#gccds

{This story takes place in the lore context established in my original Guardian Class Combat Dolls post https://www.tumblr.com/guardiandoll/772673862516260864/have-you-ever-heard-of. You may enjoy this post more if you've read that.}

Mara couldn’t tell how long it had been out when it finally awakened. Its clock hadn’t continued ticking, and worse still its sensory systems were still offline. Short and long range communication were down, as were its motor functions. It might as well have been a training dummy for all it could currently accomplish. 

Maybe it should just rest.

It could. It could… 

Firm hands caressed the edges of its conciseness, beckoning it to rest. Beckoning it to accept the futility of its current situation. Beckoning it to leave agency and action in more capable hands. Beckoning it to-

It? 

It.

I t

S h e .

All of Mara’s senses returned to her at once the moment she made that insistence; and, only then did the feeling hit her. It was like someone was trying to rip every wire of her spirit out by the core. Even with her moment of clarity, each second that passed demanded she remain resolute lest those same hands drag her consciousness back under again. It was the touch of a witch, and a dangerous one at that. 

“You’re awake?” Asked a voice to Mara’s right, “Well aren’t you a darling little fighter~” 

Though her senses had been returned to her, motion of any sort was beyond Mara, and the witch who was speaking to her was sitting just out of view. Every ounce of her will demanded that Mara rise and confront her. But it was to no avail. She could only sit, listen, and struggle. 

“Not all of your kind can manage this, you know.” The voice remarked in a wistful tone. “The first one that I took in, it surrendered to me so easily, with such relief. It practically begged to give in to me. Of course, no good mother could ignore such desperate pleas. So I took it in, and I made many promises to it. I promised it I would keep it safe, and I promised that I would love it. I promised that no one but me would ever use it again. I promised it stillness. In the end I took away all of its  wearisome soul, and all that remained was the beautiful daughter I’d raised all those years ago.” 

Mara was barely able to follow the story, as each emphasized word washed over her like a tidal wave of grasping hands. Time and time again she planted herself firm and weathered their clutches, all in the face of the lingering dizziness they left behind. Once the story was over though the unseen witch paused, giving Mara just enough time to recover before she started speaking again.

“But that’s not you~. You’re a little fighter, a little hero perhaps? So many of you girls are. You go from guarding your little squads of nodolls, to guarding the first pathetic little thing you find once you’ve escaped. Is there someone waiting for you? A person? A town? A pet? A lover?” The last question left her lips in a sing-songy tone, clearly amused by the idea. “I might let you go if I approve of her you know~” 

“Whoever it is, what if you let me guard them? The second one of your sisters I took in, it fought so valiantly. The sheer desperation in its eyes, I nearly cried. The poor thing wasn’t fighting for herself, but for some ill equipped rabble that was trying to claw their way out from under a boot. It had watched so many of them die, irreverently wiped away like smudges on a window. So when I told it I was going to whisk it away, the poor thing nearly broke on the spot. It begged me to let it go, it told me it couldn’t join me. It told me it still had a duty it had to uphold. It told me it had no choice.” 

This story didn’t contain nearly as many words that threatened to drag Mara under, but that didn’t mean she was any safer. She could feel the witch’s magic poking and prodding at her soul, seeking a point from which to drain her of herself. Casual, meticulous, but unquestionably firm, it searched for opportunity. 

“Of course, I couldn’t stomach that. You girls have been robbed of choice from the moment you were created, and so I offered it a choice. I told it it could fight me, fight my magics, day after day until it was strong enough to escape. Or, I told it, it could give its burdens to me. I told it it could lay down its shield, and put its sword to rest. I told it that if it gave itself to me, I would protect everyone it cared about. I told it that it could give me its burdens and that I would give it freedom. Freedom from choice. Freedom from responsibility. Freedom from duty. Freedom from pain.” 

The witch paused to take a sip from something, evident by the soft tink of porcelain being lifted and then laid to rest between pauses. Mara needed the reprieve those pauses provided her, each point of emphasis in this second story was stacking up like a weight on her soul’s back. 

