Kalran: Tales of the four nations/Cloning

"It is the duty for everyone one of you here to fight! For you are the chosen mighty shield to defend us. You will be the ones who will lead us to victory against the cruel beasts outside. Whether it be our traitorous brethren, machines that hides in the mountains, cowards who will never fight head on, barbarians who try to fight us with reptiles, or even the dark order that seeks our destruction! When you charge upon them know that they are weak and soulless monsters, and that when you fall we will remember your sacrifice to bring on a better tomorrow fighting to destroy the beast you hate. So ready yourself shield. IN LIFE DUTY IN DEATH GLORY!"

-Recorded speech, during a failed ADF assassination, of officer Naofumi, an infamous chosen commander known as "The butcher", towards his clone forces, roughly ten thousand, before they went into battle. Reports indicated roughly ten clones survived said battle, the rest were never recorded nor mentioned, only estimated that a third quarter of the casualties were intentional friendly fire, by the chosen, or could have been easily avoided.

Resources.

Resources were always needed in order to wage warfare. An endless hunger that drove nations to bankruptcy, made every victory a temporary respite from the need for more resources, made every defeat that much more painful to bear. Sometimes, war was merely an excuse to acquire more and more resources, feeding the need now in order to be that much fuller later. There were - and are - many varieties of resources. Most obvious were materials, ore that fed the nations as they clashed in world shaking wars, rubber, steel, and power for roaring vehicles of destruction, money that flowed back and forth unceasingly between nations and factions. But there was one resource that was more important than all of the above. Some nations, some factions would throw money in order to keep what they had of this precious commodity. Others would give up freedom in order to gain security for it. This most precious of all resources, more valuable than gold or ore...is bodies.

Playing god
Nearing the end of the great war the Reclaimers, long threw away their pacifist ideals, were on the brink of loss with manpower shortage. Half of their forces having defected on mass upon their leader destroying the very ideal they fought for, while the other have began taking massive casualties without a way to replace the losses. Until Desmond revisited an idea.

During one of his many research, before and during the war, he had found a way to recreated flesh and blood organs, except the brain and limbs, with the help of divine magic, that can be transplanted without much issue. In another time he could have used it to help millions and grant the crippled a new life. But as he threw away his ideal of peace he realized that, with the help of Devil blood, he can create near sentient creatures, in bulk and with little genetic materials, but came with the side effect of said clones suffering a short life, the longest recorded being nine years old, and the uncanny ability of growing up upon absorbing the essence of dying creatures, allowing a two months old clone that looked like an eight years old to suddenly grow into the body of an adult in mere minutes.

What came after is still remembered to this day, with history of a wave of soldiers, bearing the Reclaimer emblem and armed with barely functional rifles, charging upon the empires gunlines, leaving mountains of corpses as they overwhelm the defenders. And to this age their role never changed, being the Reclaimers hammer to smash apart anything through attrition.

Bullets and batteries
"The chosen never once, or even tries to, acknowledge the clones as people. If a single chosen dies in battle it's considered a great tragedy. But if ten thousand clones died to claim a mile the only complain you'll hear for them is the time it'll take to send in the next batch, or frustrated to how much cost ineffective the exchange was, like how one complains of getting shortchanged. To the chosen the clones are nothing more then glorified bullets, batteries, and gears to further their goal, and those that are broken or defective are thrown away and recycled like trash. And tragically many of the clones are taught that being labelled as objects, like swords or spears, is their way of showing love, that having the chosen have complete control over anything they do is considered their kindness, when in reality it's slavery and abuse with a whitewash."

-Excerpt of an interview log with "Xander", a defector of the chosen given a fake name, with an ADF interrogator

In life, duty. In death, glory. That is the motto and mantra drilled into every clone upon decantation.

Using the genetic material from bodies, whether from other clones or people they attacked, they created new people, new bodies and minds in vats and tanks - clones. They thoroughly washed the brains and minds of the clones, making them content, making them nearer to machines than people - or so it was thought and hoped. Using cloning, the Reclaimers were able to make themselves an armies from almost nothing, composed of quick growing clones who were not counted as people, tools, a second class of clones to lead the first, shepherds, and a nobility of those born from the womb, the chosen.

