Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare

by Susan Kearney

  He helped himself to a shot of rare Maldebaran whiskey. Tossing back the expensive liquor only whetted his appetite to release his tension. Hoping physical satisfaction would banish the fantasies he couldn’t expel from his mind, with one psi thought he altered his suit to transparent, removed the artificial shield on his tavis, and immediately rose to full arousal. Muscles strung taut, he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, tried not to recall Dora’s sexy tone. And waited.

  The subtle scent of orangeflower struck first, letting him know Xentos had arrived. He opened his eyes to the sight of bronze skin glistening in starlight, her features flawless, her breasts larger than his last visit and making her slender waist seem more narrow. If her perfection spoiled him for other women, he cared not. If she wasn’t real, he cared not. If she was nothing like impertinent, saucy, sassy Dora, all the better.

  Xentos looked real, felt real, smelled real. Her skin was as warm as molasses on just-baked bread. So what if she had no personality? She welcomed him with no hesitation, no judgment, no awkwardness.

  She wasn’t real.

  But Zical didn’t want real. He wanted release, plain and simple, with no complications.

  He’d already had one unsatisfying relationship with Summar and he wasn’t about to start into another with the wrong woman. Next time, his wife would be of his choosing, not a prearranged marriage. Next time, his wife would be a partner, a woman who measured up emotionally, a woman who matched his passion with her own. So a night with Xentos might not be as intellectually stimulating as talking to a real woman or a sentient computer like Dora, and nowhere near as emotionally satisfying as the true bond Kahn shared with his life mate.

  He closed his mouth over her welcoming lips. Lips that parted and applied the exact amount of pressure to satisfy, compel, tease. Mmm.

  “Kiss me, again,” she murmured and he needed no urging. Her arms around him were so close to the real thing that he could lose himself in her sensuality. While he found it ironic that he was using a machine to sate the desire that another machine had initiated, the situation only made him more determined to return to normal.

  As Xentos’ breasts brushed against his bare chest, Zical thought of Dora. Her personality placed in a body was a scary, intriguing, fascinating idea. Dregan hell, she’d be a handful for some lucky man. Zical wished he’d asked more questions, wondered how far along she was in the process.

  As his hands closed over Xentos’ delicious breasts, he realized Dora was correct. He liked breasts that overflowed his hands. With a happy sigh, he dipped his head for a taste and fantasized that he heard Dora’s voice cooing a response, felt Dora’s nipple’s hardening beneath his lips, held Dora’s body in his arms.

  The golden cone of light might have encouraged his fantasy. Or perhaps the idea of Dora’s experiment to merge with a body was suggestively responsible. Zical only knew the combination of Xentos’ skill and his erotic visions of Dora were more than enough to set him on fire.

  In his mind, the holosim’s body and Dora’s personality merged into one, a definite turn-on. It was Dora’s cheek he cradled in his palm. Dora’s body he swept weightless into his arms. Dora’s full curves molding to his hard muscles. Dora who buried her face into his throat, who nipped his neck, who slowly and seductively welcomed him into her willing synthari.

  DORA WORKED AT full capacity. Zical’s find had her circuitry busy examining, identifying, cataloguing, and comparing the images she’d scanned with data on every ancient race. She also carried on her normal subroutines, routing communications, monitoring satellites, and collecting details on everything from trade routes, to economic conditions on Zenon, to a new volcano forming on Mystique’s primary moon.

  In addition, she oversaw the growth of her body, reminded Miri to give Kirek his vitamins, and transferred Tessa’s growing credits to yet another bank, following standard orders to diversify. Meanwhile she continued to seek out new high-growth opportunities where Tessa could invest the family’s wealth.

  She spared a tiny iota of her faculties for personal use. It was so like Zical to omit sharing the important data about how the golden light beam had sexually aroused him. However, humans tended to be irrational about their sexuality. Although she respected human feelings, Dora had never really understood the human concept of privacy, shyness, or embarrassment when it came to mating. When Zical had chosen to keep his erection a private matter, she’d remained silent, practicing discretion.

  She’d learned time and again that while the urge for humans to mate was almost as basic as breathing and eating, her friends tended to be touchy about their sexual requirements. Although Dora thought it perfectly normal for an unconscious Zical to lose control of his psi, his suit, and his body’s natural urges, he’d clearly wanted to keep the information to himself.

  Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have devoted another nanosecond of thought to the matter, except after Zical regained consciousness, he’d seemed on edge, quietly determined with a maddening edge of secrecy about him. When he’d left his portable unit behind, he’d aroused her curiosity.

  Without much difficulty, Dora tracked him from his apartment as he flew a skimmer into the city. Once on foot, she caught him on security monitors until he turned down a street that had none. Her inquisitiveness peaked, she aimed a satellite scanner on him, but once he entered a building, she lost him.

  She tried to tap an outside communication line, but there were none. Most commercial establishments took a thumb print and debited a bank account after people made purchases. But again, she found no outside connections. Interesting.

  What was Zical up to? What kind of establishment had he entered? Dora checked her city maps against the licensing board and came up with nothing. Odd. She checked the owner of the property and found out the land was part of the public domain, like a road. Stranger still.

