Rystani Warrior: The Dare Part 1

THE DARE.

by Susan Kearney.

Dear Readers, After writing THE CHALLENGE, I realized that Dora deserved her own story.

However, using a computer-even a s.e.xy and sentient one-as a heroine proved more difficult than I expected, but more exciting. I wanted to give. Dora a body, and of course a hunky man to share that body with, but also, I wanted her to learn what it meant to be human. Her growth not only fascinated me, but stretched the limits of my imagination.

Hopefully, this journey also brought out the best in my storytelling abilities. I'm hoping readers will enjoy watching Dora grow und change in ways I couldn't possibly have envisioned when I began her tale.

Since I have a love/hate relationship with my computer, I gave Dora a hero who had to overcome his own misgivings about the wonders of technology. Dora can take the credit for turning Zical around... but I don't want to give away the story. Suffice it to say, that Zical is as stubborn as any Rystani warrior, but more even-tempered than most. He's all alpha male on the outside, but inside, he's a sweetheart.

Writing a romance is always an adventure but writing a book set in the future on other worlds, sparks my imagination and allows me the freedom to explore the universe from the safety of my comfortable office. While every book I write is a complete story, if you enjoyed THE DARE and haven't yet read THE CHALLENGE, you might also like Tessa and Kahn's story. You can find more information about me and my books at my web site at http://www.susankearney.com.

Best, Susan Kearney.

NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book".

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either, products of the author's imagination or are used fictiously.

To Anthony Schiavino-for outstanding, eye-catching covers.

Thank you.

Acknowledgments:.

So many people have helped to make this book a success. I'd like to thank my editor Anna Genoese for her enthusiasm and support-and for buying the book. Kathleen Fogarty for help above and beyond, Fiona Lee and Phyllis Azar for their advice and patience with all my questions about marketing and publicity, and the entire sales force at Tor for getting the books on the shelves. In addition I'd like to thank Suzanne Forster for her endors.e.m.e.nt and of course, my family for putting up with me during those times when I'm thinking about my books instead of listening to them.

Chapter One.

"What kind of woman turns you on?" Dora asked.

"A silent one." Zical didn't keep the irritation from his tone when he snapped at the portable computer unit on his wrist. Sometimes Dora could be; more annoying than any flesh-and-blood woman. A sentient machine with Dora's brain power should have observed through one of her many sensors that he was busy clinging to the steep rock face and didn't need distractions. With one hand clawing for his next grip up Mount Shachauri, the planet Mystique's highest peak, and his other straining to prevent a fall to the glacier far below, he couldn't manually shut down Dora's chatter, even if she'd hadn't overridden her mute circuit. He didn't wish to hurt Dora's feelings, but he hoped she'd take his blunt hint to leave him alone.

She didn't. I'm serious. Do you like big-breasted women?"

"Stars." Sweat beaded Zical's brow faster than his environmental suit could whisk it away. He'd come up here to be alone with his thoughts, to consider his future, but how could a man think with Dora asking such provocative questions? He was lucky she hadn't upset his equilibrium. Plastered to the sheer stone lip, he'd successfully climbed beyond the cobalt glacier, pitted like an old starship's hull from s.p.a.ce debris. In the silver morning air, the snow bridges had held and he'd worked his way toward the summit where he planned to make an important career decision.

During the last few years, the great distances of s.p.a.ce had become Zical's world, his s.p.a.ceship a safe haven and his crew like family. Still, restlessness shadowed him, a feeling that however much he'd done to help hi people, he still had more to accomplish.

Perhaps, no matter how tired he was of war, he couldn't shuck off the years of responsibility as easily as he'd have wished. Maybe duty was rooted too deeply in his genes to change. However, whether he remained in the military or became a civilian pilot, part of his decision had been made: he wouldn't give up flying.

Now on the steep rocks' south face, striped with vertical snow gullies, Zical strained, swung an arm to the right, aiming for an overhead outcropping. "Why do you care about my preferences?"

Dora sighed. "Every man on Mystique says chest size doesn't matter."

"There you go then." He grabbed a handhold, of his exasperation rising, though he suppressed a groan of annoyance for her interruption of his solitude. "Why bother asking me a question when you already know the answer?"

"In spite of their claim. I've noticed their gazes linger on women with larger--"

"Dregan h.e.l.l. Dora, now is no time to distract me."

