"Then why am I making you up? What do I need to learn from you?"

 

"My fate," said Sayagi. "So far all your gambits have worked, but that's because you have always played against fools. Now Alai is in control of one enemy, Han Tzu another, and Peter Wiggin is the most dangerous and subtle of all. Against these adversaries, you will not win so easily. Death lies down this road, Virlomi."

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"I'm not afraid to die. I've faced death many times, and when the gods decide it's time for me to—"

 

"See, Virlomi? You've already forgotten that you don't believe in the gods."

 

"But I do, Sayagi. How else can I explain my string of impossible victories?"

 

"Superb training in Battle School. Your innate brilliance. Brave and wise Indians who awaited only a decisive leader to show them how to act like people worthy of their own civilization. And very, very stupid enemies."

 

"And couldn't it be the gods who arranged for me to have these things?"

 

"It was an unbroken network of causality leading back to the first human who wasn't a chimp. And farther back, to the coalescing of the planets around the sun. If you wish to call that God, go ahead."

 

"The cause of everything," said Virlomi. "The purpose of everything. And if there are no gods, then my own purposes will have to do."

 

"Making you the only god that actually exists."

 

"If I can call you back from the dead by the power of my mind alone, I'd say I'm pretty powerful."

 

Sayagi laughed. "Oh, Virlomi, if only we had lived! Such lovers we could have been! Such children we could have had!"

 

"You may have died, but I didn't."

 

"Didn't you? The real Virlomi died the day you escaped from Hyderabad, and this impostor has been playing the part ever since."

 

"No," said Virlomi. "The real Virlomi died the day she heard you had been killed."

 

"Now you say it. When I was alive, not one little kiss, nothing. I think you didn't even fall in love with me until I was safely dead."

 

"Go away," she said. "It's time for me to sleep."

 

"No," he said. "Wake up, light your lamp, and write down this vision. Even if it is only a manifestation of your unconscious, it's a fascinating one, and it's worth pondering over. Especially the part about love and marriage. You have some cockeyed plan to marry dynastically. But I tell you the only way you'll be happy is to marry a man who loves you, not one who covets India."

 

"I knew that," said Virlomi. "I just didn't think it mattered whether I was happy."

 

That's when Sayagi left her tent. She wrote and wrote and wrote. But when she woke in the morning, she found that she had written nothing. The writing was also part of the dream.

 

It didn't matter. She remembered. Even if he denied that he was really the spirit of her dead friend and mocked her for believing in the gods, she did believe, and knew that he was a spirit in transit, and that the gods had sent him to her to teach her.

 

 

 

The third visitor did not have to have help from the aides. He came walking in from empty fields, and he already wore the garb of a peasant. However, he was not dressed as an Indian peasant. He wore the clothing of a Chinese rice-paddy worker.

 

He placed himself at the very end of the line and bowed himself to the dust. He did not move forward when the line moved forward. Every Indian he allowed to pass in front of him. And when dusk came and Virlomi wept and said good-bye to all, he did not go.

 

The aides did not come to him. Instead, Virlomi emerged from the hut and walked to him in the darkness, carrying a lamp.

 

"Get up," she said to him. "You're a fool to come here unescorted."

 

He stood up. "So I was recognized?"

 

"Could you have possibly looked more Chinese?"

 

"Rumors are flying?"

 

"But we're keeping them off the nets. For now. By morning, there's no controlling it."

 

"I came to ask you to marry me," said Han.

 

"I'm older than you," said Virlomi. "And you're the emperor of China."

 

"I thought that was one of my best features," said Han.

 

"Your country conquered mine."

 

"But I didn't. I gave the captives back and as soon as you say the word, I'll come here in state and get down on my knees in front of you—again—and apologize to you on behalf of the Chinese people. Marry me."

 

"What in the world do relations between our nations have to do with sharing a bed with a boy that I didn't have all that high an opinion of in Battle School?"

 

"Virlomi," said Han, "we can destroy each other as rivals. Or we can unite and together we'll have more than half the population of the world."

 

"How could it work? The Indian people will never follow you. The Chinese people will never follow me."

 

"It worked for Ferdinand and Isabella."

 

"Only because they were fighting the Moors. And Isabella and her people had to fight to keep Ferdinand from trampling on her rights as Queen of Castile."

 

"So we'll do even better," said Han. "Everything you've done has been flawless."

 

"As a good friend recently reminded me, it's easy to win when you're opposed by idiots."

 

"Virlomi," said Han.

 

"Now are you going to tell me that you love me?"

 

"But I do," said Han. "And you know why. Because all of us who were chosen for Battle School, there's only one thing we love and one thing we respect: We love brilliance and we respect power. You've created power out of nothing."

 

"I've created power out of the love and trust of my people."

 

"I love you, Virlomi."

 

"Love me ... and yet you think that you're my superior."

 

"Superior? I've never led armies in battle. You have."

 

"You were in Ender's Jeesh," said Virlomi. "I wasn't. You'll always think I'm less than you because of that."

 

"Are you really telling me no? Or merely to try harder or come up with better reasons or prove my worth in some other way."

 

"I'm not going to set you to a series of lovers' tests," said Virlomi. "This isn't a fairy tale. My answer is no. Now and always. The dragon and the tiger don't have to be enemies, but how can a mammal and an egg-laying reptile ever possibly mate?"

 

"So you got my letter."

 

"Pathetically easy cipher. Anybody with half a brain could get it. Your code was just to type an obvious version of your nickname with your fingers moved one row higher on the keyboard."

 

"And yet only you, of all the thousands who access the nets, figured out it was from me."

 

Virlomi sighed.

 

"Just promise me this," said Han.

 

"No."

 

"Hear the promise first," said Han.

 

"Why should I promise you anything?"

 

"So I don't preemptively invade India again?"

 

"With what army?"

 

"I didn't mean now."

 

"What's the promise you want me to make?"

 

"That you won't marry Alai, either."

 

"A Hindu, marrying the Caliph of all Islam? I never knew you had such a sense of humor."

 

"He'll offer," said Han.

 

"Go home, Han. And, by the way, we saw the choppers arrive and let them pass. We also asked the Muslim oppressors not to shoot you down, either."

 

"I appreciated that. I thought it meant you liked me, at least a little."

 

"I do like you," said Virlomi. "I just don't intend to let you diddle me."

 

"I didn't know a mere diddle was on the table."

 

"Nothing's on the table. Back to your chopper, Boy Emperor."

 

"Virlomi, I beg you now. Let's be friends, at least."

 

"That would be nice. Someday, maybe."

 

"Write to me. Get to know me."

 

She shook her head, laughing, and walked back to her hut. Han Tzu walked back out into the fields as the night wind rose.

 

 

 

 

15

 

 

RATIFICATION

 

 

 

From: RadaghasteBellini%privado@presidência.br.gov

 

To: PeterWiggin%private@hegemon.gov

 

Re: Please consider carefully

 

 

If your goal is to establish world peace, my friend, why would you begin our Constitution with a deliberate act of provocation against two widely separated nations, one of which might call upon the whole weight of Islam against you?

 

 

Is peace to be founded on war after all? And if you did not have Julian Delphiki commanding 100,000 friendly African troops, would you attempt it?

 

 

From: PeterWiggin%private@hegemon.gov

 

To: RadaghasteBellini%privado@presidência.br.gov

 

Re: We must make it real

 

 

History is strewn with the corpses of attempted world governments. We must demonstrate immediately that we are serious, that we are capable, and that we are transformative.

 

 

And without Delphiki, I would follow your more prudent counsel, because I would not count on our African troops.

 

 

 

The ceremony was simple enough. Peter Wiggin, Felix Starman, Klaus Boom, and Radaghaste Bellini stood on a platform in Kiyagi, Rwanda. There was no attempt to bring in crowds of citizens to cheer; neither was there any kind of military presence. The audience consisted entirely of reporters.

 

Copies of the Constitution were provided on the spot. Felix Starman explained the new government very briefly; Radaghaste Bellini informed them of the unified military command; Klaus Boom explained the principles under which new nations could be admitted to the Free People of the Earth.

 

"No nation will be admitted that does not already provide human rights, including a free and universal adult franchise." Then he dropped the bombshell. "Nor do we require that a nation already be recognized by any existing nation or body of nations, provided it meets our other requirements."

 

The reporters murmured to each other as Peter Wiggin walked to the dais and the map appeared on the screen behind him. As he named each country that had already secretly ratified the Constitution, it was lighted in pale blue on the map.

 

South America provided the largest swathes of blue, with Brazil lighting up half the continent, along with Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, Suriname, and Guyana. In Africa, the blue was not so dominant, but it represented most of the African nations that had maintained stability and democracy for at least a hundred years: Rwanda, Botswana, Cameroon, Mozambique, Angola, Ghana, Liberia. No two ratifying nations bordered on each other. No one missed the fact that South Africa and Nigeria were not participating, despite their long record of stability and freedom; nor did anyone fail to notice that no Muslim nation was included.

 

In Europe, the map was even sparser: The Netherlands, Slovenia, Czechland, Estonia, and Finland.

 

Elsewhere, blue was rare. Peter had hoped the Philippines would be ready for the announcement, but at the last minute the government chose to wait and see. Tonga had ratified; so had Haiti, the first nation where Peter's abilities had been tested. Several other small Caribbean nations were also blue.

 

"At the earliest opportunity," said Peter, "plebiscites will be held in all the ratifying nations. In the future, however, plebiscites will precede a nation's entry into the Free People of Earth. We will maintain capitals in three places: Ribeir?o Preto, Brazil; Kiyagi, Rwanda; and Rotterdam in the Netherlands. However, because the official language of the FPE is Common, and few people find the pronunciation of Ribeir?o Preto ... comfortable..."

 

The reporters laughed, since they were the ones who had to bear the brunt of learning to pronounce the Portuguese nasals.

 

"...therefore," Peter continued, "the Brazilian government has kindly allowed us to translate the name of the city for world government purposes. From now on, you may refer to the South American capital of the FPE as 'Blackstream,' one word."

 

"Will you do the same with Kiyagi!" shouted a reporter.

 

"Since you are able to pronounce it," said Peter, "we will not."

 

More laughter.

 

Peter's acceptance of the question, however, opened the floodgates, and they began calling out to him. He raised his hands. "In a minute, be patient."

 

They quieted down.

 

"There is a reason why we have chosen the name 'Free People of Earth' for our Constitution, instead of, say, 'United Nations.' "

 

Another laugh. They all knew why that name wouldn't be used.

 

"This Constitution is a contract among free citizens, not between nations. The old borders will be respected insofar as they make sense, but where they don't, adjustments will be made. And people who have long been deprived of legally recognized national boundaries and self-government will receive those things within the FPE."

 

Two new lights appeared, blinking a deeper blue. One cut a large swathe across the Andes. The other took a chunk out of southwestern Sudan.

 

"The FPE immediately recognizes the existence of the nations of Nubia, in Africa, and Runa, in South America. Plebiscites will be held immediately, and if the people of these regions vote to ratify the Constitution, then the FPE will act vigorously to protect their borders. You will notice that part of the territory of Runa has been voluntarily contributed by the nations of Bolivia and Ecuador as one of the terms of their entry into the FPE. The Free People of Earth salute the far-sighted and generous leaders of these nations."

 

Peter leaned forward. "The FPE will act vigorously to protect the electoral process. Any attempt to interfere with these plebiscites will be regarded as an act of war against the Free People of Earth."

 

There was the gauntlet.

 

The questioning afterward, as Peter had hoped, focused on the two new nations whose boundaries included territory belonging to nations that had not ratified—Peru and Sudan. Instead of being peppered with skeptical questions about the FPE itself, Peter had already settled the question of how serious they were. Taking on Peru was bad enough—no one doubted the ability of the FPE to crush the Peruvian military. It was Sudan. A Muslim country, which had given its allegiance to Caliph Alai.

 

"Are you declaring war against Caliph Alai?" demanded a reporter for an Arab news service.

 

"We declare war against no one. But the people of Nubia have a long history of oppression, atrocities, famine, and religious intolerance committed against them by the government of Sudan. How many times in the past two hundred years has international action caused Sudan to promise to do better? Yet in the aftermath of Caliph Alai's astonishing unification of the Muslim world, the outlaws and criminals in Sudan immediately took this as permission to renew their genocidal treatment of the Nubians. If Caliph Alai wishes to defend the criminals of Sudan even as he repudiates those of India, that is his choice. One thing is certain: Any right the Sudanese might once have claimed to rule over Nubia has long since expired. The Nubian people have been united by war and suffering into a nation that deserves statehood—and protection."

 

Peter ended the press conference soon afterward, announcing that Starman, Bellini, and Boom would each hold press conferences two days later in their home countries. "But the armed forces, border guards, and customs services of these nations are now all under the control of the FPE. There is no such thing as a Rwandan or Brazilian military. Only the military of the FPE."

