Spliced: Part 3 - Chapter 6B

[flighty_dreams]

TITLE: Spliced - Part 3, Chapter 6B
AUTHOR:  flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m. Completely M/m this chapter.
DISCLAIMER: They all belong to me! *insert evil cackle here* I'm just sharing them. *hug*
WORD COUNT:  6,539
SUMMARY:  Part 3, Chapter 6 - Matt has a memorable adventure.
NOTES:  This chapter (B & C) kicked my ass. I was obsessed with making it as perfect as I possibly could. Hope you all enjoy. It's a pretty crazy ride.
FEEDBACK:  Always awesome and amazing.

Matt awoke with his head pounding, feeling like giant feet were stomping on it. His vision was blurry at first, before several blinks cleared it. Looking around, he saw that he was in a hotel room, recognizing the basics like a bed, a table, and a vid screen, amid other objects. His stomach was as achy as his head, and his dazed brain suddenly remembered the plasma blast that had hit him there. The failed attempt to touch his sore belly alerted him to the position of his arms, which were cuffed behind him. There was a square wooden pillar at his back, and his arms were cuffed on the other side of it. The column wasn’t that big, but it was effective, keeping him confined. Obviously he’d been here a while too, because his arms were already aching as well. Stomach fluttering with anxiety, he glanced around the room but saw no one.

Anger overcame fear and he tugged at his restraints, cursing furiously as he checked their strength. Unfortunately they felt solid, but he continued to try. A sudden voice from behind him scared the shit out of him, making Matt jump. “Don’t bother, you’ll just hurt yourself.”

Forcing his fear aside, Muldane pushed himself up along the pillar, seeking to stand. Unfortunately his stomach had other ideas, not liking the sudden movement. Pain took his breath, and he sat back down on the wooden floor letting the stinging pass. Once recovered, he growled, “What do you want from me?” He turned his head to the side to keep an eye on the thug from the warehouse. Minus the jacket, he looked the same as before, wearing dark pants and a black shirt, his brown hair tied back.

Walking from behind Muldane to in front of him with long, confident strides, the stranger stopped a few meters away from him and leaned against the end the couch, perfectly at ease. Was abduction a common thing for him? Matt wondered bitterly. The loose shirt hid the planes of his body, but there was an implied strength to the man. This was not someone you pissed off lightly, was Matt’s impression. Muldane might’ve found him attractive, if the man wasn’t obviously a criminal who had just fucking shot and abducted him.

The asshole remained silent, looking at him strangely. As he got a better look at the man’s face for the first time, Matt thought there was something familiar about him, but he couldn’t place it, and at the moment he was too furious to care. Matt glared at him, about to ask him who the hell he was, but then the man said quietly, “You really can’t tell, can you?”

Muldane blinked in confusion. “Tell what? Who the fuck are you? If it’s money you want, release me and we’ll work something out. Do you even have my Andorian?” he couldn’t help asking, wondering just how far he’d been played and where Min really was. The fury that thought caused made him add, “You have no right to do this to me, you conceited bastard. Let me go now.” He enunciated the last four words sharply to emphasize his point.

It didn’t have the effect he’d hoped. The criminal snickered at him, clearly amused. “You always were a demanding bastard, Matt.”

Muldane was more confused than ever, and still livid. “I don’t know you, what in ashen hell are you talking about?”

The man sighed and approached Matt. There was something about the man that tugged at Matt’s memories, that kept drawing his eyes to the man’s face, but those dark eyes were completely unfamiliar. Suddenly the man was right in front of him, crouching down to face him and placing a hand on Matt’s arm to steady himself. Fear curled in the Kartan’s belly as he realized how helpless he was in this position. He hid his alarm behind a glower, but didn’t get a good chance to look closely at the man’s face, because he leaned forward into Matt’s neck. Was the man sniffing him? Muldane tensed, trying to move away but having nowhere to go. “What-”

The man’s head glided upward to pause by his ear. His voice arrogant, tinged with an edge of glee, he whispered, “I thought you’d be happy, Matt. You’ve been looking so hard, and you finally found me, sort of.”

