Girls' Frontline Commissions

Jurassic Weeb Commission N°1 - Bequem

"What about the losses?"
"The amount of destroyed bodies was at least 125% higher than what was expected. All the cores have been recovered, but we might need some time to provide all of them with a new body. In the meantime..."
"We will be reducing our active personnel to a 40%."
"Commander, if we do that, then..."
"We'll only be able to carry out the bare minimum of logistics and base defense. We'll be practically non-operational for a while."
"For how long?"
"Until at least 50% of the damaged dolls get a new body."
"This... will not be appreciated by the superiority."
"Surely not, but we have not much of a choice. A defeat in this state could very well mean the end of us all. We ought to lie down for some time."

The central table in the operations room is almost entirely covered by papers: maps, spreadsheets and notifications. On the nearby, smaller table that's by the other end of the room, rests a mug that has been refilled with coffee at least six times since the meeting began. The Commander is known for his habit of pushing his body to the limit, and this doesn't surprise anyone. The T-Doll accompanying him is still disapproval of this, but the situation at hands is too critical to talk about anything else.

"What does the scouts' report says?"
"It seems like our retreating forces weren't chased. There are no signs of enemy patrols trying to follow the traces, either. They also suffered heavy losses so it's only natural that they'd need a break too. Commander..."
"Yes?"

The silver-haired T-Doll shows a slightly worried face as she stares into her Commander's eyes, speaking in a soft voice that could soothe a raging lion.

"When are you taking a break?"

Returning the android's gaze, the Commander takes the last sip from his mug before leaving it on the table again.

"When all our problems are sorted out. If I can't at least get everything done, and every order issued, I might as well resign from the job. We have already too many complications in our hands to worry about not sleeping enough."

He walks back to the center of the room and checks two different damage reports, each one written by a different squad participating on the previous battle. Such battle was actually a success, but the damage sustained made it almost feel like a defeat.

"I have to sit down and decide which logistics will remain active. I also need to reorganize pretty much every echelon to make up for the non-operative dolls. I must deploy scouts, too. Probably a small group of two or three to keep an eye on the enemy. If they somehow realize how beaten up we are and devise an attack plan, we need to know it as soon as possible in order to set up the defenses... or to evacuate, worst case scenario. Oh, and I can't forget about rechecking all the repair requisitions, it's not strange for some to get messed up when they are... that many. Hm, I'll also see personally how those are carried on. There's something I'm forgetting. That... that must be... ah, of course. How stupid. I'm forgetting about the reinforcements requisitions. We'll see if the nearby bases are capable of giving us a hand, lending us some T-Dolls we could put to use in order not to overload our own personal. I'll start with that one. Tokarev, could you please serve me more coffee?"
"You look ugly, Commander."

When the surprised Commander turns around to face her, the T-Doll is standing in front of him. She grabs his face with both her hands and softly pulls the skin on his cheekbones with her thumbs.

"Look at these eye bags. This is not a face you should show to your dolls, Commander."
"..."
"I've got everything noted down. I beg you to lie down at least for a couple of hours. We'll get everything done as soon as you wake up, yes?"
"... yes."

. . .

The Commander reluctantly retreats to his room, only irritated with himself for not having a body that could endure even more. There are many, truly many things to do. His mind revolves around all the orders he must give and all the papers he must sign. While everyone knows that this is his job, only he pushes himself to the limit in such a way.
However, his adjutant has a point: he won't be effective if he's not well-rested, and showing himself so exhausted to the T-Dolls will only worsen everyone's morale.
That's why he finds himself now in front of the door to his personal room, hand on the doorknob as he dismisses the last traces of resistance within him. He turns the knob with a sigh, and steps through the door.