 

"Wait!" cried one reporter. "There's no 'Hegemon' in this whole Constitution!"

 

Peter returned to the microphone. "Fast reading," he said.

 

Laughter, then expectant silence.

 

"The office of Hegemon was created to meet an emergency that threatened the entire Earth. I will continue as Hegemon under both the original authority under which I was selected for the office, and under temporary authorization from the FPE, until such time as no serious military threat against the Free People of Earth exists. At that time, I will resign my office and there will be no successor. I am the last Hegemon, and I hope to give up the office as quickly as possible."

 

Peter left again, and this time ignored the shouted questions.

 

 

 

As expected, Peru and Sudan didn't even declare war. Since they refused to recognize the legitimacy of the FPE or the new nations carved from their territory, whom would they declare war against?

 

Peruvian troops moved first, heading for known hideouts of Champi T'it'u's revolutionary movement. Some of them were empty. But some of them were defended by highly trained Rwandan soldiers. Peter was using Bean's Rwandans so that it wouldn't be perceived as another war between Brazil and Peru; it had to be the FPE defending a member state's borders.

 

The Peruvian armies found themselves caught in well-laid traps, with sizable forces moving in across their lines of supply and communication.

 

It quickly became known throughout Peru that the Rwandan troops were better trained and better equipped than the Peruvian Army—and they were led by Julian Delphiki. Bean. The Giant.

 

Morale collapsed. Rwandan troops accepted the surrender of the entire Peruvian Army. The Peruvian Congress immediately voted almost unanimously to petition the FPE for membership. Radaghaste Bellini, as interim president of the South American region of the FPE, declined their offer, stating the principle that no territory would be added to the FPE by conquest or intimidation. "We invite the nation of Peru to hold a plebiscite, and if the people of Peru choose to join the Free People of Earth, we will welcome them to join with their brothers and sisters of Runa, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Chile."

 

It was over in two weeks, plebiscite and all: Peru was part of the FPE, and Bean and the bulk of the FPE's Rwandan troops were transported back across the Atlantic to Africa.

 

As a direct result of this decisive action, Belize, Cayenne, Costa Rica, and the Dominican Republic announced that they would hold plebiscites on the Constitution.

 

The rest of the world waited to see what would happen in Sudan.

 

 

 

Sudanese troops were already spread throughout Nubia; they were already engaged in military actions against the Nubian "rebels" who were resisting the renewed attempt to impose Shari'ah on the Christian and pagan region. So while there were plenty of acts of defiance against Peter's proclamation of Nubia's new status, there was no actual change.

 

Suriyawong, leading the elite core of the FPE military that he and Bean had created years before and used so effectively since, conducted a series of raids designed to demoralize the Sudanese military and cut them off from their supplies. Ammunition dumps and arsenals were destroyed. Convoys were burned. But since Suri's choppers returned to Rwanda after every raid, there was no one for the Sudanese military to strike back against.

 

Then Bean returned with the bulk of the Rwandan soldiers. Burundi and Uganda both granted permission for him to transport his army across their territory.

 

As expected, the Sudanese army tried to strike at Bean's army inside the borders of Uganda, before they reached Nubia. Only then did they discover that this army was an illusion—there was nothing to strike but a bunch of old and empty trucks whose drivers fled at the first sign of trouble.

 

But it was a strike on Ugandan territory. Uganda not only declared war on Sudan, it also announced a plebiscite on the Constitution.

 

Meanwhile, Bean's army had already traversed the eastern reaches of Congo and were inside Nubia. And Suriyawong's strike force took over the two airbases to which the planes that had taken part in the attack on the decoy convoy had to return. The pilots landed without suspecting any problem, and were taken prisoner.

 

The trained jet pilots among Suriyawong's soldiers immediately took off again in Sudanese planes and carried out a demonstration bombing against the air defenses of Khartoum. And Bean's army made simultaneous attacks on all the Sudanese military bases inside Nubia. Unprepared to fight against a real army, the Sudanese forces surrendered or were overwhelmed within the day.

 

Sudan called on Caliph Alai to intervene and bring the wrath of Islam down on the heads of the infidel invaders.

 

Peter held an immediate press conference.

 

"The Free People of Earth do not conquer. The Muslim portions of Sudan will be respected, and all prisoners will be returned, as soon as we have the pledge of Caliph Alai and of the Sudanese government that they recognize Nubia as a nation and as part of the Free People of Earth. The Sudanese Air Force will be returned to Sudan, along with their air bases. We respect the sovereignty of Sudan and of all nations. But we will never recognize the right of any nation to persecute a stateless minority within their borders. When it is within our power, we will grant such minorities a state within the Constitution of the Free People of Earth and defend their national existence.

 

"Julian Delphiki is commander of all FPE forces within Nubia and temporarily occupying portions of Sudan. It would be a tragedy if two old friends from the war against the Buggers, Julian Delphiki and Caliph Alai, should face each other in combat over an issue as ridiculous as whether Sudan should have the right to continue persecuting non-Muslims."

 

Negotiators soon redrew the boundaries so that a significant portion of what Peter had originally declared to be Nubia would remain in Sudan. Of course, he had never expected to keep that territory and the Nubian leaders already knew that. But it was sufficient for Caliph Alai to save face. In the end, Bean and Suriyawong spent their efforts returning prisoners and protecting the convoys of non-Muslims who chose to leave their homes inside Sudanese territory and find new homes in their new nation.

 

In the aftermath of this clear victory, the FPE was so wildly popular in black Africa that nation after nation petitioned to hold a plebiscite. Felix Starman informed most of them that they had to reform their internal government first, providing human rights and elections. But the plebiscites in the democracies of South Africa, Nigeria, Namibia, Uganda, and Burundi proceeded immediately, and it was clear that the Free People of Earth had real existence as an intercontinental state with convincing military power and resolute leadership. As Colombia now accepted the borders of Runa and petitioned to become part of the FPE, it seemed inevitable now that all of Latin America and sub-Saharan Africa would be part of the FPE, and sooner rather than later.

 

There was movement elsewhere, too. Belgium, Bulgaria, Latvia, Lithuania, and Slovakia began to plan for their own plebiscites, as did the Philippines, Fiji, and most of the tiny island nations of the Pacific.

 

And of course the FPE capitals were flooded with pleas from minorities that wanted the FPE to grant them nationhood. Most of these had to be ignored. For now.

 

 

 

On the day that Sudan—under enormous pressure from Caliph Alai— recognized both Nubia and the FPE, Peter was surprised to see his office door open and his parents come in.

 

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

 

"Nothing's wrong," said Mother.

 

"We came to tell you," said Father, "that we're very proud of you."

 

Peter shook his head. "It's only the first step on a long road. We don't have twenty percent of the world's population yet. And it will take time to integrate these new nations into the FPE."

 

"First step on the right road," said Father.

 

"A year ago, if somebody had put up a list of these nations," said Mother, "and said that they would ever unite into one coherent nation under a single Constitution, and surrender command of their armed forces to the Hegemon... is there anyone who would not have laughed?"

 

"It's all thanks to Alai and Virlomi," said Peter. "The atrocities committed by the Muslims in India, and the publicity Virlomi gave those actions, combined with all the recent wars..."

 

"Terrified everybody," said Father. "But the nations joining the FPE are not the ones that were most afraid. No, Peter, it was your Constitution. It was you—your achievements in the past, the promises you were making for the future..."

 

"It was the Battle Schoolers," said Peter. "Without Bean's reputation—"

 

"So you used the tools you had," said Mother. "Lincoln had Grant. Churchill had Montgomery. It's part of their greatness that they weren't so jealous of their generals that they had to depose them."

 

"So you won't let me talk you out of this," said Peter.

 

"Your place in history was already assured by your work as Locke, before you ever became Hegemon," said Father. "But today, Peter, you became a great man."

 

They stood in the doorway for long moment.

 

"Well, that's what we came to say," said Mother.

 

"Thanks," said Peter.

 

They left, pulling the door closed behind them.

 

Peter went back to the papers on his desk.

 

And then discovered that he couldn't see them because of the tears blurring his eyes.

 

He sat up and found himself gasping. No, sobbing. Quietly—but his body was wracked with sobs as if he had just been relieved of a terrible burden. As if he had just learned that his terminal disease had spontaneously healed itself. As if he had just had a long-lost child returned to him.

 

Not once in that whole conversation had anybody said the name "Ender" or referred to him in any way.

 

It was a full five minutes before Peter got control of himself. He had to get up and wash his face in the tiny bathroom in his office before he could get back to work.

 

 

 

 

16

 

 

JEESH

 

 

 

From: Weaver%Virlomi@Motherlndia.in.net

 

To: PeterWiggin%private@hegemon.gov

 

Re: Conversation

 

 

I have never met you, but I admire your achievements. Come visit me.

 

 

From: PeterWiggin%private@hegemon.gov

 

To: Weaver%Virlomi@Motherlndia.in.net

 

Re: Meeting

 

 

I also admire your achievements.

 

 

I will happily provide safe transportation for you to the FPE or any other site outside of India. While it is still under Muslim occupation I do not travel to India.

 

 

From: Weaver%Virlomi@Motherlndia.in.net

 

To: PeterWiggin%private@hegemon.gov

 

Re: Place

 

 

I will not set foot on any country but India; you will not enter India.

 

 

Therefore: Colombo, Sri Lanka. I will come in a boat. Mine will not be comfortable. If you bring a better one, we'll enjoy our visit much more.

 

 

 

Fly Molo met Bean at the Manila airport and did his best not to look shocked at how tall Bean was.

 

"You said your business was personal," said Fly. "Forgive my suspicious nature. You are the head of FPE armed forces, and I am head of Filipino armed forces, and yet we have nothing to discuss?"

 

"I'm assuming that your military is superbly trained and well equipped."

 

"Yes," said Fly.

 

"Then until it's time for us to deploy somewhere, our planning and logistics departments have far more to say to each other than you or I do. Officially speaking."

 

"So you're here as a friend."

 

"I'm here," said Bean, "because I have a child in Manila. A boy. They tell me his name is Ramon."

 

Fly grinned. "And yet this is your first time here? Who was the mother, a flight attendant?"

 

"The baby was stolen from me, Fly. As an embryo. In vitro fertilization. The child is mine and Petra's. It's especially important to us, because it's the first we know of that definitely does not have my condition."

 

"You mean it isn't ugly?"

 

Bean laughed. "You've done well here in the Philippines, my friend."

 

"It's easy. Somebody argues with me, I just say, 'I was in Ender's Jeesh,' and they shut up and do what I say."

 

"It's just like that for me, too."

 

"Except for Peter."

 

"Especially Peter," said Bean. "I'm the power behind the throne, didn't you know? Don't you read the papers?"

 

"I notice the papers love to mention your zero-wins record as a commander in Battle School."

 

"Some achievements are so extraordinary," said Bean, "that you never live them down."

 

"How's Petra?" asked Fly. And they talked about people they both knew and reminisced about Battle School and Command School and the war with the Buggers until they got to a private home in the hills east of Manila.

 

There were several cars in front. Two soldiers wearing their new FPE uniforms stood at either side of the door.

 

"Guards?" asked Bean.

 

Fly shrugged. "Not my idea."

 

They did not have to prove who they were. And when they got inside, they realized that this was not the meeting either of them expected.

 

It was a reunion, apparently, of Ender's Jeesh—those that were available. Dink, Shen, Vlad on one side of a long table. Crazy Tom, Carn Carby, and Dumper—Champi T'it'u—on the other. And at the head of the table, Graff and Rackham.

 

"Now all are here that were invited," said Graff. "Please, Fly, Bean, take your seats. Bean, I trust that you will tell Petra all that goes on here. As for Han Tzu and Caliph Alai, they're now heads of state and don't travel easily or surreptitiously. However, everything we say to you will be said to them."

 

"I know some people who'd like to bomb this room," said Vlad.

 

"There's still someone unaccounted for," said Shen.

 

"Ender is voyaging safely. His ship is functioning perfectly. His ansible works well. Remember, though, that for him it has been scarcely a year since this group destroyed the Hive Queens. Even if you could talk to him, he would seem ... young. The world has changed, and so have you." Graff glanced back at Rackham. "Mazer and I are deeply concerned, about you and about the world as a whole."

 

"We're doing all right," said Carn Carby.

 

"And thanks to Bean and Ender's big brother, maybe the world is, too," said Dumper. He said it a little defiantly, as if he expected to be argued with.

 

"I don't give a rat's ass about the world," said Bean. "I'm being blackmailed into helping Peter. And not by Peter."

 

"Bean is referring to a bargain he entered into with me of his own free will," said Graff.

 

"What's this meeting about?" asked Dink. "You're not our teacher any more." He glanced up at Rackham. "You're not our commander, either. We haven't forgotten how you both lied to us continually."

 

"We never could convince you of our sincere devotion to your welfare back in school, Dink," said Graff. "So as Dink requests, I won't waste time on preliminaries. Look around this table. How old are you?"

