Like Toy Soldiers

Rows upon rows. Hundreds of suits of pale grey polymer armour and the most effective weapons Tolan could mass produce stood lined up and prepared for war. Lore gazed down on the packed area before them. Hundreds, nearly thousands, of tubes each containing a combat ready clone stood in anticipation.
“You’ve had a good three months.” Juror patted Tolan’s shoulder. Despite not feeling anything, they slanted their monitor towards her hand and smiled.
“Well, I had to temporarily take Africa offline to transfer most of the towers down there but I’d have to have done that anyway so…” They made their way towards a nearby computer. “Nine hundred and thirty eight combat ready clones. Thousand by the end of the day.”
“How many?” Char’s eyes widened further in bewilderment.
“I think after today we can stop.” Lore looked again over the field of tubes. “What exactly does combat ready mean?”
“They can fight, they can die. That’s about it.” Tolan shrugged.
“What about… I don’t know… Intelligence?” Lore shot an accusatory glance at Juror.
“They know how to fight. Think of them as the perfect killing machine. No conscience, no guilt. They’ll follow any order you give them and they’ll like it. As long as they’re killing something, they’re happy.” Lore’s glare was getting increasingly stronger.
“And when this is all over? What happens to them?”
“There’ll still be war. They’ll still be stuff to kill. More so then than now. I assumed that’s why you wanted so many.”
“No.” Lore said bluntly. “I needed an army of clones like the ones from the old days. This is barbaric.”
“Barbaric indeed.” Tolan smiled. “They’re capable of being like the classics. I even made a handful to see how they’d turn out but it’ll take time for them to learn.”
“And these ‘classics’, where are they?”
Tolan led them to a service lift. Door secured, they began their descent. Nearly a thousand clones packed into a single room. The murderous potential of such a place was not lost on any of them. Given Tolan’s display, none of them had any doubt that should something go wrong, the clones would be just as willing to kill them as any would be attacker. They were all at the highest state of alert as they travelled through the forest of frozen clones. Frozen perhaps wasn’t the right word; each pod contained a single battle ready clone, armour, weapons and all, but also a green fluid that seemed to give off its own light, tinging the whole room a pale green. Walking while being constantly surrounded by static, floating figures was making Lore twitch. They had tried to hold it back but to no avail. They could have sworn they saw one of the helmets move but Tolan tried to reassure them with the fact that the clones were being held in a state of unconsciousness and while movement was unlikely, it was possible. This didn’t help.
“Here we are.” There was a slight clearing ahead. A break in the pods; small but noticeable. There were only ten pods in the next row. Pinned against the wall, these pods stood alone. “Any preferences or should I just pick one.” Tolan chuckled to themselves.
Lore saw the ten identical pods and nodded. Tolan jetted their way to the nearest one and tapped it thrice. An interface appeared then quickly vanished. The green fluid began to drain and the clone’s flaccid body slowly descended to the base of the tank. Once the suspension fluid was completely gone, several high pressure jets of water erupted from the pod’s lid. The remaining green that had tainted the grey of their armour was quickly rinsed away and the clone effectively awakened. The pod’s walls shone red then flashed twice. The door opened. Their first steps were a little shaky but that quickly sorted itself out. The clone looked around, studying their surroundings. They stowed their weapon.
“Sir.” They held out their hand to Lore. “It’s an honour to meet you.” The voice sounded familiar but Lore couldn’t quite place it. They took their hand and shook it. “Permission to remove my helmet.”
Confused Lore responded. “Granted. You don’t have to ask you know.”
“Regulations state that no soldier should be seen without proper uniform by a commanding officer unless permission has been issued sir.” That confused Lore even more. As the helmet was lifted from their head, their voice changed. Originally it was an synthetic attempt at neutral gendered voice but their natural tone was nearly two octaves higher.
“What should we call you?” The clone looked confused.
“You want to know my name sir?” They paused. “Truth is, I’m not too sure. If it’s up to them, my name is Three. I kind of like it.”
“Three it is then.” Lore smiled. This was what they had asked for. “Well Three, what can you tell me about yourself apart from being a soldier.”
Three gave Lore the same look they had once given them. “I was born in a tank, grown in a tank and trained in the tank. I was also given something the majority of the other tank borns weren’t, the ‘personality package’.” Lore gestured for them to continue. “The ‘Personality package’ allowed us to train in three non-combat skills. I am a fully trained pianist, psychotherapist and anthropologist.”
“That sounds familiar.” Piper moved in a little closer to three. “What does an anthropologist do?”
“I studied a series of cultures present on Earth at a variety of different time periods to understand their cultures and values. I could now properly assimilate myself into their societies if the need arose.” Piper smiled.
“I can’t wait.”
“Anything else that’s unique about you?” While what they had seen was a good start, they were hoping for more.
“Well, out of the ten of us that got the ‘personality package’ I am the only pianist. I am one of three women and that’s about it.”
“How different are the clones who didn’t get the package?” Lore turned to face the occupied tubes behind them.
“Almost the same. Certainly less chatty.” They gave Three a disgusted look. “They’ll do your job.” They sighed.
“There is an unauthorised individual in the conduit interface chamber.” Blared once more. On Your Marks.