"

"Her orders will come. Ours already have. Let's get going."

Barely managing to say goodbye to the belgian doll, the two of them remade their way upstairs, passing the room where they originally met FAL, until they reached the roof. There was a large group there: their commander, a person in a suit -that was probably the VIP-, the dolls of Team 1 and some of Team 2 and, finally, the civilians. The commander had an irritable look on his face while he talked at his own radio, but when they arrived, he let go of it and approached the main group with the apparent VIP at its head.

"I'll make this quick" he said. "I got news from out spotters in the frontline. The enemy artillery noticed the helicopter before, so they are starting to shift their attention here. We don't have neither the time, nor the resources to get all of you out of here at once. And not my orders nor my contract oblige me to rescue third party agents, even if they are civilians." Before the VIP could say anything, the commander raised one hand. "On the other hand, if I leave them to die here, at the very least I'll paint a target in my back while also destroying the reputation of Griffin and Kryuger in the process. Also, I'm not into civilian killing myself, even if indirectly."

"Then what do you suggest?! The people will die if we don't do something, you know?!"

"I just said I know, didn't I? Jesus, people need to learn to calm the fuck down."

"Not like you are any better."

"Shut it, will ya?"

Who had just spoken that snarky comment was the other commander, the one observing them from their base. 510 assumed the commander with then had a camera that allowed the other one to see what was going on. He took off his beret and scratched his head for a couple seconds, before setting the accessory of his uniform back where it belonged and started speaking again.

"We'll do what we can. When the helo arrives, Team 1, you, me, and whatever civvies can get inside will board it and take off. The rest will have to wait with Team 2 until another vehicle arrives or the frontline reaches this place. I would like to save all your asses, but sadly for you I lack the resources to do so. So, lets get ready, the chopper is arriving."

"I'm not moving from here until all the civilians are safe" declared the VIP, only to get the commander to reach for his weapon and cock a bullet. He didn't point it at the suited-civilian, nor to anyone in fact, but the weapon was loaded and ready to fire.

"You are our priority. You are getting out first, even if we have to knock you out for that."

"If I get out, you have no incentive to come back for the civilians."

"You don't know that. But leaving you here makes the probability of you getting killed higher, and I'll be damned if I get fired because of you. I didn't survive the war to chewed up by bureaucrats. I'll say it again: get yourself ready. The chopper is arriving."

Faced with the cold response of her rescuer and surrounded by a city in flames, with the lives of the civilians on his back and with no guns at his command, the VIP finally surrendered.

"Please... just try to save as many as you can..."

"Sure thing, I already said that. Now... Hawk-1, you copy?"

"Affirmative."

"We got civvies in here as well. Make room for all the people you can, we are leaving with the VIP and a shit-ton of AA fire."

"You own me a beer after this."

"A fucking six-pack if you want, just get us out of here." The line was cut the next second, the commander speaking this time to the people in general. "Sort yourself, people, the chopper has only so much space available! Prioritize whoever you want but do it fast! Team 1, help them!"

"Yes sir!"

"416, you have the combat data of the fallen?" 510 heard the commander ask through the private network of Team 1.

"Yes. I also got that of FN 49. FAL and FNC might prove a bit difficult though."

"No time, that'll do. Three out of five is not bad. What about the other thing?"

"Already done."

"Perfect."

510 could only wonder why that exchange of words was taking place. An artillery shell fell nearby, and the whole building shook with a small tremble. People cried shout of surprise and fear, but the dolls nor their commander showed any sign of trouble.

"FAL! Over here!"

"Yes, commander?" The doll arrived in no time. 510 managed to see her state more clearly now, given the better supply of light sources: her clothes were tattered, her hair dirty and without any shinning, and her skin had at least 3 shrapnel imbued into it. Nevertheless, she appeared ready to receive any order her commander was going to give her.

"I'll be honest here: the next vehicle will take a long time if it ever arrives. I would bet my money on the frontline reaching here, in which case the Sangvis pressure on you will diminish, but it will take a while. It's not an easy task, but I have faith that you and the rest of Team 2 will hold until that time."

