Nearly three centuries ago, a group of scientists and politicians and adventurers saw the destruction of Earth was imminent and started planning. They gathered together DNA samples of the best and brightest that Rarth had to offer across all races and classes. They sent out highly automated colony ships to as many planets as possible that had the potential to support human life.

One ship, the Northern Star, was successful. One planet, Rhyldan, was found.

A History of Rhyldan (excerpt)

The Repopulation: The Price of Freedom

Chapter 1: Life

"Welcome to the jungle Private. Problem is, it won't welcome you back. Everything wants to kill you, and chances are they'll succeed. So while cloning takes care of that particular problem, let me tell you, it ain't pretty, dying. There's no angels, no gods, no bright white light that wants you to step into it. And the Council hates useless people, and let me tell you, with the hellspawn of Rhyldan wanting us all dead, the List is pretty long. So word of advice Private – shoot first, don't stop shooting, and try not to die. Got it?"

"Got it Sir."

"Good. And I'm not a 'sir.'"

That exchange had occurred ten years ago. In the span of those ten years, Obore Daniels had been killed twice, and severely wounded a third time. He'd narrowly managed dying by pointing out to Dinh that it would cost fewer resources to treat him - the List was long, it was expensive to clone a new body and download his stored memories, and while it would cost him much, it would cost the Council much less to patch him up in the infirmary. Though he wondered how much it would cost them to give patrol grunts like himself decent body armour.

So here I am, Obore reflected, gripping his rifle as he made his way through the forest that surrounded the settlement of Plymouth – more of it being cleared each year, but still remaining as dangerous.

A sergeant too. You see that coming?

Dinh couldn't answer. He'd lost his head two years ago, and the judair limited installed in his brain had joined its occupant's head in a setlang's stomach. So while then-Sergeant Dinh Long had eventually been cloned again, the current Dinh, now a private, had no memories of the man he had once outranked. The man who now outranked him.

"Charlie Three, reporting."

The man who had just contacted him.

"Charlie Two, reporting."

"Charlie One, reporting," Obore said into his pocket radio. "Resume communication in ten minutes."

"Charlie Two, acknowledged."

"Charlie Three, acknowledged. I'll holler if I see anything, Sir."

I'm not a Sir.

Obore stopped for a moment to take out his canteen, looking up at the twilight sky as the planet's single sun set. Rhyldan was a lot like Terra. The temperature and atmosphere was similar, the gravity was similar, the flora, and even some of the fauna was similar. But the night sky was different. Not that Obore had any memories of what the sky might have looked from humanity's homeworld, but he understood astronomy well enough to understand it would have looked nothing like Rhyldan's.

"Charlie One, this is Charlie Two. I…think I've got movement."

"You think?"

"I'll…clarify that."

Obore returned his canteen to his belt. There would have been another difference on Terra, he reflected. On Terra, humanity was the sole intelligent species. On Rhyldan, that was-

"Shit! Contacts!"

Different.

"Come in Two!" Obore yelled into his radio, pressing one hand to his ear while holding his rifle in the other. "What's your situation?!"

"Fucked up, that's my fucking situation!"

"Corporal Chelsea, please-"

"Shit! Just get here!"

"Chelsea, what-"

"Shit!"

Charlie Two wasn't responding. But it made no difference. He could hear the sound of gunfire from his ears, and from said sound, there were a lot of guns involved.

Lesoo. Fucking lesoo!
"Charlie Two, hold on! Charlie Three, converge on Charlie Two."

"But Sir-"

"I'm not a Sir!" Obore yelled, sprinting through the forest as he did so. "Just move!"

Autumn leaves crunched under his boots. Like Terra, Rhyldan had seasons. Unlike Terra, it had alien psychotics called lesoo. Aliens who operated on a stone age level, but were smart enough to work out how some human tech worked. And once some of those lesoo had realized that pulling the trigger of a rifle could generate a rather spectacular effect of blood and guts, they'd taken to it like maggots to a corpse. Corpses like his own the last two times he'd died. Corpses like the body of Corporal Jayne Chelsea, now lying against a tree with a trio of red holes in her chest. Corpses like the pair of lesoo that were lying on the ground in front of her.

"Fuck!"

Corpses that the other three lesoo would soon become.

