Brother Death Read Free Page A

and handles that moved into place or pivoted out of the way depending on the exercises.
    She stepped into the machine. "On," she said. "Ten percent warm-up. Squats."
    The machine weighed and measured her with its bioelectronic sensors, calculated and computed its results, and increased the field strength to respond to her movements at one-tenth of her capacity for the exercise ordered.
    The crossbar came down and rested across her shoulders. Felt like about twenty-two, twenty-three kilos.
    That'd be about right; she could squat two-twenty, two-thirty for a triple. She took a couple of breaths and began to squat, facing the mirror, watching her doppelganger flash nudely back at her. Gods, her pubic hair was thick. Looked like some animal's furry black pelt down there. She grinned. At least there wasn't any gray in it yet, like there was on her head. A few strands at the temples shined through the blue-black. She had it pulled back in a low braid; she usually wore it tied or plaited short when she was working, but she sometimes liked being able to let it hang to her shoulders on her own time. Saval had more gray in his hair than she did, but then her da had gone gray before her ma.
    -Two. Three. Four-
    Her thighs warmed as she moved up and down, back kept straight, knees bending, upper legs going to parallel.
    -nine, ten.
    Her legs weren't quite ready yet, she decided. "Lunges," she told the machine. Obediently, it lightened the amount of weight. She followed the lunges with exercises for her hamstrings and calves.
    When her legs were sufficiently heated, Taz moved to work her back, then her chest, shoulders and arms. After ten minutes with the light weights, she had a thin sheen of sweat and was ready for some serious work.
    "Squats," she told the machine. "Maximum intensity, three reps."
    The bar across her shoulders grew heavy, gradually increasing until it was almost three times her own body weight. She felt the strain in her low back, and going down was a lot easier than coming back up.
    Muscles in her thighs and buttocks tensed, bulged and strained under the machine's heavy hand as she rose, barely able to fight her way through the rep. Now the sweat poured from her and the burn was painful, a deep, hot ache that went to the bone.
    She grunted at the bottom of the second rep, almost didn't get past the sticking point as she trembled upward, and yelled her way through it.
    One more. She could do it, the machine wouldn't let her try otherwise, but gods, she was tired! The sweat seeped past her eyebrows and ran into her eyes. She blinked it away. Should have worn a headband.
    Down. Don't bounce at the bottom! Come on, up, up, up, goddammit! You can do this!
    She came up, a plant growing slowly toward the sun, a glacier oozing over virgin winter ground.
    Christo, this was hard, it was impossible! Fuck the machine, what did a machine know? She couldn't make it
    Yes, she could. Move, move, move, dammit-!
    Her bent knees straightened. She rose, reached the top. Locked her legs.
    "Jesu Damn! Off!"
    The SSA turned the many kilos on the bar into air.
    Taz stretched. Grinned. Well. So much for squats.
    Time to do her back. "Rows," she said. "Eight reps at maximum. . ."
    Thirty minutes later she stood under the pulse of her shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and some of the fatigue. She ached all over, but it was a good feeling. She'd been to her limits, and that was always a satisfying trip. She knew what she could do if she had to, and that was better than not knowing. She was a strong woman, stronger than most ordinary men, and it felt good to take the muscles out for a brisk walk. Now she could sleep. Saval was going to help her figure out what to do about the mystery back on her own planet; she was in good health, powerful, ready. How much better off could she be?
    What about Ruul?
    Fuck Ruul.
    You wish. That's the problem, isn't it?
    Fuck you, too.
    Her inner voice just laughed, high and girlish, a leftover from