Ripping Time by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Ann answered in a strained undertone. “I did. In fact, I’m betting we won’t be the last to arrive.”

When the weapons instructor glanced around, her gaze paused on Skeeter. The look in Ann’s eyes caused him to stiffen. Skeeter clenched his jaw and looked away first, unsure which was worse: the pity or the deep, lingering suspicion that Skeeter had only been using Ianira, the way most ‘eighty-sixers thought he used everyone he came into contact with. There was nothing he could say, no explanation he could—or cared to—offer that anyone in this room would believe. With the down-timers on station, it was different. But in a room crammed shoulder-to-jowl with up-time ‘eighty-sixers, Skeeter felt as alone and isolated as he’d felt in Yesukai’s felt tent, a lost little boy of eight without the ability to understand a word spoken around him or to go home again to a family that didn’t want him, anyway.

He set his jaw and wished to hell Bull would get this meeting underway. He needed to be down on Commons, searching. He’d only come to this meeting because he was not, by God, going to let them leave him out of whatever decisions were made on where and how to search for her. A door near the back of Bull’s office opened and Ronisha Azzan, the deputy station manager, appeared, looking worried. She said something to Bull, too low for Skeeter to overhear. Bull ground his teeth over the stubby end of an unlit cigar, then spat debris into an ornate brass spittoon strategically positioned on one corner of his desk. Margo arrived a moment later via the elevator, breathless, her green eyes clouded with fear. She spotted Ann Vinh Mulhaney and Shahdi Feroz and bit her lower lip, then pushed past to Bull’s desk. “I can’t find Marcus,” she said flatly. “He ran out of the Down Time with Robert Li and nobody’s seen him since. Robert said Marcus was behind him one minute and he’d vanished into the crowd the next.” Ronisha Azzan stepped into the office behind Bull’s, swearing under her breath.