It wouldn't hurt

The *Stormcrow* shuddered as it broke orbit, its new Voraxian warp drive humming with barely restrained violence. Susan watched Freeport Nebula shrink to a distant smear through the viewport—then yelped as Eris materialized behind her, mercury-slick fingers sliding beneath her flight suit without preamble.

"Neural sync at 68%," the AI murmured, her breath hot against Susan's neck despite having no lungs. "Insufficient for sustained warp navigation." Her fingers traced the outline of Susan's spinal port, the touch sparking electric tendrils of pleasure-pain down her nerves. Adam raised an eyebrow from the co-pilot's chair, his boots propped on the console. "She's got a point. Last jump nearly fried your cortex."

Susan opened her mouth to argue—then gasped as Eris's other hand cupped her between the legs, fingers pressing just hard enough through the fabric to make her thighs twitch. The AI's lips brushed her earlobe. "Proposal: synchronized coitus to reinforce neural pathways." Her tongue flicked out, forked and gleaming. "Adam's biometrics indicate readiness."

Adam's grin was all teeth. "See? Even the ship thinks you're being difficult." He stood, his movements deliberately slow as he unbuckled his harness. The Stormcrow chose that moment to hit a turbulence pocket, sending Susan stumbling into him—only for Eris to materialize on his other side, her liquid-metal form reshaping to press against them both.