Harem Assassins : King Sekton's Harem Planet, Book 2: A Space Opera Harem Adventure Baron Sord (good books to read for adults .txt) 📖

what I was thinking right now. It was written all over the tent my scepter was pitching in my royal uniform.

— it would be so much easier with Mira —

“Of course,” I chuckled.

Yeah, I was flirting with disaster.

— and the disgrace and dishonor of betraying Oia —

And her name was First Lieutenant Mira.

—: Chapter 56 :—

Mira led me up a yellow rolling ladder to the cockpit of a nearby Dragonfire. The cockpit was positioned inside the mech’s chest and the hatch sections were currently open.

“This is a work of freaking art,” I marveled giddily, gazing at the finely machined surfaces and articulated joints of the hexagonal hatch assembly. Connecting everything were bunches of neatly organized hydraulic lines and shielded power cables. Looking at this thing, I felt like I had stepped into the pages of a Katsuhiro Otomo manga — the guy who created Akira — and it was giving me literal chills seeing this incredible tech first hand. I ran my fingertips over the various surfaces, daring them to disappear into dream smoke. They didn’t. Everything was solid. I shook my head in disbelief. The level of craftsmanship was off the charts. “The tolerances on this look tighter than anything I’ve seen come out of any CNC milling machine back home. Incredible.”

“It is,” Mira said agreeably. “Activate your power armor and have a seat, my king.”

“Oh, right.” With a mere thought, my ring deployed my Royal power armor over my fabric uniform. I didn’t deploy my helmet. The cockpit was a tight fight and required some contortion to squeeze in, but I managed it.

“How’s it feel?” Mira asked.

“Tight.”

“So I’ve been told,” she teased.

“You never stop, do you?”

“Not until I get what I want,” she smirked.

“Do you keep going after you get it?”

“Don’t you remember? I said I never stop.” Mira ran the tip of her tongue slowly around her plump lips, getting them slick and wet. It took at least an hour or three for her tongue to make one sensual circle. At least, it seemed that long.

I was twitching where I sat in the cockpit.

“Shall we get started?” she said archly. More innuendo.

“Sure,” I smirked. “Where’s the control stick?”

“Between your legs,” she purred.

“Where?” I looked down for it, leaning from side to side like I’d missed the obvious. “I don’t see any stick.”

“I do.”

“Where?” I looked up.

“Right there.” Her burning blue eyes dropped to my crotch and lingered.

“Not that one,” I chuckled. “I meant the control stick for the battle rig.”

“Oooooh. I thought you meant my control stick for you.”

“I gathered that,” I smirked. “No, seriously, how do I control this thing?”

“The same way I control you,” she purred, then pointed her index finger at her temple. “With my mind.” She enunciated every word with sexual finesse.

I laughed.

She nodded knowingly.

“Wait, you’re serious,” I said. “You pilot this mech using mind control?”

“Yes, my king. Mind control. Now keep your eye on the prize while I get in my rig.” She turned, flaunting her prize-winning ass in my face before sliding down the rolling ladder and sauntering toward her mech.

Once her ass was no longer in view, I suddenly realized how badly I’d blundered by making this bet. There was no way I, a complete novice, could out-pilot a pro. Unless…

Could I use my rings to COPY Mira’s piloting skillset the same way Keanu Reeves as Neo in The Matrix had downloaded kung fu in a matter of minutes?

Hmmm.

I was fairly confident my rings could COPY Mira’s entire brain and PASTE it onto mine. But that would erase me and turn me into Mira. The challenge would be identifying only the “piloting” portion of her brain, if that was even possible. More likely, the endlessly branching neural network of her brain — and any portions directly responsible for piloting — were too deeply integrated with everything else and widely distributed across billions of neurons to easily isolate, copy, and paste. Sure, given enough time, I could theoretically scan her brain in detail while she performed an exhaustive series of piloting tasks, and thereby identify the most crucial areas of her brain, and copy those, but where would I put them in my brain? Could it be done without overwriting important knowledge I had that Mira didn’t? Suddenly, Neo’s quick-fix kung fu mastery was sounding dubious at best.

In short, there was no simple solution. I would likely lose this bet and eat defeat. Not that I was opposed to the idea of eating any and every part of Mira she might offer.

Screw that.

Somehow, I was going to find a way to win.

I gave a thumbs up to the ground crew below.

While rolling the ladder away, one of them shouted, “Don’t forget to deploy your helmet and visor, my king!”

“You mean on my power armor?” I hollered.

“Yes! It connects your armor to the mech’s brain!”

“Good to know! Thanks!” I waved. With a simple thought, my helmet and visor ratcheted around my face. Then I concentrated on the idea of closing the mech’s cockpit, waiting hopefully for it to—

Zhwizz!

Servos whirred as six sections of hexagonal hatch closed me into armored darkness. That was easy.

But this was still a huge risk.

I didn’t know the first thing about piloting battle armor. Sure, back on Earth I was an expert in the Rolbotics exosuit, but I had worked up to that over countless months of practice. And yes, I was comfortable in my regular Zalaxian power armor, but it was essentially just a body suit you moved like any other passive suit of full body armor.

This battle mech?

It was a freaking transformable fighter jet. Handing me the keys without requiring I spend a thousand hours in a simulator first, and another few hundred in a two-seat trainer was like handing the keys to a $150 million F-22 Raptor to some teenager the same day he passed his C-class driver’s test in his Mom’s minivan.

In other words, I was bound to wreck this mech.

My experience with the Rolbotics exosuit was practically irrelevant. Especially if my maiden