Buying a spaceship and equipping it with a high-end cloning bay was the best decision Dave had ever made in his life, they thought in retrospect. Dave Mollheim was a hard working man, possessed with a strong will, but little creative spirit. He had always struggled to make connections with the people around him, and his work as a space miner allowed for almost total self-imposed isolation. Living alone and caring little for comforts or excess, the diligent ore hauler steadily accrued a considerable fortune of Astral Federation credits. After scouting a rare-metal rich asteroid belt and selling the location to an interstellar mining consortium, Dave was able to retire relatively young at the age of 42. But what truly gave meaning to the next chapter of the earnest man's life, was where he had decided to invest his riches.
In an extremely rare moment of inspirational brilliance, Dave became enamored with a groundbreaking new technology that was becoming popular among Federation captains and other elites. The invention of Cloning Bays allowed for the accurate recording of a person's memories and personality, which could then be imprinted on genetically identical replica bodies, as many times as resources allowed. Dave invested every penny he had into a cutting edge cloning unit, and installed it on his robust, modular, mendable, spaceship hauler. Dave used the technological marvel sparingly at first, creating two exact duplicates of his balding, lanky body, and imprinting them with his sum total of life experiences and personal growth. In an unusual display of sentimentality, the gruff miner finally named his decades old, retrofitted vessel 'The Davider'.
As the first few weeks of his retirement passed, Dave set out on the Davider with his clones to explore uncharted portions of the cosmos. Upon finding comfortable companionship with himself, the solitary man instantly fell at ease with his like-minded fellow clones. Dave had found a profound outlet for his repressed social needs, and his crew of three soon became thirty, and then more. The teeming crew kept the ship stocked and repaired with methodical devotion. Dave was skilled at roughing it for years in long-haul mining missions, and worked well with himself on complicated tasks. Supplied with an inexhaustible crew of expert mechanics that knew the ins-and-outs of every inch of the clone ship, the Davider soon bulged with added crew compartments and asteroid processing bays. Decades of joyful exploration ensued, mixed with rich, though incredibly monotonous, social life for the ship of Daves.
As the years passed by, the original Dave eventually succumbed to brain cancer at the wistful age of 139. The first Dave's funeral service was attended to by the Davider's increasingly bustling crew of hundreds. Clones of every age past 42 tearfully watched as their founder was fed into the cloning recycler by the newest generation of Daves, in a symbolic show of continuity. But even without the guidance of their originator, the clone crew's erstwhile mission of interstellar exploration continued. Dave was not soon missed, as his sires found solace in each other's welcomed company. Their instigator's efforts to create a refuge of familiar fellows increasingly flourished with time.
There was always a need for fresh, new Daves to replace the aging and elderly clones. Every year, the clones would diligently expand their ship into an enlarging assembly of hodgepodge compartments and work pods, until the vessel better resembled a sprawling, mobile spacestation. An entire society of identical individuals developed on the vessel, utterly unlike the normal human society they had left behind long ago. The society of Daves united around the ideals of exploring and charting the universe, especially investigating developing life on new planets. When a new planet was detected by far ranging scouter vessels, which greatly resembled the original mining vessel of the First Dave, exploration teams were immediately assembled.
"This is Team Leader Dave Z5-5J23 radioing back to the Davider. We have successfully made planetfall with minimal landing casualties." The team leader looked around the primitive landing pod, rubbing his sore shins and knees. Injured Daves sprawled limply out of failed harnesses everywhere, as others tenderly nursed sprained and broken limbs. Dave didn't really know much about advanced spaceship design, and successive generations of clones had failed to improvise a particularly safe terrestrial landing system for their away teams. A response soon crackled back through his crude radio set "Good work Dave, execute the wounded quickly and head north. Our calculations estimate the planet's major sun is setting soon, and it'll probably look really pretty. Get some cool pictures, we're all really excited to get a first glimpse up here."
Even though Dave was possessed with a curious, explorative spirit after his retirement, he never had much of a background in science or naturalism. His identical descendant's version of scientific exploration mostly consisted of taking cool pictures of dangerous alien landscapes while retrieving interesting flora, fauna, and minerals. Even though most flora ended up failing to take root in the Davider's ramshackle hydroponic bays, most fauna ended up in the clone recycler, and the minerals ended up in the ship's hull, the Daves all considered themselves intrepid explorers of the highest caliber.
"Wow, that really is a pretty sight," the lead clone said in awed reverence of the breathtaking sunset. Dave Z5-5J23 began snapping shots as his assistant recorded it on video. His diminished team of Daves eagerly gazed ahead, precariously perched atop a treacherously high mountain peak. One of the clones was so enamored viewing the alien forest vista, the Dave didn't notice his footing slipping. Several Daves whistled in appreciation at the plummeting spectacle, as others edged back a few inches. "Alright team, enough lollygagging, let's move into the forest proper."
As the team slipped past alien trees, covered in purple, resinous extensions, one of the clone explorers cried out "Hey! Check it out! I found a neat leaf!" All the Dave clones eagerly gathered around, each equally appreciative of the seemingly conventional specimen of ground litter. "That little sucker is absolutely going in the scrapbook," the leader said authoritatively, as his identical companions excitedly nodded in agreement. They were all so distracted with the thrilling discovery, none of the clones noticed the crouched creature stalking up from behind.
Chaos ensued, as a multi-limbed, tiger-like monstrosity set upon the Dave clones with predatory intent. The mandibles lining its slavering mouth latched upon the team leader as it gruesomely began chewing him apart, while clawing wildly at the others with its many talon-bearing legs. The Dave clones bravely set upon the creature with single-minded ferocity, attacking the alien beast in waves as they were systematically mangled to shreds. The surviving assistant fished their only radio from the deceased leader's half-eaten corpse, as he called in "Hey Dave, this is Dave 92-K880. There's this really cool leaf, but some ornery bugger is fucking with us. We're going to need more Daves, pronto."
As the bloody battle thinned the exploration team, poorly-welded dropships screamed down from above. The metal hulks slammed down with cacophonous impact, their exit hatches awkwardly squealing open and disgorging swarms of dazed, injured, and angry Dave clones. The gore-splattered alien monster became visibly exhausted from the continuous fighting, and fled from the rising tide of battle-hungry Daves. Prying sticks, rocks, and anything they could from the forest floor, the clones mobbed over the overwhelmed creature, which struggled to escape as injured Daves clung bravely to its many limbs. Dozens of screaming clones dogpiled the tiger monster, and began pulling its many legs in opposite directions, coordinating their motions as they wrenched its limbs and tendons. The gargantuan predator screeched and clicked in desperation as its many legs were torn from their sockets, thick green ichor spilling out and mixing with the red Dave blood drenching the forest floor.
"This is Dave H9-M242. We've done it, the leaf is secured. Requesting an extraction shuttle, we've also rustled up dinner." After finishing his call, the new team leader triumphantly smacked the carapace of the dead alien creature, turning to the bloodied crowd of clone survivors as he authoritatively declared "This baby is going to make for so many Dave clones once we get it in the recycyler." The clone leader's voice was almost drowned out by the screams of dozens of dying Daves as the survivors set about either executing or aiding their surviving comrades, based on the severity of their injuries. As the last of the injured Daves expired, the remaining Dave clones set upon the alien carcass, preparing it for transport so its body could serve to produce many more future clones.
"Alright team, this has been one of our most successful landing missions to date. But I think there's a lot more this planet has to offer us. Let's continue, and see what we can find. For Dave!" The Dave clones cheered enthusiastically at the prospect of further exploration, as they merrily set off deeper into the foreboding alien forest. As the team of identical clones continued further, the biome gradually shifted