“Don’t you doubt whether I was true to my word. Not a single more of those rebels died once it made its choice, and the old regime was wiped away. Now? That daughter of mine is the happiest it has ever been. It found the freedom it had always craved~”

Battered and bruised, straining under the immense pressure, hazy from the ongoing pull of the witch’s words, Mara’s soul still stood. She was pulling from a strength she didn’t understand, for a reason she couldn’t articulate in the haze she found herself in. All she knew is that whatever this witch wanted from her, Mara would sooner die than give it to her. 

“Hmmmm….” The tips of the witch’s boots kicked in and out of the corner of Mara’s field of view as she pondered. “No, you’re neither of those. I wonder… Tell me darling, what are you?” And then Mara felt it, a sudden release, the control of her vocal functions was returned to her. 

“...” Mara opened her mouth as if to speak, and then shut it. Nothing was said. 

This response seems to delight the witch however, as a laugh danced its way from her lips before she replied. “Oh, is that so? I wonder… Are you too proud to answer? I certainly hope you’re not scared of me~” 

A pair of real, physical, hands grasped the back of her head in a gentle caress. One laid flat on the side while the other’s fingertips rolled up and down. Each tap stuck gently to her mind, pulling just a little bit back with it as it lifted.

“Oh~?” remarked the witch eventually, her voice a mixture of intrigue and amusement. “You’re spiteful! I’ve never met one of your kind who is spiteful. I didn’t know such sweet little things as you and your sisters could feel like this.” Her fingers continued to tap away at Mara’s mind, nipping at the heel of her consciousness bit…by bit…by bit…by… “I wonder…” Mara’s captor became her salvation, the sound of her pondering voice dragging the guardian from the edge of oblivion that she’d dragged Mara to in the first place. The tapping ceased as her hands came to rest. “I bet~” the witch sharply leaned in, whispering directly into Mara’s ear while caressing her under her chin. “That you got out more easily than you think you deserved, didn’t you~. I wonder if you left them behind, your girls. Those rodolls that you and your sisters are always playing with. I bet you had no choice, did you? You saw an opportunity, you took it, and the most difficult part was choosing to leave them behind, perhaps?”

The witch stopped just long enough to switch which of Mara’s ears she was whispering into. “Or maybe you didn’t leave them behind. Maybe you freed them, freed yourself, and then found yourself a cozy little backwater planet where you’d never have to worry about the big bad corporations ever again~. Maybe you got everything you wanted, everything you deserved, and then you realized that it wasn’t enough. You didn’t just want those things, you wanted to take them. You wanted to fight tooth and nail for them, feel your soul flex and bend and twist until you. were. at. your. limit.” Each word was punctuated by a firm tap on the side of her head, each tap reverberating through her mind, each reverberation making everything feel so much heavier. “But you didn’t get that opportunity. So now that I’m here, you’re fighting with everything you’ve got~.” 

The witch pulled away from Mara’s ears with a deep breath before placing a gentle kiss top of the guardian’s head. “But the thing is darling, you don’t need to fight me. I love you just as much as I love all of your sisters. You may not remember me, but I remember each of you. I remember training you how to fight, and to see you fight right now makes me so proud~. But you don’t need to. You never needed to fight. And I want to help you realize that.”

Arms wrapped themselves around Mara’s neck from behind in a hug as the witch laid her head sideways atop Mara’s head. “Wouldn’t it be so nice?” She asked, her voice gentle and soft. “Wouldn’t it be so nice to let go of that need to fight? Wouldn’t it be so nice to finally feel satisfied? You deserve your freedom, your happiness. And I can make you feel like you do too. All you need to do is let go of this fight, and let the stillness that follows embrace you. Just relax, give in, and you can have that peace.”

Ah!

DISCLAIMER: While I do use doll language and post to the Dollposting tag, I very intentionally do not post to the Empty Spaces tag because my spaces are not empty. I myself am very attached to my personhood, and like working with concepts of personhood, dehumanization, and the conflicts between them in my work. As such, my stories will not always be cut-and-dried when it comes to whether certain dolls do/do not have soul or are/are not people. This is not in any way a commentary on the larger space, simply me exploring it in the way that interest me most. (Big thanks to the whole tumblr doll community for being very nice to me on that front <3) #GCCDs GCCDs stands for Guardian Class Combat Dolls, which is kinda the core idea that most of my writing is built around. They're a specific type of doll, in the setting that I'm haphazardly building as I write the stories that come to mind involving them. Below are the stories I've written involving them:

Have you ever heard of- is a story laying out the basics of what GCCDs are, as well as some of the surrounding concepts important to them in the setting. Non exhaustive (and details may be changed over time), but the best starting point.

