Chapter 1: Welcome to Life
Beta Clones - 1
Breathe for me please and open your eyes.
Pressure subsided when they pushed air through their nose.
In the darkness overhead, long fronds slithered down and fused to the tops of the stasis tags dotting their skin. The silver snakes sucked the round patches from their body as cold hardness touched their shoulder blades. Were they falling, or was something rising to shelve their buttocks and cradle the base of their head?
Welcome to life.
They turned and winced at their stiffness in their neck. On the slab beside them lay another Vorta. Turned on their side as if in pain, they too examined them with an equal measure of curiosity.
“How did you die?” the Vorta asked, their voice possessed a comforting lilt.
“A port nacelle overloaded on our shuttle,”
“I’m envious,” the Vorta curled up tighter. “I never visited the stars in my alpha life,”
“That shuttle was my first trip off-world,”
“I suffocated in a fire caused by a lightning strike,” said the Vorta giggling.
This sudden display of humor made Keevan laugh hysterically.
“Welcome to life,” a cheerful voice boomed.
“Go away,” Keevan mumbled.
The other Vorta covered their ears, “Must you,”
“I am Nool,” stepping between their slabs, the short chubby Vorta articulated their elevated mood by moving their body with each turn of phrase. “It’s time to get those newborn molds into the leaching pool,”
“That sounds appetizing,” Keevan sighed and the other Vorta laughed at this. “Something’s amiss, Nool. I’m hopelessly amused at this one’s amusement,”
“I find this entire moment revolting,” the Vorta beside them chuckled, “Yet I cannot stop laughing,”
Nool’s hands came together for a single clap, “You’re enhanced,”
Keevan and the other Vorta looked at one another before turning to regard Nool.
Arms pumped, “Let’s drop down into those tubs, come on!”
The slabs abruptly disappeared, dropping Keevan and the other Vorta just a few inches into a vat of churning hot water.
“An advanced warning might’ve sufficed!” groused the other Vorta.
“I understand that this is your first time being reborn,” Nool pulled a tablet from their long overcoat and read its surface. “Weyoun, but that’s no reason to be salty,”
Keevan stared at Weyoun as chest-high fluid jetted against their body.
“What’s this liquid,” Keevan’s hand cupped some and brought it up for a sniff.
“It’s a solvent,” Nool said. “It removes regenerative impurities from your new molds,”
“New?” Weyoun glanced at the reflective surface on the black tiles behind Nool. “I’m the same Vorta I was when I died,”
Keevan did the same, “That makes two of us,”
“That’s very funny, Keevan,” Nool hooted. “You’re both number two’s,”
Neither Keevan nor Weyoun smiled.
“There are some fundamental differences that we will review once you’ve had a good soak,” said Nool. “Any quick questions I can answer before I give you some alone time?”
“Keevan is it?” Weyoun asked
Keevan nodded, “Yes,”
“Nool,” Weyoun eyed Keevan. “Why does Keevan have large lush lips. I don’t have lush lips,”
“Your design is based on a combination of various progenitors,” said Nool.
“None of them had lush lips?” Weyoun asked.
“Is this problematic for you?” Nool tapped on his tablet as if taking notes. “The look of your face?”
“Yes!” Weyoun raised a hand and then marveled at it. “I have lovely hands, though. Explain to me, Nool, why I care suddenly about what I look like?”
“I’m confused as well,” Keevan’s eyes roamed Nool’s body, “I’ve an appreciation for things I didn’t before,”
“Yes,” Nool clutched the tablet to his chest and beamed. “The sensation of being emotionally affected by what you observe is a new behavioral schematic the Founders are testing on you and various others.”
“Hello Nool!” a familiar voice entered the tile room.
Keevan knew Kilana from their clone clutch on Nubas-Seven.
They filed past Nool without a stitch of clothing on their body, clearly not the Vorta they once were. Keevan glanced down they found two tiny teats on their chest. Weyoun engaged in a similar self-examination.
“What happened to Kilana’s body?” Keevan asked as Kilana walked to toward a tray of towels and robes.
“The Dominion anticipates contact with a sector of space wherein the dominant species’ divide themselves by gender type. Male, female, and intersex are the most common among these space-faring cultures,” Nool explained as if rehearsed. “Biological gendering is now part of your series of supervisors and administrators.”
Keevan joined Weyoun in watching Kilana; she bent over to retrieve a fallen towel and displayed a hairless line between two soft folds of flesh.
“Genitalia,” Weyoun gasped, wide-eyed.
“That’s gorgeous,” Keevan sighed, opening his legs. “Do I have that?”
Weyoun’s hand went into the water and did an inventory.
“My genitals aren’t like Kilana’s,” Weyoun’s eyes burned hot. “They’re hanging appendages,”
Nool cast a closed-lipped smile, “Kilana is biologically female, with a vulva-”
“—and mammary glands,” Weyoun spat.
“Those mammary glands are magnificent,” Keevan nodded. “Can I get those?”
“I’m afraid not,” Nool glimpsed his tablet. “The two of you are assigned male. Your secondary sex characteristics do not include pronounced mammary glands.”
“What’s under this thing,” Keevan asked, touching his newly formed genitals.
“Mind how much you handle those packets of flesh,” Weyoun warned. “You’ll draw blood into the larger appendage.”
“This is enjoyable,” Keevan grinned, taking the appendage into his fist.
Weyoun leaned halfway out of his tub to watch.
“Mine’s bigger,” he bragged.
Keevan’s smile faded, “Does that matter?”
“Feel beneath dangly bits,” his expression turned inquisitive. “Do you have anything else down there?”
“I don’t have a vulva, just an anus that feels no different than the one I died with,” Keevan said. “Touching the skin between them is quite pleasurable.”
Weyoun’s bright eyes glazed over as he looked past Keevan. Following his stare revealed a rotund Vorta with hanging breasts that bounced with each step she took.
“That’s Geriss 2,” Nool beamed. “She’s designed to engage a sedentary species that lives in a low-gravity environment.”
“Her mammary glands are larger than my head,” Keevan declared.
“That’s no exaggeration,” Weyoun added. “Keevan’s head is quite large,”
Keevan furrowed his brow at Weyoun.
“The cellulite on her skin is so detailed, and those stretch marks are exquisite,” Weyoun’s mouth twisted into a downward pout. “I want a body like that, Nool.”
Keevan added, “I want mammary glands like those, Nool,”
“Your design is permanently established. Only behavioral chromosomes can be altered at this juncture,” as Nool spoke, his tablet began beeping. “It looks like you’ve been leached of all amniotic vapors. It’s time to dry and dress,”
After the water drained from the tub, Keevan stood; compared to Weyoun, he was notably taller.
“I suppose overall,” Keevan teased. “Bigger is better,”
Weyoun’s tiny lips formed into a smile and his eyes narrowed. He took a swipe at Keevan’s semi-arousal, knocking it against his hip.
Following the petite Weyoun to a bench, Keevan took the robe he offered.
“I don’t see why you’re so angry, at least your head is proportionate with your body,” Keevan pulled the robe over his shoulders. “My torso is long, and my extremities are gangling.”
“There’s a beauty to being svelte,” Weyoun cinched his robe and crossed one leg over the other. “Though I prefer not seeing my ribs. I’m aware of their existence I need not be reminded when unclothed,”
Keevan sat on the bench and invaded Weyoun’s space,
“What is it, Keevan?”
“If I touch yours, will you touch mine?”
Weyoun’s eyes came to life, “I thought you’d never ask,”
Robes parted, but before they could engage in any serious body exploration, Nool’s saccharine voice invaded.
“There’s my number two’s,” they sang. “It’s time to dress those bodies and trim those head bushes!”
“You know, most caretakers can’t swim,” Keevan mumbled. “We could push Nool into that pool, and no one would know,”
“Someone would hear,” Weyoun whispered. “This one strikes me as a screamer,”
“I can hear you both,” Nool’s grin flatlined. “And I can swim.”
Weyoun and Keevan shifted uncomfortably on the bench.
“Since you’re both raging monsters,” Nool added. “You can stand at the end of the textiles line, and then dress yourselves.”
Chapter 2: Buffet and Recall
The beta clones learn about food.
