My time in the infirmary comes to an end later today. My body had reached the age of seven. Alice woke me to explain how I was going to survive the ceremony. I was told to dress in formal military attire. Luckily, I only had two pairs of clothes. Two white military jumpsuits. I was not able to use credits, so my wardrobe was minimalistic. We were told to walk in an orderly line, until we arrived in the assembly room aboard the ship. A drone presented our information collected by the AI. ‘I'll have my AI fudge the story.’ I thought.

“Alice, give me a good review, Maybe add a few inches to my height. ” I said, confident in my plan.

She laughed saying she was required to tell the truth. I complained, but she continued saying , “programming proceeds lies. How else did Arth become the empire it is today.” More Arth rhetoric. She was almost as bad as those North Koreans. Kim Jong Un had a new rival to compete with. Alice was a no joke at brainwashing.

Back to the topic at hand. Each future soldier had a rank based on their individual skills and talents. A complicated algorithm decided each attribute based on monitoring the brain and body. Sensors had been attached when the had been surgery done.

I would no longer be in the first stage as a clone if all went well. The second stage was one where martial training began. A clone which failed to meet the admiral’s set requirements was disposed of. The beginning of my career path would start with being selected by a branch of the military. Personality, Intellect, physicality and work ethic were the four determining factors during the test. Since we hadn't done anything in our short lives only potential could be measured.

From then on weekdays would become a brutal boot camp. My clone brethren and I would be tested to compete physically. At night our mental capabilities would be tested. Fortunately, Arthinians created laws requiring clones to be treated as citizens. A person was only able to be forced to work six out of the eight days a week. We were paid for our time, working fourteen hours a day. Until the ship left the empire’s space, I might visit Arth for some fresh air. I've spent more than three years in an enclosed space and welcomed the possibility of a nature reserve.

The time hit hour fifteen or around six in evening. The clones finished their meals. They talked anxiously, worried of failure. The clones wanted glory for their country.. A girl sitting next to me said, ‘I'm going to be the best fighter pilot’ making a plane noise.

Yep. They still weren't at an age where we could be friends... I stilled played my part as a child though. I wouldn't want to be a lonely outcast when they got older. No one wants to be commanded by an angry fool. Being civilized and orderly was a key feature to any military.

We gathered our plates and formed the orderly line. The officer marched down the corridor. We followed him, copying the March as best we could.

After fifteen minutes of passing corridor after corridor, we arrived in the assembly room. Much to my surprise, the rows of seats were empty. Twelve men with gold triangle ensigns sat atop the balcony. Dressed in armors and spacesuits they awaited the new batch of clones.

The many infirmary children I had grown up with merged as other infirmaries sent their own prospects. ‘This might take a while’ I thought as the thousandth clone appeared for the test.

The auditorium was filled and the recruiting officers started the selection. The theater screen to our backs lit up. A name was called and the numbers filled the screen.

“Clone B-1478… please step up to the podium.” The little runt shuffled forward reaching the podium.

“Personality: 0.01th percentile Intellect: 38th percentile Physicality: 1th percentile Work Ethic: 36th percentile… no notable skill proficiencies… Beeeep- Applicant terminated.”

“No, no, no” desperately screamed the boy dragged off by the military officers. I had a hunch Claire and I wouldn't be seeing him again. How could a trembling little boy fight a war? Hopefully, I fare better.

“Clone C-3457… Please step up to the podium.”

Who would have believed it? Wenth, the now reformed seven year old took the stage. He no longer had an arrogant look on his face. The scar from hitting his head on the hard infirmary floor stood out like a sore thumb. We had talked several times after the incident, and I even developed a respect for the former bully. Wenth was a quick learner who with my help realized his error. I'd be in trouble if the recruiting officer wouldn't let Wenth pass.

“Personality: 99th percentile Intellect: 95th percentile Physicality: 87th percentile Work Ethic: 73th… 1 notable skill proficiency -social reading-... Beeeep- Applicant Accepted… Naval branch- Ambassador Path.”

I watched him go with a smile. Any seven year old, as mature as Wenth, would make a fine ambassador. I had brainwa*cough* re-educated the young man.

Unfortunately, my name was not called next. Five hours past until the officers called my name.

“Clone A-654… Please step up to to the podium.”

This was my moment to shine. I jumped onto the platform with a grin plastered on my face.

“Personality: 72th percentile Intellect: 99.999th percentile Physicality: 78th percentile Work Ethic: 99.9th percentile… 3 notable skill proficiencies -hand to hand combat-, -strategic manipulation-, -poker face-... ”

The Physicality percentile didn't surprise me. I had what I was born with. Being a reincarnated person the Intellect and work ethic values didn't surprise me either. Was I so immature that twenty-five percent of those seven-year-olds beat me? That statistic was an insult to my pride. I ended up giving each officer a signature mental middle finger. Alice pointed out this may have been the reason for scoring so low. I waited for the rest of my decision to come through.

“...Beeeeep- Applicant Accepted… Fleet Branch- Tactician Path.”

Interesting I thought. The fleet branch was a higher tier of the Naval Branch. Whereas the naval branch focused on crews flying or crewing a single ship, the Fleet Branch was designated to control any off world missions. I could be forming a resistance on an enemy planet or controlling Arth’s spacecrafts in some sort of grand strategy.

Relieved I filed the appropriate documents and headed to a warp point. Time to visit Arth as a tourist. With a grand total of thirty thousand credits, I had major cash to spend.