Victory Conditions (6 page)

“Not your crowd,” one of his escort said. “Older kids.” His voice carried the same message:
Stupid idiots making a disturbance.

“Zori won’t want to stay here if it’s this noisy,” Toby said. “Her security—” Her parents insisted she have an escort in the evenings, though by day they let her travel alone.

Something crashed to the floor, just out of sight, sounds of metallic and glass breakage mingling with hoots of laughter and squeals of alarm. One of Toby’s escorts stepped nearer to him; the other looked toward the entrance. One of the employees, an older man, bustled toward Toby.

“Excuse me—can you help, please? I’ve put in a call for help, but these ruffians—” Another crash, this time with less laughter and more sounds of alarm.

“We’re on duty,” one of the escorts said. They glanced at each other, then at Toby.

“I’ll stay here,” Toby said. “Promise.”

“Do that,” one escort said. “Do not leave this booth…” And they were off, wading into the thickening crowd. The noise level rose.

“A complimentary drink,” a voice said. “With our thanks—”

Toby glanced up, started to say “Thanks, but—” and a fine spray tingled on his face. Down a lengthening dark tunnel he saw, very clearly, the tiny face of the man who had sprayed him.

Zori and her escort got to the O’Keefe Ice Cream Palace a few minutes late, thanks to the squad of station peacekeepers blocking the short route there. Zori led the way around, through a narrow passage, and emerged in the wider service passage as the back door opened and three men in white carried someone out on a litter.

Someone with Toby’s hair, Toby’s face—pale, but—

“Toby!” Zori said. The men glanced at her, 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 already dirty,” Zori said. “Come on…hold on to my sleeve, so I can crawl.”

A short crawl brought them to a door at the far end of the kitchen. Zori put her shoulder to it; it didn’t budge. When she looked up, she saw the touchpad of a security lock and the words PANTRY: EMPLOYEES ONLY. Back the way they’d come, the crowd heaved and struggled, the back of it retreating toward them. This end of the work space had no convenient gaps to hide in.

Memory burst on her. She had been in a kitchen, the kitchen of her childhood home, looking up from this angle. She wasn’t supposed to be in there, but Estelle had been cross, pulling her hair as she combed it, and Cook, who didn’t like Estelle, would probably let her sit on her lap, might even give her a cookie or jam roll. But Cook wasn’t there. The child-Zori had the idea of hiding in the pantry, waiting for Cook to come back.

When footsteps came into the kitchen, she shrank back, leaving the pantry door open just a crack, in case it was Estelle and not Cook.

“You can’t—!” Mama’s voice, high and tense. “You can’t stop me! I’ll tell—!” Something that sounded like a book slammed onto a desk. A cry of pain.

“You!” Daddy’s voice, menacing. “You’ll tell no one.”

“You hit me!”

A laugh, ugly and not funny at all. “That wasn’t a hit. That was a promise. Remember what I told you.”

“My family—” Mama’s voice now was shaky, barely heard through sobs.

Another laugh. “Your family’s a long way away. I’m here. And if you leave—what do you think will happen to the child?”

Mama crying. Daddy angry. Child-Zori couldn’t stand it. She’d opened the door; she’d said—something she couldn’t remember. She’d seen her mother, hand pressed to her face, crying. Her father whirling around, his face shifting in an instant from a terrifying mask of rage to the familiar smile; his hand opening to lay something—she had not seen what—on the counter.

“Zori, you little minx! What are you doing in the kitchen at this hour?” His voice, warm and welcoming. He’d held out his arms; she’d run to him, already sobbing in fright and confusion. “What—did you want a cookie? Did Estelle scold you?”

She tucked her head into his shoulder. “Daddy—”

“Hush, child.” He felt the same as always, the big warm shoulder, the broad strong hands gentle, comforting, as they supported her. She lifted her head, seeing through a blur of tears her mother’s white face, a shaking hand pressed against one cheek. “Don’t be scared, little bird. You’re safe with me. Your mother’s just upset.” He turned to look at her, facing Zori away from her mother. “Now, my dear, don’t you see you’ve scared the child?”

She relaxed into his arms. From behind her, her mother’s voice, no longer high and tense, but once more the cool voice she expected, said, “Zori, I’m sorry if I scared you. Your father is quite right. But you should not be running to the kitchen for treats between meals. I’ll speak to Estelle.”

