Chapter - 1
“Forward, Echo platoon take Zeta platoon and take over that array.” Commander 10-2 yelled through the phoenix rounds being fired at the enemy lines.
Commands 10-2 was a genetically cloned human born solely to command over entire cloned armies. His right eye had been gutted and replaced by an augmented eye that constantly delivered a live feed on the ongoing battle and supply lines. His mental communication allowed him to communicate with nearly anyone on the field and in orbit with barely a delay, and that was something he always needed remedy for. In a fight a single second is twenty more and, in a war, a second was worth hours.
He reigned his inner consciousness in and brought himself back to the battle, he never truly was away from it anyways with his quad processor integration.
At the current moment, it was a classic battle and he used tried and true tactics that preceded it centuries ago. The new rebel coalition sought to take down the New Sol Empire and he was sent to one of the many raging fronts across the milky way. Fighting across Theta 31 prime was a full revolt with millions of lives at stake and yet here he was calm as always, especially with his emotion suppressant that every clone came with.
And yet, he felt…something at the current state of affairs.
The planet he was taking over had its supply lines cut by a blockade that was inbound in 50 sol days. Looking over the fact that the rebels have blockade runners, it was a situation that was the term supplemented as FUBAR. In simpler terms, he had 50 days (about 7.1 weeks) to take back the planet and regain complete control over all anti-orbital arrays. He would then have to coordinate with the remaining ships in space to deal with the reinforcements of the unknown faction that was causing all the setbacks, as well as figuring out how they managed to restrict net communication. So, like I said FUBAR.
Usually, he would have started a slow battle of attrition, slowly bleeding out the enemies human resources and especially ammunition. Now he was on a full offensive across the board, he was deployed with one other command clone that was currently in stasis until deployed when necessary, and now he was considering opening it up.
However, it was under strict protocol not too due to the last order that came through highest command. The perfect memory is immediately brought to one of the processes in his mind as he revises highest commands orders.
“Commanders are to withhold extraneous commander units until further notice.” The tone was obvious even as the communication officers sent out the highest command order.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
We were running out of command clones, it was an idea nearly rejected immediately due to how moronic it sounded. However, it became apparent when the rebels suddenly had a morale boost across all fronts and nearly lost sector-λ.
Something was going on in the inner rim and he had no time to contemplate what that could be. He had his own fight going on that was causing some overheating in his cranial region. Sector Lambda was already difficult due to the capital in that sector and now with them being pushed back to the edges and teetering, he had to make a tactical decision.
The decision being a full pullout of the sector for full orbital bombardment or continuing the push. We already have spec-ops in that area infiltrating the local population and causing disruptions across their backline.
That said the losses are nearly reaching the warning line. That line denotes a caution for the stress on the replicators. The replicators produce our supplies and importantly our clones, basically making a clone nearly immortal if their connection core is intact. Those cores also happen to be made of Dura-steel, a composite made to be shock resistant and immune to small arms fire, like fragmentation, from destroying it. They also happen to have safeguards against breaches and reverse engineering. It has happened before and will more than likely continue. Of course, commander cores are left inside their bodies as they happen to melt with the temperature of a miniature star inside them.
Bringing my processes to the ensuing war, as I seem to go on tangents. I still need to figure out how to deal with the two red zones. Those zones being Lambda and Mu, the recent resurgence of rebel morale, as well as the other concerning topic of enemy advanced tech. Yesterday, a cache of weapons and armor was found and quickly destroyed. The cache was not of concern, however, it held new era weaponry. These weapons were making the gap of technology smaller. We already traced the origins to an off world ship that departed a week before we arrived in system. The ship was a part of the Kaiser Mercenary faction that sold anything, everything, to anyone. A detailed report was already being readied to the Highest Command once comms was set back up.
“Uh, excuse me commander” Commander 10-2 glances, grimaces, and sees a woman with noticeably different eye colors that were slightly glowing with a long magnetic rail rifle slung around her armored body
“I'm with the Epsilon army, 4th division, June battalion… I just respawned and am unsure where to go…I was told to come here.”
A few decades earlier, a now defunct megacorp had the bright idea of having people simulate themselves in a clone's body during war time. At first it was for military personnel to gain experience, now it is used by people looking for adrenaline, and the thrill. 10-2 sighed inwardly before speaking.
“Your battalion is currently being transported to sector Mu.” I said straightforwardly and turned around and began focusing all the processors on the current state of affairs, while keeping some attention towards the now disappointed sim.