Superluminal by Vonda N. McIntyre

them, then shattered them
completely.
    Outside, in the dark, the sea wind caressed Radu’s
scarred face and ruffled his hair. The smell of rocket fuel tinged the breeze,
but not too strongly to destroy its freshness. The tangy and, to him, quite
alien winds of earth made him homesick for the deep forests and cloud-laden, crystalline
atmosphere of his home world.
    He felt he had to get away from the spaceport and
away from earth.
    A tram waited for passengers on the perimeter track, but
Radu decided to walk. He had plenty of time to get to the control office before
the next shuttle liftoff to Earthstation. He set off down the footpath.
    Damp metal surfaces gleamed beneath the powerful lights.
Radu moved from areas of harsh illumination toward patches of pure dark grazed
by moonlight. He was glad of the long walk. It helped him think — though
he knew he would not suddenly come upon some magical idea that would allow him
and Laenea to remain lovers. Nothing would help him do that, but walking fast,
pushing himself, stretching his muscles, felt far better than sitting at the
shuttle gate, waiting and chasing himself in mental circles. Besides, he needed
the exercise. He was used to much more physical labor than he ever did as a
member of a ship’s crew.
    He brushed his hand across his hair and his fingers came
away damp with dew or sea spray. That brought him a sudden vivid image of
Laenea, her long dark hair glistening as they walked together through the fog,
their arms around each other, wrapped in her velvet cape. They had stopped at
Kathell Stafford’s party —
    Radu halted abruptly, blinking, suspecting a hallucination.
Kathell had packed up the fog-catchers and gaudy pavilions, her friends, and
her servants, and taken the whole party to some other unlikely spot. Yet a
single black-and-silver tent, alone and forlorn, still stood on the gray deck.
The faint night breeze swayed its heavy fringe.
    Radu walked toward the tent. It was real. A silver cord held
the front flap open. Inside, Kathell knelt on the satin floor next to her white
tiger.
    The great creature’s rough breathing filled the tent.
Radu’s shadow fell over Kathell. She looked up.
    “Hello, Radu Dracul,” she said, without
surprise. Radu wondered if anything ever surprised her, or if she had seen and
experienced everything he could imagine, and many things he could not.
    Radu entered the tent and sat on his heels beside her. She
stroked the tiger’s shoulder, but it did not respond.
    “Why are you out here all alone?” Radu said.
    She gestured toward the tiger. “As you see.”
    “I mean, why didn’t you come back to your
home?”
    “My home?” she said, her voice distracted.
“Do you mean the apartment? But I loaned it to you and Laenea.”
    Her matter-of-fact reply prevented Radu from questioning a
statement he thought distinctly odd. He let the subject drop.
    “Do you need help?”
    Kathell shrugged. “I made everyone else go away,
because I didn’t want them to have to see him die. But I don’t want
him to die, either.”
    Kathell’s white tiger was the only member of the
species Radu had ever encountered, so when he had first seen it, he assumed its
color was normal. Perhaps for that reason he noticed the animal’s more
serious mutations, while others saw only its unusual coloring. No healthy
creature walked as the white tiger did, with poor control of its hind legs and
its spine very much too curved; and no carnivore would evolve cross- eyed. To
Radu, the tiger was another example of the extravagance of earth, of things
valued for their appearance rather than for their usefulness or efficiency. He
could not now think of anything to say. His sympathy would sound insincere, for
while he was sorry for Kathell’s distress he saw no reason to regret her
deformed pet’s death. Its passing would release it.
    The tiger’s breathing grew rougher and more labored.
    “My friends won’t understand,” she said.
“I could still keep him