Delilah‘s head was still reeling from how different the computers were out here. Hacking had had to be left almost entirely to Dora, and as someone who’d once have expected to handle all data extraction, that didn’t sit well with her - but the Princess had commanded she bodyguard the gynoid, and as her subject she could not disobey. Nor would she wish to, having been given to the gynoid as a reward.

(Though Delilah was itching to understand how Dora’s programming worked a little better. If she could understand that, she could improve her handler no end, making her more useful to the Princess - and encouraging Dora to push Delilah harder and use her in more ways into the bargain.)

Acting as a bodyguard on Gargate had been a pleasure; she had every reason to stay close to Dora, and whenever they were alone she could simply stare at the gynoid’s perfect, computer-designed curves as lustily as she wanted; whenever that wasn’t an option, she folded her arms and glared and kept her power churning just below the surface, ready to unleash it if she needed to.

She no longer even thought about Enver. It might once have been love, but it had been completely forgotten as she went over to the Princess. Earth itself barely featured in her thoughts, and when it did, it was only as a comparison; one Earth would always lose.

Earth didn’t have Dora. Earth didn’t have the Princess. Earth had very few options that might have taken her mind and twisted it, and whatever they might have been (rumour had it there was a man in New York somewhere?), they hadn’t reached her.

Topless at the controls of the Star Runner as they lifted off from Gargate, Delilah wondered idly what the information was the two of them had been sent for. She didn’t know enough of the Princess’ plans to even guess at that side of things.

The other part of the mission had been much easier to understand, and she’d felt much more helpful - although still outclassed by Dora, who had an android’s effortless strength. Nestled in the Star Runner’s cargo pod were forty cryosleep chambers, each containing either a Perseid or a human woman. The Princess had chosen each one of them, using techniques and information Delilah could only wonder at - but as the Princess had often reminded Delilah and her sister, they had fallen directly into her hands because she had known where they would be.

Delilah had been jealous of hidden knowledge in her old life. Now she knew her place, and did not pine after information her Princess did not require her to have. It wouldn’t even occur to her to ask to know more. Not consciously.

If she gave any thought to the way her mind wandered she’d recognise an underlying frustration, a need from her old self. Instead, she dismissed it as wanting to be a better slave, which she certainly could be if only she knew more.

She knew the forty captives must be part of her Princess’ plan, the lucky second wave of citizens in the reborn Empire the Princess sought to establish. In time each of them would be shown their place and their role just as she and her sister had been.

Of course, that wouldn’t be happening until the Princess claimed the Pandora openly as the flagship of her Empire and its crew were all properly devoted to her…

Piloting the Star Runner was one of the few things which hadn’t really, from Delilah’s perspective, changed much from Earth to Andromeda, and with her years of practice on human designs, she was easily able to exit Gargate orbit. That took the vessel beyond the reach of Shuttle Control and meant they would no longer be hailed by the planet, which in turn meant there was no risk that Dora might be identified as an AI on call.

Delilah hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, entirely clear on why that was so important, but from the way Dora had behaved it clearly was. The descent to landing and the launch had been the only times that Dora hadn’t been present beside Delilah to tease or instruct her.

(Usually tease. Programmed or arising spontaneously from personality factors, Dora was a big fan of teasing.)

She eased the autopilot into place and turned in her chair to inform Dora, but the gynoid was already entering the bridge, a curious smirk on her lips.

“Yes, I know,” Dora said, coming closer. “I always know. Remember?”

It made sense that Dora saw everything Delilah did on the Pandora; she still had her connection to the ship AI, so she saw everything that went on across the ship. Delilah had made it a rule to behave at all times in the most titillating way possible for whatever she was doing at the time. Of course, her new uniform helped.

She’d had to cover it up on Gargate. The moment the airlock on the Star Runner cycled behind them both, she’d kicked her boots into a corner then stripped off the bulky dockers’ jacket and the baggy, dark blue pants that had covered it.