Shock froze his blood. “Minril? Impossible. You’re not him!”

The voice in his ear softened, changing from the cocky intonation he’d been hearing to the gentle, tentative tone he remembered so well. “Are you sure about that?” he was asked huskily.

“Get off me,” Matt rasped, lifting his knees up to push the man away with his legs.

With a mocking laugh the bastard complied, moving out of reach. But he stayed near enough for Matt to examine his face closely. His face paled as he realized that the man did look strikingly like Min. The bones of his face, those high cheekbones, the chin and the shape of his mouth, were all like Min’s. The rest of his appearance—the brown hair, the dark eyes, the arrogant attitude, the confident way he moved—had overshadowed the details of his face. It was the only explanation Matt could come up with up for how he had missed it, because the resemblance was glaringly obvious now. Well, that and never imagining the submissive Min could dress or act like this. In fact, he still wasn’t sure it was Minril, because it seemed far too strange.

He squinted at him, trying to decide for sure. A memory of Min naked flashed through his mind, and he compared that image to the man before him. The height was right, as were the shoulders… the shirt hid his build but the ass and legs looked about right too. Ashen fucking hell. Utterly confused, he stumbled out, “You’re really him?”

Something he didn’t understand flickered across the man’s face. “I’m the person you’ve been looking for, yes.”

Muldane also didn’t understand the equivocation, but the answer was enough for him. “Release me now, Minril.”

“No, Matt.” Min grinned. It looked like he enjoyed telling his master no, which along with the casual use of his name made Matt even angrier. But considering the outrageous things Min had already done, it seemed ridiculous to demand he address his master properly when the slave obviously had no intention of following orders. He’ll just laugh at me, Matt thought to himself, his fury rising.

His stomach was still sore, so he didn’t try standing, but he fought his restraints again. The urge to hit Min was so strong. All these months of worry, and he’d been fine? Remembering Min calling himself a friend of Titheres back in the warehouse, Matt wondered what the fuck was going on. That disgusting man was his friend? Thinking of how concerned he’d been, picturing Min in the slave pits, and realizing that Min had deliberately tricked him into coming out here, his anger redoubled. What had he contacted his master for, to laugh at him? He felt blood trickle from his wrists as he struggled too hard against the shackles. Grimacing at the pain and cursing Min, he watched his wayward slave walk around the wooden pillar to check on his hands.

Strong hands reached down to grab his wrists. “Stop.” The voice was commanding, so unlike Min. “Any more and you’re going to have scars.”

“Fuck you, slave.” His rage was only increasing. He twisted his hands, trying to grab onto Min, but the Andorian pinned his hands against the pillar firmly.

“Fine, keep hurting yourself. It’s your problem, not mine.” Exasperation was heavy in the clone’s words.

“I’m going to make it your fucking problem. Release me!”

“Sure, because you’re so calm at the moment. What a brilliant idea, of course I’ll let you go.” Min’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and he let go—of Matt’s hands. Quickly stepping away, he moved in front of him again. “If you’d like to keep fighting, go right ahead. It won’t help. I’ll come back when you’re calmer.” Grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair, he put it on, tugging the tail out from under his collar in a habitual gesture.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, slave?” The Kartan snarled.

“Don’t fucking call me ‘slave’,” the Andorian retorted. “I have a name,” he growled over his shoulder as he headed for the exit.

“You can’t just leave me here,” Matt told him furiously, the clone’s attitude only incensing him further.

Min paused to look at him, innocent surprise on his face. “I can’t?” He walked out the door, deserting the irate Kartan.

Muldane fought the restraints a bit more, but soon gave up. That battle was hopeless, so he’d save his strength for another. Meanwhile, his thoughts churned uneasily. Was that man really Min? He looked just like Min physically, but that was where the similarities ended. It was as if some man had taken over Min’s body. Well, Min was a clone, maybe they’d made others that looked just like him? Why would any of them abduct him though? It made no sense. Doubts threaded through him. He decided to stop thinking about it, because it was making his pounding headache worse.