The only thing the tools and shepherds share in common is that their brain, upon decantation, is not unlike a baby’s; lacking any prior experiences, it is effectively a "blank template", so to speak. It was soon discovered by the Reclaimers that such a state of mind was ridiculously easy to manipulate, a fact that has allowed the Reclaimers to have clone soldiers on the battlefield mere months after their creation. Exposing these clones to a wave of radio instruction would reduce the time it needed to properly train them. The process took a few days at the most, by the end of which a clone could know how basic combat, speak fluently, salute properly, and so forth. The Reclaimers could implant false memories, or induce absolute hatred for their enemies and fervent dedication to the chosen, whom the most fanatical call their master. Hundreds of programs for radio instruction were written, one for every designated role for a clone to serve in their campaign.

The tools are considered the cheapest of clones, being made with minimal essence, and is able to be produced in batches of twelve with only a drop of of Devil blood. Which had the side effect of allowing them to grow up in seconds by absorbing the dying essence of creatures. Allowing the chosen to create an entire regiment in a week at most. At the cost of these clones having a short lifespan, the average age if not fighting bring four years. And are treated as livestock's, or a pet at the very best.

The shepherds differ in that they require more material and Devil blood, about half a cup is required to make one, but in turn they live longer, average to thirty years, but still grows quickly, but taking months rather then days to reach combat readiness, and are significantly more stronger, faster, and tougher then an average person, making them the Reclaimers super soldiers, but the process to make them means that their number is heavily limited, much to the chosen ire, are more likely to ask questions, and, after one incident where a small group of shepherds nearly destroyed a part of their base, all shepherds must have a kill switch implanted in them, further increasing their cost. And, due to their higher rank higher likeliness to question them, the clones treat them better, but still sees them as inferior, with a rank akin to a second class citizen.

But what the tools and shepherd have in common are that, at the end of the day, they are seen as nothing more then a means to an end, and are indoctrinated to never question the lot in life. And that under their teachings and brain molding, they are human as ever, even when they look alike their minds are never the same. They have thoughts, dreams, wishes, regrets, and fears, they fall in love, they cry, they cheer, they get frustrated. But this is something that the Reclaimer chosen never addresses or acknowledge, and refuses to do so. Instead seeing them as bullets to be targeted toward their enemies for them to claim victory, even the Federation with its droid army treats their robotic soldier as people whose lives should never be thrown away unless its absolutely the only way to ensure victory.

Indeed, in many ways the Reclaimers is a far worse kind of tyranny to its so-called subjects than the late Tuatha empire - for even the empire acknowledged that the soldiers under them they are still people. Clones are not thought of as people, but as mere weapons to claim victory, weapons that can easily be replaced if broken, defective, or done it’s use and recycles to make new weapons or blood money. Perhaps worst of all is that, with the technology of cloning and their strange ability to grow up and trained into soldier in minutes, the analogy is partially true - when people can be efficiently replicated and regrown by batches, when the very process of thought can be manufactured using only a bit of genetic material, Devil blood, and the right tools, where one can make soldiers in an instant when it would have taken months or years, when it is possible to send clones out to die in droves because it is thought better than wasting the lives of natural chosen... The question is asked:

What measure is a clone?

Know your place, know your lot
"Now listen clearly. You are to never question our orders! You are to follow them! You are to never question your place! Your lot is to listen to us and OBEY! Those who disobey are defectives! And defectives only hurts themselves by refusing us because we know better! Now follow our orders next time, and be thankful that I spared your life, because there won't be a next time! LET THIS BE A LESSON TO ANYONE WHO THINKS OF DISOBEYING OUR ORDERS, LET THIS SHOW YOU WHAT WE DO WITH DEFECTIVES!"

-Recorded speech of Aristocrat Naofumi as he publicly beat up and humiliate clone RA718 (Raphta), a Banner in training who broke the rules by retreating from the simulation, to other clones until she was reduce to a crying heap, medical records indicated three broken limbs, a dislocated shoulder, multiple broken ribs, broken jaw, heavy lacerations, and nearly blinded in one eye that it was a miracle that she recovered without any disabilities, the last sentence was addressed to the clones who watched it.

Another dark thing about the clones is that of promise.

The tools are always told that their life is to follow what Chosen and the Shepherds says, refusing to do so will be met by beating or whipping, if they're lucky, and never question them, even if it meant working in deadly environments without any compensation. With the promise that if they work hard enough they will rise to the rank of the shepherds, and then the chosen.

The shepherds are told of glory and rewards whenever they fight. And that if they work hard enough they may one day join the rank of the chosen.

All a beautifully crafted lie.

