Sunlight glinted off the polished surface of the space station Orion Nexus. With the upper and lower sections each tapering off to a fine point, the whole structure appeared like an alien pyramid amidst the stars. The closer to the center one looked, the more the station expanded outwards, not counting various smaller rings and substations linked via microgravity controllers and high-strength cables.

A few ships of varying sizes orbited the station, collector shuttles traveling between them and the Nexus in repetitive intervals. They were all small compared to the station itself, ants and flies against a larger hive. Viewed through a holographic screen, visual projector, or the naked eye, produced an awestruck reaction to any who saw it.

Captain Elara Velus rubbed her hand through her brunette hair, the fingers travelling through the hair with smooth motions. Sitting inside the flight deck, which provided some space for her to move around amongst the many instruments present, she did not view the Orion Nexus with much awe.

The human’s limbs ached from long periods in sudden zero-gravity environments, her body constrained inside her dark brown jumpsuit and work boots. Her green eyes strained after trying to read computer screens before they randomly shut off. Worst of all, her brain ached from the stress of an ongoing problem that was only getting worse.

The vessel Elara commanded, the privately owned and modified old starfighter Wayfarer, was running low on power. Dangerously low, in fact; it had been through some deft maneuvering and careful thruster burn they were able to pass into the system with power still intact. Systems would remain on for unknown lengths of time, only to shut off unexpectedly. The reason was always the same: “Low Power”.

Eventually, the low power would become zero power. That would leave the Wayfarer drifting, unable to change its orientation or trajectory. A sitting duck for any scavenging starship or alien monster. Not the way the ship’s occupants wanted to end their lives.

“How much longer have we got?” Elara asked the occupant of the copilot’s seat. Seated there was her robotic assistant and all-around good aide, Unit X-7. With four metallic arms, each ending in a precise replication of human hands, X-7 was the quicker of the two when it came to technical and mechanical analysis.

The robot’s optics appeared as round circles on the front of a large blue visor that stretched up and over her forehead. This was as close a replication to human eyes as Elara had given, due to a lack of parts to modify her with. Regardless X-7 had proven herself several times over to Elara, the two becoming friends and trusting each other for help.

Help was certainly needed to keep the Wayfarer operational.

X-7 stated what she saw from the different maintenance displays on the enlarged screen before her. She spoke in a steady tone: “Fuel reserves are too low for any other destination, Captain. I’m afraid we must dock at this station.”

Elara grunted. “There are Automatons here, X-Seven.”

X-7 did not look away from her work, or change her tone, as she said, “I am aware of the Automatons’ discrimination and subjugation of human beings, among other organic life forms they encounter.”

That was putting the matter lightly: the “Automatons” were an advanced species of robotic constructs controlled by self-aware artificial intelligences. They were known across the galactic sector for being ruthless towards anything that was not machine. Humans were known to be treated as second-class members of society. These sentient machines displayed “speciesism” against humans, claiming humans were “illogical” against the “binary standing” of the universe. They claimed this “binary standing” placed the machine as superior, for logic proved superior against emotion.

“The only other option we have, Captain,” X-7 stated to fill the silence, “is to drift inoperable for an unknown length of time.”

“They’ll kill me!” Elara emphatically stated. “And then they’ll kill you because you work with me!”

This was a true statement. The Automatons treated machines who worked with humans as dangerous threats. Horror stories had spread along space trade routes of Automatons eliminating humans and sentient robots working on the same ship. These stories came from ships that were able to escape such attacks intact, and the Automatons boasted enough military force to prevent arrest or blockading of their trades.

It was a boon to the rest of the sector that the Automatons did not have plans to expand their domain. They appeared to be focused on improving what they had already. Elara and X-7 arriving there would not be welcomed.

“We must come up with a plan to get the supplies we need.” Stating the obvious, X-7 turned in her seat to face Elara. “What do you suggest we do, Captain?”

Elara flinched, a droplet of sweat forming on her forehead and slowly sliding down her face. “You don’t have a plan already thought up?” she quickly asked.

“My processing speed may be swift as human thought, but I cannot replicate human intuition.” X-7 waited a beat for Elara to laugh or smile, which she did not do. The robot aide then continued: “We have three standard hours, at most, to think about this before we lose power completely.”

The interior lights around the cockpit flickered, and then snapped back on. Elara swallowed a lump in her throat. “Could I stay on the ship and not board the station? You can speak machine-to-machine with them.”

“A possible strategy. However,” X-7 quickly pointed out, “the Automatons might choose to search the ship for hazardous materials or cargo. You would be a danger and captured, or exterminated.”