The room was a suite, not just a standard lodging. There was a large bed on the opposite wall from him with a nightstand on each side. Open doors near it showed a good-sized closet. Facing at a right angle from his current position was a burgundy couch with a coffee table and vid screen in front of it. The matching recliner where ‘Min’s’ jacket had rested was at a right angle from the couch. Turning his head to the right, he caught sight of a small dining table behind him with four chairs. To his left were the front door and another door that led to the bathroom. Along the outer wall were two large windows that showed it was past dark already, the lights of the city shining through the glass.

The clock on the vid screen display told him that over thirty minutes passed before Min returned to the room. The interim had pulled Matt off the edge of ranting, but he was still upset. Entering, Min immediately took off his jacket again, laying it in the same place. Matt knew his expression was still hostile, and it made the clone sigh tiredly. Muldane watched warily as he pulled a small bag out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a tube of some kind of pain relief cream. Then he walked to the bathroom, and after a minute returned with a wet cloth and some soap.

Matt felt the cloth touch his hands, but didn’t fight the ministrations. That would be foolish, and he wasn’t stupid. The soap stung a little, but the clone was quick as he cleaned the cuts and then spread the cream gently over them. The touch of those fingers stirred him the way Min’s would have, and he wondered how much of attraction was in the head, and how much in the body.

Once he was done, the stranger wearing Min’s face walked in front of him again with that same stride that was completely different from his Andorian’s. One brow quirked up, just like Min’s did sometimes, and it was eerie, especially when the eye color was all wrong. Matt struggled to remain calm. “Tell me straight. Are you really Min? Or are you someone pretending to be him? Maybe there’s more than one of you.”

The clone smiled wryly. “I guess it’s not a bad assumption, thinking there’s more than one of me. No, I can assure you I was an individual model. They only made one of me.” His expression turned thoughtful. “You want proof?” He was quiet for a minute before coming up with something. “Sadie makes this special concoction when you’re sick, some Kartan blend your mom used to make you as a kid.”

Matt frowned. That was something you would never find online, it was too private and inconsequential. It really was Min, somehow. This hadn’t worked earlier, but knowing for certain it was Min encouraged him to try again. “If you’re Min, then release me. You belong to me, do as I say.”

Min grinned at him unrepentantly, and Matt longed to slap that smirk off his face. “Do I look likely to obey orders?” His smile disappeared, his face becoming serious. “I didn’t set up this meeting to serve you.”

“Then what in ashen hell is going on?” His anger rose. “You ran away, didn’t you?”

His wayward slave nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Matt had no idea how the illiterate clone had managed it, but he believed him. “How is Titheres involved? Just to bring me out here?”

“Yes, he was just a friend doing me a favor.” Min’s eyes—that bewildering brown now—lit with amusement, and Matt wondered jealously just how close he and this friend were. “I think he missed his calling as an actor,” Min added. Expression sobering, giving nothing away, he continued, “I brought you here to explain things.”

“Explain what, you defective clone?”

Anger flashed in Min’s dark eyes. “You have no idea, and you should shut up until you hear what I have to say.”

“Right. I don’t think there’s much you can say that will make a difference.”

“Why not hear me out and see?” The tone was light, reasonable.

Matt didn’t answer, glaring at him silently. His gaze kept flicking back and forth between the brown hair and eyes, feeling disconcerted. Noticing the action, Min sighed and turned away, kicking off his boots and leaving them where they lay. Remembering his slave’s messy tendencies, it was further confirmation of the man’s true identity.

Walking to the bathroom, Min disappeared for a minute before returning to the main room. He approached Muldane and then pointed at his eyes. “Better?”

Matt looked up and met his gaze, which was back to the arctic blue he loved and remembered. Seeing those blue eyes he’d never thought to see again pushed some of his anger away. “Yes,” he replied thickly. “Min…”

The slave didn’t quite answer to it, but he raised one brow up inquiringly.

Matt’s mouth firmed, his eyes turning hard as he ordered, “Release me.”

