Richard had always been told there were two kinds of people in life. The haves and the have-nots. The haves had it all. Money, wealth, power. They drifted above the clouds on elegant steamships, endlessly voyaging from one party to the next. Their existence one of decadence, gluttony and clandestine lust.

Then, there were the have-nots. The factory-workers, the mechanists, the grunt labourers who toiled to keep the mighty steamships in the air.

Now that had never seemed fair to Richard, and when he was told that he was one of the have-nots?

Well, that had just not been acceptable.

The Pentecost listed gently to the side; harsh wind buffeting her flank. Richard easily kept his footing, digging his feet into the rich, upholstered corridor. There was no one around. Everyone was at the party that was even now taking place several floors up.

He’d chosen his time well.

Bribing his way onto the ship had been hard, had cost quite a bit of money. But he was set to make far more of it for this job. Richard was a sellsword, a paid man. The kind of guy you’d turn to when you had no one else.

A mercenary, if you wanted to be crude about it. Though Richard always tried to look the part of the dashing rogue instead. He prided himself on being debonair, his brown hair slicked back, his face clean-shaven. His eyes glinted with good-natured mischief (He’d practised that one quite a bit!). He wore an open-fronted navigator’s jacket over a white shirt, with a pair of navy blue leather trousers. Good for hard-wearing.

And - because he was not a fool and knew that his job earned him plenty of enemies - Richard also was wearing a leather harness swung across one side of his torso. A holster snugly fitted at his hip.

The corridors were empty, but that didn’t mean Richard wasn’t careful as he went. His eyes flickered back and forth, knowing that all it would take was one worker on a break, one automaton in an unusual place…

He couldn’t afford to be seen right now. As far as anyone knew, he was at the party with the rest of the upper class. Drinking and laughing and probably stabbing each other with words or something.

He was certainly not supposed to be down here, inching his way to the cargo hold. A gun at his side and a goal in his mind.

But you see, there was a thing in that hold that he very much wanted to have.

Or rather, a client did. A client who was willing to pay a great deal of money to have it delivered to him in his room after the party.

And who was Richard to argue against free money?

The massive, reinforced doors of the cargo bay loomed ahead of him now. Thick and solid, like the gates of a castle. They were cast in bronze, solid slabs of reinforced metal. As thick as his arm, and with a single lock set near the side. There was an indentation and a hole for a key.

A key that he did not have.

Richard had expected some guards here. An automaton or two, perhaps. But it seemed that the captain of the Pentecost was less than concerned about such things. And why should he be? No one would be able to get through here.

Arrogance!

But, as he stepped closer to the doors, Richard had to admit to himself that it was arrogance that might have had a point. The door was thick, ringed with copper tubing and pipes. Faintly, he could hear the sound of compressed steam. A gauge beside the door told him the current pressure there.

Not nearly enough.

He moved to the keyhole, but knew already that he had nothing which could get him through. There was an indentation beside it. Some kind of security override? But he had no way to trigger that either.

Still, still, still…. What was it his old instructor had said?

‘’If you have a will, you’ll find a way.’’

Well, he’d said it with a lot more swearing and pointing.

And threats of violence.

But the old man definitely knew how to drive in the point. Richard reached into his jacket, coming out with a tool and moving behind the frame of the door. It was no less secure here, but he could see where the pipes connected and fed the steam to the internals. He wasn’t totally familiar with this design, but….

Yes!

There it was!

A metal box, about the width of his chest. It was half buried in the ground, positioned away from the corridor in the shadow of the door. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you knew to look.

But Richard had.

He felt a grin tugging at his lips.

It was a pressure chamber. Where the coiling steam was built up as the door opened. It would be wound tighter and tighter until it was strong enough to force aside even those thick slabs. A titanic amount of force.

Now, the next part was going to be tricky. It probably wouldn’t work. It shouldn’t work. Chambers like this were supposed to be purged and cleaned regularly. Otherwise, steam built up inside of them.

