A dull thud against thick glass woke him from his hazy slumber. The glass wore a fragile mask of frost, as if brushed with the careless hand of winter. Shadowy forms moved on the other side, shifting back and forth out of view.

  Where am I? Marcus thought as a sense of terror overcame him.

  He tried to say something, but a mask covered his mouth. Then he noticed tubes all around him, coiling like the tentacles of a giant mechanical octopus. A frosty mist swirled over him as he felt the feeling come back to his arms, legs, fingers, and everything else. He tried to wriggle and squirm out of whatever had him trapped, but it held tight.

  “Has he awoken?” a voice spoke, dulled from the frosty glass between them.

  “I think so,” another replied. “Try knocking again.”

  Another thud.

  A pair of clear, blue eyes, much like his own, appeared amidst the frost and mist. Marcus looked at the eyes, and they widened with amazement. “By the Creator, he is awake!”

  “Truly?” another pair of eyes appeared, and then they both retreated.

  A few moments later, a harsh hissing sound blasted all around him. The window before him moved, first forward and then up. Sweet warmth embraced him like a lost lover, making him only now realise how cold he was. The window revealed a sombre metallic chamber with long, blue LED lights lining the ceiling.

  Pipes around him hissed and popped. The mask over his mouth either fell off or was removed. And suddenly, he began shivering as a layer of moisture beaded over his skin. Marcus tried to step out, but his leg felt like jelly. When his foot touched the ground, his leg gave way, and he collapsed, crashing onto the hard metallic floor.

  “Help him up, you idiot!” the voice snapped.

  The strangest thing about it was that the voice sounded eerily like his own.

  A pair of warm hands lifted him as he regained his vision. What Marcus Dain saw standing in front of him both confused and terrified him. It’s me?

  A spitting image of himself. His same frame, same height, same blue eyes, and same blonde hair. Only the Marcus in front of him had short cropped hair, whereas Marcus’s was a little longer and more dishevelled.

  “What the fuck?” Marcus yelped, yanking himself free. A horrible dizziness clouded his head and blurred his vision for a moment. He rubbed his head, and when he opened his eyes, another Marcus, this one with braided hair at the top, stood before him, too. His eyes dashed between both of them, his heart suddenly pounding. “Where am I?”

  The two mirror images of himself suddenly clicked their heels, straightened their postures, puffed their chests, and placed a fist over their hearts, bowing their heads. “You’re in the central command complex, your excellency.” They wore pristine white lab coats, under which were white tunics and trousers, lined with blue.

  “What?” he squinted, struggling to believe any of this was real. This is a dream, a really weird dream. Like a fever dream. He shut his eyes, straining his mind, trying to snap himself awake. There had been a car crash. He slid off the road. Did it knock him out? Was he lying in a hospital bed somewhere?

  He stepped back from the pair of them, shaking his head.

  “Your excellency, is everything okay?” one of his duplicates asked.

  “Why are you calling me that?” he said, his voice faint, for his strength had been sapped from him. “Where the hell am I? I have to go home!”

  “You are home, excellency?” said the other, confused.

  “Perhaps he means Vespera?”

  Now the terror really cut deep into his bones. Who were these people, why were they him, why were they telling him this was his home? “No I’m not! What the fuck is this place? Why are you me?”

  “You are the Creator, excellency,” he said again, the Marcus with the braids.

  “Ease up, Red,” said the other Marcus with the short hair, stepping forward. “He’s in shock. They said that cryogenesis could cause this. And he’s been hibernating for far longer than intended.”

  The other one, Red, bowed his head again, looking at Marcus. “For which we most humbly apologize, your excellency. The systems… They use old technology… Something malfunctioned.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Marcus gasped, now clutching himself as he began shivering.

  “Get him some clothes for Creator’s sake,” the other barked, and Red nodded, walking off. He returned to the chamber shortly afterward holding a folded robe in his arms. Two men in strange uniforms flanked him. Guards or soldiers, by the look of them, because they both held some sort of assault rifle, though the design was like nothing Marcus had ever seen. The guns looked thicker, clunkier than any rifle he had seen before. And their uniforms—far more armour than he knew soldiers to wear. With dark grey matte plates across the torso, shoulders, arms, and so on, only stopping at the joints for flexibility. They wore helmets that covered their faces, with an opaque visor that covered their eyes. They look like something out of a sci fi film… What the hell is this place?

