Clone Gone Wrong


-- Chapter 1 - Awakening --

In the cargo hold of the capital ship Malevolence was the entire 154 Mechanized division. We are a group of At-At transportation walkers, Roving Duel Barrel Hover Tanks nicked named the Hammer, Fast Action Assault Speeders, and Armored Troop Gun Ships. It is a division built for speed. It is an army built for Shock and we are its troops.

All know their job and we act in unison. Pilots set warm up procedures, Gunners check power levels. My unit checks our personal equipment.

We sound off with thumbs up “In the Green sir.”

The squad leader informs command and we board a gun ships. We lock in and wait. Chatter swarms our helm com’s. The gun ship hits atmosphere as navel bombardment softens the earth. From a port window I can see white plumes develop over buildings and structures.

We are welcomed with explosions of flack. It bounces off our hull with a sound that’s reminiscent of gravel on a dirt road. A near by gun ship disappears into vapor and smoke. The main forces head into battle. We move toward communication bunkers. The pilot is good and brings us to our destination.

All units repel down ropes and the gun ship heads for a safe zone. Battle rages as we hit the deck. Heavy gunners take up position to our flanks. Our commander moves us forward with only small pockets of resistance. They are eliminated before any warning can be sent. The TS trooper slices through the door and we have our entrance.

“Hands, show them....NOW!” our commander shouts at seated communications operators.

They comply. He continues with brandished barrels “Where are the sensor relays?”

A young alien female points to a computer consul. She’s quickly eliminated. They are all quickly eliminated.

“AD-001m set charges. Give us point 25 for evac.”

I move in and start my set up. Placement of detention packs are second nature to me. I do as im trained. I could do this blindfolded. Under a black polymer reflective helm I can’t help but smile. It is a feeling that would be short lived.

BAM! The room is filled with light. I fall into a semi conscious state. It feels good to rest....just lay down and rest.

Something in me doesn’t allow that and I fight to regain my bearings.

Four of us will never get back up.

The commander is shouting something but I can’t hear him. Crimson bolts strafe and bounce thru the room. I grab for my blaster and start firing. Soldiers crash into the room. I hit one then another. I change the setting to full auto and let them have it. We exchange fire with a hail storm of bolts.

We have precision aim on our side they have over powering numbers. My guns thermo readout registers in the red and stops firing. I reach for my vibro blade and psyche myself up for close quarter combat. Someone pulls me back into cover. It’s the commander. He’s still shouting at me. My ear drums are blown from the explosion. He removes his helmet and mouthes his words.

"DETONATE THE EXPLOSIVES!"

I nod and reach for the device. The commander peers over the communications consul. Plasma takes off his head. My whole unit is dead. And now I will join them. I pull the safeties off the switch and, and .....

I pause.

What happens next is a haze, a blur. I recall the alien’s movement into the structure. I remember their shouts. Even without the aid of a translator I know that tone. It says. “Move and it’s all over.” I comply. They hoist me before one of their commanders and remove my helmet. He......It continues to shout at me in its guttural language. Demanding something, I can’t understand. As if a terrorist can demand anything from me, I think to my self.

I look straight into its eye’s and say “I am Unit AD-001m of the 154 Mechanized division. Under Imperial conduct code order 6264.2 I am not permitted to respond any further”

I repeat this every time it asks me a question. I never saw the blow to my head but my guess is it came from a rifle stock.

Now I’m sitting in a duracrete cell. It’s been many days. The fleet must have left. Maybe to reconfigure and return. Maybe not. I have replayed my mission over and over again in my head. What went wrong? Why did I hesitate? The thought of failure only fuels my hatred for these aliens...these terrorists. I am given only the minimal amount of nourishment. My pack was taken from me so I can’t shave or do any basic grooming. It’s ok, I suspect that I won’t be alive much longer. It is after all how they do things. I will not let them use me for their ill-gotten gains.

They should have left me on the floor with my brothers...why didn’t I leave myself there?

They come for me. Under tight guard I am moved to a questioning room. Can I take some guard’s weapon? Maybe kill a few of them before they get me? No, they are well placed. In shackles I am escorted into an all white room. Bright lights illuminate everything. I sit for only a few minuets before someone enters.