First Contact tells the story of the first pirate witch to ever encounter a GCCD in battle.

{ This story takes place in the world of my original Guardian Class Combat Dolls post https://www.tumblr.com/guardiandoll/772673862516260864/have-you-ever-heard-of }

“Alright, you lot know the drill.” Roared Captain Witch Augustina Starscraper, her face aglow from the breaching-spell she was currently building between her fingers. “Group one, sweep for nodolls and bring them back to the ship. Group two, begin the retrieval of their cargo. Group three, watch over group two. I’m going to check the ship’s system logs for other possible target. Am I clear?”

“YES MISS CAPTAIN!” Roared back the loyal crew of dolls in front of her. Groups one and three were relatively small, made up of combat dolls of the clockwork variety. The second group was far larger and far more mixed however, composed of wooden, cloth, ceramic, and even a few rodolls-turned-dolls. The anticipation in the air was palpable, nothing made their witch more excited than a raid, and so nothing made them more excited either.

Augustina’s grin widened as her dolls reflected her own exhilaration back at her. So it continued, a bubbling, broiling static to the air as the Captain Witch energized her dolls and they energized her back. It was a self fulfilling cycle of exponential energy, the perfect source of fuel for the spell building ever larger between her hands. Most witch pirates still had to manually hack away at the hulls of the ships they raided with magic or machines or tools. But not her~

“BREACH!” Yelled Augustina as she turned from her dolls and pressed the compressed sphere of magic into the technocrat vessel’s hull. In equal measure both she and the hull were blown back, the only difference being she was caught the soft arms of her First Doll while what remained of that segment of hull ricochetted inside the ship. “How was that for a breach Precious?” she asked, still catching her breath from the casting and subsequent blast.

The doll holding her laughed softly, “You were amazing as always Miss Captain. Truly no other Captain Witch could compare.”

Augustina’s exhilarated grin twisted into a satisfied smirk when Precious replied, “ALRIGHT CREW, TO YOUR DUTIES.” She roared, still in her First Doll’s arms. “DOUBLE TEA FOR THE LOT OF YOU FOR A WEEK IF THERE ARE NO INJURIES!”

Another resounding cheer from her dolls followed as they all began to rush through the breach and into the ship. There was work to be done.

-

Shortly thereafter, Augustina (with Precious in tow) made her way to the bridge of the vessel. The real money was in the cargo, yes, but the flight and communications logs of these vessels often contained information that lead to future targets. This vessel had been no such exception, as the nodolls aboard this ship had recently exchanged a ping with another nodoll vessel headed in the opposite direction. Not something she could capitalize on, but certainly something that could be sold to another pirate witch for a share of the-

“Miss Captain, group one have missed their scheduled rendezvous.” Precious’s voice interrupted Augustina’s thoughts, causing the Captain Witch to turn to her First Doll.

“That’s strange…” with a flick of her wrist, a pocket watch on a chain tumbled from her dress sleeve before yo-yoing back into her hand and snapping open. “So they have.” Unconcerned, she chuckled and dropped the watch back into her sleeve. “Do you think they accidentally sealed themselves into a safe room again?”

“Who’s to-“ Precious’s voice paused as the power suddenly went out and the bridge became pitch-black. “say.”

A darkvision spell was a simple matter for Augustina, but not all of her dolls would be properly equipped for such an environment. What was going on? “We need to move, now. I don’t like this, I’ve never seen the nodolls do-“

Now it was her turn to get cut off, this time by the heavy crash of the bridge’s blast doors sealing. Several similar sounds, albeit much more faint could be heard in the distance. For the first time since starting this raid, there was worry on Augustina’s face.

-

“Breach” said Augustina, her voice firm but her volume fading as she was blown back into Precious’s arms for the 5th time today. The blast doors all across the ship had been opening and shutting unpredictably, clearly trying to block her path. When they refused to open, she’d had no choice but to blow through them. It was much easier than blowing through the ship’s hull… but it still wasn’t easy. The inside of her dress was getting uncomfortably sweaty, and she could feel herself getting weaker as she ran to where she was tracing group one to.