Beta Clones - 2
In his alpha life, Weyoun carried no appreciation for lavish things.
Opulence was just a word he’d encountered as an avid consumer of literature, and this dining room fit the definition of the word. Various shapes and shades of fauna were tucked neatly into its four corners. Tables of every size stood scattered with no set pattern of placement. Vorta sat at these tables, dining on a variety of sustenance acquired from something called, a buffet.
Keevan whisked past him and reached for the billowing red curtains. He was impressed with how they revealed the unseen wind. Weyoun joined him and savored the smooth fabric against his face and hands.
“It feels like silk,” there was a sultry drawl to Keevan’s voice.
Weyoun frowned, “Pity there was no silk to be had in the textile room,”
Nool had been faithful to their word and deposited Weyoun and Keevan at the back of the clothing line. Devoid of texture and without a hint of design, Keevan and Weyoun decidedly were the worst dressed in the room. Gifted with fashion sense, it was cruel of the caretaker to punish Weyoun in this way.
Keevan lamented that if they’d been more helpful to Nool, they might’ve avoided the vulgarity of the neutral-colored racks.
“I believe we’re expected to dine,” said Keevan and every word that came from the tall Vorta’s swollen lips was seasoned with lethargy.
Weyoun’s own verbal cadence suggested subservience; telling the waitstaff he desired a drink sounded like he was passive-aggressively begging for one.
“The plates are here,” said Weyoun. “I suspect this is where we begin,”
“Your upgrade must’ve included enhanced observation,” Keevan teased.
Weyoun forced a smile, “Sarcasm isn’t attractive, Keevan.”
“Neither is stating the obvious, Weyoun,” Keevan countered.
Snatching up a tray and a plate, Keevan fall in behind him.
“There’s cuisine here I’m not familiar with,” he grimaced.
Weyoun turned to him, “How much interaction will we be engaging in outside the Gamma Quadrant?”
“If they’ve got us eating their food,” Keevan said. “I suspect more than I’ll ever see,”
“Were you a Supervisor?” Weyoun asked.
“I prefer the term white-dealer,” Keevan smirked.
Weyoun smiled, “I was training for the field when I died,”
“How should we navigate this buffet?” Keevan sounded bored.
“This looks positively wretched,” Weyoun lifted a large serving spoon and found it coated in a thick orange mash. “I must try it,”
“It smells pleasant enough,” Keevan pushed his tray at Weyoun and flinched when Weyoun gave the spoon a jerk, forcing the substance to plop down onto his plate. “We should start with the mashed foods first, then work our way to the loose vegetables, and save the proteins for last.”
Weyoun craned his neck to view the many types of meat at the end, “Why should leave the proteins for the last?”
“The meats will be the tastiest,” Keevan’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s always wise to savor the best experiences last,”
“I don’t subscribe to that philosophy,” Weyoun shook his head. “If its appeal is promising, it should be enjoyed immediately,”
“Do what you prefer,” Keevan set about loading his plate with a mishmash of soft foods. “My self-interest will always supersede the interests of others,”
“I’ll start with the proteins,” Weyoun whispered against Keevan’s shoulder. “You collect whatever messes are contained here, and we’ll share and compare,”
Keevan’s smile dimpled his cheeks, “Your efficiency is attractive, Weyoun,”
“Don’t choose a table near the wind,” Weyoun ignored Keevan’s scowl.
Keevan disobeyed of course and chose a table directly in front of the flowing drapes. After a brief negotiation, the pair decided to retain the table but move it a few feet from its set location. Weyoun’s plan proved advantageous when Keevan performed the physical labor involved with relocating it.
The two agreed that mashed potatoes from Earth were horrific until mixed with creamed Denobulan ulaxi root. Pakled gurj-broth made everything taste better, but there was a limit to the amount one should use. Keevan preferred the Orion muskrat above all the other proteins, yet Weyoun found the chilled Andorian whale far superior.
“You must taste this, Weyoun,” Keevan demonstrated his enjoyment of the dark solid squares by speaking with a mouth full of them.
Weyoun eyed it between Keevan’s long fingers before opening his mouth and allowing the Vorta to place the square on his tongue.
“Uh!” Weyoun gagged, spitting the melted piece into a napkin. “That’s revolting!”
“It’s Delvian chocolate,” Keevan shoved another piece into his mouth. “It’s fabulous.”
“I disagree,” Weyoun grabbed some water to cleanse the vile sweetness from his mouth. “It’s apparent that you’re willing to shove just about anything past those lips,”
Keevan eyed Weyoun seductively, and Weyoun smiled back.
“Innuendo!” they said in unison, following it up with laughter.
“These enhancements are delightful,” Weyoun beamed.
“I’ve been in dozens of commissaries like this,” Keevan’s eyes wandered the room. “None of them ever appealed to me before today,”
“It astounds me what one finds pleasing when capable of digesting the details,” Weyoun agreed.
Suddenly, the familiar scent of freshly scrubbed caretaker invaded their space.
“How are you today,” said a short and thin Vorta whose disposition was as saccharine as Nool’s. Narrow eyes scanned the surface of the tablet in their hand. “Weyoun 2, and Keevan 2?”
Weyoun stared at Keevan before each turned to the caretaker.
“My name is Zakix, and these are for you,” the Vorta placed a small plate down onto the table with two coated tablets upon it. “Chew these up to maintain oral hygiene,”
After Zakix departed Weyoun and Keevan began chewing on the gum.
“I don’t like this,” Keevan grimaced.
Weyoun shrugged, “It’s not unpleasant,”
“I suppose we’ll have to adapt to cleaning our teeth if we’re consuming solids,” said Keevan.
Weyoun smiled, “It’s removing the aftertaste of the vermicular,”
“Your teeth are whiter,” Keevan bared his own. “Are my teeth whiter?”
“The chocolate is gone, yes,” Weyoun nodded.
Keevan’s eyes moved past Weyoun’s shoulder, “What’s happening now?”
Every Vorta in the hall was being politely rounded up by a new set of caretakers and escorted to another building across the quad. Keevan and Weyoun joined them but lingered at the end of the line near the corridor.
“Something about this makes me anxious,” Weyoun said.
“Those uniforms they’re wearing are red and black,” Keevan hugged himself and with fear in his eyes added, “That’s corpse processing,”
Weyoun took a breath.
“Nothing good ever comes from being told to stand in a line leading to a door where Vorta go in but don’t come out,” Keevan whispered.
Weyoun gasped, “We’re being recalled,” He wasn’t aged enough to have experienced a recall, but he’d seen the faces of those inferior Vorta collected by caretakers wearing red and black.
“That’s the only explanation,” said Keevan.
An arm wrapped around Weyoun’s waist and pulled him out of line. Shuffled onto a conveyor belt, he lowered his head and stood in line with other blandly attired Vorta.
“What is this?” he demanded, hushed.
“I just want more time,” Keevan whispered.
The recall line moved farther away.
“We’re defective,” Weyoun argued. “That’s why we must-”
“—Yes,” Keevan smiled, “And we will, but the line is long Weyoun, it’ll be quite some time before we’re expected to cross that threshold,”
“Keevan,” Weyoun lowered his voice. “We cannot disobey,”
“Weyoun,” Keevan’s expression softened. “Have you no sense of self-preservation?”
“I cannot, I will not, put myself before the way of things,” Weyoun said the words, but in his heart, he couldn’t quite reconcile their meaning.
“We’ve time before they reach our place in line,” Keevan took hold of Weyoun’s shoulders. “I suggest we enjoy what little time there is left,”
Weyoun was never more conflicted and Keevan seemed to sense this.
“Weyoun,” the taller Vorta leaned in. “The feeling of the wind on your face, the sound of it pushing against those drapes.”
“We must accept the will of the Founders,” said Weyoun, unsure.
“We will, Weyoun,” Keevan said. “But let’s enjoy the gifts they’ve given us a little while longer, please,”
Weyoun was trapped by the lure of his new flesh.
The many tastes and textures of the food, the sensation of juice going down his throat, the aroma of the brightly colored flowers in the dining hall, and the chaotic uncertainty of laughter bubbling up within him.
