Spliced - 4.3

[flighty_dreams]

TITLE: Spliced - Part 4, Chapter 3
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams 
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m.
WORD COUNT:  5,445 (this chapter)
SUMMARY:  4.3 - The dinner.
NOTES:  The index to this story available here.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome. :) Sorry for any typos.

 

Chapter Three

 

Matt scowled down at the menu, avoiding the gaze of the man sitting across from him.

Clone, not man, he corrected hastily, even as a voice inside him added, those lines become blurrier all the time, don’t they?

Ashen hell. He blamed the clone’s disguise. It was even harder to label Min clearly when he didn’t look like himself – the prosthetics marred his Andorian features, and the less said about that mop of blond hair, the better. Taurent had had blond hair like that, he thought with a wince, quickly shoving that thought away as if it burned him. He supposed in some ways it still did.

The apology certainly didn’t make the situation any less confusing either. He’d expected that Min would only apologize under severe duress; the Andorian offering a sincere apology without prompting had muddled Matt’s brain. Receiving it had appeased him, alleviating some of the hurt he’d still felt from worrying unnecessarily over Min all those months, even as the clone’s need to ask outright if he cared had offended him. Unbelievable that he’d even had to ask.

To counter the confused tangle of feelings Min’s words had stirred up, he’d focused on his anger to conceal any softening towards the clone. It didn’t help that he couldn’t deny Min was right about at least part of it:  even if the Andorian had explained the situation to him before leaving, Matt would never have allowed him to go. He still didn’t think it right that the clone had left – it shouldn’t have been the Andorian’s decision, especially without a word – but by now he knew better than to say so. This Min clearly thought he had the right to do whatever he pleased, regardless of how Matt felt.

That brought up the most important issue here though. What in ashen hell was going on? This was not what he had expected when Min assured him he was returning. He knew Min would be different now that his big secret was out, but he hadn’t been prepared for this. Min was supposed to be more Andorian-like, not the same rebellious, obnoxious clone he’d been dealing with the past month. He could have tolerated it to a degree – he’d admit that he didn’t mind some occasional teasing or sarcasm from Min to keep things interesting – but he’d ended up with far more than he had bargained for.

If Min was going to be like this, and never listen to him, then what the hell was the clone doing here anyway? He’d basically inferred that he wouldn’t be so difficult once they returned home, allowing Matt to get some satisfaction of his own. And yet there’d been his little speech earlier, claiming that things would be different this time.

So many questions, and only seven answers were ‘guaranteed’ to be honest. On the car ride over he’d given some serious thought to what were the most important questions – or at least the things he wanted to know most.

“Got that menu memorized yet?”

The words startled him, and Matt’s knee bumped the table, making it shake. Grimacing, Matt raised his eyes to meet Min’s. “What?”

A light shone in those oddly hazel eyes, but at least the clone wasn’t smirking. “Just wondering if you had decided yet.”

Oh, right. Besides any other food, a few minutes earlier the clone had asked him to choose a bottle of wine for them. Matt wondered how familiar Min was with different wines, but that was a question firmly labeled ‘not important enough to ask right now.’

As requested, they’d been seated in a corner booth of the restaurant, where they’d have some privacy. Liander’s was a fairly upscale restaurant, while still not being too pretentious. It didn’t have the atmosphere or furnishings of a fancy place, but the mostly slave staff gave it away.

Only expensive restaurants used slaves as servers, because most restaurants couldn’t afford the higher costs of both buying and keeping slaves. It was easier to simply hire employees, pay them low wages, and have them earn tips for themselves, rather than buying expensive slaves, and then clothing, feeding and housing them. But there was a certain chic to having pretty faced attendants delivering your meals that many of the more upper crust restaurants bought into. Of course it wasn’t always efficient, since the illiterate slaves had to memorize all orders, but they were well trained, and the manager would handle large parties.

They were both ready to order, and soon enough the server appeared. Ironically, he was clearly Andorian, with the telltale burgundy hair and classic Andorian features, and Matt couldn’t help glancing at Min. However, the clone already had his eyes on the waiter, smiling gently at him as he placed his order in a way that made Matt bristle, asking for two appetizers as well as the already agreed upon fondue. Matt ordered a salad and a bottle of Southern Monlean wine.

As soon as their waiter walked away, Matt looked at Min quizzically. “Two appetizers?”