If the captain of the ship was doing what he was supposed to, Richard had no hope at all.

But the thing about the haves? They didn’t care how things worked so long as they did.

He worked for a few moments, taking a dozen tools out of his pockets one by one - the jacket was mostly pockets. Very useful for a mercenary on the go - and at last, the box issued a long, drawn-out cry. Richard leaned back, yanking his arm out of it as fast as he could - people had been known to lose them trying this!

The door juddered. Struggled, for a few moments, it seemed to want to hold its position. Then it began to rise with agonising slowness.

“Shoddy work,” Richard grinned to himself. “I’d file a complaint if I actually cared.”

He darted forward, still very aware of the ticking clock.

But he was so close now! Almost there!

Inside, it was cold and dark. No one was supposed to be here now, so the air was kept barely above freezing. Richard’s breath misted in the air before him. His steps rattled on the metal floor. The click of gears and cogs seemed to follow him as machinery built into the walls continued its unending vigil.

He hugged his jacket closer, moving through the shadows like a stalking cat. There were flickering, half-traces of light here and there. The bright gas torches had been turned down to almost nothing, so the room had been filled with a curious darkness. Light as silk, and yet clinging like a spider’s web.

The room was filled with metal. Stalls rose from the ground, holding row upon row of luggage. Some of them were dignified-looking cases, others were heavy wooden crates.

Richard imagined that they contained gems, jewels, engraved plating and rare items galore. He was walking past more money than he would ever see in his life.

But he had eyes for only one thing. The pendant. That was all he cared about.

How much longer would his absence go unnoticed?

“Let me see, let me see…” The words tumbled from his mouth. There was an order to how the cases were arranged, but sometimes it took a few minutes to see it. Richard was an experienced hand though, and he could already see how they had been handled.

Which meant that he already knew roughly where his target was.

He moved swiftly now, abandoning stealth, his footsteps rattling across the floor. Pistons hissed, compressed steam rattled in its brass prisons along the walls.

There!

Sitting in one of the luggage stalls, between two much larger cases, there was a small one. He recognised it - he’d had it described to him in extreme detail - and he felt a rush as his eyes fell upon it.

“You’re going to make me so much money,” he murmured.

He pulled it from the stall. It was locked. A filigree lock in the shape of a bronze flower, stem wrapping around the case and bedecked with tiny sapphires to represent the dew. Very fancy and very rich.

If he’d had more time, Richard might have pried them loose just for the sake of it. Spare money was always useful. But he was low on that and he knew it. He might not have been an engineer, but Richard certainly knew how to pick a lock.

The case was gaudy, rich, intended to be the envy of the less wealthy. It was the sort of thing you’d flaunt.

But sadly, not the sort of thing that was good at actually staying closed.

It clicked open and Richard gave a satisfied grin. Within, there were some items of personal importance. There were clothes, there was money. There was some jewellery.

And there was the pendant.

His eyes rested on it, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst. It consisted of a flattened oval, made of some strange metal. On one side, a wizened woman was staring off into the distance. On the reverse, a set of ridiculously curly writing. The sort of thing that made him doubt that anyone could read it at all.

He didn’t know what it was for. Nor did he care. It was probably inheritance. Some gift from grandmother that had gone to the wrong child, at least according to the one who hadn’t gotten it.

He pocketed it and stood up.

The job was as good as done! All he needed to do now was-

Sound.

A soft, dull thudding. Ice coiled around his spine. Motion, but far too regular to be that of a person. Very slowly, Richard moved his head. Did the shadows seem a little bit deeper?

Was something in here with him?

Not a human, a thing.

The sound came again. Closer now. Footsteps for sure, but - and this made Richard’s neck prickle with unease - far too many. The sound was short, sharp.

Metallic.

Automaton!

He broke into a cold sweat.

The thing must have noticed the gate had been forced! He drew back further into the shadows, his hand moved, closing around the handle of his weapon.