 

"Old enough to know better," muttered Carn.

 

"What are you, Bean, sixteen?" asked Fly.

 

"I was never actually born," said Bean, "and the records of my decanting were destroyed when I was about a year old. But sixteen is probably close."

 

"And all the rest of us must be around twenty, give or take," said Fly. "What's your point, Colonel Graff?"

 

"Call me Hyrum," said Graff. "I'd like to think we're colleagues now."

 

"Colleagues in what," muttered Dink.

 

"Back when you last met," said Graff, "when Achilles arranged for your kidnapping in Russia—you were already held in high esteem throughout the world. You were regarded as having ... potential. Since then, however, one of your number has become Caliph, unified the un-unifiable Muslim world, and masterminded the conquest of China and the ... liberation of India."

 

"Alai's lost his mind, that's what he's done," said Carn.

 

"And Han Tzu is Emperor of China. Bean is commander of the undefeated armies of the FPE, plus being known as the man who finally brought Achilles down. All in all, what once was viewed as potential is now regarded as a certainty."

 

"So what have you assembled here?" said Crazy Tom. "The losers?"

 

"I've assembled the people that national governments will turn to stop Peter Wiggin from uniting the world."

 

They looked around at each other.

 

"Nobody's talked to me yet," said Fly Molo.

 

"But they turned to you to put down the Muslim rebellion in the Philippines, didn't they?" said Rackham.

 

"We're citizens of our countries," said Crazy Tom.

 

"Mine rents me out," said Dink. "Like a taxi."

 

"Because you always get along so well with authority," said Crazy Tom.

 

"Here's what will happen," said Graff. "Some combination of China, India, and the Muslim world destroy each other. Whichever one emerges on top, Bean destroys on the battlefield on behalf of the FPE. Does anyone doubt he can do it?"

 

Bean raised his hand.

 

No one else did.

 

And then Dink did.

 

"He's not hungry," he said.

 

No one argued with him.

 

"Now, what could Dink possibly mean by that?" said Graff. "Any ideas?"

 

No one seemed to have any.

 

"You don't want to say it, but I will," said Graff. "It's well known that Bean scored higher on the Battle School tests than anyone else in history. No one else was close. Well, Ender, but 'close' is such a relative term. Let's say Ender scored closest. But we don't know how close because Bean was off the charts."

 

"How?" said Dink. "He answered questions you didn't ask?"

 

"Exactly," said Graff. "That's what Sister Carlotta showed me. He had time to spare in taking the tests. He commented on them and mentioned how the test could have been improved. He was unstoppable. Irresistible. That's what the world knows about Julian Delphiki. And yet when we put him in charge of all of you on Eros, in Command School, while we were waiting for Ender to make up his mind about whether to continue his ... education—how did that go?"

 

Again silence.

 

"Oh, why must we pretend that things weren't as they were?" said Graff.

 

"We didn't like it," said Dink. "He was younger than all of us."

 

"So was Ender," said Graff.

 

"But we knew Ender," said Crazy Tom.

 

"We loved Ender," said Shen.

 

"Everybody loved Ender," said Fly.

 

"I can give you a list of people who hated him. But you loved him. And you didn't love Bean. Why is that?"

 

Bean barked out a laugh. The others looked at him. Except the ones who were embarrassed and looked away. "I never learned how to be cuddly," said Bean. "In an orphanage that would have got me adopted, but on the street, it would have got me killed."

 

"Nonsense," said Graff. "Cuddly wouldn't have cut it with this group anyway."

 

"And you actually were cuddly," said Carn. "No offense, but you were spunky."

 

"If that's your word for 'bratty little asshole,' " said Dink mildly.

 

"Now now," said Graff. "You didn't dislike Bean personally. Most of you. But you didn't like serving under him. And you can't say that it's because you were too independent to serve under anybody, because you gladly served under Ender. You gave Ender everything you had."

 

"More than we had," said Fly.

 

"But not Bean." Graft" said it like it was proof of something.

 

"Is this a therapy group?" asked Dink.

 

Vlad spoke up. "Of course it is. He wants us to reach the same conclusion he's already reached."

 

"Do you know what it is?" asked Graff.

 

Vlad took a breath. "Hyrum thinks that the reason we didn't follow Bean the way we followed Ender was because we knew something about Bean that the rest of the world doesn't know. And because of that, we're likely to be willing to challenge him in battle, while the rest of the world would just give up and surrender to him because of his reputation. Isn't that about it?"

 

Graff smiled benignly.

 

"But that's stupid," said Dumper. "Bean really is a good commander. I've seen him. Commanding his Rwandans in our campaign in Peru. It's true that the Peruvian Army wasn't well led or well trained, but those Rwandans—they worshipped Bean. They would have marched off a cliff if he asked them to. When he twitched, they sprang into action."

 

"And your point is?" asked Dink.

 

"My point is," said Dumper, "we didn't follow him well, but other people do. Bean's the real thing. He's still the best of us."

 

"I haven't seen his Rwandans," said Fly, "but I've seen him with the men he and Suriyawong trained. Back when the forces of the Hegemon were a hundred guys and two choppers. Dumper's right. Alexander the Great couldn't have had soldiers more devoted and more effective."

 

"Thanks for the testimonials, boys," said Bean, "but you're missing Hyrum's point."

 

" 'Hyrum,' " muttered Dink. "Aren't we cozy."

 

"Just tell them," said Bean. "They know it, but they don't know that they know it."

 

"You tell them," said Graff.

 

"Is this a Chinese reeducation camp? Do we have to indulge in self-criticism?" Bean laughed bitterly. "It's what Dink said right at the start. I'm not hungry. Which might seem stupid, considering I spent my whole infancy starving to death. But I'm not hungry for supremacy. And all of you are."

 

"That's the great secret of the tests," said Graff. "Sister Carlotta gave the standard battery of tests we used. But there was an additional test. One that I gave, or one of my most trusted aides. A test of ambition. Competitive ambition. You all scored very, very high. Bean didn't."

 

"Bean's not ambitious?"

 

"Bean wants victory," said Graff. "He likes to win. He needs to win. But he doesn't need to beat anybody."

 

"We all cooperated with Ender," said Carn. "We didn't have to beat him."

 

"But you knew he would lead you to victory. And in the meanwhile, you were all competing with each other. Except Bean."

 

"Only because he was better than any of us. Why compete if you've won?" said Fly.

 

"If any one of you came up against Bean in battle, who would win?"

 

They rolled their eyes or chuckled or otherwise showed their derision for the question.

 

"That would depend," said Carn Carby, "on the terrain, and the weather, and the sign of the zodiac. Nothing's sure in war, is it?"

 

"There wasn't any weather in the Battle Room," said Fly, grinning.

 

"You can conceive of beating Bean, can't you?" said Graff. "And it's possible. Because Bean is only better than the rest of you if all else is equal. Only it never is. And one of the most important variables in war is the hunger that makes you take ridiculous chances because you intuit that there's a path to victory and you have to take that path because anything other than winning is inconceivable. Unbearable."

 

"Very poetic," said Dink. "The romance of war."

 

"Look at Lee," said Graff.

 

"Which one?" said Shen. "The Chinese or the American?"

 

"Lee L-E-E the Virginian," said Graff. "When the enemy was on Virginia soil, he won. He took the chances he needed to take. He sent Stonewall Jackson out on a forest path at Chancellorsville, dividing his forces and exposing himself dangerously against Hooker, exactly the sort of reckless commander who could have exploited the opportunity if he'd realized it."

 

"Hooker was an idiot."

 

"We say that because he lost," said Graff. "But would he have lost if Lee had not taken the dangerous move he took? My point isn't to re-fight Chancellorsville. My point is—"

 

"Antietam and Gettysburg," said Bean.

 

"Exactly. As soon as Lee left Virginia and entered Northern territory, he wasn't hungry anymore. He believed in the cause of defending Virginia, but he did not believe in the cause of slavery, and he knew that's what the war was about. He didn't want to see his state defeated, but he didn't want to see the southern cause win. All unconsciously. He didn't know this about himself. But it was true."

 

"It had nothing to do with the North's overwhelming force?"

 

"Lee lost at Antietam against the second stupidest and most timid commander the North had, McClellan. And Meade at Gettysburg wasn't terribly imaginative. Meade saw the high ground and he took it. And what did Lee do? Based on how Lee acted in all his Virginia campaigns, what would you have expected Lee to do?"

 

"Refuse to fight on that ground," said Fly. "Maneuver. Slide right. Steal a march. Get between Meade and Washington. Find a battlefield where the Unions would have to try to force his position."

 

"He was low on supplies," said Dink. "And he didn't have the information from his cavalry."

 

"Excuses," said Vlad. "No excuses in war. Graff is right. Lee didn't act like Lee, once he left Virginia. But that's Lee. What does that have to do with Bean?"

 

"He thinks," said Bean, "that when I don't believe in a cause, I can be beaten. That I would beat myself. The trouble is that I do believe in the cause. I think Peter Wiggin is a decent man. Ruthless, but I've seen how he uses power, and he doesn't use it to hurt anybody. He really is trying to create a world order that leads to peace. I want him to win. I want him to win quickly. And if any of you think you can stop me."

 

"We don't have to stop you," said Crazy Tom. "We just have to hold out till you're dead."

 

Utter silence.

 

"There it is," said Graff. "There's the whole point of this meeting. Bean only has a little while. So while he lives, the Hegemon is perceived as unbeatable. But the moment he's gone, what then? Dumper or Fly would probably be appointed commander after him, since they're already inside the FPE. But every one of you at this table would feel perfectly free to take on either of them, am I right?"

 

"Hell, Hyrum" said Dink, "we'd take on Bean."

 

"And so the world would be torn apart, and the FPE, even if it was victorious, would stand on the bodies of millions of soldiers who died because of your competitive ambition." He looked fiercely around the table.

 

"Hey," said Fly, "we haven't killed anybody yet. Talk to Hot Soup and Alai about that."

 

"Look at Alai," said Graff. "It took him two purges to get real control over the Islamic forces, but now he has it, and what has he done? Has he left India? Has he withdrawn from Xinjiang or Tibet? Have the Indonesian Muslims left Taiwan? He remains face to face with Han Tzu. Why is that? It makes no sense. He can't hold India. He couldn't rule over China. But he has Genghis dreams."

 

"It always comes back to Genghis," said Vlad.

 

"You all want the world united," said Graff. "But you want to do it yourselves, because you can't stand the thought of anyone else standing on top of the hill."

 

"Come on," said Dink. "In our hearts we're all Cincinnatus. We can hardly wait to get back to the farm."

 

They laughed.

 

"At this table sits fifty years of bloody war," said Graff.

 

"What about it?" said Dink. "We didn't invent war. We're just good at it."

 

"War gets invented every time there's somebody so hungry for domination that he can't leave peaceful nations alone. It is precisely people like you that invent war. Even if you have a cause, like Lee did, would the South have struggled on for all those bloody years of Civil War if they hadn't had the firm belief that no matter what happened, 'Marse Robert' would save them? Even if you don't make the decision for war, nations will enter into wars only because they have you!'

 

"So what's your solution, Hyrum?" said Dink. "You have little-cyanide pills for us all to swallow so we can save the world from ourselves?"

 

"It wouldn't help," said Vlad. "Even if what you're saying is true, there are other Battle School graduates. Look at Virlomi—she's outmaneuvered everybody."

 

"She hasn't outmaneuvered Alai yet," said Crazy Tom. "Or Hot Soup."

 

Vlad insisted on his point. "Look at Suriyawong. That's who Peter will turn to after Bean ... retires. We weren't the only kids at Battle School."

 

"Ender's Jeesh," said Graff. "You're the ones who saved the world. You're the ones with the magic. And there are hundreds and hundreds of Battle School grads on Earth. Nobody is going to think that just because they happen to have one or two or five, they can conquer the world. Which one of them would it be?"

 

"So you want to be rid of us all," said Dink. "And that's why you brought us here. We're not leaving here alive, are we?"

 

"Lighten up, Dink," said Graff. "You can all go home as soon as this meeting is over. ColMin doesn't assassinate people."

 

"Now, that's an interesting point," said Crazy Tom. "What does ColMin do? It packs people into starships like sardines, and then it sends them off to colony worlds. And they'll never come back, not to the world they left. Fifty years out, fifty years back. The world would have forgotten all of us by then, even if we went to a colony and came right home. Which of course he wouldn't let us do."

 

"So this isn't an assassination," said Dink, "it's another damn kidnapping."

 

"It's an offer," said Rackham, "which you can accept or decline."

 

"I decline," said Dink.

 

"Hear the offer," said Rackham.

 

"Hear this," said Dink, with a gesture.