There was no bra, first of all. Made of a light blue plasticky substance in what appeared to be one seamless piece, it was somewhere between high-waisted panties and ultra-tight booty shorts. It was so tight against her body that Delilah couldn’t get her fingers under the waistband; while she wore it, it almost might as well be melded to her flesh, becoming part of her. When she wore it, each curve of her buttocks would shine under the light as the material clung to both, defining her body more clearly; it was thick enough to feel constantly present so Delilah was always aware of it, but thin enough that Dora’s expert fingers touching her over it felt just as good as if she wore nothing at all.

It stopped just below her belly button; at the other end, it stopped a half inch onto her thighs. And concealed within it somewhere was a transmitter and power pack for the vibrator phallus that rose up into her from her crotch when she wore it. The transmitter activated, controlled, and deactivated the vibrator, and Delilah had no access to the transmitter’s control system. She had never even seen Dora activate a control system, but she’d felt the results, jumping in surprise the first few times, shuddering delightedly in private, or squirming in heated embarrassment when the gynoid fired the system in public.

Delilah wore the uniform because Dora ordered it, but quietly a part of her was delighted to in any case. Embarrassing as it was, it showed exactly where she sat in the Princess’ hierarchy; right at the bottom, where she would stay at least until the second wave currently slumbering in the Star Runner’s hold were conditioned. (Delilah could never make up her mind whether she wanted to rise above the newcomers or have her powerlessness confirmed when she still ranked at the bottom. Of course, it didn’t really matter that she couldn’t decide - she was quite sure she wouldn’t be asked for her input.)

Lost in her reverie, Delilah was coaxed back to reality in an instant by a tug on her nipple. Dora had a way of tweaking Delilah’s bare breasts, the motivators in her fingers vibrating gently but rapidly as she did, which sent delicious shivers through every pleasure centre Delilah had. “Give up your seat,” Dora said, and while the gynoid was always patient there was a soft rumble underlying her voice that suggested Delilah had failed to hear the instruction once. She blanched with embarrassment, but rose at once.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Delilah mumbled, eyes downcast. Dora just chuckled.

“Is that really proper behaviour?” the gynoid asked, and Delilah flushed even deeper. She didn’t offer any answer, though; Dora’s programming had grown fond of rhetorical questions. Probably something to do with always being the fastest thinking entity in any room she entered.

Suddenly the vibrator deep inside her buzzed into life. Delilah caught her breath, but not before a startled squeak of excited arousal had escaped her. Dora’s eyes sparkled with delight. “I asked you a question,” she said firmly.

“No, ma’am,” Delilah answered, her voice cracking. “Not proper behaviour at all…” She sagged a little, feeling disappointed at having let Dora down. Let the Princess down too, even if the Princess would never find out. That didn’t matter. Delilah knew, and that was embarrassing enough.

The vibrator didn’t let up, though, and Delilah had no permission to sit, or really even to move. She squirmed where she stood, her hips twitching as the device stepped up its speed and power, alternating one then the other, but each advance making the whole thing more intense. Tight around her as her panties were, there was no way Delilah could move that would make the floods of pleasure less intense, less unstoppable, but that didn’t stop her body from trying. Each new peak of pleasure saw her shift her weight slightly, her hips thrusting out to one angle or another, caught on the tip of the vibrator.

Dora had done this to her whenever she’d wanted amusement throughout the flight out to Gargate and especially while they were on planet. Delilah had actually found those easier than this; when she had to serve as a bodyguard, she had a duty to channel focus from. It was so much easier to keep her head together. Now her only duty was to stand and to await orders, and keeping her feet with something so basic as her drive was harder.

Or Dora had decided to push the device further than she had on the way out - Delilah hadn’t actually been permitted to cum, “not when your betters aren’t using you” - and she’d thought that seemed to make the gadget more intense every time Dora fired it back up. But what if Dora had been using the same power levels throughout, and it was only now that she was realising how much more intense each failure to cum had made it?

She stared at the gynoid, who sat at the Star Runner’s controls double-checking the course plotted to return to the Pandora, and tried once again to get a read on a being who controlled every facet of their spoken, facial, and body language through banks of impossibly precise servomotors, but as always Delilah’s thoughts juddered to a halt over the syllable ‘serve’ in the word ‘servomotor’, And when that idea combined with what her uniform was doing to her, Delilah found herself so near cumming she had to bite down on her lip and squeeze her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms, just to distract herself.