Slowly, the creature emerged from the darkness. Richard was used to automatons. They were a fact of life. Machines made of gears and cogs and venting steam. They were often works of art, used by those who could afford them. They were normally humanoid, slender of build. Non-threatening.

This one was not like that.

Take an elongated spine made of bronze. Stretch it to one and a half times the size of a human man. At the top, put a brass head. A harbour-master’s face sculpted in metal. Depict it with a long beard and a jaunty hat. The eyes are reinforced glass, smouldering red with internal heat. Now, run pipes up and down the spine line veins. Add little steam vents, constantly firing so the thing is followed by its cloud of superheated gas.

About halfway down, give it a spherical chest full of gears and wires and churning gauges.

Now cover the lower half in many metal, spider-like legs. Thirty at least, all clustered together. Finally, give it six arms. Each one massive, bulky. Strong enough to pulp flesh and shatter bone.

This was the creature that Richard saw looming out of the shadows. An actual nightmare. It was a Conqueror!

What the hell was a Conqueror doing here?!

The machine turned, sweeping its fiery eyes across the cargo bay. Richard felt as if his heart was going to explode. His skin prickled. He prayed it wouldn’t notice him.

It saw the fallen case, still lying half open where he’d left it. Its head snapped around. Its body angled. The click-clicking of its many legs was like a nightmarish spider.

Did it see him?

It didn’t see him.

It couldn’t see him.

It saw him.

The eye-plates narrowed, the red blaze intensified. Its head snapped forward, and Richard cursed.

Of course the damn thing could see in the dark!

He took aim, his hand moved quickly, bringing his gun to bear.

But not faster than the machine. Something that big should not have been that fast, but it was. He didn’t even get a shot off before it tackled him.

Hard metal impacted his body and he was hurled from his feet. He smashed into one of the far walls, and pain flared through his body. Luggage rained around him. He was groggy, desperate.

The thing grabbed him, one of its arms closed around his shoulder. He felt himself being lifted without effort. Like a man might lift a baby. He kicked out, but his boots didn’t even phase it. More arms closed around him, holding him tight, binding him up.

The only reason he was alive right now was because it was going to present him to the ship’s owners. He tried to fight, tried to wriggle free, mouthing curses at the thing’s emotionless face. Anger rose up in him. There was something hard in his hand.

He still had his gun!

Richard twisted, pulling against the many limbs. The ivory-handled pistol barked loudly. The sound screamed through his head, and the wave of pressure battered him an instant later.

The Conqueror was designed to live up to its name. The things could wade through fire. He’d seen it. On the battlefield, even a squad of them was death and doom. It regarded his puny pistol as no threat at all.

That was its first mistake.

The thick bullet slammed into it, impacting far more power and with far more speed than it had calculated. The metal frame buckled, twisting with a loud, shearing scream.

Richard dropped to the ground as the machine jerked. He hit it hard and came up rolling. The gun was in his hands. The manstopper kicked back with such force. His whole body ached with every shot.

But he still peppered the automaton with three. It bucked and juddered under each one, pipes and tubes snapped and began to spew boiling steam. Its eyes burned red, and it put on another burst of speed. This time, Richard was ready. He hurled himself to the right, skidding across the floor and tumbling as the thing smashed into the wall behind him.

“Not playing easy now, are you?”

But he was shaken. That would have killed him.

He’d fired four shots. He had two more. He didn’t think the machine would give him time to reload. It turned, coming at him again. Steam broiled around it, billowing like a boiling cloak of air. The thing was wounded but still very much alive.

Alive and angry!

Richard didn’t care what people said. That automatons had no emotions. That they were cold, hard processors. He knew anger when he saw it and those red, glinting eyes brimmed with it.

“Hurt you, didn’t I? Didn’t think a human could do that, huh? Wanna try again? I promise I still have more.”

Two shots. Two shots were all he had. Either he dropped this thing with those or it would kill him. There was now no other way. He tried to draw a bead in the chest piece, but the arms were covering it, flowing and shifting in mesmeric patterns to throw off his gaze. The many legs braced, its sculpted head regarded him with cold indifference.