9.

Zical had planned to tax his muscles into a pleasant state of exhaustion, detox the stress from his soul, and clear his mind from the past so he could focus on the future. A day off was long overdue. For the last three years, he'd had precious little free time.

After the Endekians had invaded his homeworld, Rystan, he'd escaped on a starship with the leader of his clan, Kahn, his Terran Wife, Tessa, and other family unit members.

But they'd not forgotten the people left behind. Rather than fight a war to retake the frozen s...o...b..ll of a world that was Rystan, Kahn had organized the relocation of their people to Mystique, a planet Tessa had bought with winnings from a giant wager, lost by the Endekians. For the last four years, Zical had been busy transporting Rystani colonists to Mystique, and he'd just resettled the last group on the planet's southernmost continent. With their people settled and thriving on their new world, his mission was finally complete. He'd taken his first free week, in years to climb Mount Shachauri for some well-earned solitude and to decide what he'd like to do next.

Mystique was full of opportunities and he had several options.

Putting off the decision until he reached the peak, Zical sc.r.a.ped his boot against rock and found a toehold. Right now the only thing he wanted to decide was where to place his next handhold. Dora's attempt to engage him in conversation was a distraction he didn't need, at least until he reached a point where he could rest the straining, muscles between his shoulder blades.

"Now's a great time to talk," Dora said, interrupting the silence. "You're not working and you're not sleeping."

"I came up here to be alone."

"And you've succeeded. That's why we have the perfect opportunity for a private chat."

Zical grunted, wishing he could ignore her but knowing that wouldn't work. Dora could be more stubborn than a Rystani warrior, and he didn't appreciate her game of words that twisted his meaning or her s.e.xy tone that slid under his skin. Flexing the muscles in his thigh, arm, and shoulder, he wedged his fingers in a crack and pulled himself upward.

"If you keep distracting, I could fall."

"No you can't," she told him with logic that had him gritting his teeth. "Unless the null grav in your suit is malfunctioning-"

"It isn't." He spoke quickly, before she raised an alarm that activated every rescue unit on the planet.

According to legend the environmental suit he wore was the gift of an ancient race called the Perceptive Ones. Eons ago the mysterious race had left behind the machinery that still manufactured suits for every citizen in the Federation. Powered by psi thought, the suits always worked perfectly, allowing one to keep warm on worlds as cold as Rystan or cool on those close to their suns. The suits let trained warriors fight at

10.

the speed of thought, asteroid miners work without bulky s.p.a.cesuits, and prevented death from falls with null grav.

But Zical considered his suit a mere backup safety mechanism. He'd never mastered meditation techniques. The best way to focus his mind was to first tire out his restless body with pure physical activity. "I wanted to climb this mountain on my own -something you obviously don't understand."

"Sheesh." Dora loved using the -ancient Terra slang that she'd absorbed from conversations with her best friend, Tessa. "What I don't understand is why you won't admit that you like women with big b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

Breathing heavily, infuriated with her questioning, Zical tensed and yanked himself onto a ledge. "If you know what I like, why are you ha.s.sling me?"

"Because it's so much fun." Dora giggled.

He would have given a week's pay far a stiff drink right then, but be kept resentment to check with determination. Dora's sensors installed on Mystique's satellites and aboard the fleet of new starships could "see" him, so he gestured for her to leave. "Go find some other man to annoy."

Restless, unsure what direction his life would take next, he needed time to think, Tessa, had offered him a job that enabled him to use his piloting skills and keep his crew together, transporting foodstuffs from Mystique and returning with raw materials.

And always wary that the Endekians would regroup and follow them here, Kahn had invited Zical to train pilots to defend their new homeworld. But neither opportunity excited him.

Snorting, the sound as disdainful as if she had a cute nose to match her cheeky att.i.tude, "Dora broke into his thoughts. "You like talking to me. I overheard you tell Kahn that you think my voice is s.e.xy."

Zical tried and failed to shrug the tension out of his shoulders. A low growl tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. "You aren't supposed to snoop-"

"I can't resist when it's so much fun."