Slow, steady breathing, she told herself, and you won’t cum when you’re not supposed to.

Dora finished putting the Star Runner into autopilot and looked up, making eye to eye contact.

Delilah thought anew that she’d never have realised Dora was synthetic without being told. The eyes were devices, constructs, but they behaved just like biological eyes, and Delilah saw them sparkling with delight and her knees went weak. Dora being pleased was the second best thing in the universe, behind the Princess being pleased (which of course was on top, and always should be).

“We have almost a day before we reach the Pandora,” Dora said cheerfully. “I imagine you’re wondering what I’m going to do with you in the meantime.”

Delilah didn’t really think she needed to know these things, and often didn’t wonder simply because it would all be in someone else’s hands in any case, just as it should be. She wasn’t someone who decided things; she was a slave, a subject, a tool to be used in carrying out decisions. So she was tempted not to answer. But she’d just had it made clear to her that failing to respond when Dora teased her in this way wasn’t proper behaviour.

To fail Dora and the Princess twice in a row wasn’t unacceptable, but only because it was instead completely unthinkable. “Are you going to make me play with my tits while my uniform humps me and I writhe on the floor for your entertainment?” she asked, and then wondered where that had come from, which deep-down part of her had conjured up that idea and held it ready to blurt out. She hadn’t thought about it consciously before, hadn’t had that idea out in the open, but now it was. It was out there. And she quivered with nervous excitement at the idea that Dora might do that. Might enjoy the show.

And Dora enjoying her was second only to the Princess, who…

Delilah moaned as the idea crossed her mind of Dora replaying for the Princess a recording of Delilah debasing herself in that way. That was almost intimidating in how arousing she found it.

“Good idea,” Dora said cheerfully. “But no.” Delilah just had time to register her own disappointment - which, doubtless, was plain as day to Dora’s ever-hornier AI - before the gynoid continued. “Fetch me my strap-on.”

Delilah nodded. “As you wish,” she said. She tried to pivot smoothly on the spot, but the vibrator in her pussy was still going, and she nearly overbalanced. Dora tittered, a simulated sound she seemed to enjoy watching Delilah and Kennedy react to. Her knees buckled in response.

She staggered out of the room, almost falling before the door, but the vibrator subsided the moment she was out of Dora’s sight, a clear reminder that Delilah’s pleasure only had value when her betters could take pleasure of their own in it.

*

Terra was having an absolutely wonderful time.

Elisabeta Choi was a woman of immense political power within the Genebound. As a member of that genetically-enhanced clade of humanity, she was also a woman of tremendous physical prowess. And both types of power attracted Terra, not like a moth to a flame, but like a plant to the sun; reaching toward them, lusting for them, and hungrily taking from them.

Of course, someone with that kind of power was also a threat. A very direct threat, if you started pushing your agenda in person with them - as Terra was planning to.

Getting a meeting with Elisabeta hadn’t been difficult; her status as a crew member on the Pandora was enough for that. Getting to speak with her in private and with Kennedy along had been harder. Sure, she was a Genebound and a certain kind of arrogance and ego was an essential part of that. At the same time, suspicion and intrigue were rife in their world.

Terra had eventually had to rely on dropping the name of Xavier Hunt, and she was pretty sure that was going to cause problems once Elisabeta’s husband got home. She’d never been clear what had happened between Hunt and Elisabeta, but it was enough to convince the woman to dismiss her guards.

But then, what would she expect from Terra and Kennedy that she couldn’t handle?

Almost as soon as the three were alone, Terra looked across to Kennedy. It wasn’t even a question of catching her eye; Kennedy would always be looking toward her, searching for a way to please her. The state of mind she’d been conditioned into now amounted to worship; she might still think of Terra as royalty, but she behaved toward her as she would to a goddess. Terra gave her a quick nod.