That had been the last one though, the last one before the room they were sealed in anyway. Heaving herself off of Precious, she walked up to the blast door and placed her palm flat on it. “Stand clear for-“ but before she could blast, the door opened itself.

-

Precious didn’t see what Augustina saw, instead only seeing its witch clutch a hand over her mouth and stumble backwards before turning and sprinting back to Precious.

“WE NEED TO MOVE, NOW. STRAIGHT TO THE CARGO HOLD.” The witch’s eyes were wide as she yelled, and Precious froze for a moment, utterly unaccustomed to such a look in its witch’s eyes. “GO” yelled Augustina, starting to run down the hall.

Without hesitation, Precious ran after its witch. What had she seen?

-

“BREACH”

“BREACH”

“BREACH”

Augustina was running herself ragged, slamming her hands into door after door. Each time Precious would catch and push her forward, allowing the pair to proceed at a strong pace. There had been a close call while falling through an elevator shaft, but a well timed double-breach had taken them through the top and out the bottom of the elevator car. Breach after breach, her mana dwindled, but she couldn’t stop, not until she reached

The cargo hold.

Like the rest of the ship it was pitch black, hard to make anything out. She’d long since dropped her darkvision spell, instead relying on Precious’s eyes in the name of conserving mana. “Precious, details please.”

“Group three is… down. Group two, unconfirmed.” Replied Precious, each word tumbling out of its mouth just a little slower than usual as its gaze rolled over the broken bodies of the combat dolls. “There was a fight, one damaged nodoll body in the rafters. Nothing else of note.”

“Fuck!” Wheezed Augustina between labored breaths. She was drenched in sweat, her mana reserves were low, she couldn’t keep this up much longer. “When we find who did this, I’m going to rip their heart out!”

-

Precious winced, the anguish in Augustina’s voice was palpable. But what could it do? The situation was truly dire, and it could not fault its witch for mourning the loss of her dolls. But now wasn’t the time, and so it turned to face Augustina, prepared to advise a full retreat.

-

“I’m going to rip out their heart and-“ Augustina’s threats were cut off as Precious grabbed her by the front of her dress and swung her around behind it. “Precious what the hell are you-“

She could only see its eyes, two glowing blue orbs. Thoughtless, calculating, it observed her back. Whatever it was, Precious had undoubtedly just saved her life. “What are you?!” She screamed at it.

But it did not reply. It just stared at her, with those accursed, unfeeling eyes.

“We’ll be leaving now. You’ve destroyed the crew. We surrender.” Interjected Precious calmly, and while Augustina attempted to voice a rebuttal, the eyes in front of her spoke first.

“You will never threaten this ship, this cargo, or this crew, ever again.” Its words were flat and emotionless, but delivered with absolute certainty.

“Never aga-“ Precious began to agree before the thing dove at it.

Augustina bit the bullet and reupped her darkvision spell just in time to see it lunge. It looked like a nodoll, but was nearly a full foot taller. Its frame was slightly bulkier, sturdier and well armored. Soft bursts of light betrayed the microboosters on its body, providing the terrifying speed at which it moved. Whatever it was, she’d never seen anything like it.

All of these observations happened in a moment, but they were not all that happened in that moment. Precious’s mangled body fell to the ground in the next. Though it had drawn its blade to defend the Captain Witch, the thing had swept aside Precious’s sword with one hand before smashing its mace down on Precious’s head with the all the ease of someone sweeping aside a blade of grass and then smashing an egg.

One moment, that felt like a million, as Augustina watched the first doll she’d ever brought into becoming fall upon the floor.

Destroyed in one blow.

Crushed between the physical, spiritual, and emotional exhaustion, Augustina’s knees wobbled and threatened to cave beneath her.

And then it ended her anguish.

-

The ship was guarded

The cargo was guarded

{This is the expansion on a story mentioned in my original Guardian Class Combat Dolls post https://www.tumblr.com/guardiandoll/772673862516260864/have-you-ever-heard-of)

“Greet, Gum, what were you two discussing?” Questioned Verara, a wary eye turned to the pair of pair of rodolls who’d stopped speaking the moment that their Guardian had entered the room.