The clone leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Last meal I get to pick for a while. I should enjoy it, no?” A flash of a grin. “And I’m paying, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Matt had been more than happy to pick an expensive wine on purpose.

And just like when talking about Min’s arm in the car earlier, there was another reference to Matt being in charge later. Or at least that seemed to be the implication, but he could be sure of nothing with this Min. It both soothed and confused him, because he wasn’t sure what was going on. He knew what he wanted:  Min naked in his bed beneath him, mewling as Matt fucked him.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed that delicious image away. No matter what else happened, and what punishment he dealt out to Min – or that Min allowed him to mete out, he corrected reluctantly – he would definitely get that later tonight.

But for now they were at this ridiculous dinner, and he’d make use of those questions. However, he needed one thing upfront first.

“Explain more thoroughly what the hell your deal is now. Since you came back no different than you’ve been lately.” He deliberately phrased it as a command, not a question.

Min’s altered features twisted into a grimace for a moment before he spoke, describing how he’d come to this realization and acted accordingly, and how he was trying to accept all of himself.

“So you are going to serve?” Matt asked afterward, hopeful yet dubious.

Min’s lips twisted. “I assume you’ll want me to remove the dye from my hair. It’d be hard to hide my background after that.”

Yes, it would be. “Still can’t believe you cut your fucking hair,” Matt snarled, fury at that washing through him again.

Unbelievably the clone smiled. “You aren’t getting over that anytime soon, are you?”

Matt glared at him with the ferocity of a Stellvian.

“You’ve made your opinion clear,” the clone told him wryly, “just as I’ve explained clearly why I did it.”

Ah yes, to make a statement. What the Andorian hadn’t mentioned outright, but Matt knew was also true, was that he’d done it to undermine Matt’s authority. “That doesn’t make it any less of a ‘fuck you’ gesture,” Matt grumbled.

The Andorian laughed that rich, carefree laugh he’d first heard on Festun. A curl of warmth settled in Matt’s stomach; the sound had lost none of its arousing appeal.

“A ‘fuck you’ gesture to go with the ‘fuck you’ tone?” Min asked, eyes sparkling.

That startled a chuckle out of Matt as he remembered that morning with Min months ago. “Yes,” he said, mouth twitching.

Sobering a few seconds later Matt added, “Your ‘fuck you’ tone’s changed in the past month. Not subtle at all anymore.” And used much more often.

Min rolled his eyes, grinning. “Yeah, subtlety’s not my strong suit.”

“No,” Matt agreed. “But it was Min’s,” he added pensively, referring to the slave he’d owned months earlier.

“He had no other choice,” the clone replied. “I do.”

Hadn’t the clone just spent a few minutes explaining how all of it was part of him, and he had to accept all of himself?

“But you’re not two different people, Min,” Matt stated, his brows drawing down in confusion.

The clone flinched at the use of that name, just as he had earlier in Matt’s office.

Matt frowned at him. “You don’t like me calling you that.” He paused a moment deliberately before inquiring slowly, “What is the name you normally use?”

“This is one of your special questions, isn’t it?” Min asked as reluctantly as Matt would enter the Croft, Alister’s gangland area.

“Yes,” Matt confirmed. He’d already decided as much back in his office.

The server arrived with their wine then, giving Min a brief respite. After the Andorian slave left their table, Min took a sip from his filled wine glass and then let out a sigh.

Putting a bright smile on his face, the clone held a hand out to him across the table and said, “Hi, Matt. Nice to meet you. I’m Alex.”

Somehow Matt found himself automatically taking the proffered hand and shaking it for a moment. The brush of the Andorian’s skin against his own was distracting. But when the clone didn’t add anything else, Matt felt his irritation rise like steam escaping from a kettle. “Alex what?”

The clone shook his head. “I can’t give my full name; you could trace that back too easily later. It’s not just about me, it’s about my siblings too. They didn’t agree to be put at risk, Matt.”

Gritting his teeth, not liking it but understanding it, Matt said, “Fine. Why did you pick the name Alex then?”

One eyebrow quirked up. “Is that another-”

“No,” Matt snarled. “This is to make up for not giving a last name.”

The clone looked away from him. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” Matt ordered, and he watched the Andorian’s fingers tighten around the glass before releasing it abruptly.

“It was after I escaped the lab. I needed a new name to start this new life, and I was out in the AP by myself. Our family had gone off in different directions because it was safer that way. Since I didn’t have any ancestors of my own, I wanted a name with a lot of history to it, going all the way back to Earth. And I was determined to conquer the universe in my own way. So, Alexander.”