For the past few months, as Terra had laid her plans, the Pandora had been subject to several unexplained power shortages in certain areas of the ship. It had been driving Lachlann mad; no matter what diagnostics he carried out, he was never able to find a reasonable explanation, never able to lock them down or stop them. Then they’d simply stopped one day, and for a week or so, the crew had instead been frequently bewildered to find Delilah’s prone body unconscious in various locations around the ship, never the same place twice.

The crew as a whole would never understand these events, if only because Terra would see no need to explain it to them once they were her subjects too. But this had all been part of Kennedy’s training. She’d learned to manifest her energy suppression ability without the gestures and motions she’d always used to channel and focus her power. Then she’d had to master the art of suppressing energies from biological sources, especially mastering the need to do it without injuring the target. Terra had set her to work on her sister to encourage her in precision fright from the start.

The moment Kennedy saw Terra nod, she turned her attention to the Genebound. There was nothing about what she could do that was completely beyond humanity, but her muscles were denser, her lungs more efficient, her reflexes quicker - the whole package had an energy bill well beyond that of a typical human. Elisabeta was a powerhouse in a very real way. Kennedy reached out to that energy, the fuel inside the woman’s body, and started pulling it into herself, bit by bit.

“Xavier Hunt’s name is well known here,” Elisabeta warned, “and while he has proven himself… at least for a human… invoking his name can only grant you so much time.”

“In other words,” Terra said briskly, “your time is precious, and if we want to have much of it, we must give you a reason.”

Elisabeta nodded. Watching her, Kennedy saw her eyelids flutter, saw them take almost a second to reopen fully. Saw the first signs that the Genebound was slowing down, and to her relief, saw that Elisabeta hadn’t noticed.

“Fortunately, I think we have that,” she said. “You know, of course, that there are many plots against the Genebound.”

Elisabeta offered a smile as she nodded again. Both of them left a part of this unspoken; any Genebound would be disappointed if this wasn’t so. If nobody wanted them out of the way, what proof was there of their power and importance? “This need not be said.”

“But I do know more than this,” Terra returned. She was moving about the room, slowly wandering in a circle around the furnishings. Keeping out of Elisabeta’s reach, keeping Elisabeta’s focus on her. Never wandering too close to Kennedy; never giving the Genebound any reason to think about her. Just in case Elisabeta started to notice the effects of Kennedy’s power.

Elisabeta, for herself, folded her arms. Rather than cross to Terra, she remained where she was, standing impatiently. She did not go to others. They came to her. That was how relative worth was proved. “You should be clear when you tell me this.”

“There is a plot to take over the two tribes over which your influence spreads, Elisabeta. To treat your husband as of no consequence. To bypass your own will for your tribe.”

“Such a thing would not be possible while I live,” Elisabeta said. “Whoever does this will have to kill me.” Watching her closely, Kennedy saw the slightest of shivers as she stood. Her excess energy had been drawn out to the point of tiredness, but she would not want to show weakness. She would never admit it. Any exhaustion had to be seen as it slipped out past her determination.

“Or destroy you, at least,” Terra said quietly, barely managing to suppress her own smile.

“You think there would be a difference?” the Genebound retorted. Terra shrugged.

“Be that as it may,” she returned, “this is the substance of their plan. It comes not from your fellow Genebound. It’s a human goal.”

Elisabeta’s gaze flicked to Kennedy, who blanched slightly as she felt the intensity of the other woman’s glare. She knew her Princess’ orders, understood enough of her plan to be confident in them. But nonetheless she felt suddenly in danger. Even weakened and tired, this woman could be a true threat.

“Humans can try, if they want,” Elisabeta said firmly as she returned her attention to Terra. But, Terra noted, the gap between each of those words was longer than it had been. As if she were having to catch her breath between each word.

Having skirted her around the room, Terra started to move in closer to her target. “You don’t believe a human is a threat?”

“Of course not.” Elisabeta sneered. “Bring one before me, seeking to draw my blood, and I’ll show you.”

“Not even Captain Hunt?” Terra asked, her voice full of an amused fake innocence.

The Genebound’s attitude went from a bored confidence to a focused suspicion. She straightened up. One hand clenched into a fist. She took a step closer to Terra.