“Standing in that long line,” Weyoun cleared his throat. “It’s a poor use of time,”
Keevan nodded, his large eyes came to life, “We’ve already lost sight of the line, and if they want us back in it, they can come to get us,”
The conveyor had taken them out of the building.
“There’s truth in that,” Weyoun agreed. “It’s not as if we can leave the planet,”
“Exactly,” Keevan cooed. “They’ll acquire us when it’s our time,”
Weyoun tapped the shoulder of the Vorta in front of him, “Excuse me?”
The long-faced Vorta turned and regarded him with disinterest.
“I am Yelgrun 18,” they said flatly. “You are?”
He smiled politely, “Weyoun-”
“Fifteen,” Keevan said. “Weyoun and Keevan, Fifteen,”
Yelgrun cocked their head, “I find this new service training utter pointless,”
“A waste of time,” Weyoun nodded knowingly.
Keevan stared up, mesmerized by the grand building looming outside their covered conveyor tube. Weyoun understood his reverence; he never imagined being elevated to a service position that would allow him entry into the Holographic Training Center.
“We’re overseers,” Yelgrun complained. “This physical intimacy and sexual culture training are wasted on the likes of a superior species like the Vorta,”
“Physical intimacy,” Weyoun said softly.
Keevan’s chin brushed against his ear, “And sexual culture,”
Chapter 3: Admnistrative Supervision
The beta clones visit an Andorian Orgy, a Breen Pack house, and a Cardassian brothel. Good times.
Beta Clones - 3
Envoy and Elites, welcome to the Holographic Training Center.
If you have already been assigned a species, forgo manual registration at the service-kiosk and enter the cultural-holosuite labs.
“We’re neither elite nor in the diplomatic envoy program,” Weyoun whispered.
Keevan turned him around, “We’ve been enhanced,”
“Keevan,” the corners of Weyoun’s mouth turned downward, “Our current state beginning with the letter E makes us neither elite nor envoy,”
“It does make us suited to bypass manual registration,” Keevan took the smaller Vorta by the hand and pulled him through the crowd.
Past the double doors lay a dark winding hall. Jacquard carpet covered the floor and walls, and every few feet was an arched doorway. At each door stood an interface with a blinking symbol of the Dominion on its surface.
Keevan and Weyoun stepped onto the carpet.
Welcome to the Sexual Interactions wing of the Foreign Lifeforms Holosuite Center.
Each species-suite is arranged in alphabetical order beginning with the first letter of the prime planet. If you have already been assigned a species, please forgo handprint identification and step onto the threshold pad.
Please remember that mastering intimacy with your assigned species enriches your performance as a representative of the Founders.
“Touching these monitors will reveal our location,” Weyoun warned.
Keevan sighed, “You’re an elite Speaker of the Obvious,”
“That makes you envoy to Planet Curmudgeon,” Weyoun snapped.
“I say we overcome this challenge by starting in the middle,” Keevan’s breath tickled the nape of Weyoun’s neck. “We can separate, and each go our own way, or remain together and waste more time,”
“Separating isn’t an option,” Weyoun didn’t turn to face him. “Arrangements such as this must be negotiated in an orderly fashion. We’ll begin with the first letter,”
“You’re going to fail as a field supervisor,” Keevan declared.
“You would be the judge of that as field supervision is an obvious calling for you,” Weyoun faced Keevan’s amusement. “Experiences aren’t challenges that must be overcome.”
“Lead the way, Ambassador,” Keevan bowed with arms open.
“This door is first,” said Weyoun, stepping onto its mat.
Weyoun grabbed Keevan’s arm and yanked him onto the mat. The door faded and together they stepped through the arch. It was a new world where the air chilled their ears and a hot breeze rushed past their legs.
Keevan turned to leave, but the door was gone and in its place was an ice-sculpture.
“The arch has vanished,” Keevan said, as Weyoun’s hand tapped his arm.
Welcome to Andoria.
You are to participate in the shelthrethian orgy celebrating the binding of three houses in the eastern sector of Eanakia. Andorian marriages are plural, and Andorian relationships are polyamorous.
Andorian culture supports four distinct genders, please attempt to engage all four in conversation and physical intimacy.
Weyoun stood entranced, his hand still patting Keevan’s bicep. Below lay a geothermal cavern filled with steaming water and floating ice. A blackened quartz pillar towered in the expanse, and upon it like mushrooms were canopied decks, each filled with a complement of writhing blue bodies.
Weyoun whispered, “They’re all so beautiful and-”
“—blue,” Keevan said, also entranced. “Blue, inside and out,”
“Greetings,” a small scantily clad female with long white hair and light blue skin, beamed at the pair of startled newcomers. When she spoke, the antennae over her eyes shivered. “Are you here for the brides, the grooms, or the centers?”
Weyoun’s gaze fell to the thick tuft of white hair between her hips.
“Keevan,” the back of Weyoun’s hand lightly knocked against Keevan’s vest. “She doesn’t see us as Vorta,”
Keevan took hold of Weyoun’s hand to steady it, “What does she see us as?”
“A couple of Andorian males?” Weyoun grinned inanely at the girl.
“We’re here for the centers,” Keevan slinked up to her, blocking Weyoun’s view.
“Very good,” she said. “I’ll take your clothes, and return them when you’re ready to depart,”
The door suddenly reappeared behind them; the Andorian word for depart was its trigger. The Vorta stared at it before turning their eyes on each other. Shifting their gaze back to the hostess, they began hastily pulling at their clothes.
Naked in the warmth of the decks, Weyoun and Keevan entered the fray of torsos and limbs, buttocks and breasts.
Weyoun was overcome at first by the tart scent of Andorian musk but seeing so many in the throes of pleasure proved an overwhelming lesson. Closing his eyes, he lay back upon the warm rock while tongues left trails along his skin, and fingers prodded places implausible until highly pleasurable.
More tactile in his approach, Keevan passed from group to group, finding a home for his new and firm flesh deep within the dark blue of many willing shens. He filled his mouth with the stiffened members of thaan’s both muscular and round.
Back in the carpeted hall, neither Vorta knew how much time had passed. Wasting none of it, they stepped upon the pad of the second door, and when it faded, they were faced with an endless plain of snow-covered tundra.
Keevan said, “Are there no warm worlds in the Alpha Quadrant?”
Welcome to Breen.
As regional consorts, you will arrive in the trenches of Clan Rexpi`tuk to comfort the newly mature pack that stands guard along the frontier. Breen are an intersex species with male external genitalia and female internal organs.
All Breen cohabitate in packs of eight to fifteen. Please attempt to engage in conversation and physical intimacy.
“Let’s depart and find a warmer world,” Keevan said.
Four Breen lumbered past them draped head to toe in opulent shawls.
“Aren’t you curious,” Weyoun greeted the first of them.
The Breen moved aside their scarf to reveal a snout-like nose, with emotive dark eyes that gazed upon them with such love and excitement. When the Breen consort displayed two rows of pointed polished teeth, Weyoun seemed smitten.
“Aw!” he gently petted the sparse pelt beneath their triangular ear and smiled warmly.
“Canids,” Keevan griped.
“Remember the felinoid species in Nebulous Seven?” Weyoun’s voice bubbled with excitement as he pulled Keevan into line behind the Breen consorts.
Keevan recalled their incursion, and their destruction.
The covered trench was merely an elongated house with fur covered walls and thick bone floors and furniture. Each of the Breen owned an assigned room that converged onto a central area reserved for eating, bathing, and intercourse.
Disenchanted from the start, Keevan didn’t take kindly to being stripped and paraded around. He also didn’t enjoy being rutted from behind by some powerful thin-haired lycanthrope who howled hotly before covering his back with the vilest of fluids.
After an hour of half-hearted revelry, Keevan finally located Weyoun.
“I’m ready to depart,” Keevan declared.
Weyoun was on the ground, straddling the lap of a shaggy-haired Breen.
“They’re so cute!” he gushed and giggled madly as the Breen in his embrace playfully nipped at his neck and chest.
When the Breen’s five-fingered paws grasped Weyoun’s backside and pulled him closer, the Vorta’s violet eyes flashed before playfully rocking himself over the Breen’s erection.
Keevan rolled his eyes and fell the ground like a marionette cut from his strings.
“We can stay a little longer, Keevan,” he asked, head on the Breen’s muscular shoulder.