Steam bellowed like a locomotive as it broke into another charge. Richard’s hand snapped up, the bullet from his gun tore into it, impaling it in the chest and punching right out the other side. Steam-blood flashed through the air, but it didn’t stop. One of its arms caught him a blow, piston-driven muscles ripped him from his feet. Something wet and hot dripped down the side of his face as he staggered back.

A hand closed around his shoulder and he was spun around. A metal leg kicked out at his own, hard. He went down in a flurry of pain and the creature hoisted him off his feet. The world was spinning, a metal hand closed around his throat.

It was going to kill him!

Those red eyes glared at him for a single moment. As if the thing was going to enjoy this much more than it should.

That was its second mistake.

Richard’s arm shot out, firing the last round. The bullet ripped right into the thing’s face, shattering the metal plate and tearing through the internal systems. Cogs scattered like rain and the thing reeled back. Thrashing and struggling, it tried to find him again, but he backed away.

The creature’s movements slowed then. The mortal wound he’d torn into it during Its charge began to tell. Bleeding steam and pressure, it started to wobble.

But even when it collapsed, Richard stayed away from it.

He stood for several seconds, gasping and breathing before he was finally sure the thing wouldn’t get up.

“Automatons!” He cursed.

His body was a mass of bruises now. He was bleeding, bruised, and had come within a few seconds of death.

All for the pendant that he’d now stashed in his pocket.

It was time to go. Time to leave. There was no way that the destruction of the machine would go unnoticed. If he was to have any chance of avoiding being caught then-

Another sound came, breaking his train of thought. Richard froze, knowing that if it was another one, he was just plain dead.

But the sound wasn’t metal. It wasn’t the trundling of many footsteps. It sounded softer, more flighty. A soft, gasping moan that danced across his spine.

The sound of a woman in pleasure.

Had the thing hit him too hard? Was he hearing things? But even as he listened, the sound became sharper. Louder. It was coming from one of the cases that had been knocked down. It had been locked, but the machine’s thrashing had torn the locks wide open at some point.

Curious and unable to stop himself, Richard crept closer. The case - more of a crate - was big. Bigger than him, in fact. Taking hold of the lid, ignoring the locks the machine had shattered, Richard threw it open!

There was a woman curled up on the crate. She was red-headed, with curly hair. Her skin was pale, freckles marking her face and cheeks.

And she wore a choker. It was an intricate choker, and upon the choker, there was a gem the likes of which he had never seen before. It was brilliant, burning with an eerie inner light that seemed to mock the very concept of other gems. As if this was all that was real, all that mattered.

He wanted to reach out and touch it. It sparkled and danced like a living thing.

But he pulled his gaze away because there was one other factor of importance.

The woman was naked.

She was totally bare, not even having been afforded the dignity of underwear. Her arms were locked behind her back with a leather binder. Metal cuffs had been placed on each ankle, a bar used to spread her legs. There was a machine under her; a metal sheet with a depression that just fit her body. Lights and settings ran along one side, which was raised so it could be accessed while she lay in place.

The machine included a set of dildos, one for her ass and one for her pussy - which was shaved bald, he could not help but notice - and they were inflating and deflating rhythmically. Fucking her and teasing her. A tiny set of arms also extended from the machine, each one tipped with an electrical pad which was sparking just slightly. The sparks showered down against her raised nipples, making her jump and squirm. Her face was red, and she was gagged and wearing a pair of black goggles. He doubted she could see anything at all.

Richard felt his cock stirring. The sight was so surprising, so arousing. His eyes fell to her pussy, the dildos pumped, filling her up until she was squirming and moaning. Her legs were shaking, a small puddle of arousal had formed under her womanhood. Her clit was pink and engorged.

How long had she been like this? The whole trip?

How long had it been since he’d had time with a woman? And she was cute too! He’d always had a thing for redheads…

Her skin felt hot and clammy against his fingers. A shudder ran through her body when she first felt his touch. It made her look so much sexier. With the black goggles on, she had no way to tell who was touching her or how far it would go.

