Kamino

I am a clone.

I was formed in cold efficiency from the time I was a zygote. A transparisteel tube was my uterus. I was nourished by bacta instead of amniotic fluid. A medical droid was my placenta, carrying away my wastes and helping me to circulate my blood as I gestated.

As soon as I was hatched, my muscles were trained to execute precise, killing strokes through electrical stimulation. At the same time, my brain was flooded with combat programming, letting my tiny limbs associate those motions with the martial arts I was destined to practice. I was trained as a neonate to fight for whomever would command me in the future.

And I learned to fight without question. Without hesitation. As I learned to roll on my belly, I learned to absorb falls. As I learned to walk, I learned to kick. As I learned to speak, I learned to accept orders without fail.

When the womb-born were busy filling their heads with a variety of educational mush (much of which they would likely forget), I was schooled in the arts of war. Droids helped us learn basic combatives when we were younger. They demonstrated hand-to-hand combat techniques, then they offered themselves for us to practice those techniques. Never once did any of those droids complain about being struck, flipped, or thrown. In fact, they seemed to take pleasure in serving us that way.

Later, as we grew closer to our full height, we practiced our combatives on each other. Our template would himself lead the battle demonstrations. We all savored his instruction most. We pictured ourselves looking in our adulthood as he looked then – handsome, well-muscled, sophisticated. He inspired us. But even then, we wondered which of the scars lining his face would be our own in the years to come.

I have been surrounded by thousands of copies of my face for as long as I can remember. My brothers have been my mirrors. I have seen my development reflected in them. Though we share the same intellect, the same personality, we still compete against each other to perform our martial duties the best.

Nevertheless, when training is done each day, my pod mates and I all share stories of our exploits. Over our meals, we routinely exaggerate our prowess, and we share remarkably similar visions of what our future holds. The training allows us to bond as warriors. The storytelling allows us to bond as friends.

I have been chosen to act as pod leader for this week's exercises. Next week, the clone to my right will assume that role. Next week, the clone to his right will. And so marches the steady progression of duties through each member of the pod. I often think it is the surest way to measure the passage of time.

But I also recognize that these constant role changes teach us that we are interchangeable. If one of us falls, another of us can immediately assume his place. Conversely, we know that none of us is indispensable. In fact, we are made to be dispensable.

I am a man, eager for action. Aching to put all of these years of training, this life of mine, to use.


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