Your life began as an experiment in soldier cloning, an attempt to get the maturation process down by half a day. The experiment succeeded, as shown by your teenage body sliding out of the tank half a minute early. Your crèche of 80 was born at Redoubt-888, an artillery base perched on the ravines of Maiska. You were one of eight Corporal units, built in with room for genetic improvements, to be chosen at the end of your mandatory training. Your Private unit siblings were not so lucky, designed to receive only basic training in weapons and tactics.
As soon as you emerged from your tank, you were rushed into the fitting room. Uniforms quickly picked out, a weapon received, and rank insignia sewn on. And then it was into the classroom. Brown-tinted light shone from the incandescent bulb in the ceiling as you were shown a series of slides, pictures, and given a series of lectures by a bearded lieutenant at the front of the room.
"Congratulations on crawling in here, tank-rats. I am Lieutenant First Class 544, although you can call me Sir. For the next few days of training, I am nothing less than a god to you." He coughed loudly, slamming the tip of a cutlass at the projector screen. "You have all been taught the basics in your tanks. Language, proper obedience to rank, and basic combat instincts. I am here to teach you what the tanks cannot."
The slide changed to a still of a gleaming city. Silvery objects could be seen streaking through the sky, with skyscrapers touching the clouds found in the idyllic future. "This is Earth, circa five years BW (before war.) Back then, people lived blind to the dangers of this world. Those dangers came crashing down not long after when those pictures were taken."
"The Gath found us. A race of ever shifting, ever evolving little fuckers. The militaries of old were unprepared for them. Their militaries were wasteful. Back then, they used 'electronics', something now only used in radios and the like. These things were easily susceptible to infection by the Gath."
"Our Race was put onto the edge of extinction. However, they weren't out of the fight yet. The original Council of Three adapted ingeniously. Humanity adapted in numerous ways. We abandoned the wasteful technologies of old, adopting only simple, reliable things. We built the Great Fortresses, one of which you are residing in right now. And then we created the Guardians. Or us! Legions of tankborn clones! If the aliens always adapted, then the boys at R&D could adapt our very genomes too. "
The class silently absorbed the lesson, before another heavy cough from the older clone signalled the end. "That's it, Tank Rats. Enjoy your stay, and enjoy basic training!" There was a clear sarcastic tone in his voice as the various attending units ushered the crèche out.
The reality of your situation sank in through basic training, as various live fire exercises claimed the siblings of your crèche. At the end of your training, you were the only corporal unit left standing. A medal was pinned on your chest at graduation by 544, the Lieutenant who had given your original lecture as a Tank Rat. "Good job, kid. I think you're going to last a long time. Maybe long enough to time out." He said it as if it was all a conspiratorial secret, but with a little smile on his face.
These events play back through your mind as you sit in a rickety wooden chair, looking through one of the concrete firing ports in your bunker with a set of binoculars. This part of the front is always quiet, but there are never any excuses for negligence. "Corporal, so what exactly did you get for your enhancements?" A private sits on the machine gun, looking out the front of the bunker.
That's right. You got three specialist genetic enhancements after graduation. What were they?And while we're at it, what did you look like again?Hit Points: 2/2
Age: Three Weeks
Rank: Corporal
Genetic Enhancements:
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Topic: You are CPL-U751 (Suggestion Game) (Read 1648 times)