His eyes fell, focusing on the dildos which throbbed inside of her, the machine pumping and deflating them as she squealed through her gag. A spasm passed through her body, a delicious little shudder that betrayed the presence of a climax.

She’d cum.

She’d cum right in front of him and he didn’t even know it.

His cock was hard. He was breathing fast.

As if in response, the pads pressed over her nipples began to roll with new power. Fat little sparks of electricity earthed themselves in her tits and her spine arched, a low, loose cry tearing its way through her gag.

Richard moved. His fingers fumbled at her gag, undoing the leather around the bag of her head. As it fell loose, her breathing became harder and more ragged. Her moans were soft, desperate and animal-like. The cries of someone who had been like this for hours. She didn’t even speak, just lay gasping and shuddering, her lower body grinding itself against the toys.

The goggles went next. These put up more of a fight. They’d been secured around her head, but Richard fished in his pockets for a screwdriver, forcing them loose enough until he was finally able to lift them up.

The woman blinked. Her eyes were a deep, vivid green. Like sparkling emeralds. They were also wide and unfocused. But as soon as the flickering half-light of the cargo bay hit them, she seemed to start to snap out of whatever trance she was in.

“Ah-” The first sound she made was a low moan. Her body wiggled, her hands still pinned behind her back.

“You’re not my master.”

He wasn’t prepared for her accent. It was heavy, tinged with an industrial drawl. Like the accent of a working woman. But her body didn’t seem like that of a working girl. She was slender, and fit, but not overly muscular. With long-toned legs and arms.

He realised he was resting his eyes too much on her and jerked back to her face.

“I’m Richard,” he said. “Richard Gearheart. At your service. And it looks like you do need it a lot. You said that you had a master?”

“D-did I?” Her face looked quizzical. “I don’t much remember. Can you get me out of this?”

Time was running out. He had been low on it already when he arrived in the cargo hold. The fight with the automaton had cost more. He knew that he had to be out of here and soon.

But still…

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He bent over her, working with the screwdriver. Trying to ignore the proximity of her naked body. She gritted her teeth, obviously trying not to moan, but the machine continued to fuck her, little trembles of pleasure raced up and down her body. When the shock pads blasted her nipples, she would cry out, her eyes pressing closed, moaning curses as her senses were overloaded.

It was all so hard to take, and his cock strained against the inside of his pants. But though Richard would - just - admit in his heart of hearts that maybe there were those people who might call him a bad person for good reason, this was way too far for him.

“I’ll get you out of this,” he repeated to himself. The device was complex. His screwdriver fit it, but he was starting to realise it would take hours, maybe days to undo all of these things!

The chains were bolted down, wrapped about her body and holding her in place. She didn’t have an inch of movement, her arms were bound behind her back. Each layer reinforced by three other layers of security.

“Someone didn’t want you getting away,” Richard said. “Do you know who that might be?”

“I can’t say,” the woman answered.

“You mean you’re keeping it secret?” He shot her a look. “Loyalty is good and all. But when someone shuts you in a box like this, it may be time to talk, lady.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she rolled her eyes. “I can’t say. I can’t seem to be able to say their name. I - ah!- I’m trying right now and I can’t.”

“Damn. Still, can’t say I’m surprised. With all the money that these guys have, I’m sure it’s easy to think that they’re owed anything they want. You remember how you got this way?”

She shook her head.

“You remember your name?”

“Kara.”

“Just Kara?”

“It’s all I remember. All I’m allowed to remember, I think.”

“This isn’t what I expected to run into when I got here,” Richard said. “Perfect timing too! Just the best!”

“I’ll try to be found at a more appropriate point next time,” Kara snorted. “Can you get me out or not?”

“I’m working on it! This ain’t exactly easy, you know!”