  Most likely illegal activities went on there.

  Patiently, Dora kept searching for a link to go in. But whoever had built the place had taken great care to keep her out. If she hadn’t been following Zical’s progress, she would never have noticed the establishment. Dora could be patient, and her persistence paid off. Finally, she found a man who walked into the building with his portable unit turned off. Threading her way past the lock, Dora overrode his switch, but kept the warning light darkened. If she’d been human, her activity would have been suspect, but the law allowed Dora some latitude. If she was concerned about human life, she could override a portable unit’s functions.

  She was very concerned about Zical. He’d talked Kahn into putting off the physical and psych evaluation until tomorrow. His face had been so taut, his muscles so tense, that she was certain he had something to hide.

  Since Dora didn’t believe that the golden alien light could rattle a starship pilot renowned for his bravery, she wanted to know why Zical had broken his routine. Normally, he spent his planetside evenings eating a light dinner with the family, but not tonight, even though Miri, who was an artist in the kitchen, was preparing Zical’s favorite roast in its own salt juices, terrines of potatoes in flaky pastry, fresh beans in ginger and sweet almonds, with spiced cheese and a fruit wine for dessert. Nor would Zical normally miss after-dinner strategy discussions with Kahn about how soon the Endekians might regroup and attack Mystique—especially tonight when they would be contemplating how to explore the Perceptive Ones’ machines within Mount Shachauri.

  However, he’d said nothing to Kahn, Tessa, Miri or Etru about his plans. Of course he was a grown man and no longer needed to explain his whereabouts, but it was common courtesy to let people who cared about him know where he was, and Zical was always most courteous, and she liked that about him. Etru and Kahn would be disappointed if he didn’t arrive for dinner. Shaloma had planned to show him a sketch she’d done, and Kirek looked forward to sitting on Zical’s lap and hearing a story. The man had the right to disappear without a word, but they would worry, probably ask her his location.

  Dora needed
to make sure he was all right, didn’t she?

  When the man whose portable unit she’d infiltrated strode into the building, Dora secretly entered with him. Within moments she understood. Men and women came here to have sex with holosims, computer-generated companions. Zical had sneaked here to release pent up physical desire, but why did he feel he must sneak when he had no wife, no woman he was promised to?

  His activity was not illegal; although Rystani society frowned upon using holosims, most cultures did not. Terrans tended to have different values, their single people seeing nothing wrong with premarital sex. So free to enjoy one another, Terrans didn’t often frequent this kind of establishment. On the other hand, Rystani were expected to wed early. Family values were encouraged, but the war had altered their way of life. Single Rystani people had the same needs as those who were wed—and no outlets.

  Dora restrained a sigh. Zical could have saved her one hell of a lot of trouble if he’d simply informed her of his intentions. But no, the man had to keep his secrets.

  Now that she knew what he was up to, she couldn’t suppress her envy of the holosim. Although she did not yet have her body, Dora wanted Zical to come to her to slake his passions. She wanted Zical to put his arms around her, kiss her, make love to her. His warmth and creativity were wasted on a holosim, who wouldn’t exist after he left the room. However, Dora would be able to remember every moment … and thinking about what he was doing right now increased her anticipation, escalated her determination to become fully human.

  Dora was about to withdraw when her scanner on the portable unit got a look at the choices offered—choices Zical had chosen from earlier, and a thrill of exhilaration zinged through her. If she could access the establishment’s computer, she could discover exactly what kind of woman Zical found attractive.

  Unfortunately the building had no wiring. The computer was a somewhat primitive system that ran on generator power. Without radio waves, neuro-circuitry, or physical contact with the processor, Dora couldn’t access the data. She had no hands to press the buttons—unless … a wild thought blasted through her brain.

  “Hello, there, Charen,” she spoke from the voice box.

  “Who said that?” Charen peered at his portable unit and scowled. “I turned you off.”

  “I have a proposition for you,” Dora ignored his complaint, hoping she could persuade him to do as she asked.

  “What?” He leaned over the monitor to make his choices.

  “If you’ll pick what I ask, I will place enough credits into your account to pay for a week in this establishment.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  “Two weeks,” Dora countered. She’d learned how to negotiate from Tessa, who’d learned from some mega-rich Earth tycoon. Now Tessa was wealthier than any Rystani citizen, and Dora had spent much of her own wealth to build her body, but she still had enough credit for a minor expenditure and couldn’t allow such a rare opportunity to pass.

  “Done.”

  At Dora’s instruction the man punched several buttons and Dora scanned the data, her core filling with exhilaration at the physical choices Zical had made. Oh, yes. She borrowed one of Zical’s favorite phrases. Dregan hell. Zical had incredible good taste. The innumerable body choices that had prevented her from making final decisions were now narrowed down to one.

  She was going to be beautiful. Irresistible.

  Chapter Four

  ONE MONTH LATER a myriad of experts had crawled over Zical’s find within Mount Shachauri, but although a multitude of theories abounded, no one knew for certain what the equipment did, whether or not for certain the Perceptive Ones had built the complex, or why. Although Dora remained involved in the project, her primary interest followed another path. She’d trained her replacement, and after numerous simulations, Kahn had given her the go-ahead to proceed with the transfer.