 

"I offer you command of a colony. Each one of you. No rivals. We don't know of any enemy armies for you to face, but there will be worlds full of danger and uncertainty, and your abilities will be highly adaptable. People will follow you—people older than you—partly because you are Ender's Jeesh, and partly because—mostly because—of your own abilities. They'll see how quickly to grasp important information, rank it by priority, foresee consequences, and make correct decisions. You'll be the founders of new human worlds."

 

Crazy Tom put on a babytalk voice. "Wiw dey name da pwanets aftew us?"

 

"Don't be such a dullbob," said Carn.

 

"Sowwy."

 

"Look, gents," said Graff. "We saw what happened to the Hive Queens. They bunched up on one planet and they got wiped out in a single blow. Any weapon we can invent, an enemy can also invent and use against us."

 

"Come on," said Dink. "The Hive Queens spread out and colonized as many planets as you're colonizing—in fact, all you're doing is sending ships to colonize the worlds they already settled because they're the only ones you know about that have an atmosphere we can breathe and flora and fauna we can eat."

 

"Actually, we're taking our own flora and fauna with us," said Graff.

 

"Dink's right," said Shen. "Dispersal didn't work for the Hive Queens."

 

"Because they didn't disperse," said Graff. "They had Buggers on all the planets, but when you boys blew up their home world, all the Hive Queens were there. They put all their eggs in one basket. We're not going to do that. Partly because the human race isn't just a handful of queens and a whole bunch of workers and drones, every damn one of us is a Hive Queen and has the seeds of recapitulating the whole of human history. So dispersing humanity will work."

 

"Like coughing in a crowd spreads the flu," said Crazy Tom cheerfully.

 

"Exactly," said Graff. "Call us a disease, I don't care—I am a human, and I want us to spread everywhere like an epidemic, so we can never be stamped out."

 

Rackham nodded. "And to accomplish that, he needs his colonies to have the best possible chance of survival."

 

"Which means you," said Graff. "If I can get you."

 

"So we make your colonies work," said Carn, "and you get us off Earth, too, so Peter can end all war and bring the millennial reign of Christ."

 

"Whether Christ comes or not isn't my business," said Graff. "All I care about is saving human beings. Collectively and individually."

 

"Aren't you the noble one."

 

"No," said Graff. "I created you. Not you individually—"

 

"Good thing you said that," said Carn, "because my dad would have had to kill you for that aspersion on my mother."

 

"I found you. I tested you. I assembled you. I made the whole world aware of you. The danger you represent, I created it."

 

"So you're really trying to atone for your mistakes."

 

"It wasn't a mistake. It was essential to winning the last war. But it's not unusual in history for the solution to one problem to become the root of the next one."

 

"So this meeting is clean-up," said Fly.

 

"This meeting is to offer you a chance to do something that will satisfy your own irresistible craving for supremacy, while ensuring the survival of the human race, both here on Earth and out there in the galaxy."

 

They thought about that for a moment.

 

Dumper was the first to speak. "I've already chosen my life's work, Colonel Graff."

 

"It's Hyrum," Dink whispered loudly. "Because he's our buddy."

 

"You chose it," said Graff, "and you accomplished it. Your people have a nation, and you're part of the FPE. That struggle is over for you. All that's left is for you to chafe under Peter Wiggin's rule until you either rebel against him or become his military commander—and then his replacement as Hegemon. Ruling the world. Am I close?"

 

"I have no such plans," said Dumper.

 

"But it resonates with you," said Graff. "Don't pretend otherwise. I know you boys. You're not crazy. You're not evil. But you can't stop."

 

"That's why you didn't invite Petra," said Bean. "Because then you couldn't have said 'you boys' all the time."

 

"You forget," said Dink, "we're his colleagues now. So we can call him and Rackham 'you boys' too."

 

Graff stood up from his seat at the head of the table. "I've made the offer. You'll think about it whether you mean to or not. You'll watch events unfold. You all know how to contact me. The offer is open. We're done here for today."

 

"No we're not," said Shen. "Because you aren't doing anything about the real problem."

 

"Which is?"

 

"We're just potential warmongers and baby killers," said Shen. "You're not doing a thing about Hot Soup and Alai."

 

"And Virlomi," added Fly Molo. "If you want somebody who's dangerous, it's her."

 

"They will get the same offer as you," said Rackham. "In fact, one of them already has."

 

"Which one?" asked Dink.

 

"The one who was in a position to hear it," said Graff.

 

"Hot Soup, then," said Shen. "Because you couldn't even get in to meet Mr. Caliph."

 

"What smart fellows you all turned out to be," said Graff.

 

" 'Waterloo was won,' " quoted Rackham, " 'on the playing fields of Eton.' "

 

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Carn Carby. "You never even went to Eton."

 

"It was an analogy," said Rackham. "If you hadn't spent your entire childhood playing war games, you'd actually know something. You're all so uneducated."

 

 

 

 

17

 

 

BOATS

 

 

 

From: Champi%T'it'u@Runa.gov.qu

 

To: WallabyWannabe%BoyGenius@stratplan/mil.gov.au

 

Re: "Good Idea"

 

 

Of course Graff's "offer" sounded like a good idea to YOU. You live in Australia.

 

 

—Dumper

 

 

From: WallabyWannabe%BoyGenius@stratplan/mil.gov.au

 

To: Champi%T'it'u@Runa.gov.qu

 

Re: Ha ha

 

 

People who live on the moon—pardon me, the Andes— shouldn't joke about Australia.

 

 

—Carn

 

 

From: Champi%T'it'u@Runa.gov.qu

 

To: WallabyWannabe%BoyGenius@stratplan/mil.gov.au

 

Re: "Who was joking?"

 

 

I've seen Australia and I've lived on an asteroid and I'd take the asteroid.

 

 

—Dumper

 

 

From: WallabyWannabe%BoyGenius@stratplan/mil.gov.au

 

To: Champi%T'it'u@Runa.gov.qu

 

Re: Asteroid

 

 

Australia doesn't need life support like an asteroid or coca like the Andes to be livable. Besides, you only liked the asteroid because it was named Eros and that's as close to sex as you've ever gotten.

 

 

—Carn

 

 

From: Champi%T'it'u@Runa.gov.qu

 

To: WallabyWannabe%BoyGenius@stratplan/mil.gov.au

 

Re: At least

 

 

At least I have a sex. Male, by the way. Open your fly and check to see what you are. (You grip the handle of the zipper and pull downward.) (Oh, wait, you're in Australia. Upward, then.)

 

 

—Dumper

 

 

From: WallabyWannabe%BoyGenius@stratplan/mil.gov.au

 

To: Champi%T'it'u@Runa.gov.qu

 

Re: Let's see ... zipper ... fly ... pull...

 

 

Ouch! Ow! Oweeee!

 

—Carn

 

 

The sailors were so nervous to have The Lady aboard their dhow that it was a wonder they didn't swamp the boat just getting out to sea. And sailing was slow, with lots of tacking; even turning the ship seemed to require as much work as the reinvention of navigation. Virlomi showed none of her impatience, though.

 

It was time for the next step—for India to reach for the world stage. She needed an ally to free her nation from the foreign occupiers. Even though the atrocities had ended—nothing filmable now—Alai persisted in keeping his Muslim troops all over India. Waiting for Hindu provocations. Knowing that Virlomi couldn't control her people as tightly as Alai now controlled his troops.

 

But she wasn't going to bring Han Tzu into the picture. She had fought too hard to get the Chinese out of India to invite them back again. Besides, even though they had no religion to force on people like Alai's Muslims, the Chinese were just as arrogant, just as sure they were entitled to rule the world.

 

And these Jeeshboys, they were so sure they could be her masters. Didn't they understand that her whole life was a repudiation of their sense of superiority? They had been chosen to wage war against aliens. The gods fought on their side in that war. But now the gods fought on Virlomi's side.

 

She hadn't been a believer when she began. She exploited her knowledge of the folk religion of her people. But over the weeks and months and years of her campaign against China and then against the Muslims, she had seen how everything bent and turned to lit her plans. Everything she thought of worked; and since there were tests proving that Alai and Han Tzu were smarter than she was, it must be that entities wiser than they were providing her with her ideas.

 

There was only one person now who could give her the help she needed, and only one man in the world whom it would not demean her to marry. After all, when she married it would be all India marrying; and whatever children she bore would be the children of a god, at least in the eyes of the people. Since parthenogenesis was out of the question, she needed a husband. And that's why she had summoned Peter Wiggin.

 

Wiggin, the brother of the great Ender. The older brother. Who then could doubt that her children would carry the best genes available on Earth? They would found a dynasty that could unite the world and rule forever. By marrying her, Peter would be able to add India to his FPE, transforming it from a sideshow into more than half the population of the world. And she—and India—would be raised above any other nation. Instead of being the leader of a single nation, like China, or the head of a brutal and backward religion, like Alai, she would be the wife of the enlightened Locke, the Hegemon of Earth, the man whose vision would bring peace to all the world at last.

 

Peter's boat wasn't huge—clearly he wasn't a wasteful man. But it wasn't a primitive fisherman's dhow; Peter's boat had modern lines and it looked as if it was designed to rise up and fairly fly over the waves. Speed. No time to waste in Peter Wiggin's world.

 

She had once belonged to that world. For years now she had slowed herself down to the pace of life in India. She had walked slowly when people were watching her. She had to maintain the simple grace they expected of someone in her position. And she had to hold silence while men argued, speaking only as much as was appropriate for her to say. She could not afford to do anything to diminish herself in their eyes.

 

But she missed the speed of things. The shuttles that took her to and from Battle School and Tactical School. The clean polished surfaces. The quickness of games in the Battle Room. Even the intensity of life in Hyderabad among other Battle Schoolers before she fled to let Bean know where Petra was. It was closer to her true inclinations than this pose of primitiveness.

 

You do what victory requires. Those with armies, train the armies. But when Virlomi started, she had only herself. So she trained and disciplined herself to seem as she needed to seem.

 

In the process, she had become what she needed to be.

 

But that didn't mean she had lost her ability to admire the sleek, fast vessel that Peter had brought to her.

 

The fishermen helped her out of the dhow and into the rowboat that would take her between the two vessels. Out in the Gulf of Mannar, there were undoubtedly much heavier waves, but the little islands of Adam's Bridge protected the water here, so it was only slightly choppy.

 

Which was just as well. There was a faint nausea that had been with her ever since she got aboard. Vomiting was not something she needed to show these sailors. She hadn't expected seasickness. How could she have known she was susceptible? Helicopters didn't bother her, or cars on winding roads, or even freefall. Why should a bit of chop on the water nearly do her in?

 

The rowboat was actually better than the dhow. More frightening, but less nauseating. Fear she could deal with. Fear didn't make her want to throw up. It only made her more determined to win.

 

Peter himself was at the side of his boat, and it was his hand that she took to help her climb aboard. That was a good sign. He wasn't trying to play games and force her to come to him.

 

Peter had her men tie the dinghy to his craft, and then brought them aboard to rest in relative comfort on the deck while she went inside the main cabin with Peter.

 

It was beautifully and comfortably decorated, but not overly large or pretentious. It struck just the right note of restrained opulence. A man of taste.

 

"It's not my boat, of course," said Peter. "Why would I waste FPE money on owning a boat? This is a loan."

 

She said nothing—after all, saying nothing was part of who she was now. But she was just a little disappointed. Modesty was one thing; but why did he feel compelled to tell her that he didn't own it, that he was frugal? Because he believed her image of seeking traditional Indian simplicity—no poverty—as something she really meant, and not just something she staged in order to hold on to the hearts of the Indian people.

 

Well, I could hardly expect him to be as perceptive as me. He wasn't admitted to Battle School, after all.

 

"Have a seat," he said. "Are you hungry?"

 

"No thank you," she said softly. If only he knew what would happen to any food she tried to eat at sea!

 

"Tea?"

 

"Nothing," she said.

 

He shrugged—with embarrassment? That she had turned him down? Really, was he such a boy as that? Was he taking this personally?

 

Well, he was supposed to take it personally. He just didn't understand how or why.

 

Of course he didn't. How could he imagine what she came to offer him?

 

Time to be Virlomi. Time to let him know what this meeting was about.

 

He was standing near a bar with a fridge, and seemed to be trying to choose between inviting her to sit with him at the table or on the soft chairs bolted to the deck.

 

She took two steps and she was with him, pressing her body against his, entwining the arms of India under his and around his back. She stood on her toes and kissed his lips. Not with vigor, but softly and warmly. It was not a girl's chaste kiss; it was a promise of love, as best she knew how to show it. She had not had that much experience before Achilles came and made Hyderabad a chaste and terrifying place to work. A few kisses with boys she knew. But she had learned something of what made them excited; and Peter was, after all, scarcely more than a boy, wasn't he?

 

And it seemed to work. He certainly returned the kiss.

 

It was going as she expected. The gods were with her.

 

"Let's sit down," said Peter.

 

But to her surprise, what he indicated was the table, not the soft chairs. Not the wide one, where they could have sat together.