Kara tried to answer, but her body spasmed, another orgasm rippled through her. Her gasping, lustful moans made the hair on his neck stand up. Shudders ran through her, and his eyes moved to her pussy. She was grinding hard against the toy, fucking herself with it as the orgasm rose through her.

You’re not making this very easy either, lady! Richard cursed, throwing himself into the work as a distraction.

After five minutes, he had made no progress.

After ten, he was only a little bit better.

At fifteen, Kara seemed to get impatient.

“Are you even doing anything?”

“Hey, you want to try this? Whoever put this thing together was good! It’s soldered! I’m trying to pick at the edges, but the thing is solid!”

“Yes!”

“What?”

“I said - oh fuck - I said yes! I can do better! Give me the screwdriver!”

“Lady, you don’t have any arms right now! I don’t know how you intend to hold it!”

“Who needs arms? I have a mouth, don’t I?”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Put. It. In. My. Mouth.”

Richard shrugged. Dealing with clearly insane women was not how he’d imagined his day was going to go, so he did as he was asked. He held out the screwdriver to her and Kara opened her mouth, using her tongue to guide it between her lips. Her teeth closed around it.

Richard tried not to imagine how nice it would feel to have that tongue wrap around his cock the same way.

As soon as she had the tool, Kara began to move, wriggling back and forth in her bonds as she twisted to get a good ankle on the fabric binding her arms. It was hard leather, but he could see she was already working at the metal frame. Hoping to pry it loose? He didn’t know.

Slowly, Richard rose to his feet, dusting off his coat. It was an effort to tear his view away from Kara. The naked motions of her body were mesmerising.

But he had a job to do and nearly no time now to do it.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I have to give this pendant to the guy who ordered it. Getting caught with it on me now would not be good. For either of us, actually.”

She didn’t even look around, fully intent on her work. Her copper-red hair flying about her as she picked at the machine.

“I’ll be back later,” Richard started to back towards the door. “Don’t get caught! Then again, you’re probably technically cargo. It’s me who shouldn’t get caught.”

Kara didn’t even give him a word. He admired her for a few more seconds before turning and running for the door. The party would nearly be done now, but it would be good for him to be seen there if he could be.

That way, it’d be harder to pin him as missing during the robbery. The pendant burned a hole in his pocket, but the mystery of the girl in the box filled his mind.

He made it back to the party in time for the last ten minutes. People were well drunk by then. The good shandy had been broken out, and no one seemed to have missed him much. He mingled, chatting, joking, drinking just enough to seem like everyone else. Not enough to be actually drunk though. The pendant remained in his pocket, and every minute he expected a shout, a cry.

Robbery!

Thievery!

But it never happened. The cargo bay wouldn’t be checked until the end of the flight. By then the trail would be cold.

Had he really gotten away with it? But thoughts of Kara refused to leave his mind, and he knew the answer was ‘’not yet.’’

After the party, he gave over the pendant to his client. An elderly man, dressed severely in a black suit with white trimmings. His hair was curled like a ram, and he had a long moustache which hosted the last defiant embers of his original hair colour - a sort of ruddy brown.

“Excellent,” he said. “Mister Gearheart. You have done me a great service. An expensive service, but a great one. I trust the compensation is more than generous.”

It was, in fact, extremely generous. Enough money to live off for a year, and that was if he didn’t try to save it. Two or three if he was careful.

But right now, he had other uses for it. He smiled, laughed at the man’s jokes. Told him to look him up if he ever needed assistance again.

Then he took the money to the chief engineer. The man was dark-skinned, pot-bellied, and with the look of a person who has worked with their hands all their life. His eyes were gleaming with sharp intelligence.

“You want what?”

“You heard.”

“I heard. I don’t believe. You really think I can do that?”

“You really think you’re fooling me into thinking you can’t?” Richard crossed his arms. “I’ve been on steamships. I know how they run. You’re the chief. Everything goes past you. You approve it or it doesn’t run. Straight up.”

The engineer looked at him.