“My tolerance for you is wearing thin,” Keevan warned.
Weyoun brought his hand up and dug beneath the Breen’s ear.
“When I scratch here,” he giggled. “His left foot shakes!”
Keevan laughed, “You’ve become a wanton bitch, Weyoun,”
“I’m learning the skills of a diplomat,” Weyoun’s feigned outrage lasted only a few seconds. “Who knows when I might come across a Breen while serving the Founders,”
“You’d certainly be the most interesting harlot they’d pack around,” Keevan said, then frowned. “I hope there is a flea and tick bath on the way to the exit arch,”
It took some doing, but Keevan managed to lure Weyoun out of the trench.
Entering the third door put them on the dark balmy planet of Cardassia Prime.
Cardassian’s were deliciously obtuse, with two strict genders that awarded Keevan a bounty of diverse lovers by way of a sex club in the city of Lakaria. Trading flirtatious barbs and brutally mocking quips, Keevan was indeed in his element among this species.
On a bed of soft yellow feathers, Keevan bounced a scaly dark-gray beauty upon his erection. Her green-stained neck ridges peeked out through waves of thick, lush black hair.
“I see you’re still contained,” Weyoun’s irritation was palpable.
“I see you’re still unseen,” Keevan panted, the cloying tightness of her insides were building toward the sweetest-
“—by design, Keevan,” Weyoun’s voice grated. “I find these reptilians repulsive,”
“How can you say that?” Keevan’s eyes were fixed on her breasts, “Look at them, Weyoun!”
“It is lovely how they bounce,” Weyoun’s small mouth twisted to the right side of his face. “The bigger breasts are far more entertaining. We should’ve petitioned Nool for a set of our own more aggressively,”
Keevan lay back and watched as the blue cosmetic she’d applied to the tear-shaped ridge centering her forehead dripped a line down her nose and over her lips. Hands grasping the seams along her hips, he thrust up into her.
“Get away from me,” Weyoun barked at a male who threatened to sit beside him.
“Must you be so undiplomatic?” Keevan sighed as the woman jerked her hips faster.
“My diplomacy ends when I must pick scales from my teeth,” Weyoun snapped.
“How long did you keep me in the trenches of Breen?” Keevan glared at him through eyes unfocused by desire. “I think for that you can manage until I work up a climax,”
Weyoun considered this before reaching over with a determined scowl and twisting Keevan’s nipple. He pinched it deftly until Keevan seized up, releasing it when Keevan cried out in ecstasy. A satisfied look on his face, Weyoun stood over Keevan with hands on hips and politely dismissed the female by tossing her a currency card.
Keevan’s hands protectively cradled his chest.
“I never should’ve revealed their sensitivity to you,”
Chapter 4: Ambitious Drinking
The beta clones aren't down with Denoblian families, but they love getting drunk on Earth.
Beta Clones - 4
The Denobulan’s proved positively undesirable.
The stocky webbed-footed females were prone to sniffing Weyoun behind his ears, and the sound of their inhaling turned his stomach. Single males were downright hostile toward Keevan due to his height, yet Weyoun managed to negotiate intercourse with one female and her four spouses, one of whom took a liking to Keevan’s voice.
Telling his story to the Denobulan female bored Keevan, yet Weyoun encouraged the smitten female to keep the tall Vorta talking because Weyoun found Keevan’s alpha life positively exhilarating.
Keevan-One had scored in the 95th percentile for visual acuity, and his ability to maintain his temperament during the most stressful of simulated tests put him on the path to Field Command. After Keevan performed above par in strategy trials, he was assigned to a battalion bound for off-world assignment.
The astrophysicist in Weyoun envied Keevan’s path to the cosmos.
Irritated by the Denobulan’s cumbersome conversational foreplay, Keevan expressed his desire to just unclothe and fornicate; this didn’t go over well with their hosts. Lecturing Keevan on curbing his base desires was an exercise in frustration, but Weyoun agreed quickly to exit after the group insisted on putting off sexual relations to bring in their offspring for so-called family time.
Weyoun’s tastes differed significantly from Keevan’s, but most times they were simpatico.
Neither enjoyed being thrust into an Endosian mating ball. Weyoun agreed wholeheartedly with Keevan that lovers with more than two arms and two legs required they wear combat gear. Keevan had been a willing participant at first, having an affinity for the physicality involved in acquiring an orgasm. Weyoun concluded that bringing about an orgasm was far more trouble than it was worth, at times.
Intimacy needn’t require the exchange of body fluids, and he’d hoped Keevan might’ve developed an appreciation for this, on Ferenginar.
“Those were the ugliest, foulest creatures,” Keevan followed him into the hall.
“I found them harmless,” Weyoun felt rather accomplished.
“What’s that?” Keevan grabbed the heavy charm around Weyoun’s neck.
Weyoun carefully removed it from his grasp, “It’s my latinum totem,”
“Where did you acquire it?” Keevan asked.
“I earned it,” Weyoun raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. “With these beautiful digits,”
Keevan soured, “Not one of those buttock-brained trolls offered me anything,”
“Affection is transactional,” Weyoun lectured. “The Ferengi are simple-minded, one need not take off his clothes if he can arouse them in other ways,”
“Everyone one I aroused kept insisting I remove my clothes, get on my knees, and open my mouth,” Keevan said. “No amount of latinum is worth doing that, not for them,”
Weyoun reached up and gently took hold of Keevan’s ears.
“I didn’t need to remove my clothes,” he purred.
“Smugness is attractive on you, Weyoun,” Keevan grinned. “Given the size and weight of that totem, you were a rather popular lover,”
Weyoun extended a hand to the next door, “After you,”
“What planet is this?” Keevan asked.
“Engage the monitor, Keevan,” Weyoun said. “If they’re looking for us, why prolong the inevitable?”
Keevan pondered Weyoun’s words before putting his palm on the screen. An image appeared of a reptilian female with long claws; her harem was an eclectic mix of multicolored males.
“The Gorn are not humanoid,” Weyoun said, brow bent.
Keevan nodded in agreement, “Those talons are frightening, but if-”
“—no,” Weyoun said, walking away.
“At least you thought about it, Weyoun,” Keevan scolded.
Weyoun put his hand on the next screen, “Humana, the native humans call is Earth.”
“The origin of the word, humanoid,” Keevan said.
“Your obvious enhancements are showing,” Weyoun teased.
“You incite such behavior,” Keevan countered.
He stepped onto the pad and when the door vanished, followed Weyoun.
“Do I incite?” Weyoun asked. “We provoke each other, I hope,”
“Don’t hope for that. No good ever comes from an alliance with a field supervisor,” Keevan eyed him. “Remain ambitious, Weyoun. Live to serve, not to die,”
“I don’t like how you devalue yourself, Keevan,” Weyoun said.
“It’s native to my design,” Keevan smirked. “Goes well with my planet-sized head,”
“There you go again,” Weyoun pouted. “There’s nothing amiss about your head,”
“Hi there,” said a lovely young woman wearing a brilliant pink dress. Her dark brown skin glowed under the neon lights, and the ropes of her black braided hair were tied up tight above her ears. “Will you be drinking, dancing, or indulging?”
The Voice of Instruction stated that this was sexual-club in the metropolis of Nairobi. Humans were biologically gendered yet culturally gender fluid, and though Weyoun was eager to converse and copulate, Keevan’s words dulled his mood.
Keevan noted Weyoun’s disenchantment.
“We’ll be drinking,” he said.
Seated at the bar, the Vorta found the layout, captivating. Three rows of elaborately labeled glass bottles filled with colorful liquid sat upon illuminated shelves.
“There are so many choices,” Weyoun said.
“Should we proceed by color or flavor?” Keevan asked.
They two eyed one another and then smiled, “Innuendo!”
A tiny orb buzzed between them and set itself down on the bar.
“What’s this?” Keevan said, and when he touched it, vibrated.
I am your assigned Host, welcome to Klub Kazz. Would you like to drink the night away, move on the dancefloor, or indulge in the flesh?
“What’s a dancefloor?” Weyoun looked around them.
Keevan grinned, “Is there flesh on it?”
Follow me and let’s enjoy ourselves.