"I... see. No problem commander. We'll hold the line, even if we end up falling!"

"Great. It's good to know I count with such amazing dolls in my teams. Thanks FAL" with a warm smile that got illuminated by the fire of an artillery shell falling on a nearby roof, the commander gave a small pat on FAL's back before heading to the center of the roof, where the helicopter was landing and Team 1 was already loading the VIP. Once dolls and previous cargo were aboard, civilians started to get inside: mostly children, a few women algo managed to aboard the vehicle. With the pilot giving the final negative on how many could aboard, the commander hoped in and closed the door giving one final look at FAL, who in turn was leading the rest of the civilians into one of the inner floors in an attempt to protect them of the flying shrapnel of the artillery fire. The helo started to rise in the sky, flanked by AA-fired tracers, before it started to get away, its maneuverability hampered by the amount of people who simply didn't had anything to hold themselves to. Once they were some distance away, the commander gave a nod to 416, who in turn nodded again. Nothing happened for a while, the aircraft slowly getting away from the battlefield, when it occurred.

An artillery shell hit the building. The explosion shook it, but it managed to hold. Then another. And another. At the fourth, a bigger explosion occurred in the middle of the structure, with it finally collapsing on itself. Cries of surprised again filled the civilians' throats, who tried as much as they could to see the disaster, but the dolls, using their superior strength, managed to keep them from turning the helo upside down. Finally controlling the 'herd of people', as their commander would put it later, the pilots used the smoke curtain that rose from the debris to cut down evasive maneuvers and go full throttle towards their base. When they were bypassing friendly lines, lines were combat was still going on, the commander gave one final order through the radio, though this time, it wasn't for them.

"Team 30, precious cargo secured. Start the evacuation of the frontline."

"Roger that. See you at the base, commander."

510 could only think if all what happened was already discussed beforehand.

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Of course, she couldn't tell them all that happened. Team 1's missions were classified for the most part (mainly due to her old commanders' paranoia), so she wasn't allowed to tell the truth of what happened. But she was able to tell the general events that everyone knew, and so she did.

"One of the missions I remember the most was when we had to rescue a VIP from a small city infested by Sangvis. It wasn't easy. We held the line so that a small elite team could infiltrate and rescue said person, and they also managed to bring back several civilians with them, even though the team got eliminated when they reached our lines. After that, we evacuated and got back to the base for debriefing."

"Wow... that sounds AMAZI-OW!"

Being hit again for her shouts, the small doll started to fight with her senior about it, most of the other dolls watching happily. Brutal combat wasn't a strange thing, and while most dolls didn't have VIP missions, it wasn't unheard off. It was a normal, albeit a bit curious, background. Which made her feel even more guilty when she remembered what happened afterwards, part of the thing she couldn't tell them...

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"Commanders."

""Hm?""

SIG 510 was inside the command room. It was the second time that she had been there, the first being when she was selected as a test member of Team 1, and the place had not changed compared to that first time. The cans of both cola and coffee were amounting in one of the trash cans, while cups and glasses that probably used to have the same liquids in them were dispersed around the room. Maps and reports were everywhere except the seats, and the light was dim given that the curtains were half-down and multiple screens that emitted a light blue light were on, with who-knows-what humans-only data of the company. She wondered how G36 managed to clean that place, until she remembered that the maid doll neither was exactly allowed free entrance to the room. She doubted any doll had it, besides permanent members of Team 1 and the guards. Recomposing herself, 510 made the petition that had been eating her brain for the last few hours.

"I... would like to transfer."

"Transfer?" Schmidt, the female commander and the one who stood at the base during their last operation, raised an eyebrow. The top of her light brown hair was barely kept in place by her beret, and the bags under her eyes definitely weren't a good health sign.