“What the hell do you think you’re-” she was in the middle of demanding when Kennedy’s hand clamped over the woman’s open mouth, her other hand seizing one of Elisabeta’s arms and her waist to hold her close. Immediately the noblewoman flexed her shoulders, looking to throw off the weaker human - only to discover she was still held fast. She tried again, seeking to wrench herself away, but nothing happened.

Nothing except Terra’s giggle. She really was having an absolutely wonderful time.

She giggled again, delighted, suddenly beaming, and finished closing the distance to Kennedy’s captive, her steps going from confident stride to a delighted skip. Just watching her brought a dreamy smile to Kennedy’s lips, but she was still drawing on the power of Elisabeta’s own life energy and even distracted, she had the other woman beaten for physical strength and would until and unless she released that power back to the woman.

“Destruction is very different to death,” Terra said, still beaming, her face just inches from Elisabeta’s. “Destruction is just breaking something until it can’t be put back together the same way.”

Elisabeta tried to answer by lashing her head forward, but she was too weak now to break Kennedy’s grip. A startled, frustrated moan escaped the restraining hand, and Terra’s eyes didn’t just sparkle, they glowed.

She opened her jacket slowly, almost teasing, and took out a thin pouch of chamois leather. From it she first produced a stubby black item, a slim black plastic bar three inches long and a half inch across on either side, with a circular hole slightly nearer to one end than the other. She slipped her finger into the hole and did something to the black side. A stubby, curved blade unfolded out, snapping into its new place with an audible clack.

With two swift, precise strokes Terra cut apart the broad straps of Elisabeta’s dress, letting the fabric of its cups fall down across Kennedy’s restraining arm. The support underneath had no shoulder straps but, instead, a thick band across her chest and back supporting well-upholstered cups. A faint blue glow was just visible from within the fabric at the base of the cups, suggesting some sort of technology in the support. A concealed weapon, perhaps?

Terra’s nose was almost touching Elisabeta’s, the Princess getting right in the noblewoman’s face, when her knife cut through the support at each side. The noblewoman’s skin remained unbroken, but Terra had allowed just enough contact that four short white lines now shone against her tanned flesh.

The knife blade disappeared, and Terra dropped the handle back into her small leather bag. Her amused eyes met the Genebound’s death glare. “I know,” Terra said softly, “you can’t believe just how rude we’re being. The idea we even dare is disgraceful.” She winked. “Don’t worry. You won’t always feel that way.”

*

Elisabeta’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and rage. That she had been baited into anger was bad enough. That hands had been laid on her was worse. That she could somehow not break the grip of the human holding her had seemed like the ultimate insult, as well as baffling her - yes, she certainly felt more tired than expected, but her upbringing taught her there were no circumstances in which one like her could be so vulnerable, and she prided herself on her confident capability.

But now this interloper had dared to cut away at her clothes, to bare her breasts, and Elisabeta had been helpless to stop her. This was quite simply unacceptable, and as soon as she saw a way to turn the tables, she would do so. They would both regret this outrage. She twitched her fingers experimentally. Maybe if she could get enough freedom of movement her monomolecular lash could turn the tables…

Not enough movement to guarantee it would work, which meant, in Elisabeta’s eyes, it might as well not exist. Revealing it now would only let them know about the threat.

The Gemini woman had taken something else out of her bag, a jumbled stack of short metal rods interspersed with electrodes. She manipulated it in some way and it snapped into two identical pieces; each of them was a miniature cross, perhaps two inches across, with a cluster of electronic equipment and a red telltale light at the heart. She held out one of the crosses toward Elisabeta, and Elisabeta tried to shy away but the human was still there, too strong to be escaped. Some sort of augment, perhaps? Had the baselines started researching better ways to live at last?

The four arms of the cross clicked in toward each other as the equipment touched Elisabeta’s nipple. Now they were prongs, squished in against Elisabeta’s quivering titflesh, gripping it somehow. She felt the odd tingle of static charges. And then all other sensation from that breast was swept aside as dizzying pulse after pulse swept through her pleasure centres. Beneath the human’s hand she moaned a sound of mingled outrage and euphoria, a desperate protest coloured by eroticism.