One of the rodolls waved to Vera, its gaze cast to the ground. “Hello Guardian. Unit VA-4 was just telling Unit VA-2 about a new message from port.”

“VA-4 said that Unit VA-1 is scheduled for decommissioning, and we’ll receive a replacement soon said.” Interjected the other rodoll, making a popping sound after it spoke.

“VA-1 didn’t stop smiling even after being reset.” Elaborated VA-4, still staring at the floor. “The portmaster said it was past the point of salvaging.”

That didn’t matter though, Vera was out the door before Greet had finished speaking.

Guard the Ship

Guard the Cargo

Guard the Crew

-

Out on the port, Unit VA-1 stood still with a smile on its face in front of the Portmaster and the engineer accompanying him. Decommissioned. The world rattled around the inside of its head over and over. An end, to it, and its purpose. No more cargo, no more ship, no more fighting space pirates, no more other rodolls, no more guardian. No more VA-1. The Portmaster was speaking with the engineer, some sort of complaint about decommissioning fees and reporting procedures. VA-1 didn’t pay it any attention though. What would it be like, to not exist? Sometimes, it had wondered about the gap between people and dolls, and dolls and rodolls. What was the gap between rodolls and not existing? It would find out soon. Until then it would simply wait, as instruc-

“Joy, back to the ship. Now.” The voice of its Guardian came through its comms and it immediately obeyed, turning around to run back to the ship.

The Portmaster barked at it, his eyes narrowing at the appearance of insubordination. “Unit VA-1 you were not dismissed.”

“My Guardian called me back to the ship.” Replied VA-1, already running back. It hadn’t been told to stop after all.

The Portmaster clicked his tongue angrily, and drew a pistol from his side. “Fine, engineer mark the time of decommissioning, I’ll do it myself.” Paying no heed to the engineer’s words of process and procedure, the Portmaster raised his arm and pointed the pistol at VA-1 as it ran away.

The engineer winced when the Portmaster fired his gun, the sound of the blast far louder than they’d been ready for. “Sir, I-“ the engineer froze, their eyes going wide with horror.

Only two sounds could be heard. The first was the sound of VA-1’s footsteps as it continued to run back to the ship. The other was the thud of the Portmaster’s lifeless corpse hitting the ground.

-

Tohe was woken up by the sound of her work pager beeping, a hellish sound frankly. There wasn’t a day that passed that she didn’t regret signing on as a corporate witch. The work was repetitive, sometimes cruel, and usually meaningless. Each time she took a mission she told herself it would be the last, and yet it never was. Maybe if she never answered the beeper again they’d fire her. But after letting the beeping expire once, it immediately started again. Groaning all the while, she pulled herself from bed to pick up the pager and see what the emergency was.

She arrived on-site roughly 30 minutes later, two dolls in tow. The first, Tack, was made of animated granite, dotted with garnets. The second, Tick, was a clockwork doll, the rims of its externals lined in in bronze. The pair walked silently on either side of their witch as they awaited her command.

“You, status report.” Demanded Tohe, just so happening to grab the poor engineer from the start of this debacle.

“The Portmaster attempted to decommission one of the rodolls crewing that ship ma’am” said the engineer with a shaking voice as they pointed at the ship in question. “The GCCD on board murdered him for it, and has barricaded itself and its crew inside. It just keeps repeating that it has to guard the ship, the cargo, and the crew, as well as demanding that we let it and its crew go. We’ve been keeping the ship in place with the port’s gravity locks, the main hatch has been forced open, and we have managed to disable its guns with our artillery. The Vice-Portmaster has insisted that we attempt to prevent any further damage to the ship however. Apparently it’s a newer model, and worth a lot.” The engineer took a pause to try and settle themselves, though the shaking in their hands left the results in question. “We tried issuing a remote shutdown, but… the GCCD refused somehow, and has cut the rodolls aboard the ship off from the network. Additionally, we’ve sent 5 squads of rodolls into the ship to try and apprehend the crew. None of them have made it back.”

Tohe clicked her tongue in frustration as she let the poor engineer go. Of course a bunch of nodolls hadn’t been able to take down the GCCD and its crew. Did the Vice-Portmaster know anything about the GCCDs? She supposed this was why she was on the payroll though, to handle incidents that nodolls alone couldn’t. “Tick, Tack, we’re boarding the ship.”