“No, not yet,” the clone denied, shaking his head.

Matt’s ire returned full force, but he said nothing, gritting his teeth and stewing in his anger. He watched Min pick up a menu from the coffee table and browse through it.

“How’s your head?” The tone almost sounded concerned.

Matt’s glower intensified. “What do you think?” The feet had grown smaller, but were still stomping on him.

“I think,” Min drawled in that foreign voice, “that your head is probably hurting like a bitch. Getting shot with a plasma blast has that effect.”

“Personal experience?” Matt asked, trying to get a rise out of him.

“Oh, yes,” he told Muldane calmly. “Many times over. I remember one man who loved to take his slaves out hunting, using them as the prey. He’d take us to this compound that he owned. It was about fifty kilometers of forest. He’d release us and track us down one by one. He used a plasma gun at stun strength so that we wouldn’t have any serious injuries—not including the broken bones some slaves acquired as they tried to run, of course. Because you had to run, and if you didn’t make it good enough for him, you were punished. It did teach me a lot about tracking and hunting at least, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

The story interested him despite his ire. “And you? Were you hard prey to catch?” He thought of how easily Min had vanished, now that he knew black traders hadn’t stolen him. He’d stolen himself, Matt thought, his lip curling.

“Not as tough as I could have been. I only gave him just enough to keep him satisfied.”

“Did anyone ever get away?” Matt expected not.

“Yes.” A grin twitched at the edges of Min’s mouth.

“You?”

“I disappeared with one of the others one day during a hunt, and he never saw me again.” There was an edge of satisfaction in his voice. “I wish I could’ve seen his face.”

“Ran away again? How many times have you done that?” Matt asked suspiciously. He realized now how little he knew about his slave.

Min smiled but said nothing, returning his attention to the menu.

Matt watched him, confusion winning out over anger for the moment. Baffled, he said, “I don’t understand, you don’t act or talk like Min at all. Even your voices are different.”

“I’ll explain it all, soon.”

“You’ll explain it now,” Matt commanded, ire rising to the surface again. He had no patience for rebellious, runaway slaves, especially when they caused him months of worry.

Min laughed, and it was a free, boisterous sound he’d never heard before that stirred Matt against his will. The Min he’d known before had always had a much quieter, controlled laugh. This was so bewildering.

Matt watched him hostilely as the clone entered a room service order through the vid screen menu. He noted that he put in enough for two, including a pasta dish that Matt favored. But it was only after the order was completed that the obvious hit him. “You can read?” Seeing Min struggling to contain his laughter, he realized the full truth. “The whole time you were with me, you could read?”

Min finally lost the battle, erupting into that foreign laughter again. “Ah, I’ve waited a long time for that,” he chuckled. Still smiling he continued, “Yes, I can read, and no I didn’t appreciate you patronizing me. ‘Nothing of concern to a slave,’ ” he quoted, imitating Matt’s voice.

Muldane flushed in embarrassment and anger. He loathed being made a fool of. “How in ashen hell was I supposed to know?”

Min’s tone was reassuring. “It’s okay, of course you didn’t know.” His face sobered then, a lingering ire in his eyes. “But with a reception like the one you gave me that day, why would I reveal it?”

Matt didn’t take the recrimination well. An Andorian slave was daring to complain about his lack of understanding? Before today, regretting that he hadn’t talked to Min enough prior to losing him, Matt would’ve been willing to admit he’d made mistakes. But now that he knew Min had left by choice and had apparently been living contentedly on his own for months while Matt worried endlessly about what happened to him, any sympathy he’d once had for the slave was absolutely gone. Min had left him.

He owed this rebellious slave nothing. Min was his property; he could treat him as he wished. And this slave had so much to pay for, between his escape and this rebellion. Once he got free, Min would learn who was in command. The fury that had been in him since he woke up in this room rose to the surface again, blasting out as a rant. “Who taught you how to read? And why are you acting so strange? Get me out of these damn cuffs now, Minril.”

“Ah, so much explaining to do,” Min sighed heavily, completely ignoring his command.