“Oh, let the child have a cookie,” her father said. With his thumb, he gently lifted her chin, wiped away the last tears. “Cheer up, little bird. If I say you can have a cookie, even your mother has to agree.”

“Of course,” her mother said. “One of the plain—”

“Chocolate,” her father said. “One of the special ones. This time.”

The chocolate cookie had melted in her mouth, the flavor so rare and tantalizing that she had not noticed anything odd in the sleepy feeling, the softening of memory’s sharp edges. Until now.

She could hardly breathe, as that and other memories long buried unfolded and changed her known past. “I’m scared,” the girl said.

“I’m Zori,” Zori said. “Hi, Scared.” It was all she could think of, in the turmoil, but the girl’s face relaxed for an instant and she giggled.

“That’s silly…my name’s Hordin. But I am scared. Why aren’t the peacekeepers here?”

“I don’t know,” Zori said. “Maybe—”

At that moment, the loudhorns the peacekeepers used blared from near the back door. “Everyone: hands on your heads. Stand where you are. Do not attempt to run.”

“We aren’t standing,” Hordin whispered. “Can I just hold your hand?”

Zori didn’t want to be seen any sooner than necessary; this was as good an excuse as any. “Lie down,” Zori said. “I’ll lie down with you.” With any luck, they’d think she was protecting the child, that both were hurt. Just how did someone feign unconsciousness, anyway? Her eyes kept opening as she heard the shuffle of feet, the voices demanding ID, the other voices trying to explain and being told to save it for the court. Customers and staff were being moved toward the front of the place, away from the back door.

Very shortly, she was looking up at three peacekeepers in full riot gear, their face shields pushed back. “Are you hurt?” one of them asked her.

“I—I fell,” Zori said.
Always tell the truth when you can,
her father had said. “I think I’m just…just bumped around…” She pushed herself up to sitting, and shook her head when he offered her a hand up, turning instead to Hordin. “Can you stand up now, Hordin?”

“This your child?”

“No, ser. I fell over her; I was worried about her. I don’t think she’s badly hurt, though. We tried to crawl into a safe place, but there wasn’t one…”

The one with more marks on his riot vest sighed. “These two aren’t part of it, but we’ll still have to take ID.”

“My name is Hordin Amanuse, and we live at 342-A, branch 3, twig 27,” the little girl said. She too was sitting up, her lower lip trembling. “I…I don’t mean to be impolite…” Tears tracked down her face, through the dust and streaks of food from the floor.

Zori put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right, Hordin. No one’s blaming you.”

“You know her, then?”

“No, ser. I fell over her, when I was trying to get away, and then I thought she might be hurt, so…we introduced ourselves.”

“I said I was scared, and she said I’m Zori, hello Scared, and then I said that’s silly and told her my name,” Hordin said. Her hand in Zori’s no longer trembled; her tears were drying. “She was nice to me. I didn’t want her to leave and she held my hand.”

“That’s very good, serita. Can you stand if we help you?”

“I think so.” With the peacekeepers’ help, both of them stood.

Zori looked down at her clothes and shook her head. “What a mess. Hordin, we both need a change of clothes.”

“And your name, sera?” The peacekeeper’s tone was perfectly polite, but implacable.

“I’m Zori Louarri,” Zori said. “And when you’ve found Hordin’s parents or guardian, I need to talk to you.”

He smiled down at her. “Surely you aren’t going to tell me you started this riot…”

“No, ser. But I do know something which you should know, not for a child’s ears.”

“I’m not just a child,” Hordin said, pulling her hand out of Zori’s.

“Of course not,” Zori said, in concert with the peacekeeper. She went on, looking directly at Hordin. “But you know there are things that must be confidential. It is that kind of thing. It would be rude to speak it here.”

“Oh.” Hordin looked thoughtful a moment, then nodded.

“Were you here alone, serita?” asked the peacekeeper.

“Yes, ser,” Hordin said. “Mama let me come to get a soda but I was supposed to come home right away. Only there were grown-ups who got angry and started a fight, and the lady who brought my soda said come with her, and she brought me here and was going to call my family, only then all these people came in the kitchen…”

“We’ve contacted your family,” the peacekeeper said, tapping his head to indicate a skullphone. “Your mother is on her way. If you’ll just go out front with Willem…do you need Sera Louarri to come with you?”

“No, ser,” Hordin said. “Peacekeepers are our friends.” She smiled at Zori. “Thank you, sera, for letting me hold your hand when I got scared. My mama will want to thank you, too.”