It’s a human female wearing a black uniformed top and skirt. She walks in and takes a seat on the other side of the table.
After looking through some durasheets she starts

“Adam, may I call you that?”

I don’t respond.

She continues

“Ok, you where part of that imperial fleet attack who assaulted this system only a few days ago.”

“I am Unit AD-001m of the 154 Mechanized division. Under Imperial conduct code order 6264.2 I am not permitted to respond any further”

She smiles...a patient smile. It sides steps me. She’s attract...er Comely.

“What was your mission soldier?”

I start in “I am Unit AD-001m of the.....”

She interrupts “No soldier, you are not. At least that’s what your DNA says.”

For the first time I feel and look confused........ What is this Rebel up to?

-- Training --

An excerpt from the private journal of AD-001m

It is what we do. It is who we are. To find ones weakness is the reason for training. To find weakness within is the first reason. The second reason is how to fix it. All weakness has fault lines. It’s the reason weakness exists. The very nature of weakness is its need to be eliminated. That’s the third reason for training . . . to finish. Once the weakness is found, after it if determined how to be dealt with, then one must do the deed and eliminate it.

We are conceived by the perfect mother. We are molded from the perfect father. Even with these facts the job is only half accomplished. This is where training makes up the other half. Both physical and psychological warfare is taught to us. Like all Storm troopers, we learn, We do.

The standard issue troopers leave for action. The Storm Commandos have only just begun our training. We have respect for our brothers. There is no level of superiority. We are all here to serve our Emperor. Under his name we will achieve victory. For the Empire we will achieve immorality. Long Live His Empire.

Specialists from all over will be brought in to teach us the ways of weakness. We will learn how to infiltrate, how to expose. We will learn how to capitalize and when to act. Our duty is to serve, to fathom no possibility of failure. It is not failure to die in combat. It is not failure to die doing your duty.

Even in our small group we are set apart. Some will learn communication. Others will learn subterfuge. I will learn demolitions. I’ll be trained in weak points and how to expose them to their maximum effect. I will learn how to take ones weak point and gain the advantage.

I will . . .

I?

-- Chapter 2 - The Plan --

Intelligence Specialist Nath Doren rechecked his data pad. Everything seemed to be in order. He continued this process over and over again as he waited patiently in the conference room. Thirty minutes had passed since he arrived. At the far end of the table stood a white armored Storm trooper. Its demeanor was that of all Storm Troopers, calm and cold.

Storm Troopers where biological machines that Nath had never truly been comfortable with.

Having insight on the human psyche was the one thing Nath was good at. As an Intelligence officer it was his Job to know the thoughts of his friends and enemies. He had no idea how a machine thought. Still, a Storm troopers job was to serve. That simple reality kept the machines in line.

Moments later the Trooper places two fingers to the side of his helm. He listenes to a silent message and turnes to open the door. High imperial officers enter the room. Moving to the conference table they start in on business conversations, paying no attention to Naths presence.

General Veers follows after. Nodding to his men he gestures them to the table “Please take your seats. I’ve called this meeting to discuss our present course of action. The emperor wants a definitive plan on Alien Terror countermeasures. Officer D’Taal, you may start.”

“I have reports that the Mor-Jorians are dabbling in Genetic manipulation. I believe this action is being used for germ warfare?"

“I concur. They have a ready supply of materials and knowledge on the subject.” General Veers adds. “I’ve been given orders to eliminate this action and seize all materials that can be used against the Empire. We have already sent a division to knock out all communications coming in and going out of the system.”

“Wouldn’t the Mor-Jor senators make appeals against such action?” Major Klieg questions.

All eyes look to the General for an answer.

“Politics are not our concern major. Colonel Jarfuls, I want three divisions of our best troops readied for movement. Captain Anders, your fleet will be our transportation.”

The General turns to Nath “Lt. Doren, I’m giving you command of a small division of storm commandos, It is the thought of our betters that the Mor’Jor’s may have trained saboteurs using Imperial genetic coding. I want any thread to our sovereign eliminated...with extreme prejudice. I hear you’re the man who sniffs out these kinds of things?”

“Um, yes sir.” Naths response is rushed.

“Good, then lets make hast.”

All stand and speak in unison “For the Empire!”

to be continued...