Matt continued to rant and make demands, his rage heightening. He fought his chains again, needing the outlet that movement would provide. Suddenly Min strode up to him, grabbed his chin roughly, and firmly said, “No.” His arctic gaze was so intense, and his grip so fierce, that Matt stopped yelling and settled for glaring.

Slowly releasing his jaw, Min stepped away and walked behind him again to look at his hands. Sighing, he complained, “You messed them up pretty bad again.”

Now that the slave mentioned it, he felt the pain blossom in his wrists. He suggested sardonically, “You could always take them off. Damn uncomfortable.”

The Andorian laughed sardonically, clearly untroubled. “These are the ones I took from you, the ones you were planning to use on me. And I didn’t even use the leg ones you brought too. So you won’t get any sympathy here.”

Matt had no comment for that, so he dismissed it, saying instead, “Tell me what the hell you think you’re doing. Once I get free, you’ll be feeling a world of pain, slave.”

The Andorian grabbed his chin roughly again and stared into Matt’s green eyes. When Matt struggled to get away, the grip on his face tightened. “Since at this point you don’t know any better, I’ll let that go for now.”

Rage spiking, Matt spit at the slave, but somehow the bastard saw it coming and avoided the worst of it. Lip curling, he wiped away the drops that had hit him. “Nice try. Now if you ever want out of these shackles, you better start behaving.”

He walked away and came back with a strip of cloth. Matt tried to twist away but had nowhere to go. Min just pressed against him, holding Matt firmly between himself and the square column. Even through their clothes, his body instinctively recognized the touch of the Andorian’s body against his own, and he struggled to control his quickening breaths. Then he was distracted from his physical response as Min grabbed his chin again with one hand, holding the cloth in the other. Matt tried to break his hold while keeping his mouth firmly shut, knowing what the clone was trying. But Matt recognized that the Andorian knew what he was doing when he felt Min’s fingers knowledgably find the pressure points in his jaw. Against his will, his lips parted and Min swiftly stuffed the cloth across his mouth. The bland taste of the cloth would have made his lip curl, if he’d been able to around the gag. Min tied the cloth into a sturdy knot behind Matt’s head, effectively silencing him.

Muldane’s eyes spewed his hatred at the clone when he pulled back to examine him. Rolling his eyes, Min said, “You shouldn’t have tried to spit on me, Muldane.” He left him for a couple minutes to settle, and then came back and unchained one wrist.

Matt immediately struggled but the Andorian smoothly subdued him, pushing him back against the pillar, his hand knowledgeably pressing on Matt’s sensitive stomach and cutting his resistance short. His head still throbbing, Muldane felt completely bewildered. This was Min? Min so easily restraining him? Min so cold to him? So rebellious, so disobedient? This was a stranger; Matt didn’t recognize him at all. And his headache was making it even harder to think through the shock of it all. How dare that little Andorian bastard do this to him?

Min dragged him into the bathroom, still fighting even as his stomach still protested the upright position. His arms were burning now as the blood flow in them regulated, and his stomach still felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. The Andorian had a firm grip on his arms, so he tried to kick him instead. The bastard dodged it, and pulled him off balance so he almost fell. “Keep this up, and I’m going to shoot you again,” the clone threatened, and Muldane’s glare intensified.

Eventually Min managed to chain him up again inside the bathroom. After shackling Matt to the towel rack, his hands high above his head, he warned him, “If you take off the gag or I hear you making a lot of noise, not only will you not eat, I’ll shoot you again. And believe me, a second blast so soon is going to really fuck you up.”

Impeded from talking by the gag, Matt used his hand to make a universal rude gesture to express his sentiments.

Min laughed, the sound light and infectious, and reached a hand down to cup his face. “Nicely done.” He let his hand drift off of Matt in a light caress before walking away, closing the door behind him. Matt’s cheek tingled, infuriating him. Why did the bastard have such an effect on him?