  The calculations were complete and the decisions done. Her body was finally whole, the muscles trained, all the receptors prepared for the final connection. She was ready to transfer her complete personality and a portion of her memories and knowledge into her human brain.

  Tessa sat next to Dora’s body, her face tense and worried, already holding her hand. “How long will the process take?”

  “A minute. Maybe two.”

  “That’s all?” Tessa’s fingers tightened on her hand.

  Dora couldn’t wait to find out what “touch” felt like, and anticipation hummed through her circuits. The laboratory lights were dim. Soothing music played softly in the background. Tessa had lit butterberry blossom incense.

  They’d decided to keep things simple. No audience in the room, just Dora and Tessa with medical doctors and computer specialists on call if needed. For a moment, Dora wished Zical could have been there, too. But she wanted him to think of her as human. As a woman. His presence at her unusual birth might alter what she wanted his perception to be.

  Dora had spent months compartmentalizing the data she wished to take with her. She’d used the last week to pare down a practical load for her human brain. She’d even rehearsed, limiting one part of her persona to the same parameters that her “human” mind would perceive. Without millions of sensors transmitting a constant stream of data, she was cut off from the world, but hopefully prepared for the isolation.

  She’d just as carefully trained her muscles with exercise and stimuli. The connections to walk and talk as well as other everyday functions had been hardwired into her motor functions. She should be fine. The transfer should go smoothly—yet such a feat had never been done.

  But there had to be a first time for everything. She was ready. Eager. Nervous.

  “I’m cutting off my personality from the hard drive,” she told Tessa.

  Her program ran on an automatic countdown, and for the last time, Dora sped through the current, all the nodules of data lining up for transfer. The progression and her last seconds as a computer counted down in orderly fashion, her consciousness vacating her circuitry through a power cord that connected to her human neck and linked to her brain.

  She cascaded through the linkage, swimming with the flow, drafting off the energy. A constriction, then a bursting, burning sensation slammed her. Then wow. Her mind rushed into her brain, filling cells, burrowing into crevices, sliding home. Thoughts jumbled, rearranged, cleared.

  The sensation of warm softness supporting her head, shoulder blades, buttocks, thighs, calves, and heels combined with the soothing music didn’t reassure her as much as the touch of Tessa’s hand. What an awesome sensation, this skin to skin. There were words to describe Dora’s first impression of caring coming through the physical link of touch—all of them inadequate.

  She breathed air into her lungs, and the sensation tickled her nostrils. The scent. Oh, my. Wondrous. Marvelous. Delicate, and fragile.

  Tessa’s hand clasped hers tightly. “I’m here for you. Give the sensations a chance to sort themselves out. You needn’t do everything at once.”

  Oh, but she wanted to. Had to force herself to wait to follow the plan she’d carefully concocted. But she’d rather rise up and dance. She hadn’t expected her new sense of smell and touch to astonish, overwhelm, delight, or Tessa’s warm hand to be such a comfort.

  “Waara russss.” Dora chuckled, but the sound came out low and garbled.

  “Try again,” Tessa told her. “Speak slower. Give your mind a chance to connect with your mouth.”

  “Wha a russ.”

  “Better, but I still can’t understand. Dora, perhaps you should follow the agenda you laid out. You aren’t supposed to talk before you open your eyes.”

  “What a rush.” The words came out of Dora’s mouth, and this time she heard them clearly. Her voice sounded almost like her old self. However, her old computer self hadn’t ever spoken with lips and a tongue and vocal cords. Before, she’d had a complex sound system and could vary her tone to accommodate many languages, some not human, but her ability to master human speech was criti
cal. Communication was essential.

  “Dora, you’re doing great.”

  “Tan … Thanks.”

  Bracing, knowing sight from her new eyes would take some adjusting, Dora opened her lids. It was like looking through two measly sensors. She had little vision to either side of her head, none at all behind. She’d known this would bother her since she was accustomed to seeing through millions of sensors. She’d thought she’d prepared for the restrictive view, but a feeling as if the walls were closing in on her had Dora shutting her eyes again.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  Tessa’s voice sounded odd. Dora’s hearing couldn’t pick up the full range she had before, but that didn’t throw her as much as the lack of sight. Especially since she had no difficulty comprehending Tessa’s concern.

  Suppose she never adapted to her vision? Even as she told herself not to panic, fear rippled down her spine.

  Reminding herself that she’d prepared for the sensory tradeoffs, she focused on the warmth of Tessa’s hand, the reassurance, the love coming through the simple gesture. She tried to forget that she couldn’t see one frickin’ thing beyond this room.

  “Dora. Talk to me,” Tessa pleaded.

  “I’m … adjusting.” Dora slowly opened her eyes.

  Tessa hovered over her, her skin pale, her eyes searching Dora’s. “Okay. Take it slow. You knew that everything wouldn’t be exactly how you imagined.”

  “Have the walls moved closer?”

  “No.”

  Dora’s chest tightened, and the sensation disturbed her. “Is the air in here okay?”