Victory Conditions by Elizabeth Moon Page B

put on speed, and hustled their burden into a utility vehicle with SANITATION DEPT stenciled on the side. “Wait!” Zori tried to run toward the vehicle as the men piled in, but her escort grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Let me go!” Zori struggled, but could not get free before the vehicle hummed off down the service passage. “That was Toby, you idiot!” Zori said, putting enough distance between them that she could see her escort’s face clearly. “I was meeting him here; you know that. Something happened—I have to find him—follow them—”
    “You can’t do that,” her escort said. “I have my orders from your father. To O’Keefe’s and back from O’Keefe’s and nowhere else.”
    “But it was Toby ! Someone took him! He was hurt, or dead, or—” She took a deep shaky breath. “I have to go see his cousin; she has to know.”
    “I’m sure if he has been injured, the receiving clinic will notify her. Do you want to go in, or shall we return home?”
    “That wasn’t an ambulance…you know that. Someone’s snatched him. I’m going to call her—” Not for the first time, she wished her father had let her have a skullphone module in her implant. He’d always said there were enough phones around that she didn’t need one.
    “No.” The man’s expression hardened. “You’re going home. Now.”
    Zori stared at him. Not since she’d been a small child had any of her escorts used that tone. She felt a shiver pass down her back, an icy current. The man’s fingers twitched, moving toward a pocket in his jacket. Thoughts raced through her head, almost too fast to pick up, far too fast to analyze. Without letting her gaze waver from his face, she thought about options. The back door to O’Keefe’s was only a few strides away and she was fast—but she’d have to turn. He was too big; she could not push past him to follow Toby. Sideways—along the passage they’d come…but it was narrow and had that sharp jink and if he caught her from behind…
    “Pardon, please!” The breathless male voice from inside O’Keefe’s took the escort’s intent look off her for an instant. Zori slid one foot back, then the other. “Have you seen anything of a boy—about sixteen—coming this way?”
    “No,” her escort said, as Zori glanced, recognized Toby’s escort, and said “Yes,” in almost the same instant. From the corner of her eye, she saw her escort lunge toward her; she jumped back, whirled, and ran. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t scream and run. Toby’s escort, startled, stepped out of her way and she plunged into the staff area of O’Keefe’s, shoving her way through a crowd of people, some in waiters’ aprons, some clearly curious and frightened customers. Someone had spilled pink ice cream on the floor; she slipped in it, fell against a worktable, and tripped over someone crouched there. She landed hard on one hip just as more noise broke out behind her. “Excuse me,” she said to the person she’d fallen over—a younger girl, white-faced, her clothes smeared with pink and brown and yellow. “I’m so sorry…”
    “No offense,” the girl said; she was trembling. People near the door were yelling, anger and fear mingling; Zori couldn’t make out all the words, but then came a series of dull thumps and screams. The little girl leaned into Zori and grabbed for her hand.
    Zori looked around—nothing but legs in that direction. Under the worktable was a shelf partly filled with all-metal bowls and pots. Zori pushed some aside, making a space. A childhood memory nagged at her. “There. Get in there and stay there until you hear the station peacekeepers.”
    “Don’t leave me,” the girl whispered. “Please…”
    Zori had never seen herself as the nurturing type, but she could not unclench the child’s fingers without hurting her. “We need to be careful, then,” she said. “Let’s just crawl.”
    “The floor’s dirty,” the girl said.
    “We’re