Matt stared at the Andorian, surprised he’d put that much thought into it. “I suppose it’s as good a reason as any for a particular name.”

He had no idea why his parents had named him Matthias; perhaps it wasn’t that important, since he hadn’t chosen it himself. That’s what made Min’s situation different. Who had named him Min though? He knew labs generally didn’t name their clones.

He found himself asking that question aloud a moment later, with the caveat that it wasn’t one of the questions that counted, just idle curiousity.

“One of my brothers named me Min. We all named each other.”

“Why don’t you like it, if it’s the closest thing you have to a birth name?”

The clone’s eyes hardened, and he leaned in closer to say softly, “Because it’s my slave name.”

Oh. To annoy him, but also because it was the truth, Matt commented, “A little late for me to use any other name for you, Min.”

Min – or Alex he supposed, though as he’d just said, it was hard for him to make that correction – scowled unhappily at him. “I’m not surprised you’d have that opinion.”

Those words jumped him back in time for a moment, to a crowded restaurant on Karta, not far different from this one, Taurent sitting across from him, brushing blond bangs away from his face and saying dryly, “You would have that opinion, ace.”

They’d argued a lot over meals like this, flirting with words because they couldn’t use their bodies. Not in public. On Karta, men didn’t lie with other men. To have another man fuck you – anally or orally – would unman you in society’s eyes. It was okay to bed male slaves, because they weren’t men and because it was generally accepted that a free man would never allow a slave to top him in bed. But two free men couldn’t be together, because it meant at least one of them, if not both, were no longer real men. In their relationship, Taurent had been the one to take the bigger risk, allowing Matt to top him. His lover had been the weaker willed one, giving in to temptation. Unfortunately that weak will had also applied to giving in to his family’s demands for him to marry, and pressured him into leaving Matt.

“Hey, are you all right?” Min asked, covering Matt’s hand with his own on top of the table and squeezing it gently.

The gesture, one he and Taurent would never have dared to make in public, brought him back to the present.

“I’m fine,” he told the clone brusquely, but he found himself staring at their joined hands.

“Okay,” the Andorian replied dubiously. “You just had this strange look on your face.”

Matt removed his hand from Min’s, or Alex’s or whatever his ashen name was. “It’s nothing.”

Eager to change the topic, even as the memory of Taurent lingered, Matt asked, “Have you ever been on a date before?”

Min looked up at him, his mouth stretching into a grin, and Matt cut him off before he could answer. “That is not one of the six remaining questions.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Well, I’m only answering five more,” the clone replied, eyes dancing with amusement.

One question for his hair back at the office, and his name a minute ago. That left five out of seven, in the clone’s estimation, but not in Matt’s. Despite Min’s detailed answer, he wouldn’t count the hair one towards the total, because Min had tricked him.

Rolling his eyes, Matt dismissed the argument. They’d get there later. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Min looked out over the tables of the restaurant, a fond smile playing at his lips. “Of course I have.”

The jealousy rose up so quickly it almost choked him. Who had the Andorian dated? Matt knew he shouldn’t be surprised, since the clone had left the lab years ago. It was plenty of time for him to have done many things, with many different people, both as a slave and as ‘Alex’. For that matter, no doubt he’d fucked many people even before his escape. It was ludicrous to be jealous of everyone that had ever touched Min.

But he barely controlled the snarl that wanted to come out. Whatever had happened with previous masters he could accept, as well as whatever he’d done while wandering freely. But what Matt really needed to know, was what had happened since Min had left him.

“How many people did you sleep with while you were gone?”

The question slipped from him uncontrollably, and Min turned back to gaze at him, brows furrowing.

“Yes, it’s one of the questions,” Matt growled, when the clone hesitated.

Sighing, Min leaned forward. “Matt, ask something else.”

That response only making his jealousy flare higher, Matt crossed his arms in front of him and stared at him stonily.

“The only response to that question that you’ll like is ‘zero.’ You think you want to know, but you really don’t.”

Glowering, Matt replied, “There’s a difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’ to know.”

A grimace twisted Min’s face. “I’m sure you had sex with someone while we’ve been apart, but I’m not asking about it.”

“Why not?” Matt asked, hiding a surprising twinge of disappointment. He wanted some sign that Min was jealous – or at least didn’t like the idea.