A little while later, Matt heard the front door open. Probably room service, he mused. He thought about making enough noise to attract their attention, but remembering what planet he was on made him pause. Already reluctant to be caught in such an embarrassing situation in the first place, on Festun he couldn’t be sure they’d believe him—or care to, once he claimed Min as his slave. No, it was better to find his own way out, once his weakened body was no longer working against him. He didn’t admit that Min’s threat had affected his choice in any way, but he would acknowledge that he did believe Min would let him go later, as he’d mentioned. The clone certainly couldn’t keep him here forever.

The bathroom door opened several minutes later. This time Min was armed, which made Matt scowl behind the gag. “Don’t fight me, and I’ll give you medicine for that headache.” He showed Matt the small bottle he held in his other hand.

Matt knew the smart thing to do was give in. The medicine would make the headache go away, and he’d be able to think more clearly. He needed his wits about him to escape and recapture the clone, but he stubbornly refused to submit to Min. He would not act like a slave in front of his own slave; he was a free man, and Min’s master. Even if the clone had forgotten, Matt had not.

But he didn’t consider pretending beneath him. When Min approached him he didn’t move, and the slave had to holster his weapon to unlock one of the cuffs from the bar. As soon as his hands were freed, he reached for the gun, but Min moved faster, as if he’d been expecting it. Grabbing the weapon, he shoved Matt against the wall and pressed the gun against his stomach, which made the Kartan freeze. Part of Matt had to note wryly that he’d seriously underestimated the Andorian, even as he maintained his belief in the slave’s inferiority.

“Don’t feel bad, Muldane,” the asshole chided him. “I have a lot more experience with this than you do.” Matt glowered at him through the gag, fists clenching. “Put both your hands up where I can see them. Wouldn’t want to tempt you to try again, would I? Now turn around.” Min marched him out of the bathroom, the gun nudging his back and a firm hand gripping on his neck.

When they halted by the wooden pillar again, Matt resisted, refusing to be chained to the ashen thing again. The dramatic sound of the gun heating up quickly changed his mind. He stopped fighting, but Min’s attitude remained guarded. His grasp stayed firm as he guided Matt around the pillar. When he was in position his hand moved down to Matt’s shoulder instead, and he drew the gun a little away from him. “Put your hands around the post, Muldane.” Matt stubbornly didn’t move his arms, pushing Min to add, “Either you do it now, or I shoot you and do it for you while you’re unconscious. What’s your choice?”

Eyes flaring with loathing, Matt placed his hands behind the pillar. His right wrist was unrestrained, its metal cuff hanging on a bit of chain off his left wrist. The clone moved to the side of the pillar, where he had a good view of both his hands and the rest of his body. “Reattach the other cuff, Muldane.” Seething but seeing no alternative, he reluctantly did as he was told. The bastard stepped forward afterward to test it, making sure he’d closed it all the way. Matt stayed standing this time, wanting to remain at eye level with the clone. His stomach was feeling better, but not by much.

Putting the weapon away, Min approached him and his hands reached up to the knot of the cloth gag. Matt stared at the face so close to him, so familiar but with such a foreign package. It wasn’t just the brown hair and the clothes, it was his gestures, his expressions, and even the way he moved and spoke. The gag was removed, and he stretched his jaw, working the kinks out of it as he watched the Andorian’s movements warily. He went to the table to the right, where he’d placed the room service tray. One plate was already empty, Min obviously having eaten it already. Looking over at him, Min asked, “You hungry at the moment? Or feeling nauseous?”

He’d eaten just before heading to the warehouse. “Neither. I’d rather have answers. Why are you doing this?” He kept his voice calm now; yelling hadn’t worked, but perhaps reason would.

 Conflict crossed Min’s face, and he paused before responding. “Because there are some things I need to explain, and I need you to hear me out. You need to understand the situation.”  Moving away from the table, he walked back over to stand in front of Muldane.

“And I’ll be so willing to understand while you have me shackled like a…” Matt trailed off.

“Like a slave?” Min’s smile was bitter, one he hadn’t seen before. “I’m just being careful. If you weren’t confined, you’d be focused on shackling me, not on what I’m trying to tell you. This way at least you’ll focus on my words.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Matt said darkly, thinking that now his focus was getting free. He still wouldn’t give a damn about what the bitch Andorian had to say.

