Free Superluminal by Vonda N. McIntyre

nipples hardened, but instead of throbbing they tingled. Radu
moved against her and her excitement heightened suddenly, irrationally,
grasping her, shaking her. She gasped but could not force the breath back out.
Radu kissed her shoulder, the base of her throat, stroked her stomach, drew his
hand up her side, cupped her breasts.
    “Radu —”
    Her climax was sudden and violent, a wave contracting all
through her as her single thrust pushed Radu’s hips down against the
mattress. He was startled into a climax of his own as Laenea shuddered
involuntarily, straining against him, clasping him to her, unable to catch his
rhythm. But neither of them cared.
    They lay together, panting and sweaty.
    “Is that part of it?” His voice was unsteady.
    “I guess so.” Her voice, too, showed the effects
of surprise. “No wonder they’re so quiet about it.”
    “Does it — is your pleasure decreased?” He
was ready to be angry for her.
    “No, that isn’t it, it’s —” She
started to say that the pleasure was tenfold greater, but remembered the start
of their loveplay, before she had been made aware of just how many of her
rhythms were rearranged. The beginning had nothing to do with the fact that she
was a pilot. “It was fine.” A lame adjective. “Just
unexpected. And you?”
    He smiled. “As you say — unexpected. Surprising.
A little… frightening.”
    “Frightening?”
    “All new experiences are a little frightening. Even
the very enjoyable ones. Or maybe those most of all.”
    Laenea laughed softly.

Chapter 3
    Laenea and Radu dozed, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Laenea’s hair curled around to touch the corner of Radu’s jaw, and
her heel was hooked over his calf. She was content for the moment with silence,
stillness, touch. The plague had not scarred his body.
    In the aquaria, the fish flitted back and forth beneath dim
lights, spreading blue shadows across the bed. Laenea breathed deeply, counting
to make the breaths even. Breathing is a response, not a rhythm, a reaction to
the build-up of carbon dioxide in blood and brain. Laenea’s breathing had
to be altered only during transit itself. For now she used it as an artificial
rhythm of concentration. Her heart raced with excitement and adrenaline, so she
began to slow it, to relax. But something disturbed her control. Her blood
pressure slid down slightly, then slid slowly up to a dangerous level. She
could hear only the dull ringing in her ears. Perspiration formed on her
forehead, in her armpits, along her spine. Her heart had never before failed to
respond to conscious control.
    Angry, startled, she pushed herself up, flinging back her
hair. Radu raised his head, tightening his hand around the point of her
shoulder. “What —?”
    He might as well have been speaking underwater. Laenea
lifted her hand to silence him.
    One deep inhalation, hold; exhale, hold. She repeated the
sequence, calming herself, relaxing the voluntary muscles. Her hand fell to the
bed. She lay back. Repeat the sequence, and again. Again. In the hospital and
since, her control over involuntary muscles had been quick and sure. She began
to be afraid, and had to imagine the fear evaporating, dissipating. Finally the
arterial muscles began to respond. They lengthened, loosened, expanded. Last,
the pump answered her commands, as she recaptured and reproduced the
indefinable states of self-control.
    When she knew her blood pressure was no longer likely to
crush her kidneys or mash her brain, she opened her eyes. Above her, Radu
watched, deep lines of worry across his forehead. “Are you —”
He was whispering.
    She lifted her heavy hand and stroked his face, his
eyebrows, his hair. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t
get control for a minute. But I have it back now.” She drew his hand
across her body, pulling him down beside her, and soon they fell asleep.
    o0o
    Later, Laenea took time to consider her situation. Returning
to the hospital would be easiest; it was also