 

The table, where they would have a slab of wood—something cold and smooth, anyway—between them.

 

When they were seated, Peter looked at her quizzically. "Is that really what you came all this way for?"

 

"What did you think?" she said.

 

"I hoped it had something to do with India ratifying the FPE Constitution."

 

"I haven't read it," she said. "But you must know India doesn't surrender its sovereignty easily."

 

"It'll be easy enough, if you ask the Indian people to vote for it."

 

"But, you see, I need to know what India gets in return."

 

"What every nation in the FPE receives. Peace. Protection. Free trade. Human rights and elections."

 

"That's what you give to Nigeria," said Virlomi.

 

"That's what we give to Vanuatu and Kiribati, too. And the United States and Russia and China and, yes, India, when they choose to join us."

 

"India is the most populous nation on Earth. And she's spent the past three years fighting for her survival. She needs more than mere protection. She needs a special place near the center of power."

 

"But I'm not the center of power," said Peter. "I'm not a king."

 

"I know who you are," said Virlomi.

 

"Who am I?" He seemed amused.

 

"You're Genghis. Washington. Bismarck. A builder of empires. A uniter of peoples. A maker of nations."

 

"I'm the breaker of nations, Virlomi," said Peter. "We'll keep the word nation, but it will come to mean what state means in America. An administrative unit, but little more. India will have a great history, but from now on, we'll have human history."

 

"How very noble," said Virlomi. This was not going as she intended. "I think you don't understand what I'm offering you."

 

"You're offering me something I want very much—India in the FPE. But the price you want me to pay is too high."

 

"Price!" Was he really that stupid. "To have me is not a price you pay. It's a sacrifice I make."

 

"And who says romance is dead," said Peter. "Virlomi, you're a Battle Schooler. Surely you can see why it's impossible for me to marry my way into having India in the FPE."

 

Only then, in the moment of his challenge, did the whole thing become clear. Not the world as she saw it, centered on India, but the world as he saw it, with himself at the center of everything.

 

"So it's all about you," said Virlomi. "You can't share power with another."

 

"I can share power with everybody," said Peter, "and I already am. Only a fool thinks he can rule alone. You can only rule by the willing obedience and cooperation of those you supposedly rule over. They have to want you to lead them. And if I married you—attractive as the offer is on every count—I would no longer be seen as an honest broker. Instead of trusting me to lead the FPE's foreign and military policy to the benefit of the whole world, I would be seen as tilting everything toward India."

 

"Not everything," she said.

 

"More than everything," said Peter. "I would be seen as the tool of India. You can be sure that Caliph Alai would immediately declare war, not just on India, which has his troops all over it, but on the FPE. I'd be faced with bloody war in Sudan and Nubia, which I don't want."

 

"Why would you tear it?"

 

"Why wouldn't I?" he said.

 

"You have Bean" she said. "How can Alai stand against you?"

 

"Well," said Peter, "if Bean is so all powerful and irresistible, why do I need you?"

 

"Because Bean can never be as fully trusted as a wife. And Bean doesn't bring you a billion people."

 

"Virlomi," said Peter, "I'd be a fool to trust you, wife or not. You wouldn't be bringing India into the FPE, you'd be bringing the FPE into India."

 

"Why not a partnership?"

 

"Because gods don't need mortal partners," said Peter. "You've been a god too long. There's no man you can marry, as long as you think you're elevating him just by letting him touch you."

 

"Don't say what you can't unsay," said Virlomi.

 

"Don't make me say what's so hard to hear," said Peter. "I'm not going to compromise my leadership of the whole FPE just to get one country to join."

 

He meant it. He actually thought his position was above hers. He thought he was greater than India! Greater than a god! That he would diminish himself by taking what she offered.

 

But now there was nothing more to say to him. She wouldn't waste time with idle threats. She'd show him what she could do to those who wanted India for an enemy.

 

He rose to his feet. "I'm sorry that I didn't anticipate your offer," said Peter. "I wouldn't have wasted your time. I had no desire to embarrass you. I thought you would have understood my situation better."

 

"I'm just one woman. India is just one country."

 

He winced just a little. He didn't like having his foolish, arrogant words thrown in his face. Well, you'll have more than that thrown at you, Ender's Brother.

 

"I brought two others to see you," said Peter. "If you're willing."

 

He opened a door and Colonel Graff and a man she didn't know entered the room. "Virlomi, I think you know Minister Graff. And this is Mazer Rackham."

 

She inclined her head, showing no surprise.

 

They sat down and explained their offer.

 

"I already have the love and allegiance of the greatest nation on Earth," said Virlomi. "And I have not been defeated by the most terrible enemies that China and the Muslim world could hurl against me. Why should I wish to run and hide in a colony somewhere?"

 

"It's a noble work," said Graff. "It's not hiding, it's building."

 

"Termites build," said Virlomi.

 

"And hyenas tear," said Graff.

 

"I have no need for or interest in the service you offer," said Virlomi.

 

"No," said Graff, "you just don't see your need yet. You always were hard to get to change your way of looking at things. It's what held you back in Battle School, Virlomi."

 

"You're not my teacher now," said Virlomi.

 

"Well, you're certainly wrong about one thing, whether I'm your teacher or not," said Graff.

 

She waited.

 

"You have not yet faced the most terrible enemies that China and the Muslim world can hurl against you."

 

"Do you think Han Tzu can get into India again? I'm not Tikal Chapekar."

 

"And he's not the Politburo or Snow Tiger."

 

"He's Ender's Jeeshmate," she said in mock awe.

 

"He's not caught up in his own mystique," said Rackham, who had not spoken till now. "For your own sake, Virlomi, take a good hard look in the mirror. You're what megalomania looks like in the early stages."

 

"I have no ambition for myself," said Virlomi.

 

"If you define India as whatever you conceive it to be," said Rackham, "you'll wake up some terrible morning and discover that it is not what you need it to be."

 

"And you say this from your vast experience of governing ... what country was it, now, Mr. Rackham?"

 

Rackham only smiled. "Pride, when poked, gets petty."

 

"Was that already a proverb?" asked Virlomi. "Or should I write it down?"

 

"The offer stands," said Graff. "It's irrevocable as long as you live."

 

"Why don't you make the same offer to Peter?" asked Virlomi. "He's the one who needs to take the long voyage."

 

She decided she wasn't going to get a better exit line than that, so she walked slowly, gracefully, to the door. No one spoke as she departed.

 

Her sailors helped her back into the rowboat and cast off. Peter did not come to the rail to wave her off; just another discourtesy, not that she would have acknowledged him even if he had. As for Graff and Rackham, they'd soon enough be coming to her for funding—no, for permission to operate their little colony ministry.

 

The dhow took her back to a different fishing village from the one she had sailed from—no point in making things easy for Alai, if he had discovered her departure from Hyderabad and followed her.

 

She rode a train back to Hyderabad, passing for an ordinary citizen—if any Muslim soldiers should be so bold as to search the train. But the people knew who she was. Whose face was better known in all of India? And not being Muslim, she didn't have to cover her face.

 

The first thing I will do, when I rule India, is change the name of Hyderabad. Not back to Bhagnagar—even though it was named for an Indian woman, the name was bestowed by the Muslim prince who destroyed the original Indian village in order to build the Charminar, a monument to his own power, supposedly in honor of his beloved Hindu wife.

 

India will never again be obliterated in order to appease the power lust of Muslims. The new name of Hyderabad will be the original name of the village: Chichlam.

 

She made her way from the train station to a safe house in the city, and from there her aides helped get her back inside the hut where she had supposedly been meditating and praying for India for the three days she had been gone. There she slept for a few hours.

 

Then she arose and sent an aide to bring her an elegant but simple sari, one that she knew she could wear with grace and beauty, and which would show off her slim body to best advantage. When she had it arranged to her satisfaction, and her hair was arranged properly, she walked from her hut to the gate of Hyderabad.

 

The soldiers at the checkpoint gawped at her. No one had ever expected her to try to enter, and they had no idea what to do.

 

While they went through their flurry of asking their superiors inside the city what they should do, Virlomi simply walked inside. They dared not stop her or challenge her—they didn't want to be responsible for starting a war.

 

She knew this place as well as anyone, and knew which building housed Caliph Alai's headquarters. Though she walked gracefully, without hurry, it took little time for her to get there.

 

Again, she paid no attention to guards or clerks or secretaries or important Muslim officers. They were nothing to her. By now they must have heard Alai's decision; and his decision was obviously to let her pass, for no one obstructed her.

 

Wise choice.

 

One young officer even trotted along ahead of her, opening doors and indicating which way she should go.

 

He led her into a large room where Alai stood waiting for her, with a dozen high officers standing along the walls.

 

She walked to the middle of the room. "Why are you afraid of one lone woman, Caliph Alai?"

 

Before he had time to answer the obvious truth—that far from being afraid, he had let her pass unmolested and uninspected through his headquarters complex and into his own presence—Virlomi began to unwrap her sari. It took only a moment or two before she stood naked before him. Then she reached up and loosened her long hair, and then swung it and combed her fingers through it. "You see that I have no weapon hidden here. India stands before you, naked and defenseless. Why do you fear her?"

 

Alai had averted his eyes as soon as it became clear that she was undressing. So had the more pious of the other officers. But some apparently thought it was their responsibility to make sure that she was, in fact, weaponless. She enjoyed their consternation, their embarrassment— and, she suspected, their desire. You came here to ravish India, didn't you? And yet I am out of your reach. Because I'm not here for you, underlings. I'm here for your master.

 

"Leave us," Alai said to the other men.

 

Even the most modest of them could not help but glance at her as they shuffled out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

 

The door closed behind them. She and Alai were alone.

 

"Very symbolic, Virlomi," said Alai, still refusing to look at her. "That will get talked about."

 

"The offer I make is both symbolic and tangible," she said. "This upstart Peter Wiggin has gone as far as he should go. Why should Muslim and Hindu be enemies, when together we have the power to crush his naked ambition?"

 

"His ambition isn't as naked as you are," said Alai. "Please put on clothing so I can look at you."

 

"May not a man look at his bride?"

 

Alai chuckled. "A dynastic marriage? I thought you already told Han Tzu what he could do with that idea."

 

"Han Tzu had nothing to offer me. You are the leader of the Muslims of India. A large portion of my people torn away from mother India in fruitless hostility. And why? Look at me, Alai."

 

Either the force of her voice had power over him, or he could not resist his desire, or perhaps he simply decided that since they were alone, he need not keep up the show of perfect rectitude.

 

He looked her up and down, casually, without reaction. As he did, she raised her arms above her head and turned around. "Here is India," she said, "no longer resisting you, no longer evading you, but welcoming you, married to you, fertile soil in which to plant a new civilization of Muslim and Hindu united."

 

She faced him again.

 

He continued to look at her, not bothering to keep his eyes only on her face. "You do intrigue me," he said.

 

I should think so, she answered silently. Muslims never have the virtue they pretend to have.

 

"I must consider this," he said.

 

"No," she said.

 

"You think I'll make up my mind in an instant?"

 

"I don't care. But I will leave this room in moments. Either I'll do it dressed in that sari, as your bride, or I'll do it naked, leaving my clothing behind. Naked I'll pass through your compound, and naked I'll return to my people. Let them decide what they think was done to me within these walls."

 

"You'd provoke such a war as that?" said Alai.

 

"Your presence in India is the provocation, Caliph. I offer you peace and unity between our peoples. I offer you the permanent alliance that will enable us, together, India and Islam, to unite the world in a single government and along the way cast Peter Wiggin aside. He was never worthy of his brother's name; he's wasted enough of the time and attention of the world."

 

She walked closer to him, until her knees touched his.

 

"You have to deal with him eventually, Caliph Alai. Will you do it with India in your bed and by your side, or will you do it while most of your forces have to remain here to keep us from destroying you from behind? Because I'll do it. Either we're lovers or enemies, and the time to choose is now."

 

He made no idle threat to detain her or kill her—he knew that he could no more do that than let her walk out of the compound naked. The real question was whether he would be a grudging husband or an enthusiastic one.

 

He reached out and took her hand.

 

"You've chosen wisely, Caliph Alai," she said. She leaned down and kissed him. The same kiss she had given Peter Wiggin, and which he had treated as if it were nothing.

 

Alai returned it warmly. His hands moved on her body.

 

"Marriage first," she said.

 

"Let me guess," he said. "You want the wedding now."

 

"In this room."

 

"Will you dress so we can show video of the ceremony?"

 

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "For publicity, I'll dress."

 

She started to walk away, but he caught her hand, drew her back, kissed her again, passionately this time. "This is a good idea," he said to her. "It's a bold idea. It's a dangerous idea. But it's a good one."

 

"I'll stand beside you in everything," she said.

 

"Not ahead," he said. "Not behind, not above, not below."

 

She embraced him and kissed his headdress. Then she pulled it off his head and kissed his hair.

 

"Now I'll have to go to all the trouble of putting that back on," he said.