“You’re right,” he said. “I suppose I could do. But I am not going to. It’s more than my job’s worth. I’d be fired as soon as they found out. And they would find out, don’t even tell me they wouldn’t. There’s nothing you could do to make it worth my while.”

The heavy sound of a bag full of money hit the ground. Rich and deep and above all, tempting.

“Half of that,” Richard said. “More pay than a dozen voyages. Easily enough to set you up with another job. Enough to retire if you want. Still think there’s nothing I can offer?”

For a long moment, nothing was said.

“I won’t ask,” the engineer said carefully, “why you have that sort of money. Or why you are so desperate to share it. You want it that much? You know they change every flight, right? It’d only be good until we land.”

“That’s more than long enough.”

The engineer shrugged

“Well, when you’re paying me that much, I am not gonna ask questions. We have a master signet locked away in case of emergencies. The only other one belongs to the captain.”

He reached for a cupboard, unlocking it with a long, silver key. Within, there was a brass ring. Set into the ring, an orange gem with a series of copper shapes picked out across the surface.

“That’s the ring,” the engineer said. “Show it to ‘em and they’ll do what you want. But don’t let any member of the crew see you have it or it's both of our heads.”

Without another word, Richard divided the money and left. He found himself moving at a brisk pace. Back towards the cargo bay.

Back towards Kara.

Thoughts of the naked woman consumed his mind. He knew that he’d done everything he should have already. He’d given her a chance. He’d given her tools. If she used them to break free, then she’d be out of his hair. No obligation. No duty. Just two ships passing in the night. He didn’t have to go back. In fact, it was better that he didn’t. He’d already traded away half of his earnings for this! Three years' pay reduced to one and a half for some ginger-haired girl he didn’t even know!

But even as he chided himself for that, Richard knew he wasn’t going to leave her to her fate. Why? Was it because she turned him on? Oh yes, she got his blood pumping. What guy couldn’t be turned on by a woman so fine? Her body was slender, her legs were long. Her breasts were nice and firm. The sounds she’d made as the machine fucked her had gotten him good.

But that wasn’t it either. At least, not most of it.

As much as he liked to pretend otherwise, Richard had a crippling curse that often proved an inability in his line of work.

He didn’t like to see people suffer.

He didn’t know who had stuffed her into that box, but the idea of her falling back into their hands filled him with anger.

Richard would be the first to admit that maybe he wasn’t always a good guy. He was a sellsword, a man who worked for the highest bidder. He did his best, but his hands were often dirty. He worked with people who sometimes were the worst of the worst.

But there were some things that even a man like him couldn’t allow. Slavery was one of them. Enough of one to halve his big prize just for the chance of sticking it to whoever owned that box.

And as far as he was concerned, that was a good deal!

Richard arrived back in the cargo bay to find that things had not gone to plan. The gate was closed again, but his new signet ring fit into the indent he’d noticed before. It opened without complaint Within, the same blinking lights cast an eerie half-illumination over the hold. The corpse of the automaton lay where he had left it. The create half-open beside it.

Kara was lying on the ground inches from her machine.

Instantly, Richard was moving. She looked still and pale, the gem on the choker she wore had dimmed to almost nothing. His screwdriver had tumbled from her hands, and the broken chains littered the floor around her. She’d managed to shimmy out of the armbinder as well, but that was about as far as she’d gotten.

She was very still.

“Kara?” He was on his knees now, reaching for her. Feeling her naked skin for a pulse. It was there, but so, so weak. “Kara, are you there? Answer me.”

She shivered in his arms, her eyes half opened. A look of incomprehension filled them, but they sharpened.

“Richard?”

“That’s right. I told you I’d come back. What the hell happened?”

“No…no time…”

She reached up weakly, her fingers brushed his face.

“Put me back in the machine.”

For the second time that day, he looked at her as if she were mad.

“Now? You want that? You remember what it was doing before, right?”

“It’s the only way,” she said softly. “I can’t explain… I don’t have…don’t have the energy… put me back in it and turn it on.”