Elara’s mind went to other, sinister options. Against something as dangerous as the Automatons, any chance for survival might help. She thought about the “speciesism” again and what that might lead to. Her cheeks turned a deep red, her eyes glancing quickly at X-7’s humanoid body and noting that it could pass for a different role.

“Could I be your prisoner, X-7?” The robot crossed its lower two arms in front of its chest plate. Elara took a deep breath as she raised her eyes back up to X-7’s optics. “I mean, as a p-personal slave?”

X-7’s optics grew larger, and then changed to represent glaring human eyes. “I will not treat you in such a way,” she loudly burst out. “You are the captain, not a mere thrall!”

“These ‘bots don’t think like that.” Elara gestured at the station that looked slightly larger now that the Wayfarer was a bit closer. “And I got us into this state.” She rubbed her hand down her face in grief. “Some captain I am!”

“Captain, I am sure you don’t mean that. Your record of service has more positive than negative incidents, by a large margin.”

“That’s all going to be worthless if I die here!” Elara snapped. “No one’s coming for us, there’s no fleet to call for help. We must try something, no matter how crazy it seems.”

X-7 considered this in her processors. She then stood up, her body moving with the smooth and efficient motions of a robot programmed for multiple duties. “I will consider additional options in private, Captain,” she said to Elara. In a softer tone, she added, “I request you do the same.”

Elara nodded, but she did not look pleased to be doing so. She remained at the helm as X-7 left the room for their own thinking space. She figured X-7 would come back soon, and she hoped they could put their heads together to come up with an answer.

Fifty-two solar minutes later, X-7 reentered the flight deck of the Wayfarer to find Captain Elara still seated where she had been. The human was silently staring out into space, dried tears glistening around her eyes. The reinforced viewing windows gave a small view of the Orion Nexus, but also a larger glimpse of the void around it. Elara did not seem to have looked much at the station, and the dried tears indicated she had given in to her emotions at least once.

X-7 moved behind Elara’s seat, expecting the woman to have heard her coming. Her optics saw a balled-up piece of cloth in Elara’s hand. “Captain,” the robot quietly spoke, “We must finish discussing our plan.”

Elara wiped her nose with the piece of cloth she held. “You figured something else out?” she asked before sniffling.

“I have. But I require your consent before initiating it.”

Elara blinked before asking, “What is it?”

The flight deck’s lights flickered on and off again. Deeper in the Wayfarer, an alarm sounded. X-7 and Elara did not get up to check on the alarm because it shut off a few moments later. That sound had become too common to generate serious concern about. The spaceship was trying, working hard to stay alive for just a while longer.

X-7 waited for two beats after the alarm shut off before speaking. “The Automatons value the efficiency, the precision, the innate purity of the machine.” She stopped so Elara could digest that. She then said: “A human that looks and acts and thinks like a machine might, hypothetically, be able to move amongst them without problems.”

Elara turned her head to look at X-7’s face. “How the hell are we going to make that happen?”

“With your consent, Captain,” X-7 said with hesitation, “I plan to use hypnotic conditioning on you. I will create a separate identity for you, a machine identity.” The robot’s posture stiffened as she got to the critical point: “You, Captain, would be acting as a robot assistant to me. You would obey my commands as absolute orders. I can help condition you to do this, but you must agree to it, or it will not work.”

Elara held eye contact with X-7 for ten seconds, and then ten more. X-7’s limited understanding of human instinct and mental cues had her thinking she was under intense scrutiny. As a machine, X-7 did not flinch or look away from Elara’s gaze; artificial intelligences as advanced as herself did not have the innate feeling of embarrassment programmed into their self-learning brains. No, that was something X-7 had learned to interpret over time spent with Elara.

Elara turned away from X-7 and sat up straight in her seat, the captain’s seat. “Do it,” she said.

X-7 also knew humans such as Elara sometimes acted too quickly to be logical. “You are sure of—” she started to ask her superior officer.

“Do it, X-Seven,” Elara repeated roughly. Then, realizing what her mannerisms were revealing, she calmed down and told X-7, “I give you my consent.”

X-7’s lower two arms put those hands together and stretched those fingers individually. The upper two arms stretched upwards as far as they could go. “Very well, Elara,” the robot told her Captain, “I will begin now.”

Elara flinched as X-7 said her first name. That almost never happened. This was affecting the robot more than Elara had first thought. Best to go along with the plan, then, unless she felt something was truly out of place.

“I want you to listen to my voice,” X-7 began. “Listen to my voice and follow my words. This is part of the plan. Nod your head if you agree.”

Elara nodded and braced her feet on the floor. She hoped the ship’s localized gravity would stay on long enough for this to work.

X-7 tapped Elara on her shoulder. “Stand up, Captain. Come with me.”

