Victory Conditions
older woman. His voice broke on the formal phrase of greeting; he could feel the blood rushing to his face.
    “It is our pleasure to welcome our daughter’s school friend,” Zori’s mother said. Something in her voice reduced him to the level of grubby schoolboy, the age to have sweets stuck to his pocket linings. He was more than a school friend, he wanted to say, but he knew he could not.
    “Toby’s very bright, Mother,” Zori said, breaking the awkward silence.
    “So you have told us, Zori,” her father said. He glanced briefly at Toby, a glance like a knife blade. “It is the first time you have not headed the class, so he must be…remarkable.”
    “Do sit down,” her mother said. “We have a little time until the meal is served.”
    Zori perched on the chair nearest her mother; Toby, following her glance, took one two seats away, across from her father, who now sat next to his wife.
    “I understand,” her mother said now, “that your family has had a great tragedy.”
    “Yes, sera,” Toby said. He forced himself to speak calmly. “We were attacked, across many systems. I am fortunate to be alive.”
    “You yourself were attacked? A boy so young?”
    “Yes, sera. If not for my cousin Stella, whom you’ve met—”
    “I have not met her,” Zori’s father put in. “I have spoken with her, only.”
    “Spoken with,” Toby said, wondering at the vehemence of that correction. “If not for her, I would be dead. She saved my life.”
    “And now you honor her,” Zori’s mother said. “How very appropriate.” Her fingers twitched, pleating the fabric of her skirt. “I understand your family had extensive holdings on several planets—especially on Slotter Key. That you were in fact among the founding families there.”
    “Yes, sera,” Toby said. He knew Stella must have told them this; why were they asking him?
    “We value land, you see, not just wealth, as a sign of a family’s…stability. Land stays; people wander. Those who have no roots in the land are…rootless. Do you not think that is so?”
    “I suppose…” He had never thought of it that way; the Vatta family owned land, yes, and some of the family farmed or ranched, but the point was always trade and profit—selling the produce of the land, transporting it to market.
    “Tell me, Toby,” her father said. “Did you grow up on a planet or in space?”
    “On a planet,” Toby said. “My grandmother always said children need to get mud between their toes…” A quick glance passed between Zori’s parents.
    “How…quaint,” Zori’s mother said. “You did not wear shoes, then?”
    “Not at the beach,” Toby said. “Or at the lake.” He had forgotten that Cascadians did not approve of bare feet…of course not, onstation, but what about onplanet? Did they not swim in their lakes and rivers and oceans?
    “Ah.” She smiled at him, and for a moment he saw in her face the similarity to Zori, until now concealed by age and dress and formality. Zori had her eyes, her cheekbones, but her father’s chin. “Your culture’s customs are less formal than ours, I believe?”
    “Yes, sera,” Toby said. He dared not say more; he’d put his foot in it already.
    “Still, lands…” She glanced at her husband. “Formal or informal, there is more difference between landed families and those rootless, than between formal and informal.”
    Zori’s father stirred, on his chair; it squeaked a little. Then he stood. “There is still time before our meal, Zorais,” he said. “I will show your friend my collection of Cascadian curiosities. Come, Toby.”
    Zori flashed him a grin as he stood and followed her father out of the salon. Her father’s office was almost as large, paneled in dark wood carved to represent vines with leaves and fruit, tree branches, even animals and birds. Translucent panels gave light that varied from green to gold, creating a forest-floor ambience. Pin-lights picked out some of the carvings, intensifying
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