Get up, up, up you fucking shits.” Holy shit what was happening. I rushed out of bed putting my clothes on. Most clones were doing the same. Where we being attacked? No, this was normal military training. I felt doing this to a bunch of seven year olds was quite rude. I’d get him back somehow…

We marched out the door where seven instructors stood. “These will be your teachers for the year. If you make it, four years later you will be standing up on the stage you see in front of you. Now a description of classes your battalion will take. Mr.Zoyo take it away.”

A buff looking man in a lab coat came forward. The guy was so buff he made Arnold Schwarzenegger look tiny. What kind of steroids did they have in this world? Although, I was not looking to hit the gym just yet, I could secretly inject Nud. A small [bleeeeep] is a small price to pay. I could worry about that later.

“Hello, class I’ll be your chemistry teacher. We will be looking at building and handling basic explosives. Any grunt needs to know how blow stuff up!”

The next teacher turned out to be more normal. For martial arts we got a fit man with a goatee. Our heavy weapons expert happened to be a small women. I couldn't help myself and yelled,” How can you even carry heavy weapons you pipsqueak?” She jumped down from the stage and moved through the crowd, but what was she going to do at under five feet?

I swung a punch at the midget teacher as she closed in. She grabbed my hand and threw me across the wall. She had body enhancements. Well, I bit off more than I could chew. I beckoned Nud and Tara, but they acted as if I didn't even exist. They were great friends… The short women had pulled out a rocket launcher out of nowhere. It was the size of her body. Pls, don't shoot me a mumbled.

She took aim and fired. Enough energy to zap an elephant exited the barrel hitting right between my legs narrowly avoiding my private parts. She could have hit me!. Hopefully, she intentionally gave me a warning shot. Note to self: Don't mess with teachers. I got down on all fours and apologized profusely. Reluctantly she walked back, while the clones stared at me and the teacher with abject horror. ‘How do I get to these situations?’ I thought. I hurt all over, and a few medics ran over to pick me up. The greeting was briefly paused as I was taken away. It was an hour later when I had walked back and the greetings resumed. I needed a little more common sense.

The other teachers greeted us. I was looking forward to ship combat and guerilla warfare. I would get to freak out my enemy in the simulated jungle and dogfight way above the clouds.

We were led between hallways and buildings. Actual soldiers rushed past us doing their routine while stationed here. A plushy job for mediocre soldiers. I could fit in as one and not fight. The decision was tempting, but I would have to intentionally lose to children far below my actual age. Not happening, for I have some honor. Just kidding, I knew I was a scum bag when it came to playing fair.

The hangar housed more than jets. An air to space battleship three hundred meters in length was being fitted with missiles and homing mines. Get close enough to say a mile of empty space and you'd find your ship blown to pieces. The sleek black and blue paint showed the might of the Art military, a second tier military. I wish I was reincarnated into one of the massive superpowers spanning dozens of planets. I would have little to worry about. We could be invaded at any time.

Simulated battlefields used special genetically modified animal and plant life or more urban concrete buildings to defeat the enemy. Weapons fired tranquilizers. Otherwise, the fighting would be unrealistic or deadly. Though the tranquilizers put one to sleep a graze would simply hurt like hell.

At the end of the tour we sat to eat lunch. Highlights from the survival contest played in the background. Most of it was lame, but some teams were shown fighting each other or wild predators. They even captured Nud chewing down on some of my homemade jerky. Statistics on screen rated our survival such as lost weight, survival index score, and combat ability. I knew the best teams and so did everyone else. We had only placed third with the first place team killing a dozen with their homemade bombs. It was true that we got the shaft and landed apart from most pods. That was the only reason we lost. They will pay for that.

I ate a chicken like club with raspberry jam and stuffing. Nud was eating steak and salad, while Tara helped herself to a stew. If they always fed us like this I I'd be digging the whole training. We had capsules of bland food back on the ship. Wait… every meal served had protein. It was reasonable seeing we’d be soldiers. I wondered if they put steroids or other chemicals in the food? I hoped the women would stay lean. Wasn’t into the huge muscled women. My old roommate was. People have their own tastes. Nud just kept eating. I wanted my A.I. ack. I'd love to watch movies while I waited. Twiddling my thumbs was the best I could do. Hurry up! Geez...