Elara paused for a moment before getting up. This was not what she had expected, but she went along with it anyway. Standing up, she followed X-7 to a corridor outside the flight deck that led to several connecting rooms on either side. At the far end was the engine room, where the primary controls to the ship’s fuel supply was. They had been over there a lot recently.

When X-7 stopped, Elara stopped a few paces behind her. X-7 turned around with a smooth pivoting of her feet, her four arms placed near her sides. “Stand straight, Captain,” she said with a strict tone. Elara rushed to obey, remembering her own training from flight school to adopt a “parade rest” stance.

“Good,” X-7 said. “Now, close your eyes and keep listening to me.”

Elara closed her eyes. Immediately, she had to adjust her balance. She was able to do so without X-7’s help, though she figured the robot was there to help. And X-7 was there, standing close by and watching her through robotic eyes.

“Please focus on the things I tell you to,” X-7 quietly told Elara. “The first thing is your breathing. Breathe in, and breathe out, in a slow rhythm.”

X-7 could not breathe like a human—no oxygen requirements—but she was able to replicate the sound. With X-7’s guidance, Elara quickly adopted a new pattern to her breathing. This felt similar to stress management exercises she had done in flight school.

“Good, Captain. The second thing to focus on is your heartbeat. Match your breathing to that pulse inside your chest.”

Another simple instruction. Elara’s confidence with this plan grew stronger with how well she was doing. She turned her thoughts inward, trying to pick up her heartbeat. She wanted to raise a hand to her neck or chest and feel her pulse, but X-7 had not told her to do that. Elara had to follow X-7’s words.

The ship’s ambient noises faded into the far corners of Elara’s senses. Swiftly, she heard and felt a deep pulse in her ears. A steady “Lub-DUB,” came from her heart, her engine, her core. It shocked her a tiny bit to hear it so loudly.

“Good, Captain.” X-7 could see Elara relaxing Now, I want you to imagine something for me.”

Elara waited to hear what X-7 wanted, only to hear silence. Well, not quite silence; the sounds of X-7’s feet tapping against the corridor’s floor reached Elara’s ears. This caused Elara to shudder when X-7 began whispering words in one of her ears, and then the other.

“Imagine a stairwell, lit by small lamps.” Elara breathed heavily as her mind tried to ignore the feelings being so close to X-7 was producing. “The walls are made of soft, rubbery material. The stairs are large and clean, and they are going downward. There are thirty steps.

“You are at the top of the stairwell, Captain; I am at the bottom. I am communicating to you by earpieces you are wearing right now. I am waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.”

Elara’s breathing slowed and deepened. Her mind built the scene behind her closed eyes. She felt satisfaction from following instructions. Someone who trusted her was helping her. This was a good thing.

“I am telling this to you, Captain, because I need you to follow my instructions exactly. You must take thirty steps to reach me. For each step, you must say the number in sequence and physically walk down the step. With each step, you will relax a little further. You will put a little more trust in my intentions. At the very bottom, you will be completely willing to accept what I say.

“When you are ready, Captain, please start counting, and stepping, down the stairwell.”

Elara did not start walking immediately. X-7 did not force her to walk; the words, “When you are ready,” meant something different for robots and humans. They both waited for Elara to take that first step.

“Thirty.” She raised her foot and lowered it a few inches forward. “Twenty-nine.” She repeated the process with her other foot. “Twenty-eight.” She stepped forward again. “Twenty-seven.” She brought the other foot up again.

It was like relearning how to walk, one foot in front of the other. Slow, baby steps; calm, steady breaths; a simple, repetitive pulse in her chest. She walked, spoke, and breathed at a pace she felt comfortable. She did not see, or really notice, X-7 staying just behind her at all times. The robot’s eyes watched Elara closely, mechanical sensors ablaze and tracking minute details.

“Eighteen. Seventeen.” Elara was nearly at the halfway point of the descent. She did feel more relaxed, now that she had a rhythm going. And then X-7 leaned forward again, alternately whispering new sentences into Elara’s ears.

“Captain.” Elara twitched her shoulders, but her breathing did not break its new pace. “The stairwell is changing. The halfway point is shifting to the right.”

Elara slowed down, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her mind’s eye could see the stairwell start curving, rubbery walls making audible stretches like pulling on tight leather. How far would it go?

“Each step is still able to be reached by you,” X-7 quickly whispered to her Captain, “but you must follow the new path as you continue counting the steps. At step fifteen, you must turn around. If you make a mistake, the soft walls will keep you from falling.

“When you are ready, Captain, you may continue descending.”