Eyes flaring, Min growled, “Because it’s not my business, I left. And besides, I already know who if not how many. Poor enslaved bastards that probably didn’t want to be fucked anymore than you wanted to fuck them. Just a way for you to release a little tension.”

Matt felt his emotions spiral further out of control. “You chose to end it, I didn’t. And now you’ve come back. That makes it still my business,” he explained furiously. The rest he ignored, not liking the accurate picture the clone had painted.

“You really want to use a question on this?” Min asked softly, one brow rising up in inquiry.

For a moment, despite the altered features and blond wig, it reminded him of other times Min had stood in his bedroom, asking him other questions just as carefully, one brow curved up the same way.

“Yes.”

With a soft huff, he answered at last, “One.”

“One?” Matt repeated incredulously. He’d certainly expected more than that.

A casual shrug. “I don’t trust easily.”

That was certainly true.  The Andorian brand, Matt remembered suddenly, probably didn’t help either. Hard to hide that during sex, he thought, memories of rubbing the mark flitting through his mind.

Abruptly he realized the other part of this equation. “How many times?”

“Matt,” the clone drawled, “you’re using another question on this subject?”

“No,” he denied with a glare, “this is part of the same question.”

“No, it’s not,” the Andorian argued, glowering back at him, “that’s a different question!”

“Just answer the ashen question.”

“Not unless it counts towards the total,” the clone countered with the stubbornness of the family cook who had refused Matt sweets as a child.

“No, answer it.”

“I will not. Let’s talk about something else.”

Min’s reluctance to answer the question took away any relief the answer of ‘one’ had instilled. Having expected more, he’d been pleased it was only one, but one lover many times over was equivalent to many, if not worse. And what if it had been a relationship? Possessiveness rose within him; Min was his.

The arrival of the appetizers broke the standoff between them. The slave placed them on the table and in a habitual murmur asked them to call for him if they needed anything, all while eyeing both of them nervously.

No doubt it was obvious they’d been arguing.

Min turned to their server and reached out, squeezing the hand at the clone’s side reassuringly. Min was looking up at him, but of course the slave kept his eyes properly averted.

“Sorry about that, we’ll keep the bloodshed to a minimum. And no breaking anything,” Min assured him before releasing his hand, and Matt glanced up in time to see the slave’s lips curve up briefly. He stepped back, stealing a glimpse of Min over his shoulder as he walked away.

Matt stared silently at Min, who had started on the appetizers as if nothing were going on. Seeing Matt’s interest, Min asked, “What?”

“What was that?”

The clone frowned. “Being polite?”

“You aren’t even polite to me.”

“If you stopped treating me like your prop-” Min cut his own angry retort off abruptly. Instead he said, “That Andorian leads a miserable existence.”

The switch in topic worked, ending the argument. “How do you know that?”

The clone shook his head sadly and muttered something under his breath Matt couldn’t catch. More loudly he added, “An Andorian working in a place like this? There’s something wrong with him, or he wouldn’t be used as a server.  An Andorian would cost too much to buy for restaurant work, and would be a waste of a bedslave.” He leaned in, saying more quietly, “He’s probably got some bad scars, more than can be fixed with some cheaper surgery.”

Eyes searching the crowded tables, Matt found their server attending some clients a dozen or so meters away. As he lifted an armload of plates from the table, Matt caught a brief flinch flicker across the clone’s face before he smoothed it and walked slowly away.

“Yes, that right there,” Min murmured. “Seems like something on his right side is weak. It’s healed but still bothers him.”

Turning back to the clone he was obsessed with, Matt commented, “You said ‘he leads a miserable existence.’ What’s so terrible about waiting tables?”

Min ran a hand through that atrocious wig. “You don’t understand. Andorians… we’re taught that our value is centered on our looks. For an Andorian to be maimed… that’s the worst thing that can happen to you, short of death. He must feel useless now, and believe that no one will ever want him again. And working as a server in this place, probably no one will use him that way now.”

“What about his master? The management, the owner of the restaurant? They could fuck him if they wanted to.”

“Right, if they want to. But they’ve got other pretty slaves serving here, ones without scars. Why pick him? And even if they do, they’ll likely mock his scars as they fuck him. It won’t make him feel any better.”

Matt studied Min, seeing the empathy there, and the sorrow. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

A light flared in the clone’s angry eyes. “How could it not? They’ll work him here, either until he can’t anymore, or they tire of him, and maybe he’ll end up at another restaurant. Or maybe he’ll be sold to some low class brothel, made to service endless clients until that place tires of him. He’ll be sold from one brothel to another, until he’s not worth keeping and they decide to ‘deactivate’ him, or until the HCD gets bad and they euthanize him. And there are millions of others in the AP just like him.”