Keevan and Weyoun followed the small sphere out of the bar and after a brief discussion on the physical limitations of having intercourse with a ball the size of their hand, they paused upon hearing the steady thumping at the end of the walkway.
Passing through the double doors exposed them to throngs of humans dancing under flashing strobe lights. The pulsating beat of highly agitated music flooded in from the walls and made hearing anything that wasn’t part of it, impossible.
Caught up in the excitement, Keevan grasped Weyoun’s hand and raced down an off-ramp toward the dance floor.
Weyoun quickly mastered moving like the bodies around him. Engrossed in the music, Keevan was a natural. Excited, Weyoun followed Keevan into a room where everyone was stripped of their clothes and being coated with a paint that glowed under the lights.
Weyoun led them to a room of jetted water, where they were cleaned of the paint. Freshly nude, Weyoun found them some shirts and trousers from a pile of discarded clothes, not an easy task given Keevan’s height.
In a quieter hall, they dressed. Keevan’s smooth skin glistened in the soft light, and Weyoun felt the urge to taste it.
“What?” Keevan pulled on a shirt and stared at him.
Weyoun shook his head, collecting his senses.
“I believe there’s something in the air,” he said.
The host-sphere led them back to the bar where they decided to imbibe before seeking out a human to seduce. When a handsome hairless bartender with dark skin and a sizable build idled up to greet them, Keevan pointed to something past Weyoun’s shoulder.
“That door is twirling,” he said.
Off the bar was a large revolving panel door, and when it rotated, three humans with long stem glasses in their hand, stepped out.
“Excuse me,” Weyoun touched the handsome bartender’s arm. “What’s beyond that door?”
“That’s the wine tasting rooms,” his deep baritone caught Keevan’s attention.
“May I ask you a favor?” Keevan said.
The man smiled, “Anything you need?”
“I need you to say my name,” Keevan smiled.
“I don’t know it,” the man said, unsure.
Excited, Weyoun eyed the exchange.
“Come closer to me,” said Keevan. “I’ll whisper it in your ear,”
The man stepped back and lifted his hands, “I prefer ladies,”
“Yes, but in here you serve the Founders,” Weyoun straightened up and cast his best smile. “Since we represent the Founders, you’re expected to do as you’re asked.”
Nervous, the man nodded and bent toward Keevan.
“May I ask your name?” he said.
Keevan leaned in, “I wouldn’t give you my name now if your life depended on it,”
“Keevan!” Weyoun exclaimed.
“Let’s go taste some wine, Weyoun,” Keevan slid off the bar stool.
“You must give that man a chance to redeem himself,” Weyoun scolded.
“We’re not given second chances by the Founders,” Keevan said.
Through the door was a brightly lit corridor with a line of shaded glass doors. Entering the first room, they found four walls tiled neatly with rows of stacked bottles that ascended to the ceiling.
“Two drinking utensils,” Keevan collected a couple of long-stemmed glasses and motioned for Weyoun to join him at the room’s lone table.
Sitting upon the chairs made the floor beneath them go transparent, revealing a maze of rooms, each occupied by couples engaged in sexual congress.
“Wine with a view,” Keevan reached over and retrieved a bottle.
“Human’s value privacy,” Weyoun found a female couple that interested him. “I doubt they know we’re watching,”
“Private rooms, Weyoun,” Keevan frowned as he popped the cork from the bottle.
“Monogamist tendencies often accompany notions of rigid collective propriety,” said Weyoun, sipping wine poured for him.
Keevan emptied his glass, and pleased with the taste, began drinking from the bottle.
“Keevan,” Weyoun snapped. “Drink from a glass!”
Keevan frowned, “That’s not very efficient, Weyoun.”
Weyoun tapped his empty glass for a refill, “Perhaps you’ve influenced me,”
The sweet red liquid tasted of nuts though it was clearly derived from some from a berry of some sort.
“Don’t retain too much of my ways, Weyoun,” Keevan tossed the empty bottle to the floor before popping the cork from another. “You’re suited for far more than dealing white to a bunch of addicted enforcers,”
Weyoun took the bottle from Keevan and refilled his glass.
“You’re troubled?” Keevan asked.
Weyoun hesitated before downing his drink.
“I find you appealing, Keevan,” he said, refilling his glass. “I wish you felt the same,”
“I do find you agreeable, Weyoun,” Keevan said.
“The same about yourself!” Weyoun stared up at him. “I suspected you to be playing at lacking worth, but more and more I feel as if you truly believe you’re not suited for anything except being out of the way.”
Keevan laughed, “This bothers you?”
“Immensely,” Weyoun grabbed the table as the room was suddenly moving.
“What’s the matter,” Keevan asked, opening a new bottle.
“I believe,” Weyoun studied the room. “My head’s gone light,”
“Drink some more,” Keevan filled his empty glass. “It might help,”
After three or four more glasses, maybe five, Weyoun recognized that the wine didn’t help.
“You scared that man back at the bar,” Keevan weaved in his chair. “You’re a frightening little overseer when you want to be, Weyoun.”
“This wine’s making me worse,” Weyoun wasn’t sure if he was shouting.
“I know,” Keevan said, opening another bottle.
“Why did you continue to let me consume it?” Weyoun was sure he was shouting.
“I didn’t want to be the only inebriated one in the room,” Keevan shouted back, bottle raised to his lips before draining it dry.
Weyoun sputtered up a laugh, “That’s monumentally audacious, Keevan,”
Keevan laughed with him until they were hysterical.
“Your teeth are stained,” Weyoun pointed.
“As are yours,” Keevan grinned.
Weyoun settled himself, “I worry for you, Keevan.”
Keevan lifted a new bottle up before opening it.
“You’re the only that does, Weyoun,”
Weyoun cocked his head, “Did your alpha life unfold so poorly that you’re hopelessly cynical?”
“In my alpha life,” Keevan wrapped a hand around his near-empty bottle. “I knew the name of every Jem’Hadar in my care. Every one of them. We all died Weyoun. Only I came back,”
Weyoun emptied his glass and hugged a near-empty bottle.
“The Founders don’t see,” Keevan lifted a long finger from the bottle he held and aimed it at Weyoun. “We see for them. We hear for them. We live for them. We do all these things for them and to what end? We’re invisible cogs in their planetary grinder,”
The wine made Weyoun unable to argue.
“I don’t like Earth,” Keevan declared, standing.
Weyoun jumped up when Keevan lost his footing. Falling with him to the floor, Weyoun found himself stuck beneath the taller Vorta. Closing his eyes, he inhaled Keevan’s scent, and in his mind decided it was a mix of strength and perseverance.
Weyoun sang softly.
Your languid smile and pouting eyes
to me you’re all that matters -
Clear my mind without goodbyes
and leave my heart in tatters -
Weyoun dug his fingers into Keevan’s bushy hair and kissed his broad forehead. Soon, he began drifting to sleep, aligning his exhales to Keevan’s steady snore.
“The sphere says they’re here,” said an urgent voice outside the door.
“Check every room until you find them!” another said.
“Keevan!” Weyoun tried to foist the larger Vorta off him. “Keevan you must wake up,”
Keevan buried his face in Weyoun’s neck and hugged him tightly.
“Weyoun’s my bed,” he slurred.
Weyoun pushed with all his might and slid out from beneath him. Peeking his head out he spotted two Vorta passing through the revolving door. Carefully Weyoun pulled the door to their room closed and locked it.
Returning to Keevan, he pulled the sleeping Vorta’s head onto his lap. Water pooled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks when the doorknob rattled. Weyoun said nothing as the voice on the other side asked if anyone was there.
Keevan began to rouse.
Weyoun palmed the back of his head and pushed Keevan’s face unintentionally against his groin. Mumbling against him, Keevan turned his cheek to Weyoun’s thigh and stared up him.
“Your nostrils ar-mph,” Keevan’s growled when Weyoun’s hand clamped down.
Too many feelings overloaded Weyoun’s senses.
“They’ve found us,” he whispered before a deep hiccup.
Wine burned the back of his throat, and his stomach jumped. Pushing Keevan away, Weyoun rolled himself onto his hands and knees and from his gut came a torrent of bitter bile. It was the worst thing Weyoun ever experienced, and he'd died once. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he jumped to his feet.