Richard cursed, but he didn’t know what else to do. He lifted her up - she felt so light - and carried her back to the crate. The machine was waiting there. The depression shaped perfectly for her body. He laid her down in it and then hesitated.

She’d said to put her back on the machine…

He hated how his cock stirred at the thought, but he well remembered the state she had been in when he’d arrived. He reached, feeling guilty as he spread her legs to expose her pussy. It was still gleaming and wet, arousal beaded her inner thighs. He touched it, stroking it with his fingers as he reached for the first dildo. The tip pressed her lower lips apart, and she moaned as he pushed it inside of her. His cock strained against his pants, and he couldn’t help but imagine her making those said sounds as she rose up and down on his shaft.

He pushed the dildo all the way inside of her, Kara shivered. Giving little whimpers of pleasure. Next, the one for her ass. This one penetrated her more slowly, inching its way inside of her. Her cries were more strangled, more desperate.

He’d expected the machine to start again as soon as she was inside of it. But it didn’t. Desperation clawed at him. Was there some button to press or…?

Of course!

He cast around for the gag and the goggles. Fixing them both around Kara’s head. As soon as the goggles were in place and the gag was secured, the machine gave a mechanical wheeze and struggled to live. The dildos began to inflate and deflate, filling Kara up and stretching her out. She gasped and moaned, trembles of pleasure raced across her body. The machine lowered the shock-pads again, bringing them to rest against her nipples.

They fired and her whole body convulsed.

The choker’s gem began to slow again. Softly. Dimly. But the light was building on itself.

That was probably a good sign.

Looking around, Richard found the roof of the crate that had come loose when it had fallen and with one last look to Kara, secured it in place once again. Her soft cries were muffled now, and he stood back to examine his work. Lastly, he bent down and picked up the armbinders that she’d freed herself from in his absence. He didn’t know if he would need them again, but it was better to have them than now considering how the machine worked.

It looked like a normal crate now, at least as long as you didn’t pay too much attention. Now how to get it back to his room? It was far too big to carry.

At least for a human.

His eyes scanned the walls. Hoping against hope that he would see what he was looking for. He didn’t know for sure it would be there, but if there was one then…

Yes!

There was a charging dock set into the wall. Twisting pipes and clicking, whirring cogs outlined the shape of another automaton. The same class as the one that had tried to kill him.

These things were usually employed in threes, he remembered. But he just needed one. He looked down to the signet ring, hoping that the engineer was good for it. This was the point where he had to risk it, but he took the time to reload the manstopper first.

Then he walked towards the machine, rapping it firmly with one hand. The metal ringing resounded, and the creature’s eyes flickered on. Red light bathed him, the machine regarded him. Steam hissed gently, humming it as it drew itself up to its full height. A dozen insectile legs clicked against the ground.

“Designate task.”

The machine’s voice was gravelly and low. Steam hissed from its joints and pistons.

“That box,” Richard gestured to the crate. “Take it to my room. Tonight. Once the crew is asleep. Tell no one.”

“Regulations dictate that such orders be relayed to an engineering handler before they are carried out,” the machine objected.

Richard flashed the ring.

“Regulations are overruled. My authority is greater. Confirm.”

For several long seconds, nothing was said. The only sound was the hissing of steam and the clicking that came from the automaton.

“Confirmed,” it said at last. “Your authority has been recognised. Previous regulations have been overruled.”

“Good,” Richard said. “Have the box brought to my room - gently. Oh, and also clean up the wreckage.”

He gestured to the body of the last machine.

“Get that out of sight.”

And that was how Richard had Kara brought to his room late one night. It would be nice to say that he had the whole thing figured out from there. That he’d planned it all out, schemed out every route.

Nice, but false.

He was playing it by ear, Figuring it out as he went. He had no plan, no real strategy. All he could really do was react and try to stay above the water which suddenly felt like it was rising.

He was sure he’d just gotten himself into a whole load of trouble.

But that was the life of Richard Gearheart.