 

You'll take whatever trouble I want you to take, she thought. I have just had a victory here today, in this room, Caliph Alai. You and your Allah may not realize it, but the gods of India rule in this place, and they have given me victory without another soldier dying in useless war.

 

Such fools they were in Battle School, to let so few girls in. It left the boys helpless against a woman when they returned to Earth.

 

 

 

 

18

 

 

YEREVAN

 

 

 

From: PetraDelphiki@FreePeopleOfEarth.fp.gov

 

To: DinkMeeker@colmin.gov

 

Re: Can't believe you're at this address

 

 

When Bean told me what happened at that meeting, I thought: I know one guy who's never going to go along with any plan of Graff's.

 

 

Then I got your letter informing me of your change of address. And then I thought some more and realized: There's no place on Earth where Dink Meeker is going to fit in. You have too much ability to be content anywhere that they're likely to let you serve.

 

 

But I think you were wrong to refuse to be the head of the colony you're joining. Partly it's because: Who's going to do it better than you? Don't make me laugh.

 

 

But the main reason is: What kind of living hell will it be for the colony leader to have Mr. Insubordinate in his colony? Especially because everybody will know you were in Ender's Jeesh and they'll wonder why you AREN'T leader...

 

 

I don't care how loyal you think you're going to be, Dink. It's not in you. You're a brat and you always will be. So admit what a lousy follower you are, and go ahead and LEAD.

 

 

And just in case you don't know it, you stupidest of all possible geniuses: I still love you. I've always loved you. But no woman in her right mind would ever marry you and have your babies because NOBODY COULD STAND TO RAISE THEM. You will have the most hellish children. So have them in a colony where there'll be someplace for them to go when they run away from home about fifteen times before they're ten.

 

 

Dink, I'm going to be happy, in the long run. And yes, I did set myself up for hard times when I married a man who's going to die and whose children will probably have the same disease. But Dink—nobody ever marries anybody who ISN'T going to die.

 

 

God be with you, my friend. Heaven knows the devil already is.

 

 

Love, Petra

 

 

 

Bean held two babies and Petra one on the flight from Kiev to Yerevan—whichever one was hungriest got mama. Petra's parents lived there now; by the time Achilles died and they could return to Armenia, the tenants in their old home in Maralik had changed it too much for them to want to return.

 

Besides, Stefan, Petra's younger brother, was quite the world traveler now, and Maralik was too small for him. Yerevan, while not what anyone would call one of the great world cities, was still a national capital, and it had a university worth studying at, when he graduated from high school.

 

But to Petra, Yerevan was as unfamiliar a city as Volgograd would have been, or any of the cities named San Salvador. Even the Armenian that was still spoken by many on the street sounded strange to her. It made her sad. I have no native land, she thought.

 

Bean, however, was drinking it all in. Petra got into the cab first, and he handed her Bella and the newest—but largest—of the babies, Ramon, whom he had picked up in the Philippines. Once Bean was inside the taxi, he held Ender up to the window. And since their firstborn son was beginning to show signs that he understood speech, it wasn't just a matter of playfulness.

 

"This is your mama's homeland," said Bean. "All these people look just like her." Bean turned back to the two that Petra was holding. "You children all look different, because half your genetic material comes from me. And I'm a mongrel. So in your whole life, there'll be no place you can go where you'll look like the locals."

 

"That's right, depress and isolate the children from the start," said Petra.

 

"It's worked so well for me."

 

"You weren't depressed as a child," said Petra. "You were desperate and terrified."

 

"So we try to make things better for our children."

 

"Look, Bella, look, Ramon," said Petra. "This is Yerevan, a city with lots of people that we don't know at all. The whole world is full of strangers."

 

The taxi driver spoke up, in Armenian: "Nobody in Yerevan is a stranger to Petra Arkanian."

 

"Petra Delphiki," she corrected him mildly.

 

"Yes, yes, of course," he said in Common. "I just meaning that if you want a drink in a tavern, nobody let you pay!"

 

"Does that go for her husband?" asked Bean.

 

"Man big like you?" said the driver. "They don't tell you the price, they ask you what you wanting to give!" He roared with laughter at his own joke. Not realizing, of course, that Bean's size was killing him. "Big man like you, little tiny babies like these." He laughed again.

 

Think how amused he'd be if he knew that the largest baby, Ramon, was the youngest.

 

"I knew we should have walked from the airport," said Bean in Portuguese.

 

Petra grimaced. "That's rude, to speak in a language he doesn't know."

 

"Ah. I'm glad to know that the concept of rudeness does exist in Armenia."

 

The taxi driver picked up on the mention of Armenia, even though the rest of the sentence, being in Portuguese, was a mystery to him. "You wanting a tour of Armenia? Not a big country, I can take you, special price, meter not running."

 

"No time for that," said Petra in Armenian. "But thanks for offering."

 

The Arkanian family now lived in a nice apartment building—all balconies and glass, yet upscale enough that there was no hanging laundry visible from the street. Petra had told her family she was coming, but asked them not to meet her at the airport. They had gotten so used to the extraordinary security during the days when Petra and Bean were in hiding from Achilles Flandres that they accepted this unquestioningly.

 

The doorman recognized Petra from her pictures, which appeared in the Armenian papers whenever there was a story about Bean. He not only let them go up unannounced, but also insisted on carrying their bags.

 

"You two, and three babies, this all the luggage you have?"

 

"We hardly ever wear clothes," said Petra, as if this were the most sensible thing in the world.

 

They were halfway up in the elevator before the doorman laughed and said, "You joking!"

 

Bean smiled and tipped him a hundred-dollar coin. The doorman flipped it in the air and pocketed it with a smile. "Good thing he give me! If Petra Arkanian give, my wife never let me spend!"

 

After the elevator doors closed, Bean said, "From now on, in Armenia you tip."

 

"They'd keep the tip either way, Bean. It's not like they give it back to us."

 

"Oh, eh."

 

Petra's mother could have been standing at the door, she opened it so quickly. Maybe she was.

 

There were hugs and kisses and a torrent of words in Armenian and Common. Unlike the cabdriver and doorman, Petra's parents were fluent in Common. So was Stefan, who had cut his high school classes today. And young David was obviously being raised with Common as his first language, since that's what he was chattering in almost continuously from the moment Petra entered the flat.

 

There was a meal, of course, and neighbors invited in, because it might be the big city, but it was still Armenia. But in only a couple of hours, it was just the nine of them.

 

"Nine of us," said Petra. "Our five and the four of you. I've missed you."

 

"Already you have as many children as we did," said Father.

 

"The laws have changed," said Bean. "Also, we didn't exactly plan to have ours all at once."

 

"Sometimes I think," said Mother to Petra, "that you're still in Battle School. I have to remind myself, no, she came home, she got married, she has babies. Now we finally get to see the babies. But so small!"

 

"They have a genetic condition," said Bean.

 

"Of course, we know that," said Father. "But it's still a surprise, how small they are. And yet so ... mature."

 

"The really little ones take after their father," said Petra, with a wry smile.

 

"And the normal one takes after his mother," said Bean.

 

"Thank you for letting us use your flat for the unofficial meeting tonight," said Bean.

 

"It's not a secure site," said Father.

 

"The meeting is unofficial, not secret. We expect Turkish and Azerbaijani observers to make their reports."

 

"Are you sure they won't try to assassinate you?" asked Stefan.

 

"Actually, Stefan, they brainwashed you at an early age," said Bean. "When the trigger word is said, you spring into action and kill everybody at the meeting."

 

"No, I'm going to a movie," said Stefan.

 

"That's a terrible thing to say," said Petra. "Even as a joke."

 

"Alai isn't Achilles," said Bean to Stefan. "We're friends, and he won't let Muslim agents assassinate us."

 

"You're friends with your enemy," said Stefan, as if it were too incredible.

 

"It happens in some wars," said Father.

 

"There is no war yet," Mother reminded them.

 

They took the hint, stopped talking about current problems, and reminisced instead. Though since Petra had been sent to Battle School so young, it's not as if she had that much to reminisce about. It was more like they were briefing her about her new identity before an undercover mission. This is what you should remember from your childhood, if you'd had one.

 

And then the Prime Minister, the President, and the Foreign Minister showed up. Mother took the babies into her bedroom, while Stefan took David out to see a movie. Father, being Deputy Foreign Minister, was allowed to stay, though he would not speak.

 

The conversation was complex but friendly. The Foreign Minister explained how eager Armenia was to join the FPE, and then the President echoed everything he had said, and then the Prime Minister began another repetition.

 

Bean held up a hand. "Let's stop hiding from the truth. Armenia is a landlocked country, with Turks and Azerbaijanis almost completely surrounding you. With Georgia refusing to join the FPE at present, you worry that we couldn't even supply you, let alone defend you against the inevitable attack."

 

They were obviously relieved that Bean understood.

 

"You just want to be left alone," he said.

 

They nodded.

 

"But here's the truth: If we don't defeat Caliph Alai and break up this strange and sudden union of Muslim nations, then Caliph Alai will eventually conquer all the surrounding nations. Not because Alai himself wants to, but because he can't remain Caliph for long if he isn't aggressively pursuing an expansionist policy. He says that's not his intent, but he'll certainly end up doing it because he'll have no choice."

 

They didn't like hearing this, but they kept listening.

 

"Armenia will fight Caliph Alai sooner or later. The question is whether you'll do it now, while I still lead the forces of the FPE in your defense, or later, when you stand utterly alone against overwhelming force."

 

"Either way, Armenia will pay," said the President grimly.

 

"War is unpredictable," said Bean. "And the costs are high. But we didn't put Armenia where it is, surrounded by Muslims."

 

"God did," said the President. "So we try not to complain."

 

"Why can't Israel be your provocation?" asked the Prime Minister. "They are militarily much stronger than we are."

 

"The opposite is true," said Bean. "Geographically their position is and always has been hopeless. And they have integrated so closely with the Muslim nations surrounding them that if they now joined the FPE, the Muslims would feel deeply betrayed. Their fury would be terrible, and we could not defend them. While you—let's just say that over the centuries, Muslims have slaughtered more Armenians than they ever did Jews. They hate you, they regard you as a terrible intrusion into their lands, even though you were here long before any Turks came out of central Asia. There's a burden of guilt along with the hatred. And for you to join the FPE would infuriate them, yes, but they wouldn't feel betrayed."

 

"These nuances are beyond me," said the President skeptically.

 

"They make an enormous difference in the way an army fights. Armenia is vital to forcing Alai to act before he's ready. Right now the union with India is still merely formal, not a fact on the ground. It's a marriage, not a family."

 

"You don't need to quote Lincoln to me."

 

Petra inwardly winced. The quote about "a marriage, not a family" did not come from Lincoln at all. It came from one of her own Martel essays. It was a bad sign if people were getting Lincoln and Martel confused. But of course it was better not to correct the misattribution, lest it appear that she was way too familiar with the works of Martel and Lincoln.

 

"We stand where we've stood for weeks," said the President. "Armenia is being asked too much."

 

"I agree," said Bean. "But keep in mind that we're asking. When the Muslims finally decide that Armenia shouldn't exist, they won't ask."

 

The president pressed his fingers to his forehead. It was a gesture that Petra called "drilling for brains." "How can we hold a plebiscite?" he asked.

 

"It's precisely the plebiscite that we need."

 

"Why? What does this do for you militarily except overextend your forces and draw off a relatively small part of the Caliph's armies?

 

"I know Alai," said Bean. "He won't want to attack Armenia. The terrain here is a nightmare for a serious campaigning. You constitute no serious threat. Attacking Armenia makes no sense at all."

 

"So we won't be attacked?"

 

"You will absolutely be attacked."

 

"You're too subtle for us," said the Prime Minister.

 

Petra smiled. "My husband is not subtle. The point is so obvious that you think it couldn't be this that he means. Alai will not attack. But Muslims will attack. It will force his hand. If he refuses to attack, but other Muslims do attack, then the leadership of the jihad moves away from him to someone else. Whether he strikes down these freelance attackers or not, the Muslim world is divided and two leaders compete."

 

The President was no fool. "You have higher hopes than this," he said.

 

"All warriors are filled with hope," said Bean. "But I understand your lack of trust in me. For me it's the great game. But for you, it's your homes, your families. That's why we wanted to meet here. To assure you that it is our home and our family as well."

 

"To sit and wait for the enemy to act is the decision to die," said Petra. "We ask Armenia to make this sacrifice and take this risk because if you don't, then Armenia is doomed. But if you join the Free People of Earth, then Armenia will have the most powerful defense."

 

"And what will that defense consist of?"

 

"Me," said Petra.

 

"A nursing mother?" asked the Prime Minister.

 

"The Armenian member of Ender's Jeesh," she answered. "I will command the Armenian forces."

 

"Our mountain goddess versus the goddess of India," said the Foreign Minister.