In the end the tools and shepherds have no chance of a better life under the chosen, at best they will get a good meal for obeying like dogs and being considered worth saving when heavily injured. They can never quit, doing so would lead to execution, they aren't allowed to complain or ask questions, doing so results in beating, and they can never pursue anything not approved by the chosen. They must allows follow order without question, no matter if it kill them or they detest it, and put all of their efforts, and for everything they give to their "beloved masters" they get nothing. Their bodies thrown to the grinder to be reduced to materials and anything they held dear with it, they are not allowed to mourn for their fallen friends, since it would hamper their combat, they can never rest, everyday they either train or fight in horrible meatgrinders of attrition, and they can never complain, because they are always told that this the the best they can get in life. And for those they choose to rebel? They get labelled as defectives, as broken tool that must be destroyed and replaced.

And what do the chosen get for this devotion? They get rich, by selling blood diamonds made from the corpses of clones or by pillaging countless innocents, they never have to worry about danger, deadly test done by the clones while those who volunteer to fight always being relegated to support far from the frontlines, and they can pursue their own interest unless it harms the chosen or the clone hatcheries, having the clones to do everything at their back and call. And what do they have to contribute to earn all of this luxuries?

Nothing.

The chosen themselves sits in their underground base, only accessible by teleportation, where they can theorize and brainstorm idea to claim Alcradia themselves but delegates all of the physical, and often dangerous, works to the clones to do it, observing what happens to them like lab rats, and whenever they plan to pillage it all boils down to send waves of clones, no matter how suicidal such a frontal assault would be, with long range support, which often also kills the clones in the field, until they achieved their objective, all while in the comfort of a hidden outpost while the clones get massacred by the dozen, some even enjoying the clones crying and calling for help. And whenever the battle is won they always take the credit, the millions of clones that fought tooth and nail and likely lost many friends only acknowledged as a statistic, and if they lose then they retreat, often stranding any surviving clones, while blaming the faults the remining clones in the battle, who are often persecuted without a chance of explanation and executed by the gas chamber or the grinder.

In the end the lot of the clones, whether a tool or a shepherd, are to work themselves to death serving the chosen, and falling behind their demand are met with death no matter the reason, while the chosen gets richer off the clones work, who uses said power to make more clones to serve them again. And when the day comes when Alcradia is under their thumb they always lie to the clones that their sacrifice and dedication will be remembered, but in the end they would say they did it on their own, disregarding all of the contributions and sacrifice the clones did for them because they are tools, not people.

As the clone of the Reclaimers they are the chosen sword, often told that you are the one that can protect them and will be justly rewarded. But like a sword they are just as disposable, because a sword is less then a person, because a sword is a tool that can be remade in hours, because sword never argue back against abuse.

They are not human, they are machines made of flesh
"From my bith I was always told that the clones should neverbe taught as human, but as a way for us to reclaim our birthright, and for a lng time I believed them. That is when one day, while tending to the young batch of clones, about the body and mind of a toddler despite only a day old, one of the children came and sat in my lap before telling me of a person she like, another clone of the same batch. I push her off, I shout, "Get away from me!" I can see the tears forming from her eyes when I did that. Her filthy hair hanging in her face, the rags we cloth them in, and that shine in her eye... I feel... hatred, like I never felt before, in my chest. Bitter, burning fury. I can barely breathe. And suddenly, I know, it is not this child I hate.

''If these clones were supposed to be machine then why do they cry? Why do they tell me of dreams like other do? Why, if they are so called unfeeling cogs, do they weep and mourn for fallen pets or friends? Because they are not machines, they are as human as any of us. And yet we throw away their lives like bullets and care as much, for what! For nothing more then to sooth a fucking grudge! What makes it so that their lives are considered less then us that we degrade them with titles like swords, shield, spears, or bows!''

''*sobbing sound* Gods, if you exist. I want you to know that what I do now isn't asking for atonement, I don't deserve such for my treatment of them, but to try to give these people a life not under a cruel and uncaring masters. That you at least let me save these people, who will soon die in a battle and forgotten.''

And Iwatani, if your hearing this, I hope that there is a place worst then hell for your kind."

-Recovered record log of Brigid. A Chosen officer who led a coup that ended with the liberation of a thousand clones, who were rescued by nearby UCA soldiers, and the destruction of a cloning facility, including it's officer Keyes Iwatani who was infamous for purposely torturing and using the clones as his personal slaves, at the cost of her life.