Min shoved his plate away roughly, his emotions spiraling out of him as much as his words had. His clenched fists he moved under the table, but he couldn’t conceal his tight jaw or furious expression.

Matt stared at him for a long time, unsure of what to say. It was obvious he’d seen situations like that before, so he didn’t bother asking. Finally he said instead, “Why did you hold his hand?”

Min blinked, obviously surprised he’d asked that. But he answered the question readily enough. “To comfort him, give him some physical contact that wasn’t demanding something of him. Just friendly reassurance. I’m sure he doesn’t get much of that, unless he’s friends with some of the other slaves here.”

Min drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “What really spirals me up inside, is that they’re all leading empty lives. Most of them will never have anything better, and won’t know how much more there is to life than just surviving. They may yearn for something, but they’ll never understand exactly what it is.”

The clone bit his lip in thought. “They’re too brainwashed. Even his situation that I described, if that’s accurate… it’s so fucked up that having someone you don’t even like or possibly even hate fuck you will make you feel better. Because as an Andorian, he was taught that sex is all he was good for. So he’ll seek it or tolerate it even if he doesn’t want it.”

He looked up at Matt, and his next words were said in a low, serious tone that Matt had never heard before. “That’s the true evil of slavery. The ways that free people will alternately disregard and abuse you are horrible enough, but for them to brainwash you into thinking it’s all okay, and that you deserve to be treated like that…”

Matt felt his gut churn as he thought back to the other slaves he’d owned, wondering now how they’d felt. Had they even wanted to sleep with him? He’d always made sure they got their own release out of it – it hadn’t seemed right to take his own pleasure and not let them have any – but had it been more mechanical than pleasurable for them? Hollis had argued this point before, but he’d dismissed it, since how could the attorney know how slaves really viewed things? But Min certainly knew.

For a moment he hated Min for finally making him question this, but he quickly recognized it as his own cowardice at not wanting to face the fact that he might have raped any of his slaves. Ashes. Bedslaves were used widely on Karta, just like on many other AP planets, but even when they were unwilling they were never regarded as victims of rape. Sex was their purpose, as Min had mentioned. But now Min was making him wonder, if clones were people like he kept saying, did fucking a slave when he couldn’t say no make him a rapist? The very idea was horrifying; a convicted rapist on Karta usually faced a death sentence. But the crime of rape was only brought up when the victim was female, because no free man would dare admit he’d been raped and unmanned.

But there were no issues of consent with slaves. They had no choice in the matter, or in anything else. However, the idea that they may have secretly hated everything he did to them in bed made him feel sick. He hadn’t wanted that; he just hadn’t considered it. Ashen hell, he was a selfish bastard.

“Matt?”

He could feel Min staring at him, but he couldn’t look at him, not now. Swallowing down the bile burning his throat he asked, “Knowing all you know, how could you go back?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Min lean in closer and ask softly, “To slavery?”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause, and Matt finally turned back to study the clone.

“It’s personal.”

Matt frowned at that. “Personal? You already explained it some while on Festun. Describing how you went back and forth, and the Andorian needs. There’s more to it?”

“If that explanation had been enough, you wouldn’t be asking now, would you?” the clone replied with a twitch of his lips. “It’s personal, like your reasons for leaving Karta.”

“Well, consider it one of the questions now,” Matt said, deeming it important enough.

The clone sent him an exasperated look before rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

To come up with a plausible lie? Matt wondered, but he held his tongue, not in the mood to argue further. Their server came back, removing the half eaten appetizers, and Matt watched him walk away again.

“Because of people like him.”

The words startled Matt, turning his focus back onto Min.

“The Andorian genes are part of it, but I wouldn’t give in to them to the point of going back. That’s pretty crazy. Well, it’s still crazy but…”

Min hesitated, looking at him uneasily. “It’s hard to explain, though it sounds simple enough. Basically, I feel guilty. I regret leaving some of my family behind, who are probably dead because I left. And I feel bad for all the slaves I see while I walk around free. It makes me feel so guilty; I’ve made it out, but they haven’t, and most of them never will.”

“How does going back help with any of that?” Matt asked curiously, recognizing survivor guilt.