“We must go,” he said, tucking his hands into Keevan’s underarms.
“They won’t see us,” Keevan mumbled. “We’re invisible,”
Weyoun cracked the door open and glanced out. Finding the hall empty, he dropped Keevan to the floor to better position himself. He sat between Keevan’s legs and reached back for Keevan’s arms. Rolling to, he stood, carrying Keevan’s lifeless body as if it were back-sack. In the corridor with Keevan’s long legs dragging behind as Weyoun pushed through the moving door. When Keevan’s foot got stuck, Weyoun ground his teeth together tight and pulled with all his strength to dislodge it.
Exhausted, Weyoun abruptly dropped Keevan to the carpeted floor outside the exit arch.
“Where, what, why?” Keevan said, eyes now fully open.
“They’ve found us,” Weyoun panted.
A voice came from somewhere nearby, “We’re searching each holosuite,”
“No, no, no,” the voice of Nool was unmistakable. “Simply enter the suites and halt the programs,”
Keevan grabbed Weyoun’s hand and rushed them past the last two doors in the hall.
“Where are we going?” Weyoun whispered.
Keevan’s grip was firm, “We’re not recalled yet,”
Weyoun pulled his hand free, “You said we’d return when they came looking,”
“If you’re so desperate to return why did you flee?” Keevan demanded.
“I don’t know,” Weyoun whined. “I’m rather conflicted at the moment,”
“We’ll be a few doors ahead,” Keevan put his arm around Weyoun’s waist. “They’ll catch up, Weyoun,”
Chapter 5: Four Letter Word that Begins with L
The beta clones recover from visiting a Klingon brothel by going to Nuvia, but then cross paths with a clutch of Orion perverts.
Beta Clones - 5
“It’s hard to believe they’ve alluded us for this long,” said Acto, eyeing the door.
Pelute nodded, “Nool claims them just a couple of wayward number two’s, but I suspect a higher design in play,”
“The Founders are most generous when it comes to genetic upgrades,” Acto agreed.
“I think we should go to the final species, the Zibalian’s of Theta Zibal III,” said Pelute.
“Excellent idea,” Acto tapped their handheld. “If we work our way back we will catch them!”
“Should we enter this one first?” Pelute asked.
“No Vorta in their right mind would dare go in there,” Acto took hold of Pelute and whispered, “Klingons,”
The pair of Vorta scurried from the hall and the moment they disappeared, the Vorta they sought came tumbling out an opened doorway.
“That awful female,” the smaller one gasped, hugging himself. “I assured her that her fist would not fit inside of me, and yet she persisted!”
The taller one coughed, “I think the back of my throat is bruised,”
“This muck,” the smaller one ran his fingers through his hair, “I’ll never get the smell out!”
Keevan had been in no shape to argue when Weyoun insisted on choosing the next door. After their rough handling in a Klingon mining brothel, the smaller Vorta opted to bypass the next two doors before settling on the modest bodied locals of Nuvia.
Healing waters comforted Keevan’s skin, while talented fingers soothed his sore muscles. Eyes closed to the world, he relished the therapeutic touch provided by these girls and their twelve-fingered hands.
Weyoun’s childish giggle cut through the numbing mists and tickled Keevan’s ears. Lifting his eyelids, he found his petite counterpart reclining in the tilted chair of a hair washing station.
Keevan called out to him, “Has the smell come out?”
Weyoun mumbled something against the pendulous breasts of the stylist washing his hair.
Keevan leered, “Try not to suffocate, Weyoun,”
Weyoun’s little feet kicked in joy amidst smothered laughter.
Keevan and Weyoun spent more time then they should’ve among the Nuvian’s, but the pleasuring locals never tired of being there for them. When they finally exited the holosuite, they’d been so completely relaxed that they failed to notice being naked.
Weyoun’s body resembled an intricately designed doll. His smooth back tapered down toward the swell of his buttocks and his arms flowed with delectable precision, swaying as he led Keevan to the next door.
The world of Orion was one of steaming pools, languid air, and an endless compliment of brawny green-skinned males whose loin cloths were as scant as their manners.
“Every male here is corded with muscle,” Weyoun said, entranced.
Keevan both desired and envied them, “They must labor to build their bodies this way,”
“I love their color,” Weyoun’s eyes were aglow. “I prefer it to the Andorian’s,”
Keevan took the drink offered to him by a beefy man, “They don’t have hair, anywhere.”
“The male tending bar does,” Weyoun pointed. “He’s not as shapely either,”
“Another culture whose erotic capital values chiseled features over soft,” Keevan said.
Weyoun’s frown faded when a thick Orion woman passed by them. The dark green stretch marks on her hips branched out over her dimpled flesh like jagged lightning. When she looked over her shoulder at him, and he studied her dark eyes.
You want to follow me.
“Let’s follow her,” Weyoun whispered.
Keevan dropped his full glass and followed Weyoun. They trailed after the large woman who led them to a dimly lit room. There were four marble pillars set around a sunken circle packed tight with thickly cushioned pillows.
“I found some new faces,” the hefty beauty announced.
Tucked in the spaces between the pillars were large couches and resting upon them were eight robed Orion women.
Keevan was drawn to their eyes and became determined to study the minor differences in each of them.
You want to step inside and let us see you.
You want to show us how perfect you are.
You want to entertain us and be our friend.
Keevan and Weyoun moved into the encircled space.
The eldest of the women, a sheer green beauty with small breasts and long thick black hair, rose from the most ornate couch and stood before them.
“Welcome to my home, strangers,” she smiled, revealing her stained red teeth. “This is our leisure time,”
“Tonight’s leisure is Rigellian literature,” another mature female smiled, her teeth tinged dark blue.
There were books and hand-sized tablets tucked into the couches’ cushions.
You don’t want to talk, you want to listen.
The woman wasn’t speaking, but Keevan clearly heard her.
A young small-waisted girl with wide green hips tore her eyes from the swooning Weyoun and set them upon Keevan.
“They’ve brought no books,” her smile faded. “But they can still tell a story,”
When the women laughed, Weyoun joined them.
You don’t want to laugh.
Keevan shook his head, lost in the young woman’s eyes.
You want him to see you, to need you.
Weyoun was on his knees, his head lazily swinging toward every unspoken word as the modest pink along the back of his otolaryngol seam flushed darkly.
Another of them sat behind Weyoun and looked up into Keevan’s eyes.
You want to stroke his hair.
Another snapped her fingers to get Keevan’s attention and with it came new voices.
You want to see his violet eyes because they’re beautiful.
You want to stroke his face.
You want to feel his mouth on you.
You want him to taste you, to hunger for you.
Keevan ran a finger down the comb of Weyoun’s ear and the smaller Vorta turned into his hand when touched. Staring up at Keevan with eyes unafraid, Weyoun’s thin lips stretched into a smile that dented his cheeks.
“I can hear them,” he whispered. “I can’t stop doing what they say,”
Keevan nodded, “It’ll be all right, Weyoun.”
When the large woman moved in beside Keevan, she stared into Weyoun’s eyes. He brought his hands up and grasped the back of Keevan’s knees.
Soft fingers feathered the back of his thighs, fueling his desire. When his arousal touched Weyoun’s cheek, the smaller Vorta leaned into it and let the tip glide over his face.
Keevan sought to escape by lifting his gaze to the ceiling. It was covered with an ornate rug just like the floor. Two alien hands pressed flat against his ears and returned his attention to Weyoun.
You want to feel the wetness inside of his mouth.
You want to lose yourself within him.
Lose yourself in his mouth.
Violet eyes captured him as Weyoun wrapped his thin lips around his flesh. Grabbing Weyoun’s hair, Keevan forced his mouth off him, creating a wet-pop that made the women laugh.
You like that sound!
You want to put it in his mouth again.
You want to keep putting it in and pulling it out!
Weyoun’s smiling eyes teased as he opened his mouth wide and thrust out his tongue. Keevan stabbed past his lips and nosily pulled it out when the smaller Vorta began to suck.
You want to make him ready for you.
All eight females crowded around them, close enough for Keevan to feel their breath on his skin. The youngest dragged the smooth top of a glass bottle across Keevan’s chest.
You want him ready, you want him to take all of you.