  Marcus got the terrible sense that he was in some kind of limbo—or a very vivid nightmare. He didn’t know what to do but to let these strange mirror images of himself go about their business. Where could he run? What else could he say?

  Red came up to him with the robe. It looked comfortable, to be fair. A thick black material. “Here you go, excellency.”

  Despite shivering, Marcus reluctantly took the robe from red and put it on. It insulated him from the cold instantly.

  “Follow me, sir,” Red said, beckoning to come with him and his guards. “Forgive our enthusiasm earlier. I had forgotten you might wake confused. We will take you to the Archon’s office. He will be very eager to meet you, and he will explain everything. Fear not.”

  Marcus only frowned, and then he was herded through what seemed like a highly futuristic military complex. Bright blue LED lights lined every metallic hall. Thick metal doors opened like the gaping jaws of some mechanical beasts when they walked near. Everywhere he went, he saw people who all had his face. His exact face, only distinguished by their different hairstyles and beards or accessories. That was the most puzzling thing of all. Why were they all him?

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  They passed by some windows, too, and Marcus got a look outside. Heavy rainfall clattered against the thick glass. Beyond stretched a grassy plain, broken by the black rocks of some gargantuan, jagged cliffs that lined the coast. Beyond that, a great, sapphire ocean. Huge waves crashed against the rocky cliff faces in the distance, kicking up foamy spray.

  Where the fuck am I? He thought with increasing anxiety as they traversed the quiet mechanical halls. He lived nowhere near the seaside, so he knew he was far from home. But how far…

  The questions ran through his head in droves as they walked through more ominous halls, stepped into an elevator, and shot up god knows how many floors until they reached a large metallic door decorated with gold and silver. A logo or sigil, wrought in shining silver in the vague shape of an eagle with its wings spread, dominated the door. A commanding, yet simplistic design.

  One of the guards standing sentry at the door approached Red. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No,” Red said. “But we must see the Archon urgently.” He nudged his head toward Marcus, standing there just as confused as the moment he fell out of that cold capsule. “The Creator has woken.”

  The guards inspected him and then nodded. “Very well. Enter.”

  The guard entered some code into a little holographic screen on the side. The doors hissed open, and in they went. The chamber was cavernous, with a high ceiling and lavish furnishings. Deep blue rugs covered the floor, and white banners bearing the same black eagle sigil lined with black patterns decorated the walls at the far end of the hall. A massive window at the far side commanded a brilliant view of the ocean and the rest of whatever this complex was. It looked like a small metal city below.

  Spherical lights embedded into the walls lit the room.

  Below the flags at the far end was a wide, thick desk, where a lone man leaned hunched over, both arms on the desk, brooding over some documents. Again, he looked the spitting image of Marcus, just with slicked back blonde hair, which was shaved at the sides, and a cropped blonde beard.

  He gazed up at them. “I told the guards I was not to be disturbed… What is the meaning of this?” This man was dressed more exquisitely than the rest, wearing a sleek dark blue uniform that was buttoned diagonally across his torso, with a high collar that covered most of his neck. Gold threads lined the uniform. Pinned to his breast was a series of medals or honours, glittering in sparkles of blue, red, green, and so on.

  Red clicked his heels and bowed his head for this ‘Archon.’ “Forgive my intrusion, your excellency, but we had to bring this to you urgently.” He stepped to the side, beckoning his hand to Marcus. “The creator has woken.”

  The Archon’s eyes widened for a brief moment, and he stood up straight. “Truly?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Archon put his hands behind his back and circled the desk, walking over so that he was right in front of Marcus. They stood face to face. Same height, same stature, same blue eyes.

  Same person.

  “Y-Your excellency…” The Archon bowed his head. “It is a great honour. You must have many questions as to our… uhm… delay… in waking you.”

  “I do,” Marcus said, losing his patience. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Your excellency’ and Creator? What the hell is this place? I want to go home!”

  The Archon frowned, shooting a curious glance toward Red, then turned back to Marcus. “Forgive me, excellency. But I am a little confused. You are home? This was the mission, was it not?”

  “What in the fuck are you talking about?” Marcus barked. “Why do you all look like me!”