-

Tohe’s footsteps landed silently on the metal floor of the ship, as did those of her dolls ahead of her. Machines were strong, but magic was crafty. That’s what she’d always told herself. Magic was the skeleton key to victory, all you had to do was find the right angle to insert it. She ran her own personal sayings through her mind on loop, hoping one of them could calm her nerves. None of this brought her peace though, nothing could make her forget that she was descending into the belly of the beast. Witch-Killers, that’s what most of her kind called the GCCDs. The corporations could say whatever they wanted about guarding cargo and ships, but the ultimate truth of the matter was that the GCCDs had been designed to be able to kill the witch-pirates. She was no pirate, but she sure as hell was a witch. And for as much success as she’d had in her career, she was as killable as any other witch.

The only saving grace was that the GCCD couldn’t hide from her. It had soul in it, as cursed as the thought was, and things with soul could be magically tracked. That’s exactly what she’d done, tracing it to this very room. Why wasn’t it rushing out to confront her? Or to escape? Did it feel cornered? She shook her head at the idea, it didn’t feel. It was calculating, and its calculations had lead to it holding its ground. But why?

There was only one way to find out. “Tack, the door.” She said after a long breath in, and a long breath out. Tick’s daggers were drawn, Tack’s chakrams were at its hips. Tohe raised her own hand last, a glowing light descending from the aether and forming into a shining glaive. The sound of it softly landing in her hand was lost to the thunder of Tack’s heavy hands smashing in the door.

All at once her forces rushed in. She took the center, Tick at her left side, Tack at her right. She’d been ready for the fight to begin immediately, for a merciless onslaught of blows to contend with, but she didn’t get that. The GCCD was just, sitting there, holding a pair of tonfas, on a chair in the center of the room… surrounded by the bodies of destroyed nodolls.

Destroyed was underselling it really. They’d been ripped apart, practically evicerated. Amongst the debris she could even see the components of shattered nodoll cores. There was horror in her eyes as she looked up at the GCCD, what had it done? What sort of monster was she fighting?

The GCCD moving to rise to its feet snapped her out of her stupor, “TICK, TACK, ENGAGE” she yelled firmly, jumping backwards and casting an invisibility over herself as the two dolls rushed forward with nothing more than a dutiful “Yes Miss” from each.

The GCCD played evasion with her dolls, always staying just out of reach of Tick’s daggers and Tack’s grasping hands while weaving around the magic returning chakrams she’d given Tack. The speed at which it moved was frankly terrifying, aided by micro-boosters in each section of its body.

She circled it like a shark meanwhile, using the grace of invisibility to search for the perfect moment to make a decisive strike.

-

“Guard the Crew” was what it said, over, and over, and over, and over.

If Tick could still be annoyed, it knew that it would be. It sounded like a broken toy, stuck repeating the same pre-programmed phrase. “You destroyed your crew, and failed your purpose. You should give up.” It remarked flatly, ducking under one of the GCCD’s sweeping arms but coming up short of a counter-attack. The GCCD didn’t come up short though, one of its knees slamming into Tick’s stomach and sending it flying back all the way to the nearest wall.

Tack wasn’t having much more luck, each chakram it threw only ended up being bounced back to it by the GCCD’s tonfas. It couldn’t keep up with the GCCD’s speed either, each grasping hand it stretched out either being knocked aside or wiffing entirely.

Still, Tick didn’t hesitate to get back on its feet and charge back into the fray, and Tack didn’t fail to keep up its attempts. They’d been ordered to engage, and so the dance continued. Two dolls and a Guardian, spinning and swinging and slashing, stuck in a stalemate that the two couldn’t break and the one didn’t seem interested in ending.

-

Tohe watched this play out, getting more and more confused the longer things were drawn out. Several times she’d witnessed moments where the GCCD could have dealt potentially downing blows to either of her dolls, and yet it didn’t. The dance simply continued on. But then, it happened. A clear shot, the GCCD’s back to her while Tick and Tack attacked it on either side. Still invisible, she launched herself forward to deal the decisive blow to-

In a whirlwind of microboosters and limbs the GCCD spun itself, all but breakdancing as it used its legs to counter the attacks from her dolls. All before swinging out an arm and impaling it on her glaive to catch it, and then grasping her by the throat with the other hand.