Obore had enough of a sense of self-preservation to take cover behind a tree as the lesoo opened fire. Taller than humans, they were easier to hit, but with a thick brown hide and great strength, they were harder to kill as well. But they were stupid. Smart enough to shoot, but reloading was still a mysterious process to them. So when bullets stopped hitting the tree he was hiding behind, he popped out and opened fire himself.

"Die! Just fucking die!"

He kept firing. One of the lesoo was hit, and was taken out by gunfire from another angle. Dinh had arrived, and for all the inexperience of this cloned version, he had enough sense to stick behind cover as well.

Two more.

The lesoo started falling back. One started to flee. Obore popped a round in its skull. He watched as it fell to the ground. He watched as its ally tried to reach for him, but was forced to recoil as he opened fire. He watched as that lesoo ran also, taking a round to the leg, but still moving like it was a pinprick.

"That's right, run!" he heard Dinh shout. "Run you bone-head!"

Bone head. A slang term for the lesoo's primitive state, and that their skulls were thick physiologically as well. Obore could have thought of a dozen better insults, but as he lowered his rifle, he found himself too tired to care.

"Obore…"

And too concerned about Jayne as well.

"Hey there…" he whispered, getting down on one knee and propping his rifle on his palm. "You okay?"

Jayne coughed up some blood. "Does it look like I'm okay?"

"Nah," Dinh said. "You look like-"

"Get on point Private," Obore snapped.

If Dinh responded, Obore didn't hear or see it. He just kept looking at Jayne, not wanting his former superior any nearer. The man's handling of comrades' deaths was terrible, and it looked like a lack of memory hadn't changed that.

But am I any better?

"I'm sorry," Obore said, taking her hand. "I…I mean…we shouldn't be so spread out. The Council might-"

"Oh lighten up," Jayne smiled, even as more blood came out of her lips. "I've died before. I'll die again provided I stick in a soldier position."

And did you choose that position? Obore wondered. Did I?

"I mean, it might save time if you-"

Been a soldier as long as I can remember. Cloned to be one. Again and again.

"-if you just shoot me now."

"What?" Obore exclaimed.

"Yeah," Jayne said, smiling. "Quick pop through the skull. I'll bleed out before you get me back to Plymouth anyway."

"Jayne, I…" Obore got to his feet. "I…I can't…I mean…"

"For goodness sake Obore, just shoot me! Just get it over with. I mean, sure, a headshot might hit my judair but other than that…

Obore just stood there. How many times had Jayne Chelsea died? How many deaths did it take to make one value their own life so cheaply? How many more deaths did he have to have before he reached the same state? He didn't know, but never had he had to kill her himself.

"Obore…" Jayne said, her already pale face even paler. Her blue eyes met his brown. "Just…it hurts…just…k…k'k…kill…"

And then she died. Died as her chest erupted in spasms of blood as bullets tore into it.

"Shit!" Obore exclaimed. Grabbing his rifle, he spun around, only to find Dinh holding his own gun. "What the hell did you do?!"

"What Corporal Jayne Chelsea was asking you to do," the private said, walking over and feeling for the woman's pulse. He looked up at his superior as he did so. "You a sadist or something? Why'd you wait so long?"

Obore just stood there. Dinh was right, he supposed. On some level of the morality spectrum at least. The part that made it more merciful to just kill wounded than trying to get them help. The part that even being a copy of two former men himself, just seemed wrong.

"I mean, we're all just clones," Dinh said, closing Jayne's eyes and getting to his feet. "She'll be back in the field before we know it."

Obore still remained silent. He looked at where the lesoo had come from, where one of their number still was, the bodies of their fallen under the setting sun. What was the point of alien attacks when humans seemed so intent on killing their own kind?

"Anyway," Dinh said, holstering his rifle. "We should get back. The Council will want a report on the casualty."

Obore snorted as the private began to walk away. "You always were an authoritarian bastard," he murmured.

"What?" Dinh said, turning back at his superior. "What did you say?"

Obore met the man's gaze. It was, even now, like seeing a ghost. The same Asian features. The same black hair. Same slightly distinct nose. All but the scar the original Sergeant Long had picked up on his right cheek before he died. An individual that Private Long was now on track to becoming again.

"Nothing," Obore said, hanging his rifle over his back as well. "I said nothing."

A lie. An utter fabrication.

Casting one last look at Jayne's body as Dinh shrugged and walked off, sometimes Obore Daniels wondered if the same could be said for his entire existence.