 

"This is a Christian nation," said Father. "And my daughter is no goddess."

 

"I was joking," said Father's boss.

 

"But the truth that underlies the joke," said Bean, "is that Petra herself is a match for Alai. So am I. And Virlomi is no match for any of us."

 

Petra hoped that this was true. Virlomi now had years of experience in the field—if not in the logistics of moving huge armies, then in exactly the kind of small operations that would be most effective in Armenia.

 

"We have to think about it," said the President.

 

"Then we're where we were before," said the Foreign Minister. "Thinking."

 

Bean rose to his feet—a formidable sight, these days—and bowed to them. "Thank you for meeting with us."

 

"Wouldn't it be better," said the Prime Minister, "if you could get this new Hindu-Muslim ... thing ... to go to war against China?"

 

"Oh, that would eventually happen," said Bean. "But when? The FPE wants to break the back of Caliph Alai's Muslim League now. Before it grows any stronger."

 

And Petra knew they were all thinking: Before Bean dies. Because Bean is the most important weapon.

 

The President rose from his seat, but then laid a restraining hand on the other two. "We have Petra Arkanian here. And Julian Delphiki. Couldn't we ask them to consult with our military on our preparations for war?"

 

"I notice there are no military men here," said Petra. "I don't want them to feel that we've been thrust on them."

 

"They won't feel that way," said the Foreign Minister blandly. But Petra knew that the military was not represented here because they were eager to join the FPE, precisely because they did not feel adequate, by themselves, to defend Armenia. There would be no problems with a tour of inspection.

 

After the top leadership of Armenia left the Arkanian flat, Father and Petra flung themselves down on the furniture and Bean stretched out on the floor, and at once began discussing what had just happened and what they thought would happen.

 

Mother came in as the conversation was winding down. "All asleep, the little darlings," she said. "Stefan will drop David off after the movie, but we have a little while, just us grown-ups."

 

"Well, good," said Father.

 

"We were just discussing," said Petra, "whether it was a waste of time for us to come here."

 

Mother rolled her eyes. "How can it be a waste of time?" And then, to everyone's surprise, she burst into tears.

 

"What is it?" At once she was enveloped in the concern of her husband and daughter.

 

"Nothing," she said. "I just ... you didn't come here and bring these babies because you had negotiations. Nothing happened here that couldn't have happened by teleconference."

 

"Then why do you think we're here?" asked Petra.

 

"You came to say good-bye."

 

Petra looked at Bean and, for the first time, realized that this might be true. "If we are," she said, "it wasn't our plan."

 

"But it's what you're doing," said Mother. "You came in person because you might not see us again. Because of the war!"

 

"No," said Bean. "Not because of the war."

 

"Mother, you know Bean's condition."

 

"I'm not blind! I can see that he's giraffed up so he can hardly get into houses!"

 

"And so are Ender and Bella. They have Bean's same condition. So once we get all our other children, we're going out into space. At light-speed. So we can take advantage of relativistic effects. So that Bean will be alive when they finally find a cure."

 

Father shook his head.

 

"Then we'll be dead before you come home," said Mother.

 

"Pretend I'm away at Battle School again," said Petra.

 

"I get these grandchildren, but... then I don't get them." Mother cried again.

 

"I won't leave," said Bean, "until we've got Peter Wiggin safely in control of things."

 

"Which is why you're in such a hurry to get this war started," said Father. "Why not just tell them?"

 

"We need them to have confidence in me," said Bean. "Telling them that I might die in mid-campaign won't reassure them about joining the FPE."

 

"So these babies will grow up on a starship?" asked Mother, skeptically.

 

"Our joy," said Petra, "will be to see them grow old—without any of them growing as big as their father."

 

Bean raised one enormous foot. "These are tough shoes to fill."

 

"It really is true," said Petra, "that this war—in Armenia—is the one we want to fight. All these hills. It will go slowly."

 

"Slowly?" asked Father. "Isn't that the opposite of what you want?"

 

"What we want," said Bean, "is for the war to end as soon as possible. But this is one case where going slow will speed us up."

 

"You're the brilliant strategists," said Father, heading for the kitchen. "Anybody else want something to eat?"

 

 

 

That night, Petra couldn't sleep. She went out onto the balcony and looked out over the city.

 

Is there anything in this world that I can't leave?

 

I've lived apart from my family for so much of my life. Does that mean I'll miss them more or less?

 

But then she realized that this had nothing to do with her melancholy. She couldn't sleep because she knew that war was coming. Their plan was to keep the conflict in the mountains, to make the Turks pay for every meter. But there was no reason to think that Alai's forces—or whatever Muslim forces they were—would shrink from bombing the big population centers. Precision bombing had been the rule for so long—ever since Mecca was nuked—that a sudden reversion to anti-population, saturation bombing would come as a demoralizing shock.

 

Everything depends on our being able to get and keep control of the air. And the FPE doesn't have as many planes as the Muslim League.

 

Damn those short-sighted Israelis for training the Arab air forces to be among the most formidable in the world.

 

Why was Bean so confident?

 

Was it only because he knew that he'd soon leave Earth and wouldn't have to be here to face the consequences?

 

That was unfair. Bean had said he'd stay until Peter was Hegemon in fact as well as name. Bean did not break his word.

 

What if they never find a cure? What if we sail on through space forever? What if Bean dies out there with me and the babies?

 

She heard footsteps behind her. She assumed it would be Bean, but it was her mother.

 

"Awake without the babies waking you?"

 

Petra smiled. "I have plenty to keep me from sleeping."

 

"But you need your sleep."

 

"Eventually, my body takes it whether I like it or not."

 

Mother looked out over the city. "Did you miss us?"

 

She knew her mother wanted her to say, every day. But the truth would have to do. "When I have time to think about anything at all, yes. But it's not that I miss you. It's that... I'm glad you're in my life. Glad you're in this world." She turned to face her mother. "I'm not a little girl anymore. I know I'm still very young and I'm sure I don't know anything yet, but I'm part of the cycle of life now. I'm no longer the youngest generation. So I don't cling to my parents as I once would have liked to. I missed a lot up there in Battle School. Children need families."

 

"And," said Mother sadly, "they make families out of whatever they have at hand."

 

"That will never happen to my children," said Petra. "The world isn't being invaded by aliens. I can stay with them."

 

Then she remembered that some people would claim that some of her children were the alien invasion.

 

She couldn't think that way.

 

"You carry so much weight in your heart," said Mother, stroking her hair.

 

"Not as much as Bean. Far less than Peter."

 

"Is this Peter Wiggin a good man?"

 

Petra shrugged. "Are great men ever really good? I know they can be, but we judge them by a different standard. Greatness changes them, whatever they were to start with. It's like war—does any war ever settle anything? But we can't judge that way. The test of a war isn't whether it solved things. You have to ask, Was fighting the war better than not fighting it? And I guess the same kind of test ought to be used on great men."

 

"If Peter Wiggin is great."

 

"Mother, he was Locke, remember? He stopped a war. Already he was great before I came home from Battle School. And he was still in his teens. Younger than I am now."

 

"Then I asked the wrong question," said Mother. "Is a world that he rules over going to be a good place to live?"

 

Petra shrugged again. "I believe he means it to be. I haven't seen him being vindictive. Or corrupt. He's making sure that any nation that joins the FPE does it through the vote of the people, so nothing is being forced on them. That's promising, isn't it?"

 

"Armenia spent so many centuries yearning to have our own nation. Now we have it, but it seems the price of keeping it is to give it up."

 

"Armenia will still be Armenia, Mother."

 

"No, it won't," she said. "If Peter Wiggin wins everything he's trying to win, then Armenia will be ... Kansas."

 

"Hardly!"

 

"We'll all speak Common and if you go from Yerevan to Rostov or Ankara or Sofia, you won't even know you've gone anywhere."

 

"We all speak Common now. And there'll never be a time you can't tell Ankara from Yerevan."

 

"You're so sure."

 

"I'm sure of a lot of things. And about half the time, I'm right." She grinned at her mother, but her mother's return smile wasn't real.

 

"How did you do it?" asked Petra. "How did you give up your child?"

 

"You weren't 'given up,' " said Mother. "You were taken. Most of the time I managed to believe it was all for a good cause. The other times I cried. It wasn't death because you were still alive. I was proud of you. I missed you. You were good company almost from your first word. But so ambitious!"

 

Petra smiled a little at that.

 

"You're married now," said Mother. "Ambition for yourself is over. It's now ambition for your children."

 

"I just want them to be happy."

 

"That is something you can't do for them. So don't set that as your goal."

 

"I don't have a goal, Mother."

 

"That's nice. Then your heart will never break."

 

Mother looked at her with a deadpan expression.

 

Petra laughed a little. "You know, when I've been away for a while, I forget that you know everything."

 

Mother smiled. "Petra, I can't save you from anything. But I want to. I would if I could. Does that help? To know that somebody wants you to be happy?"

 

"More than you know, Mother."

 

She nodded. Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Going off into space. It feels like closing yourself in your own coffin. I know! But that's how it feels to me. I just know that I'm going to lose you, as sure as death. You know it too. That's why you're out here saying good-bye to Yerevan?"

 

"To Earth, Mother. Yerevan's the least of it."

 

"Well, Yerevan won't miss you. Cities never do. They go on and we don't make any difference to them at all. That's what I hate about cities."

 

And that's true of the human race, too, thought Petra. "I think it's a good thing, that life goes on. Like water in a pail. Take some out, the rest fills in."

 

"When it's my child that's gone, nothing fills in," said Mother.

 

Petra knew that Mother was referring to the years that she spent without Petra, but what flashed into Petra's mind was the six babies they still hadn't found. The two ideas put together made the loss of those babies—if they even existed—too painful to contain. Petra began to cry. She hated crying.

 

Her mother put her arms around her. "I'm sorry, Pet," she said. "I wasn't even thinking. I was missing one child, and you have so many and you don't even know whether they're alive or dead."

 

"But they aren't even real to me," said Petra. "I don't know why I'm crying. I've never even met them."

 

"We're hungry for our children," said Mother. "We need to take care of them, once we bring them into existence."

 

"I didn't even get to do that," said Petra. "Other women got to bear all but the one. And I'm going to lose him." And suddenly her life felt so terrible it could not be borne. She sobbed as her mother held her.

 

"Oh, my poor girl," her mother kept murmuring. "Your life breaks my heart."

 

"How can I complain like this?" said Petra, her voice high with crying. "I've been part of some of the greatest events in history."

 

"When your babies need you, history doesn't bring much comfort."

 

And as if on cue, there was a faint sound of a baby crying inside the flat. Mother made as if to go, but Petra stopped her. "Bean will get her." She used the hem of her shirt to dab at her eyes.

 

"You can tell from the crying which baby it is?"

 

"Couldn't you?"

 

"I never had two infants at the same time, let alone three. There aren't many multiple births in our family."

 

"Well, I've found the perfect way to have nonuplets. Get eight other women to help." She managed a feeble laugh at her own black humor.

 

The baby cried again.

 

"It's definitely Bella, she's always more insistent. Bean will change her, and then he'll bring her to me."

 

"I could do that and he could go back to sleep," Mother offered.

 

"It's some of our best time together," said Petra. "Caring for the babies."

 

Mother pecked her on the cheek. "I can take a hint."

 

"Thanks for talking to me, Mother."

 

"Thanks for coming home."

 

Mother went inside. Petra stood at the edge of the balcony. After a while, Bean came padding out in bare feet. Petra pulled her T-shirt up and Bella started slurping noisily. "Good thing your brother Ender got my milk factory started," said Petra. "Or it would have been the bottle for you."

 

As she stood there, nursing Bella and looking out over the nighttime city, Bean's huge hands held her shoulders and stroked her arms. So gentle. So kind.

 

Once as tiny as this little girl.

 

But always a giant, long before his body showed it.

 

 

 

 

19

 

 

ENEMIES

 

 

 

From "Note to Hegemon: You Can't Fight an Epidemic

 

With a Fence"

 

By "Martel"

 

Posted on "Early Warning Network"

 

 

The presence of Julian Delphiki, the Hegemon's "enforcer," in Armenia might look like a family vacation to some, but some of us remember that Delphiki was in Rwanda before it ratified the FPE Constitution.

 

 

When you consider that Delphiki's wife, Petra Arkanian, also one of Ender's Jeesh, is Armenian, what conclusion can be reached except that Armenia, a Christian enclave nearly surrounded by Muslim nations, is preparing to ratify?

 

 

Add to that the close ties between the Hegemon and Thailand, where Wiggin's left-hand man, General Suriyawong, is now "consulting" with General Phet Noi and Prime Minister Paribatra, newly returned from Chinese captivity, and the FPE's position in Nubia—and it looks like the Hegemon is surrounding Caliph Alai's little empire.

 

 

Many pundits are saying that the Hegemon's strategy is to "contain" Caliph Alai. But now that the Hindus have gone over to the Muslim bed—er, I meant to say, "camp"—containment is not enough.

