Awakening on a cold slab in a medical complex on the fringes of known space, his eyes opened to a blurry picture. He breathed in pure oxygen and, flexing his slender muscles, found restraints. "Escape" screamed his first thought.

The men in white coats started examining him and relaxed the bindings. Excited murmurs about reflexes and cognitive function darted about the room. The picture sharpened.

His hand grasped a scalpel at the edge of the medical bed as he burst from the restraints. Half the medical team was dead before they could utter a scream. Holding hostage what he could tell was the lead physician, he bartered a fighter in exchange for her life.

Finally away from the place, all he was left with was a bloody scalpel, a medical tunic, and a band on his wrist that read:

24th clone in G batch - Orgoth