Insight flashed across Min’s features as he interpreted the response. “Look, you don’t have to worry that I’m planning on keeping you like this, because I’m not. I’m going to tell a story, we’re going to have a chat, and then you’ll give me your opinion. Then no matter the end result, I’m releasing you. So you can stop panicking.”

Matt scowled. “I’m not panicking.”

That strange not-Min laugh again. “You’re outraged that I dared do this to you. And you’re terrified of what I’ll do next.”

Actually he hadn’t been afraid since he’d become convinced this strange clone somehow really was his Min. A fire blazed fiercely in Matt’s eyes. “You won’t be laughing when I get you back, slave. You’ll be pissing in fear.”

Annoyance filled the clone’s face. “And you have no idea what you’re talking about, Muldane.” He turned his back on Matt, walking over to the small bar in the corner and selecting a bottle of Tyrran whisky. Hotel drinks were always ridiculously overpriced, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Fleetingly Matt wondered how the slave had any money, but there were bigger things to worry about here. Drink in hand, the clone came back to sit on the couch a few meters away from Matt, who watched him warily.

“Let me start at the beginning.” He ignored Matt’s low, sarcastic mutter. “First off, I’m not a purebred Andorian, I’m of mixed blood.”

“A half-breed? It figures. I obviously overpaid for you then.”

Min frowned and cleared his throat. “Are you going to make a comment every two seconds? Because if so, I’ll wait till you’re feeling more polite.”

Matt rattled his shackles to emphasize his point. “I don’t think that’s happening, ever.”

The Andorian let out a long-suffering sigh, as if the stupid bastard was the one in discomfort, not Matt. Muldane had always been of the opinion that the Andorian thought a little too highly of himself for a slave, but now it had been proven beyond any doubt.  Eyes narrowing, Matt wondered how much work it was going to take to make him learn place at last.

“Fine, I’ll keep going then,” the slave said, oblivious to Muldane’s dark thoughts.

“Wait,” Matt said, as Min’s previous words sunk in. “I thought they never made half-breed Andorians.” He’d never heard of such a thing, but considering that his pet’s looks veered slightly from the standard Andorian beauty, it made sense.

Min’s smile was bitter. “Make that almost never. I was created as part of a special project, and the intention from the start was to mix Andorian blood and test how that affected performance.”

“Why?” Matt asked, growing intrigued despite how much the slave had offended him so far that night.

“Because they had special tasks planned for us, things slaves would normally never do.” He watched Min’s blue eyes grow shadowed, his gaze lowering to settle upon his drink. “They trained us not just in the standard Andorian arts, but also how to read, write, use a computer. They taught us economics and some sciences too. Many subjects that would never be part of normal Andorian training.”

“Things that would be anathema to teach slaves on most planets,” Matt said, his eyes narrowing. “So what did they want?”

Min looked up to meet his gaze solemnly, a heavy weight showing through his expression. “They wanted us to be their spies.”

“Spies?” Matt asked incredulously.

Min’s smile was an ugly one, not reaching his eyes. “Yes, who would be less suspicious than a docile Andorian slave? If there was trouble, the Andorian would be the last one they’d suspect was guilty. And while the Andorian was serving, he could overhear important information, access his owner’s accounts while he was away, etc. The Andorian spy could cause tremendous damage if his handlers ordered him to.”

Matt slumped back against the column, shocked. He wasn’t sure he believed Min, but it made certain sense strategically, especially to someone raised on Karta. Yes, he could well imagine just how far such a slave could infiltrate. He thought back to the times he’d taken Min to work or discussed business in front of him, like that big contract with the company from Mikodra. Now he knew why Min had been so comfortable with all the terminology, he thought grimly. “What did they want the information for?”

“Sometimes to acquire insider information on a possible good investment, sometimes to eliminate competition, and sometimes just to straight up steal their credits. There were various reasons, none of them good.” Min shrugged carelessly, showing no remorse for his illegal activities. He probably doesn’t know how to do anything else, since it was what he was trained to do, Matt noted unhappily.