Keevan nodded at her as Weyoun took hold of the bottle and fell back into their collective embrace. Green arms made a bed for Weyoun as green hands slathered him and Keevan’s flesh with oil.
The Vorta sat back to back on the carpeted hall floor, in silence.
Each wore the thick black robe of an Orion consort and neither thought about their loss of agency, not when a more substantial matter was afoot.
“We should enter the next door,” Keevan blurted.
“The Pakled?” Weyoun asked, desperate to speak.
Keevan huffed a laugh, “They’re obnoxiously fat, you’ll enjoy it,”
“What about you?” Weyoun asked.
“What about me?” Keevan stood, his back on Weyoun.
“You’re not fond of large bodies,” Weyoun said.
Keevan walked away, “The Romulan’s will entertain me,”
“Keevan!” Weyoun stood.
“Weyoun,” Keevan rolled his eyes. “What happened, just happened,”
Weyoun flashed those soulful eyes.
“I think we should discuss it,”
“There’s no time for discussion,” Keevan shook his head. “Visit your Pakled’s and retrieve me on Romulus should you finish first,”
Weyoun curled his hands into fists, “No!”
“We were under the influence,” Keevan stared down at him.
“They told you to say those words to me?” Weyoun asked.
Keevan swallowed hard, “If you’re unwilling to visit the Pakled then come to Romulus with me,” he grabbed Weyoun’s hand and pulled him along until the smaller Vorta broke free. “I cannot talk about it, Weyoun, I don’t understand it,”
“I felt it, and I said it,” Weyoun declared. “Did you not do the same?”
Keevan didn’t answer.
Weyoun narrowed his eyes, steeled his lips, and pushed past the taller Vorta.
“Weyoun!” Keevan’s voice rose an octave, unusual for him.
“Let’s just continue on,” Weyoun snapped.
“Do you wish to continue on?” Keevan asked.
“I meant what I said,” Weyoun growled. “Unlike you,”
Keevan cocked his head, “I never said I didn’t mean it,”
“Why can’t you talk about it,” Weyoun asked. “You said it, I said it.”
“Our bodies experienced pleasures as never before,” Keevan relaxed. “That’s where the words came from Weyoun.”
Weyoun pondered this, “I imagine you’re right,”
“Weyoun,” Keevan put his arm around Weyoun’s shoulders. “Words uttered in a moment of passion aren’t binding,”
Weyoun’s silence scared Keevan and when he walked away, Keevan followed.
“The aroma of that one Vorta’s cologne tells me they’re close,” said Weyoun. “No Pakleds, no Romulans. We’ve one more culture at best, let’s experience a pleasant one.”
“Weyoun?” Keevan said.
“Keevan, please,” Weyoun raised his hand, “I’m processing too much right now I need time to think,”
“What about the Saurians,” Keevan said at the next door.
“No reptilians,” Weyoun walked to the door beside it and touched the screen. “These are the Tellarites,”
Keevan shook his head, “No more canids,”
The next door offered up the U'tani, and another reptilian refusal.
“Should we turn ourselves in?” Keevan said, flustered.
Weyoun said, “Is that what you think is best?”
“Nothing is best,” Keevan complained. “We’re going to die, Weyoun,”
It was an uncomfortable moment.
Weyoun put his hand on the screen of the next door.
“This one isn’t reptilian, or canid,” he said.
Keevan came up behind him, “The planet Vulcan,”
“Vulcan is a species ruled by logic,” Weyoun read the screen.
“Perhaps a disconnect from our emotions is what’s needed,” Keevan said.
Weyoun narrowed his eyes.
“You’d rather feel nothing then admit how you feel?”
Keevan sighed and stepped to the door.
“Will you be joining me, Weyoun?”
Chapter 6: What We Left Behind
The beta clones training comes to an end.
Beta Clones - 6
Beyond a sea of sand loomed towering rocks that cast no shadow.
Keevan closed his right eye and rested it against Weyoun’s closed left.
“Your mind to my mind,” he whispered.
Weyoun spoke softly, “Your thoughts to my thoughts,”
Fingers joined as his mind wove a tale of oneness along the other’s brow.
Keevan begrudgingly pulled away, “We’ve stayed here too long,”
“They’ll acquire us when we’re found,” Weyoun said.
Keevan lowered himself to a sitting position on the rockface, and when Weyoun joined him, he took Weyoun’s hand. “I’ve buried my dread somewhere deep inside of you,”
“Where you’ll never find it,” Weyoun drew a circle upon Keevan’s hand with his finger. “I find comfort in suppressing it along with my own,”
“I love you, Weyoun,”
Weyoun’s eyes found him, “You’re the first thing other than the Founders that I’ve ever loved, Keevan,”
“Is this friendship?”
“I’m certain it is,” said Weyoun. “And more,”
Keevan lusted for Weyoun’s sex but felt strangely satisfied just looking at him.
Weyoun regarded him boldly, “You arouse passions within me that I’ve earmarked only for our Founders,”
“Your passions have ebbed my hatred for the Founders,”
Weyoun didn’t scold his bitterness, not anymore.
“When I seek happiness,” said Weyoun. “I think of you.”
Eye to eye once more, this time their lips touched.
“We can leave the planet,”
“If only we could,” Weyoun smiled.
“We could enter the shuttle bays,”
“Not without an assignment,” Weyoun said.
“If we’re carrying white-"
“—no one would stop us from entering the shuttle bay,” Weyoun’s eyes widened.
“Enter the bay and find one of the larger ships,” Keevan touched his chin. “Two Vorta may claim assignment to a battalion of Jem’Hadar,”
“Taking care of Jem’Hadar is problematic,” Weyoun shook his head. “Using them to get off-world will surely work, but what happens when we run out of white?”
Keevan closed his eyes, “They’ll kill us,”
“Would they kill us?” Weyoun gasped.
“Yes,” said Keevan. “Let’s forget that option,”
“Why would they kill us?” Weyoun whispered. “We’re essential,”
“Jem’Hadar need only the white,” said Keevan. “They’re strikingly uncomplicated,”
“We’ll carry the white and acquire access to the shuttle bay,” Weyoun said. “Distract a crew of Jem’Hadar with some unattended white!”
Keevan grinned, “Board the first empty shuttle-”
“—and fly off to the stars!” Weyoun laughed.
“We can go to the Alpha Quadrant,” Keevan said.
Weyoun nodded, “We’re acquainted with many of its cultures now!”
Keevan ran a finger down the comb of Weyoun’s ear, “I would go anywhere, with you,”
Weyoun’s eyes glowed in the sun, “To see the stars with you, Keevan.”
The dry wind abated, and the warmth of Vulcan faded away. Suddenly, the two Vorta sat upon the glowing grid of a naked holodeck.
“There’s my missing number two’s!” the voice of Nool cut through him like a scalpel.
Keevan stood, bringing Weyoun up with him.
“Recall claims you failed to get in line,” Nool’s scolded.
Weyoun forced a smile, “We waited so long,”
“We got bored,” Keevan added.
“Please come with me,” Nool said.
“What if we refuse?” Keevan asked.
“It’s fine, Keevan,” Weyoun moved in behind him. “Inevitability was anticipated,”
“I’m ill-suited for the inevitable,” Keevan said.
Following Nool and his acolytes into the hall, Keevan relished Weyoun’s comforting hand in his. On the conveyor outside, they caught the attention of the Vorta behind them.
“Why are you holding hands?” Acto asked.
Keevan smirked, “Why are you breathing?”
“We’re friends,” Weyoun said, politely. “We love each other,”
The tall Pelute asked, “What is about each other that-”
“—Enough!” Nool turned as they entered the structure. “Step off with me please, all of you,”
Beyond the doors of the Recall Center, it was dark and cold.
Down the metallic stairs and over the acrylic floors they entered a room where illuminated screens floated above a gauntlet of horizontal berths. Two of the berth’s lay with their tops ajar and their screens blank.
Weyoun’s pulse quickened in the palm of Keevan’s hand when a processor appeared with a digital-board in their hand.
“Remove those rags please,” they said, eyes on their tablet.
“You first, Borath,” Keevan said.
