Brother Death by Steve Perry

head. "Funny woman," he said. "She used to be a man?"
    Taz stared at him. Damn, she wished he'd quit doing that. "How did you know? She'd be crushed if she found out you could tell."
    He shrugged. "Dunno for sure. Just feels like it. Female pheromones too strong, maybe. Probably dusted."
    He would know about that, being married to an Albino Exotic. "See if you can keep the table while I run to the fresher," she said.
    "I'll try."
    As she walked away, Taz thought about the possibility of somebody taking the table from her brother.
    That was enough to make her chuckle out loud.
    But once inside the fresher, in a private stall, the humor evaporated. It felt as if there was a block of solid nitrogen in her belly, and her bowels suddenly twisted into frozen Gordian knots. She pulled her com from her belt and stared at it.
    You don't have to call, she told herself. Nobody is making you do it. You can stick the com back on its patch and go back to your table, nobody will know.
    I would know. Dammit.
    She lit the com with a double press of her thumb. "Ruul Oro," she said. Her com had the code.
    He could be rehearsing or taking a shower or hang diving off the cliffs next to his house. His mansion.
    Or he could be in bed with somebody or on a toilet or doing any one of a dozen other things that would prevent him from answering a call. A lot of people wanted to reach out and connect with Ruul Oro the comedian, the media light, or the just plain great-looking man. He had secretaries and assistants and hired security to screen and shortstop the masses. It was the first time she had called him since that night at his place and she wouldn't have been surprised to find that it was difficult or impossible to get him
    "Tazzi!"
    No such luck. And his computer had read her call code, so she couldn't discom without his knowing who it was.
    "Hello, Ruul."
    "God, I'm so glad you called."
    "I thought you might be busy."
    "It can wait."
    She stared at the com as if it had suddenly become a deadly serpent, curved and hollow fangs ready to sink into her flesh and fill her with poison. Here was the damning part of all this. He was glad she had called. She could hear it as clearly as a monk's bell in some quiet mountain zendo; the truth of it rang so clean as to be undeniable.
    Damn him for being so fucking glad!
    "I got your message," she said. "Just like all the others. Listen, Ruul, you're going to have to stop calling me like that."
    The silence stretched between them, and the excited particles and waves carrying the energy over space and through time went slow, went mute and stalled to dead stillness, waiting for further instructions from their masters. It couldn't have been very long, the silence.
    Couple million years, maybe.
    "Is that what you really want?"
    Another eight or ten million years marched past, each fucking second of every fucking minute distinct, unique, quite apparent.
    "Tazzi?"
    "Goddammit, Ruul-!"
    "Come and see me," he said. Every bit of his talent and skill in front of people flowed through those four words. She could feel the power much as she had once felt the winds of a hurricane beat against her, streaming her hair, flagging her clothes. Stroking her skin . . .
    "Please," he said. "We need to sit down and talk about this again."
    "No, we don't," she said. "We've already said it all."
    "Please, Tazzi."
    She felt herself trembling, saw the com shaking in her hand. Why didn't he just leave her alone? Why was he continuing to torture her this way? Damn him-!
    "Tazzi, I-''
    "Don't say it," she cut in. "Don't say it."
    "Will you come?"
    She took a deep breath to smash him with her denial. The word "No!" was never going to feel so clean and fresh in her mouth.
    "All right," she said. Blinked at the com in horror. Jesu Christo! She couldn't believe it! She couldn't have said that; it was impossible!
    "Thank you," he said. "Tonight?"
    She was numb, injected by the serpent's fangs, the chemicals filling her. Dying. Would that she could