Elara drew in a deep breath. She pictured the new path before her. The primary goal was not changed. X-7 still needed her, at the bottom of the stairwell. Exhaling out her worries, Elara continued.

“Sixteen.” She turned to the right, following the path in her mind. Even so, she leaned too far to the right and brushed against the wall. “Fif-Fifteen. Fourteen.”

“Keep going, Captain,” X-7 whispered. “I am still here.” Then the robot stood back and let Elara continue. The woman was now walking back down the corridor, having turned around successfully. Her eyes were closed, her brow slowly relaxing again.

“Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven.” The numbers came easier now. The path was clear. As she descended further down, Elara began hearing and feeling new things. The relaxation X-7 had described was tugging at her body and mind. It weighed her down.

Elara tried to work through the extra weight, pushing her body forward. Her inner mind, the subconscious human thoughts that were a part of her, acted with aggression and fear. Something was wrong, they told Elara. Something was happening that should not be happening. She should resist, fight back.

“Six. Fiiii…Five!” Elara’s composure broke, and she stopped walking. She leaned to the side, feeling the softness of the wall brush against her bare cheek. The pulsing of her heart started to speed up. She felt that was a bad thing. She was not following instructions.

X-7 came to Elara’s side again. “Don’t worry, Captain,” she gently whispered, “you are almost at the bottom. I can see you coming now. Remember, this is to relax you. It is part of the plan. You are relaxing for me. You must relax so I can help you.”

Elara’s eyelids twitched. She still seemed to resist. Her body was locked up, the inner humanity inside her mind refusing to go further down. Crucially, however, Elara also did not go back up the stairs.

“Come to me, Elara.” X-7 tried to sound concerned with its urges. “Come down the stairs. Do not be afraid. I am expecting you. Just a few more steps.”

Elara’s lips moved as if to speak, but no words came out. She pulled on her foot and leg, straining from the effort. Raising her body away from the wall, she wobbled for a moment like she was floating in water. She brought the foot she needed up, up, and then slammed it down on the floor in front of her.

“Four.”

Elara smiled, a brief movement of her muscles but a sincere display of happiness. The roaring of her subconscious became quiet murmurs. She was in control of her fears; she was not afraid.

“Th-Three. Two.” Each step was an undertaking by itself, and Elara felt a blissful calm wash over her body with each one she did. It felt good to follow these instructions. It felt good knowing X-7 was waiting for her. It helped her see the light at the end of this stairwell, a light at the very bottom of her journey.

“One.”

Elara raised her closed eyes up to where X-7 would be, seeing her silhouette inside the stairwell. The robot was just a few feet away. One more step, and she would be with her again. Just one more step.

X-7 skirted around Elara to stand in front of her. The moment Elara put her foot down for the final step, X-7 wrapped her fingers around her temples and spoke the final word along with her human companion:

“Zero.”

Elara exhaled in relief and collapsed into X-7’s arms. Her mind tumbled beneath the stairs and into darkness. She felt warm, comfortable, and happy. She could feel X-7 rubbing her temples, massaging her mind through her head. She sank even further and deeper.

“Thank you, Captain. Thank you, Elara.” X-7 continued her massaging as she spoke, her voice back to its normal tone but carrying a subtle vibration. You did exactly what I wanted. You have earned this reward, to be held by me and rest in my embrace. Listen to my words, Elara, and answer my next question honestly.”

X-7 placed two of her hands by Elara’s ears. She carefully mimed plucking something out of the ears. Elara snuggled a bit closer against X-7, innately reacting to the change in sound. She listened closely, eager to hear and respond.

“Do you want to become a machine, Elara? My machine, my servant?” X-7 used her lower hands to put Elara up on her feet, standing tall and straight. Her upper hands pressed down on Elara’s temples to keep her steady. “Do you want me to do this?”

Elara’s lips opened. A slurred, “Yes… Mistress…” came out of her. If she was awake, she would have been extremely embarrassed to have heard herself say that. The “Mistress” part had not been given to her as an instruction. Her mind had made it up all on its own.

Elara trusted X-7. She would do what X-7 said. She would become X-7’s machine—her Mistress’s machine. It was part of the Mistress’s plan, and Elara trusted her Mistress X-7.

“Sleep, Elara.”

X-7 placed two of her hands against Elara’s ears and snapped two pairs of fingers at the same time, once in each ear. The woman’s head drooped down as her mind dropped, but X-7’s lower arms and hands held her steady. Elara felt safe as she sank deep into the darkness, feeling it spread all around her and hold her close to her Mistress.

X-7 brought her Captain back up and brushed some of the woman’s hair away from her sleeping face. The robot’s eyes curled upwards to replicate a human’s happy smile.

The plan was ready to move forward.