A disturbing thought came to him. “So is that what you were doing, stealing information from me for your masters?” Disgust filled Matt, as well as betrayal. He’d thought Min’s desertion had been bad enough, but now he understood that there were worse things. Maybe his handlers were the ones that had gotten him out.

Complete surprise filled Min’s face, and Matt realized that at least that assumption was incorrect. He suspected the slave was lying about many other things though. “You think I was following someone’s orders?” Min asked him incredulously. “No, I definitely was not planted to steal your secrets.” He finished the rest of his drink and went back for more. Examining the selection, he told Matt, “I stopped working for those people years ago.”

“Ran away from them too, Minril? Seems to be a habit.” Matt let his negative opinion of that fill his tone.

The clone’s mouth twisted wryly. “I’m not Min, he’s unavailable right now.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Andorian poured himself another glass of whisky and then approached Matt again. “All right, I’ll explain. So they trained us to do all these unpleasant things, but they missed some important factors. The skills they taught us were the keys to our freedom, and the non-Andorian genes gave us a certain spirit that regular Andorians wouldn’t have. They were arrogant, and thought that our Andorian genes plus years of conditioning would keep us in check. It certainly didn’t work on me, in the long run.”

“So they spent all this time on you, and you just abandoned them as soon as you could? You didn’t feel you owed them anything? They were your masters, your trainers.” Matt couldn’t imagine being so uncaring, so irresponsible.

“This coming from the man who abandoned his family on Karta?”

Matt’s jaw clenched. “That was different.”

“How so, Muldane?” the arrogant slave challenged.

Fury over how disrespectful the slave was being loosened his tongue. “I refused to be another one of my father’s victims.” Muldane blinked in surprise, realizing belatedly that he’d actually said that out loud. Ashen hell, he’d only ever told Hollis that.

Startled for a moment by his honesty, Min quickly recovered. “You think we weren’t victims too?”

Frowning, Matt argued, “But they created you, you had an obligation to obey them.”

Min actually snorted at him. “Yeah, just like your parents created you. You’re obligated to them.”

Consternation flowing through him, Matt replied, “But I was expected to grow up and become my own person, to be independent from them. That was my right.” His voice hardening, Muldane continued, “You’re a clone, an ashen fucking slave. You will serve your masters for as long as they wish, and as long as you’re alive. It’s what you were created to do.”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit,” was Min’s scandalous response. “I should follow orders no matter what they are? Remember that they wanted us to spy on people, to ruin their lives. They wanted us to hurt people that had done nothing to us. If you refused to complete your mission, you paid harshly for it.” He paused, his eyes haunted. “I couldn’t do it, so I ran.”

“They must’ve hunted you,” Matt stated with certainty. Min gaze drifted away, thinking of something but reluctant to reveal it. “What?” Matt prompted suspiciously.

He smiled wryly. “They learned that they’d taught me too well. I ran yes, but before I did I made sure their labs were in chaos. I left them with a lot more to worry about than just me.”

Matt let out a harsh breath. “You’re a ruthless bastard.” The Kartan noted that he’d do well to remember that from now on, even as he was still completely baffled by his pet’s completely different personality.

The slave shrugged, “I did what I had to, as always.” No regret flashed in his eyes.

“Like leaving me without a word?” The words were angry rather than petulant.

This time guilt sliced through Min’s expression, and Matt marveled suddenly that he hadn’t seen his slave’s usual blank mask at all so far. “I felt bad about that, I really did. Which is why I’m here.”

Matt tugged at his restraints. “Yes, you’ve really made amends. I feel so much better.” His sarcasm was almost touchable.

At least the Andorian felt enough shame to blush. “We already talked about this. I have my reasons, and you’ll be free again soon. Just be patient. Think of me as a tricky client that you have to negotiate carefully with.”

Matt smiled bitterly. “Sure, because my business partners often abduct me. But fine, keep going then, Min.”

Chapter 6C