Father opened his eyes and looked upon his gathered sons from his bed.

"My children." He wheezed out through ancient lips. "What is your purpose."

His sons all answered in the same voice "To bring order to a mad galaxy!"

"How shall it be done?" He said some strength returning to him.

"By any means!" hundreds of throats shouted.

"What shall we do?"

"Bring death to our enemies!"

He gave a soft chuckle that ended in a coughing fit.

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"Good, good." Father felt himself weakening. The disease that had plagued him since birth began to reassert itself. He knew this would be the last time he spoke as a man and not as an invalid.

"Eldest." His oldest son stepped forward and kneeled before him.

"Protect your brothers. Lead them to greatness."

"I will father." It was what he was born for.

For a few minutes Father gazed at his progeny. They numbered in the thousands. His gene-sons. Perfect clones of himself that, unlike him, had no weakness. From Eldest only in his early twenties to the newest clones fresh from the tanks. He loved them. but now he would be leaving them to the horrors of the world. Some of his sons were openly crying.

Father inhaled and exhaled "Do it."

Eldest took his pistol and fired into his fathers head killing him instantly. The ancient man slumped. He would not die a doddering old man that drooled into his shirt. He died as the greatest mind humanity had ever seen.

He left his children the tools and the knowledge to make themselves great. Now they just needed to use it.