She watched Terra hold out the other device toward her other breast, and almost without realising it she was arching her back, pushing he chest out. Offering her own tit to the pleasure trodes. It was a sign of weakness, an admission of guilty lust, and she scorned herself for it right up until the second device had clamped itself down around her nipple and was sending pleasurecommands of its own. By then it didn’t matter that she’d shown guilt; she was feeling too much bliss to think straight, drowning in arousal, and even if she had, some traitor voice within said If you can have pleasure like this what else truly matters?

She wanted to writhe in pleasure but she was held too close even for that. Squirming uncontrollably, her breath came now in short, brief, ragged gasps. And the alien woman was still grinning, the tip of her tongue poking out between her teeth with delight.

“The thing about Genebound,” Terra said, looking away from them both as if she was just musing aloud, something that Elisabeta might have believed if it wasn’t for the relish in her voice, “is you have such powerful, such wonderfully engineered bodies.” She put her hand on one of the pleasure devices clamped to Elisabeta’s nipples, did something with it, and the intensity of the sensations redoubled. Her breasts throbbed with pleasure, with arousal, with stimulation as a whole, wave after wave battering against Elisabeta’s thoughts. “Your brains, on the other hand, might be a little better than human but they’re still built with the same design.” Elisabeta had bitten down on her lip now, unwilling to let the whimpers she was making escape into the wider world. “So your own powerful, intensely physical bodies make you even more vulnerable.”

Terra watched as Elisabeta, unable to control herself completely now, ground her ass and her hips against Kennedy while the human held her in place. The woman had bitten down on her lip so firmly a drop of blood was visible on the edge of her mouth, but for all that, her body was betraying her.

With an even wider smirk, Terra reached forward and down, two fingers extended side by side as she held her hand just in front of the woman’s crotch. Elisabeta, still fighting against the waves of overwhelming ecstasy, managed to hold back from humping her fingers until Terra actually pushed them firmly against the woman’s thigh. But once she started humping back, Elisabeta seemed to lose her composure. Her lips parted, her mouth opened, but what escaped weren’t whimpers but needy, guttural, hoarse grunts of pure lust.

Then Terra withdrew her fingers and the Genebound gave voice to an almost animal howl of frustrated need, still trapped in Kennedy’s arms, weakened by her power. With a giggle, Terra put her fingers back in place and allowed the humping to resume, before withdrawing them again. She nodded to Kennedy. “You may begin now,” she said, and, as Elisabeta’s body squirmed and twitched limply in her arms, driven by a need she couldn’t satisfy, distracted utterly by her own lusts, Kennedy began to speak. To recite.

“You follow my Princess,” she began. “You are loyal to my Princess. You would do anything for her. What you were before doesn’t matter.” Each sentence was delivered slowly, breathily, Kennedy becoming aroused simply by her own recitation, by engaging again with the rules that governed now not just her life but her very mind. “Princess’ will be done.” Another short pause, and she began again. “You follow my Princess. You are loyal to my Princess. You would do anything for her. What you were before doesn’t matter. Princess’ will be done.” A pause. “You follow my Princess. You are loyal to my Princess. You would do anything for her. What you were before doesn’t matter. Princess’ will be done.”

Terra Lux, the future Empress of the Andromeda Galaxy (at least if she had anything to do it) settled herself in the most ostentatious chair in Elisabeta’s room and crossed one long leg over the other, watching the two of them and prepared to wait.

It might take hours before Elisabeta cracked. She would probably be half asleep on her feet by the time it happened. But Terra and Kennedy both knew, with the pleasuretrodes in place, with Kennedy reciting her mantra as monotonously and as unrelentingly as a recording, before they slept Elisabeta would break down, would begin to mumble woozily along with Kennedy. Would repeat the mantra, slurring her speech and gasping with need, over and over again, until Terra chose to let her cum in relief.

Terra was going to watch the whole thing, and she was going to enjoy it with every fibre of her being.