"Is it due to Operation Ruins?" Asked Hausser, the male commander and the one that was with them during the whole ordeal, using the codename for the task of getting the government's bureaucrat out of the warzone a few days ago. He also had his dark brown hair kept in place by his beret. Both commanders had their uniform neatly and clean, which made 510 wonder how their clothes could be so well-maintained, and the people in them still look incredibly messed up. She attributed it to lack of sleep and excess of caffeine, but again, she didn't exactly knew about the lifestyle of her superiors.

"Yes, but mostly all of it. I... simply put, I don't think I can handle the intensity of the missions. You put your faith in me and know I can accomplish the missions given their time, but the rhythm... is just too high. I know you don't want a doll who doubts her own capacity to do the missions in your elite team, right?"

Both commanders looked among themselves, clueless, while 510 waited. Those words had a hint of truth in them, but those weren't the exact reason. The two humans appeared to reach a silent agreement, because they turned back to her simultaneously with the same look in their eyes.

The same look they had when she entered their office.

The same look that made her and many other dolls in the base uneasy every time their commanders spoke to them in official business, and sometimes even without anything in the way.

It was the same look both commanders had when they first arrived at the base a few weeks ago and looked at each and every doll currently there, getting the biggest part of them to feel uneasy about their future. It was also the emotion that surely got ingrained into the Base's inner workings when some new doll asked about their commanders.

She didn't know what to make of that gaze, nor did anyone at her old team. Some called it cold, others said it was a calculating one. A few said it was plain disinterest, while another group ignored the issue and settled with the knowledge that those commanders did, in fact, see T-dolls and humans as people of the same level, at least from what they had heard from others in their previous areas. The permanent members of Team 1, the team closer to the Commanders, never said anything about the issue, not that many even knew they existed.

Griffin and Kryuger always had an emphasis on their commanders, seeking people who would see dolls, at least, as more than mere tools to an end. The aim of this was to prevent the growth of a discrimination product of human commanders treating their dolls like second-class citizens, at best, and walking tools that happened to kill people and couldn't defy orders, at worst. These commanders, while they did meet the criteria, still gave that nervous feeling about them to the dolls under their command.

And it was that uneasiness, coupled with the dubious morality she was starting to sense on them and implications of the real actions of the team on the missions they personally oversaw, that made her seek transfer.

"Just to be sure, by transfer you mean to another base?" Came the question from Schmidt. 510 nodded.

"You know we can't really do that, right? At least not without wiping your memory to the cloud's backup." Came the reply of Hausser, who crossed his arms. 510 nodded again.

"But you did serve good, though. All orders completed without problem, certainly a good mark. It would be a shame to lose a t-doll with your experience... wouldn't you reconsider to just transfer back to another team in the base?"

Ah, that's right. She almost forgot that, even for doll's standards, these two lacked a lot of social skills. She would be laughingstock of the base is she got sent to her original unit after a transfer to another echelon of higher caliber. She sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Well, if you let us install a silence protocol on you, then we can let you leave with your current memories intact." The next words of Schmidt surprised her, Hausser barely raised an eyebrow before shrugging and going for, yet another, can of coke. "You did serve well, after all. We just hope that, if we ever have serious problems, you come back here to help us solve them."

That was something she could agree with, ignoring the repeated words that surely Schmidt also didn't notice she said twice. Hausser threw a canned soda to his female working partner, who catch it without issue, before going to one of the computers in the room.

"I'll contact the engineering staff. You can go to maintenance for now. Once you are awake, you are free to go. If I'm not mistaken, tomorrow one transport is going to another base. You can use that to go away sooner."

"Alright... and thanks."

"Yeah, no big deal. See ya."

Both commanders didn't seem affected by the fact one of their dolls defected, albeit with their permission, to another base. She wondered how many dolls had requested the same, and how many had their memories wiped clean to their original backups to keep some secrets, whatever they may have been. Some of them may have even go back to their teams without knowing their original purpose.

No use thinking of that now.

Her only thought at the time was whether or not she would ever see that base willingly again. Only time would tell...