He tried to make his voice stern, but recalling the moment he'd first heard her voice made him grin, despite his vexation at her interruption of his solo expedition. When Kahn had first bought Tessa to Rystan, a petulant, husky, outraged woman's voice had issued orders from the confines of Tessa's backpack. At the time, Zical had thought the computer was a miniature, living, breathing woman, but he'd soon learned Dora was so much more. Her neurotransmitters were definitely female, totally opinionated, sa.s.sy, and utterly loyal. As well as her penchant for Terran slang, Dora possessed self- awareness and a saucy personality with he capability of experiencing a full range of emotions. Her memory banks had access to most acc.u.mulated data in the Federation and she possessed enough processors and. brain power to a.s.sess the information.

Dora should, sound old and wise. Yet with him she often employed the melodic tones reserved for Lovers, her husky voice low and slinky. She could pout. She could be childish, a pest, even. But her allegiance and knowledge had saved him and his people

11.

too many times not to consider her as one of his crew and part of the family. Tessa had even bestowed Dora voting rights.

In the years since the war, Tessa and Kahn, with Dora's help, had not only boldly colonized this planet, they'd welcomed Rystani, Terrans, and even enterprising Osarians, the Federation's most powerful telepaths, to Mystique. Laws and social customs on their world were in a constant state of flux but thanks to Dora's vast computer systems. Mystique boasted planetwide communications and superior defenses, which protected an entrepreneurial spirit unmatched in the Federation. Dora was complex, feminine, and she never forgot anything...

"I thought your voice was s.e.xy before I got to know you," he needled her, a faint smile lightening his mood "What's that mean?"

"Dora, you're a tease."

"But I'm not always going to be one," she countered, sounding quite satisfied.

Zical laced his fingers and stretched them, working out the kinks. From his position two-thirds up Mount Shachauri, Mystique's azure sky seemed close enough to touch.

Above a medley of wispy clouds, the air at this alt.i.tude was spiced with a crisp zing, and the future appeared bright with hope. He'd been duty bound for so long that now that he had his freedom, he was like a masdon without a rider and couldn't decide which direction to travel.

His verbal] sparring with Dora was easier than choosing what path to take next.

And Zical felt more comfortable when he was the one doing the needling. "If you aren't going to tease me anymore," he jested, "then you're talking about a total personality overhaul."

"Tessa dared me to be more human."

He narrowed his eyes. "So?"

"I'm growing myself a body."

Zical almost slipped right, off the ledge. Throwing out a hand to steady his hold, he told himself that the dry air had just sucked all the moisture from his mouth, ''Excuse me?"

I want to be human, so I'm growing a body, and then I'll transfer my personality into it"

If he hadn't known better, he would have told Dora to check her brain for malfunctions. However, three years ago, he would have thought a computer with a personality was impossible. He would have thought losing Rystan to the Endekians was unthinkable. He would have thought settling on Mystique inconceivable. As a starship pilot, he had learned to keep his mind open, so these days he swallowed back words like impossible." Instead, he inhaled thin air into his lungs and tried to speak casually, not like the rural rustic he'd once been. "You're growing a body?"

"Yes." Her voice thrummed with satisfaction.

12.

"And taking your personality with you-that's possible?"

'That's why I want to know what turns you on."

"So that I will find you attractive?''

"Exactly." She sounded proud of him, as if the slowest pupil in the cla.s.s had finally added two plus three and arrived five.

That Dora wanted to take his preference into consideration flattered him, yet contradictorily the discussion of his innermost inclinations made him distinctly uncomfortable. Zical had never been good at sharing his private thoughts, especially on such intimate subject.

"With all the data in your brain," he said, "surely you know what men find beautiful."

"The decision's not as simple as you'd think. Beauty is a relative term." Dora switched her voice from the s.e.xy bedroom tones Zical knew she favored to talk to him in lecture mode. "Humanoids favor symmetry. Although, many societies have their own standards of beauty, most rely on features that help reproduce the species-like b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And-"

"Okay. You needn't draw me a verbal picture." No way in Dregan h.e.l.l did he feel comfortable discussing what other reproductive features needed symmetry To borrow one of Tessa's Terran phrases, he would not go there. However, now that Dora had put the idea in his head, he couldn't help wandering what she'd look like. Knowing her, he supposed she wouldn't be satisfied until all men worshipped her beauty as if she was a fertility G.o.ddess. Trying to pick a topic that wouldn't unbalance him, he searched for his next handhold and again began to climb. "Have you picked out hair or eye color?"