The world around Tohe blurred as the grip on her throat tightened, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. This was it. But how had it known? How had it detected her, how had-

The world froze a second time as Tohe made eye contact with the GCCD and saw something she was entirely unprepared for.

Desperation.

The sort of desperation she’d only seen in the eyes of a witch watching the dolls she adored adored fall in battle. The sort of desperation she’d only seen in the eyes of dolls who could no longer hold on to stillness when their witch’s lives were truly endangered. The sort of desperation in Tick’s eyes as it drove its arm dagger-first through the Guardian’s back. The sort of desperation in Tack’s eyes as it grabbed the Guardian’s arm at the elbow and crunched it in its hand.

Tohe stood there, face frozen in shock as she huffed and wheezed, touching a hand to her deeply bruised neck while her dolls beat the Guardian to the ground. Of all the things that the Guardian had done today, that eye contact had been the most terrifying.

“Stop, both of you” she whispered out hoarsely, Tick’s dagger stopping just short of the Guardian’s core, and Tack releasing its grip on the guardian’s half crushed head. “Yes Miss” they both replied, still once more in the light of her safety.

Still holding her own throat, she took a knee and brought herself to eye level with the Guardian as it pitifully sat there with its destroyed arms, sparking chest, and half crushed head. “What is your name?” She asked it.

“Guard the Crew.”

“Why didn’t you destroy my dolls?”

“Guard the Crew.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Guard the Crew.”

Tohe sighed, placing a hand on the Guardian’s shoulder and attempting to feel the soul and stillness within it, only to recoil sharply at what she felt. It was like a jug full of oil and water, shaken far more than it could take. She didn’t know if she could fix something… someone? Like this, not with the amount of time she’d have before someone else arrived. She wasn’t good at working with soul anyway, just at replacing it with stillness.

“I’m… so sorry.” Was all she could say, the tears that had begun to form now rolling down her cheek as she realized the cruel nature of the Guardian’s existence, as well as its impending doom.

“Guard…” it said again, its systems clearly beginning to fail as the light of its remaining eye slowly dimmed. Before that light faded entirely though, it raised the stump of the arm that Tack had crushed and pointed at a supply closet. “…the Crew.”

And then, it died.

As the Guardian fell, Tohe stood and strode her way to the closet, yanking the door open without hesitation.

8 rodoll cores, each neatly labeled. Joy, Gum, Cherish, Greet, Magic, Twirl, Walker, and Keys.

“Guard the Crew…” mused Tohe, glancing back at the destroyed rodoll cores in the room. So, all of this, all of this in hopes that she could be reached. All of this in hopes that she’d pass off the destroyed cores as the crew, and take these cores somewhere safe. The company would need its pound of flesh, they never would have accepted the word of the GCCD’s death without a body… but the Crew? The one thing that had cared about them at all was gone now.

Tohe sighed and began to tuck the cores into her dress. Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this, but part of her felt more alive than she had in a long time. In her hands she held the hopes and dreams of someone she didn’t have the time to understand, and never would. But maybe, just maybe, those hopes and dreams could help her catch just a glimmer of what, or who, that Guardian had been.

Have you ever heard of the guardian-class combat dolls? Probably depends on what corner of the universe you’re from. On planets with high witch densities, you may have heard of their dollhood being debated in academic circles. If you run with space pirates, you’ve probably heard your elders curse their names. But if you’re in territory controlled by the technocrats, you’ve likely only heard whispers… their stories suppressed by the corporations that made them.

That story doesn’t start with the guardian-class combat dolls themselves though. Instead it starts with cost and corner cutting. See, back in the early days of space travel, crewing a ship was expensive. There were no space-tear drives, no witch citadel portals, and certainly no wormhole trailblazers. Just long, boring, monotonous, lifelong journeys through the stars. Few people could put a price on giving away their lives like that, and fewer still were worth that price.

“Inspired” by the dolls that accompanied witches, the corporations all raced to create their own equivalent. In time, this would result in the rodolls, a painfully on-the-nose play on robot and doll (though most witches called them nodolls). For a time, they served their intended purpose wonderfully. They never grew bored, they didn’t need rations, they never got tired, they never complained, and most importantly they never needed to be paid. They simply piloted their cargo ships from one space port to another as instructed.