The clone let out a bitter laugh. “It doesn’t. It just makes me feel better, because I can’t entirely let go of the brainwashing either. Whenever I did something wrong, I was punished. Returning to slavery is the punishment to relieve my guilt. Totally stupid, I know, and it only helps for a while. But easing the Andorian urges is a nice side benefit for me too.”

Matt glanced around the restaurant, particularly at the servers. “Why not help some of them to ease your guilt instead?”

A wry smile from Min. “You think I don’t? I do, but it gets frustrating, like removing drops from an ocean. There is no end in sight, and I can’t draw too much attention to myself. Can’t help anyone else if I’m dead.”

Matt shuddered at the thought of Min getting caught freeing slaves, and being killed for his rebellion. “You are not helping anymore of them.”

“What?” Min demanded, irritation flaring in his eyes.

Crossing his arms, Matt met him stare for stare. “It’s too dangerous. Stop doing it.”

“Matt,” the clone drawled softly, leaning towards him.

“No, don’t even start,” Matt cut him off, aborting his persuasion attempt. “It’s too risky.”

Min sent him the look of a client who wasn’t finished with his argument, but willing to table it for later. Matt was familiar enough with the type from his work.

Feeling he’d pushed his point enough for now, Matt turned to something else. “So you ended up in that Monlean market out of guilt?”

Min gave him a sheepish look. “Pretty much.”

As he thought it all over, Matt came to a realization. “This ‘Alex’ persona… it’s another mask you put on.”

“No, it’s not,” Min denied, glaring at him. “How can you still think I’m just-”

Matt held up a hand, cutting him off. “That’s not what I meant. Let me finish. It is you, I do see that. This is more you than the slave I bought months ago, that’s for sure. I’m talking about your attitude.”

“My attitude?”

Matt smiled at him, feeling calmer than he had all day now that he saw the situation clearly. “You pretend not to care. Before I thought you didn’t give a damn about anyone but yourself and your siblings. But now I get it. The truth is you care too much, far too much, and so you pretend not to because that’s how you deal with it.”

Min opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly. He was quiet for a long time, his skin flushing, and Matt knew he’d presumed correctly.

“You’re right. I mean, it’s not a pretense, the way I behave or my attitude. I’m not just pretending, it is me. But I suppose it’s also a defense mechanism.”

Min’s gaze shifted away, staring at something across the way, and Matt followed his eyes to rest on their server. Min murmured, “When you’re faced with seeing them all around you, in places like this every day, you have to find a way to ignore it, or you won’t stay sane. Or you’ll do something reckless and stupid. You don’t forget, but it’s self-preservation to let it go when you have to.”

Matt nodded in understanding, and a quiet settled over the table. Neither seemed eager to break this fragile accord, so they didn’t speak until the slave came back with their fondue a few minutes later.

They made idle small talk as they ate, commenting on the food and chatting about Hollis when Min asked after him. Seeing Min lick some stray cheese from the corner of his lip sent a pleasant shiver down Matt’s spine. Soon, he’d have that tongue on him. Min caught him watching, and an answering spark of lust flared in the clone’s eyes. Matt smiled and replied to Min’s last comment, while anticipation began to build within him.

Despite the oddness of the whole situation and Min’s confusing status, Matt found himself enjoying the meal now. Learning more about Min certainly didn’t hinder his enjoyment either, even though his own lingering questions about the correct treatment of slaves haunted him. He was no longer sure what was right and what was wrong; Min seemed to have a knack for upsetting the balance of his life.

After they’d gotten quiet again, Matt said, “I’ve got another question for you.”

“A special question?” the clone asked reluctantly, mouth twisting in a mix of humor and dread.

“Yes.”

“Fire away, captain,” the clone joked, but Matt ignored it.

Min had explained that every time he gave up his life of freedom and returned to slavery, he did it mostly out of guilt. The Andorian needs were secondary to that; alone they weren’t enough to persuade him. Sure, Min had admitted he felt guilty about leaving him before without a word. But he’d already apologized for it, and he’d felt bad but hadn’t seemed overwhelmingly guilty about it. He thought back to his recent conversation with Hollis, when they’d discussed Min’s motives for arranging the abduction on Festun and everything else. The clone had confessed that he wanted him, but was that enough to bring him back? Or was it secondary, like the Andorian genes? Did Min have some other true motivation now?

Frowning as he stared at the perplexing clone, Matt asked his next question.

“Why did you come back this time?”


Chapter 4.4A