“These are from the planet Vulcan,” Weyoun smiled. “I like them,”
“I don’t care where they’re from,” said Borath, thumb hooked in their belt. “Neither should you because you’re never going back there,”
Keevan felt his urge to strike Borath, rising.
“Speak to him that way again,” he said coolly.
Borath scowled, “You remain as damaged as ever, Keevan,”
“I'm forced to agree,” Nool stepped between them. “When recalled, one must follow through, Keevan Two,”
“Weyoun Two,” Borath extended their arm toward the chamber and spoke as if bored. “You’ve failed your Founders through no fault of your own. Obey your Founders now and in all things-”
“—No!” Weyoun cried, snatching his harm from Nool's gentle touch.
Nool hugged himself and stepped away.
“I don’t have time for this,” Borath reached for Weyoun.
Keevan shoved Borath, “Don't touch him!”
“Seize them!” Borath’s face twisted in anger.
Acto and Pelute each took one of Keevan’s arms and forced him to his knees.
“Keevan!” Weyoun cried, unable to twist free of Borath’s grasp.
Keevan twisted free of Acto and shoved Pelute away.
“Why are they behaving like this!” Nool wrung his hands.
“They’ve been enhanced with a flawed design!” Borath shouted, arm around Weyoun’s waist.
Acto and Pelute caught up to Keevan before he could grab Borath.
“Help them secure that one, now!”
Nool was stronger than they looked. Cuffed on the back of the neck by Nool’s firm hand, Keevan’s felt his arm yanked painfully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Nool whined. “Please stop fighting, Keevan Two”
“Keevan!” Weyoun yelled as Borath’s hands found the back of his ears.
“Don’t you say good-bye, Weyoun!” Keevan screamed.
“I’ll remember you, Keevan,” Weyoun cried. “I swear!”
Suddenly, Weyoun’s limbs fell at his sides. His legs gave out and his body folded at Borath's feet.
Keevan forced himself upright, the pain in his head powerful enough to curdle his guts. Black boots appeared before him as cold fingers dug around behind his ears. First, there was a pop, then there was a pain. Keevan struggled to breathe. Fighting the paralysis, he crawled across the floor, his arms fighting for each inch.
“What’s wrong with his termination implant?” Nool cried.
“Defective,” Borath chimed. “Just like that behavioral cognizance they shoved into him,”
Keevan pushed up on his arms and snarled at Borath.
“I think he wants to hurt me,” the sullen Borath said, then brought a boot down upon Keevan’s head. “Blast him with a neuron-pulse,”
Heat rippled through Keevan’s flesh followed by the numbing of his senses. He came down a few inches from the face of a lifeless Weyoun; thin lips slack and violet eyes now blue in death.
Breathe for me please and open your eyes.
The stifling weight subsided when he forced air out his nose.
Above him in the dark, bio-tubes slithered down and attached themselves to the round stasis tags upon his skin. Feeling them peeled free, he felt hardness touch his body from below.
Welcome to life.
Turning his aching neck, he found himself alone.
“How did I die?”
“You were upgraded with a recalled enhancement,” a stern face appeared over him. “I’m Borath One, and you're Weyoun Three,”
“Why can’t I recall my death?”
“All particulars experienced by the recalled enhancement were purged during regeneration,” Borath said, a matter of fact.
“Hello, Weyoun!” said a chubby Vorta with a perpetual smile.
Weyoun sat up, “You have me at a disadvantage,”
“I’m Nool,” the Vorta smiled.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Weyoun politely asked.
Nool clapped his hands together, “I’m your resurrection counselor,”
“I should remember you if I’m a third edition. Why can’t I remember you, or how I died?” Weyoun became alarmed. “I was defective, wasn’t I?”
“Turn that frown upside down, Weyoun,” Nool scolded. “You were never defective,”
“Why can’t I remember?” Weyoun demanded.
“Repeat after me,” when Nool spoke his arms shimmied. “I am Weyoun, and I’ve never been defective!”
“I’m Weyoun Three,” Weyoun eyed Borath. “-never been defective,”
“Excellent!” said Nool. “Now it’s tub time,”
Weyoun felt the slab beneath him give way.
After a revolting soak and a productive visit to textiles, Weyoun entered the line of administrators bound for the deployment-office.
The Founders would no doubt entrust him with something of minor significance; this was satisfactory because Weyoun lived to serve.
“Excuse me!” said a cheerful, high-pitched voice.
Weyoun turned to find a formation of Vorta rambling past the conveyor.
The sweet voice belonged to a Vorta female whose thick wavy hair was styled high into a V. She wore the same suit as Nool, yet filled it out far better than he did.
She cut through the crowd of sullen Vorta and stepped to the tallest of them.
“Hello again,” she smiled and spoke to him as if he were a child. “We’re to hold our caskets of ketracel-white with both hands, that’s why there are two handles,”
The tall Vorta stonily asked, “Would you like to carry my casket of white?”
His voice caused a tickle in Weyoun’s new appendage. Stepping off the conveyor, Weyoun moved in closer.
“It’s your casket, Keevan Three,” she said.
“It is,” his lips spread into a smile that quickly faded. “So, you mustn’t concern yourself with how I carry it,”
Weyoun laughed, capturing the female’s attention.
“I’m sorry,” Weyoun laughed again. “I meant no disrespect,”
“I know you,” the tall Vorta shoved the case of white at the female, pushing her away from them.
“Do I know you?” Weyoun studied that long-face and a large nose. “I do know you,”
“I'm Keevan Three, and your voice is quite pleasant,” Keevan stepped into Weyoun's space. “It’s pleasant until you sing. You’re not a terrible vocalist, but you're rather tone-deaf,”
“You hate canids," Weyoun beamed. "But you’re very well endowed,”
The female Vorta’s eyes fell to Keevan’s waist.
Keevan leaned in for a kiss and then his head fell back and his entire body folded.
Weyoun didn’t have time to reach for him, he too lost his ability to stand upright before his vision went dark.
“So much for that shortcut,” said a deep haughty voice.
“I warned you, Borath,” Nool scolded. “You cannot place a Third’s consciousness inside a Second’s body,”
“I appreciate that we’re both first editions, Nool,” Borath’s snippy voice faded. “But you can lose that attitude, you’re just an alarm clock.”
Two hours after Keevan woke, they collected a casket of white and walked to the embarkation bay. The dispenser clerk gave them a long-winded instruction about always holding the case with both hands, but carrying it one-handed just felt right. On the administrative conveyor, they rounded the corner and walked straight into an oncoming Vorta, knocking them to the floor.
“Excuse you,” Keevan smirked.
The smaller Vorta rose to their feet and dusted their trousers with their hands.
“You know,” the smaller Vorta’s face suddenly reflected a calm self-assurance. “If you’d been carrying your casket properly, our bodies wouldn’t have collided.”
“No,” said Keevan. “I’m on the right of the hall, where I’m supposed to be,”
The smaller Vorta’s violet orbs found the blinking arrow icons on the ceiling.
Keevan added, “Your fall was inevitable because you weren’t paying attention,”
The smaller Vorta forced a smile, and yes, Keevan saw that it was obligatory.
“What’s your name?” they asked.
“Want to report me?” Keevan asked. “If you’ve been injured then you’re far too delicate for this area. This is where we real Vorta congregate before taking our Jem’Hadar squads into the field.”
“My name is Weyoun Four, and like you, I’ve some ketracel-white to collect. I merely wish to know the way to the dispersal office,” hands together in front of them, they added, “Unlike you, I’ve been given an investigatory mission, and it involves a journey into the field.”
“You’ll be dead in a week,” Keevan laughed. “You should hop your little backside onto that conveyor and join the rest of your sedentary colleagues in the monitoring room,”
“Perhaps you’re right, perhaps I will die out there,” Weyoun craned their delicate neck and whisked past. “But even dead I’ll still be a rung above a large-headed oaf that doles out white to soldiers,”
Watching the petite Vorta depart, Keevan smiled wide.
“I’m Keevan Four,” they called out.
“Pity,” Weyoun rounded the corner. “I no longer care,”
“You’ll care,” Keevan leered.
Heaving a sigh, they trudged onward.
“I’m going make sure I survive just to see that you do, Weyoun whatever-number you are,” they declared. “Oh, but I’ve already forgotten it,”