  The uniformed military man before him squinted. “Because we are you? You are the Creator.”

  “Your excellency,” Red said, addressing the Archon. “We believe the Creator is in a state of shock and confusion. The cryogenesis process is known to cause this in certain cases, and of course, with the malfunction, he has been in hibernation for far longer than intended.”

  “What?” Marcus said, glaring at the pair of them.

  The Archon sighed. “Give us the room, Red. Thank you. I will explain everything to him.”

  Red clicked his heels, turned sharply, and walked out with the guards.

  “Take a seat, exce—”

  “Stop calling me that!” Marcus yelled. “My name is Marcus. Marcus.”

  “Marcus…” the Archon said, bowing. “Forgive me. Please, take a seat. I did not realise you were in shock. Would you care for refreshment? We have water or lorqa juice.”

  What the hell is lorqa juice? Marcus thought. “Water, please.” And he sat down on the other end of the Archon’s desk.

  The Archon took a silver flagon and poured some water into a cup, handing it to Marcus. Then he walked to the side of the desk opposite to Marcus and sat, clasping his hands together. “So, Marcus. Tell me, do you remember anything before your hibernation?”

  “Yes,” Marcus said, sipping the refreshing water. It soothed his arid throat. “I was driving home from work. I… I crashed, I think. That part is patchy. My car flipped and then… that was it. I woke up here. Is this a hospital? Are we in England?”

  Furrows formed over the Archon’s brow. “No, this is not a hospital, and I have never heard of a place called England. You are in the central governance hub of the planet Neptura. Are these memories you have of the sacred homeworld? Of Vespera?”

  Marcus squinted with confusion. “Planet? Neptura? What? No, I’m talking about England, my country. It’s on planet Earth, yes?”

  “Planet Earth?” the Archon leaned back, eyes narrowing. “This is not a system in our data banks. Is it another colony humanity has claimed? Vespera is the homeworld.”

  “No! No.” Marcus had to refrain from smashing his fists on the desk. The more he heard, the less any of it made sense, and he just wanted to go home now. “This doesn’t make any sense. This can’t be real.”

  The Archon sighed. “You know what, I believe you. You may be more extraordinary than any of us first thought, Marcus. You have slept for so long that the generation which put you to sleep are lost to history, and many more have come and gone, only knowing you as a frozen body in a cryochamber. So long ago it was, that the data in our vats has been lost.

  “So you be quiet now, and allow me to talk. Perhaps I should start from the beginning. You are not merely in a new place. You are the reason this place exists. We call you the Creator because your blood, your DNA, is ours. You were the model commander to lead this army. A clone army billions strong lost to the far reaches of known space without a purpose, without a true leader, forever drifting amidst the stars.” He got up and paced toward the grand window at the far end of the room, holding his hands behind his back. His polished black boots clattered on the metallic tile floor.

  “We don’t know why it was this planet our forerunners ended up on, or whatever happened to the other fledgling human colonists who fled Vespera before the Great Atomic War, but it matters not now. We are here, and we now have a leader. Though you may not know it, we know of our original purpose, of our mission, passed down to us from each generation: We will reclaim the sacred homeworld from the subversive elements which destroyed it and purge them all. At long last, we can take to the stars once more.” He heaved a deep breath, puffing his chest out.

  Marcus blinked, rubbing his eyes. “This is impossible. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never created anything or led armies before. I sold training courses for Christ's sake! Or, I guess I used to…”

  The Archon smiled faintly, though his eyes held no humour. “We will teach you, in time. For now, know this: You are the Grand Archon of the Nepturan Stellar Order. The leader of this clone army that has awaited you for centuries. Whether you like it or not, your destiny, and that of our people, begins today.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but found his throat parched and his words caught on his tongue. “And what if I just say no? What if I don’t want to lead you?”

  The Archon turned to face him. “Then you are useless, and we don’t tolerate useless mouths around here. Not in this army. We could just put you back in your freezer, if you’d like, or find you work as a labourer or a soldier. But I can’t imagine you’d take that over absolute power.”

  He twiddled his thumb. “Well, obviously not…” What a strange predicament he was in, but if he were to serve these people, he’d rather do so with a crown on his head than a rifle in his hand.

  “We have much to discuss,” the clone said. “But first, let me show you what you have built…”