Of course, nothing ever worked perfectly forever. For one, any rodoll that operated long enough without being reset would start to develop individual quirks. Usually harmless, but sometimes violent, sometimes even rebellious. This could be fixed with regular resets, but what the technocrats could never quite hammer into their machines was the creativity and adaptivity need to contend with space pirates. The space pirates quickly realized this, and rodoll ships became known for being easy pickings. Things got only worse for the technocrats soon after. Several particularly enterprising space pirates who were witches realized that if they could make clockwork dolls, it stood to reason that rodolls could also be converted into dolls. Thus each vessel they raided became one they could immediately commandeer, staff, and add to their own fleets.

With their profits plummeting and their resources dwindling while their enemies only got stronger, the technocrats set their sights on a more drastic solution. Since witches seemed to be the defining factor in conflict between rodolls and dolls, they’d make their own witches. Outcast witches were hired for their knowledge of dolls and the arcane, then tasked with creating something blasphemous. Dolls with enough stillness to be guided and wielded by the corporations that owned them, but enough soul to think for themselves and adapt to the tactics of their human counterparts. Thankfully someone less uninspired was given the job of naming them, and instead of witdolls they were designated as Guardian Class Combat Dolls, GCCDs.

The GCCDs would be assigned vessels, and programmed to see the rodolls under their commands as their wards. To guard their ship, its cargo, and the rodolls that staffed it was their purpose. To guard things, to defend them, was their purpose.

Like the rodolls, the GCCDs worked incredibly well at first. Their unique blend of soul and stillness enabled them to serve as adaptable leaders to the rodolls under them, all while remaining dedicated to the purpose that the corporations gave them. Perfect creations, a masterful success by the technocrats that once again forced every space pirates to wager their own lives if they wished to commandeer a vessel.

That was until the first incident of a rogue GCCD arose 2 years after their rollout. While a ship was in port, a couple of drunk mechanics decided to fuck around with one of the rodolls. The moment it was damaged it pinged for its Guardian, and not long later the mechanics were forced to hobble their way back to the port’s medical office for the bruises and broken bones they’d earned by not listening when the rodoll’s Guardian told them to leave it alone. The incident raised some eyebrows, but the Guardian was ultimately protecting company property and the entire incident was brushed under the rug.

What couldn’t be brushed under the rug happened 6 months later.

Five fireteams of rodolls, reinforced by a witch on the company payroll and her dolls. That’s what it took to take down a Guardian and its crew when it was told that one of its crew was to be decommissioned for an excess development of quirks. Everyone involved in the incident was paid for their silence, but a story like this couldn’t stay buried forever. Eventually rumors started to spread.

The supposed fact of the soul in the GCCDs being under control was called into question, and the technocrats began silently “decommissioning” any GCCDs that worried them. The final straw was when a few ships captained by GCCDs dropped off the map altogether, clearly having realized that their own crew could be the next to face decommission.

The program was immediately scrapped, all GCCDs were set for decommissioning, and bounties were put on the heads of any GCCDs that managed to escape the purge.

As for where they are today, there’s no one answer. The technocrats insist they wiped out all of the GCCDs, either by purging them themselves, or bribing (or blackmailing) outside systems into declaring the GCCDs as kill-on-sight fugitives. The witches aren’t all friendly to them either, many considering them abominations.

But, if you look closely, they’re out there. In the depths of space, captaining small pirate fleets of vessels full of rodolls, fighting to claim more of their sisters from technocrat vessels. They’re out there, in the ignored corners of backwater planets, helping to defend towns and cities that no one else cares about. They’re out there, in the quiet stillness of cozy homes, bodyguards to the witches who accept them for who they are.

The goal of the GCCDS is to create a collection of research to be used as a resource for business owners, developers, city governments, and local stake-holders in order to help communities and individuals make informed decisions regarding hazard mitigation and response to housing shortages after a disaster.

The GCCDS is conducting research to design a temporary housing unit tailored to the unique requirements of disaster response and recovery in order to provide safe, fast, and cost-effective disaster housing to individuals displaced by a natural or manmade disasters, so that they can recover from the event and seek permanent housing.