 

 

When Caliph Alai, our modern Tamerlane, decides he wants a nice big pile of human skulls (it's so hard to get good decorators these days), he can field huge armies and concentrate them wherever he wants on his borders.

 

 

If the Hegemon sits passively waiting, trying to "contain" Alai behind a fence of alliances, then he'll find himself facing overwhelming force wherever Alai decides to strike.

 

 

Islam, the bloodthirsty "one-way religion," has a track record only slightly less devastating to the human race than the Buggers.

 

 

It's time for the Hegemon to live up to his job title and take decisive, preemptive action—preferably in Armenia, where his forces will be able to strike like a knife into the neck of Islam. And when he does, it's time for Europe, China, and America to wake up and join him. We need unity against this threat as surely as we ever needed it against an alien invasion.

 

 

From: PeterWiggin%personal@FreePeopleOfEarth.fp.gov

 

To: PetraDelphiki%getlost@FreePeopleOfEarth.gov

 

Re: Latest Martel essay

 

 

Encrypted using code: ******

 

Decrypted using code: *********

 

 

"Strike like a knife into the neck of Islam" indeed. Using what enormous army? What vast air force to neutralize the Muslims AND airlift that enormous army over the mountainous terrain between Armenia and the "neck" of Islam?

 

 

Fortunately, while Alai and Virlomi will know that Martel is full of kuso, the Muslim press is famous for its paranoia. THEY should believe there's a threat. So now the pressure is on and the game's afoot. You're a natural rabble-rouser, Petra. Promise me you'll never run against me for anything.

 

 

Oh, wait. I'm hegemon-for-life, aren't I...

 

 

Good work, mommy.

 

 

 

Caliph Alai and Virlomi sat beside each other at the head of a conference table in Chichlam—which the Muslim press still called Hyderabad.

 

Alai couldn't understand why it bothered Virlomi that he refused to insist that the Muslims call the city by its pre-Muslim name. He had problems enough to worry about without a needlessly humiliating name change. After all, the Indians hadn't won their independence. They had married their way to self-government. Which was a far better method than war—but without having won a victory on the field of battle, it was unseemly for Virlomi to insist on tokens of triumph like making your undefeated conquerors change the name they used to refer to their own seat of government.

 

In the past few days, Alai and Virlomi had met with several groups.

 

At a conference of heads of Muslim states they had listened to the woes and suggestions of such widely separated peoples as Indonesians, Algerians, Kazakhs, and Yemenis.

 

At a much quieter conference of Muslim minorities, they had indulged the revolutionary fantasies of Filipino, French, Spanish, and Thai would-be jihadists.

 

And in between, they had put on banquets for—and listened to stern counsel from—the French, American, and Russian foreign ministers.

 

These lords of the ancient, weary empires—hadn't they noticed that their nations had long since retired from the world? Yes, the Russians and Americans still had a formidable military, but where was their will to empire? They thought they could still boss around people like Alai, who had power and knew how to use it.

 

But it did Caliph Alai no harm to pretend that these nations still mattered in the world. Placate them with wise nods and palliative words, and they would go home and feel good about having helped promote "peace on Earth."

 

Alai had complained to Virlomi afterward. Wasn't it enough for the Americans that the whole world used their dollar and let them dominate the I.F.? Wasn't it enough for the Russians that Caliph Alai was keeping his armies away from their frontier and was doing nothing to support Muslim rebel groups inside their borders?

 

And the French—what did they expect Alai to do when he heard what their government's opinion was? Didn't they understand that they were spectators now in the great game, by their own choice? The players were not going to let the fans call the plays, no matter how well they played back in their day.

 

Virlomi listened benignly and said nothing in all these meetings. Most of the visitors came away with the impression that she was a figurehead, and Caliph Alai was in complete control. This impression did no harm. But as Alai and his closest advisers knew, it was also completely false.

 

Today's meeting was far more important. Gathered at this table were the men who actually ran the Muslim empire—the men Alai trusted, who made sure that the heads of the various Muslim states did what Alai needed them to do, without chafing at how thoroughly they were under the Caliph's thumb. Since Alai had the ecstatic support of most of the Muslim people, he had enormous leverage in gaining the cooperation of their governments. But Alai did not yet have the clout to set up an independent system of finance. So he was dependent on contributions from the various republics and kingdoms and Islamic states that served him.

 

The men at this table made sure that the money flowed inward toward Hyderabad, and obedience flowed outward, with the least possible friction.

 

The most remarkable thing about these men was that they were no richer now than they had been when he appointed them. Despite all their opportunities to take a bribe here or exact a bit of a kickback there, they had remained pure. They were motivated by devotion to the Caliph's cause and pride in their positions of trust and honor.

 

Instead of one wazir, Alai had a dozen. They were gathered at this table, to counsel him and hear his decisions.

 

And every single one of them resented Virlomi's presence at the table.

 

And Virlomi did nothing to help alleviate this. Because even though she spoke softly and briefly, she persisted in using the quiet voice and enigmatic attitude that had played so well among Hindus. But Muslims had no goddess tradition, except perhaps in Indonesia and Malaysia, where they were especially alert to stamp out such tendencies where they found them. Virlomi was like an alien being among them.

 

There were no cameras here. The role wasn't working for this audience. So why did she persist in acting the goddess here?

 

Was it possible she believed it? That after years of playing the part in order to keep Indian resistance alive she now believed that she was divinely inspired? Ridiculous to think she actually believed she was divine herself. If the Muslim people ever believed she thought that, they would expect Alai to divorce her and have done with this nonsense. They accepted the idea that the Caliph, like Solomon of old, might marry women from many kingdoms in order to symbolize the submission of those kingdoms to Islam as a wife submits to a husband.

 

She couldn't believe she was a goddess. Alai was sure of that. Such superstitions would have been stamped out in Battle School.

 

Then again, Battle School was over years ago, and Virlomi had lived in isolation and adulation during most of that time. Things had happened that would change anybody. She had told him about the campaign of stones in the road, the "Great Wall of India," how she had seen her own actions turn into a vast movement. About how she first became a holy woman and then a goddess in hiding in eastern India.

 

When she taught him about Satyagraha, he thought he understood. You sacrifice anything and everything in order to stand for what's right without causing harm to another.

 

And yet she had also killed men with a gun she held in her own hand. There were times when she did not shrink from war. When she told him of her band of warriors who had stood off the whole Chinese army, preventing them from flooding back into India, from even resupplying the armies that Alai's Persians and Pakistanis were systematically destroying, he realized how much he owed to her brilliance as a commander, as a leader who could inspire incredible acts of bravery from her soldiers, as a teacher who could train peasants to be brutally efficient soldiers.

 

Somewhere between Satyagraha and slaughter, there had to be a place where Virlomi—the girl from Battle School—actually lived.

 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the cruel contradictions of her own actions had led her to put the responsibility elsewhere. She served the gods. She was a god herself. Therefore it was not wrong for her to live by Satyagraha one day, and wipe out an entire convoy in a landslide the next.

 

The irony was that the longer he lived with her, the more Alai loved her. She was a sweet and generous lover, and she talked with him openly, girlishly, as if they were friends in school. As if they were still children.

 

Which we are, aren't we?

 

No. Alai was a man now, despite being in his teens. And Virlomi was older than he was, not a child at all.

 

But they had had no childhood. Alone together, their marriage was more like playing at being husband and wife than anything else. It was still fun.

 

And when they came to a meeting like this, Virlomi could switch off that playfulness, set aside the natural girl and become the irritating Hindu goddess that continued to drive a wedge between Caliph Alai and his most trusted servants.

 

Naturally, the counsel was worried about Peter Wiggin and Bean and Petra and Suriyawong. That Martel essay was taken very seriously.

 

So naturally, in order to be irritating, Virlomi dismissed it. "Martel can write what he wants, it means nothing."

 

Careful not to contradict her, Hadrubet Sasar—"Thorn"—pointed out the obvious. "The Delphikis really are in Armenia and have been for a week."

 

"They have family there," said Virlomi.

 

"And they're on vacation taking the babies to visit grandfather and grandmother," said Alamandar. As usual, his irony was so dry you could easily miss the fact that he was utterly scornful of the idea.

 

"Of course not," said Virlomi—and her scorn was not subtle. "Wiggin wants us to think they're planning something. We withdraw Turkish troops from Xinjiang to invade Armenia. Then Han Tzu strikes in Xinjiang."

 

"Perhaps al-Caliph has some intelligence indicating that the Emperor of China is in alliance with the Hegemon," said Thorn.

 

"Peter Wiggin," said Virlomi, "knows how to use people who don't know they're being used."

 

Alai listened to her and thought: That principle might as easily apply to the Armenians as to Han Tzu. Perhaps they're being used by Peter Wiggin without their consent. A simple matter to send Bean and Petra to visit the Arkanians, and then plant a false story that this means the Armenians are about to join the FPE.

 

Alai raised a hand. "Najjas. Would you compare the language in the Martel essays with the writings of Peter Wiggin, including the Locke essays, and tell me if they might be written by the same hand?"

 

A murmur of approval around the table.

 

"We will not take action against Armenia," said Caliph Alai, "based on unsubstantiated rumors from the nets. Nor based on our longstanding suspicion of the Armenians."

 

Alai watched their reaction. Some nodded approvingly, but most hid their reactions. And Musafi, the youngest of his wazirs, showed his skepticism.

 

"Musafi, speak to us," said Alai.

 

"It makes little difference to the people," said Musafi, "whether we can prove that the Armenians are plotting against us or not. This isn't a court of law. They are being told by many that instead of gaining India peacefully by marriage, we lost it the same way."

 

Alai did not look at Virlomi; nor did he sense any stiffening or change in her attitude.

 

"We did nothing when the Hegemon humiliated the Sudanese and stole Muslim land in Nubia." Musafi raised his hand to the inevitable objection. "The people believe the land was stolen."

 

"So you fear that they will think the Caliph is ineffective."

 

"They expected you to spread Islam throughout the world. Instead, you seem to be losing ground. The very fact that Armenia cannot be the source of a serious invasion also means that it's a safe place to take some limited action that will assure the people that the Caliphate is still watching over Islam."

 

"And how many men should die for this?" said Alai.

 

"For the continued unity of the Muslim people?" asked Musafi. "As many as love God."

 

"There's wisdom in this," said Alai. "But the Muslim people are not the only people in the world. Outside of Islam, Armenia is perceived as a heroic victim nation. Isn't there a chance that any kind of action in Armenia will be seen as proof that Islam is expanding, just as Martel charges? Then what happens to the Muslim minorities in Europe?"

 

Virlomi leaned forward, looking each of the counselors boldly in the face, as if she had authority at this table. Her stance was more aggressive than Alai ever showed to his friends. But then, these were not her friends. "You care about unity?"

 

"It's always been a problem in the Muslim world," said Alamandar. Some of the men chuckled.

 

"The 'Free People' can't invade us because we're more powerful than they are at any point where they might attack," said Virlomi. "Is our goal to unite the world under the leadership of Caliph Alai? Then our great rival is not Peter Wiggin. It's Han Tzu. He came to me with plots against Caliph Alai. He proposed marriage with me, so India and China could unite against Islam."

 

"When was this?" asked Musafi.

 

Alai understood why he was asking. "It was before Virlomi and I even considered marriage, Musafi. My wife has behaved with perfect propriety."

 

Musafi was satisfied; Virlomi showed no sign that she even cared what the interruption had been about. "You don't fight wars to enhance domestic unity—to do that, you pursue economic policies that make your people fat and rich. Wars are fought to create safety, to expand borders, and to eliminate future dangers. Han Tzu is such a danger."

 

"Since he has taken office," said Thorn, "Han Tzu has taken no aggressive action. He has been conciliatory with all his neighbors. He even sent home the Indian prime minister, didn't he?"

 

"That was no conciliatory gesture," said Virlomi.

 

"The expansionist Snow Tiger is gone, his policies failed. We have nothing to fear from China," said Thorn.

 

He had gone too far, and everyone at the table knew it. It was one thing to make suggestions, and quite another to flatly contradict Virlomi.

 

Pointedly, Virlomi sat back and looked at Alai, waiting for him to take action against the offender.

 

But Thorn had earned his nickname because he would say uncomfortable truths. Nor did Alai intend to start banishing advisers from his council just because Virlomi was annoyed with them. "Once again, our friend Thorn proves that his name is well chosen. And once again, we forgive him for his bluntness—or should I say, sharpness?"

 

Laughter ... but they were still wary of Virlomi's wrath.

 

"I see that this counsel prefers to send Muslims to die in cosmetic wars, while the real enemy is allowed to gather strength unmolested, solely because he has not attacked us yet." She turned directly to Thorn. "My husband's good friend Thorn is like the man in a leaky boat, surrounded by sharks. He has a rifle, and his fellow passenger says, 'Why don't you shoot those sharks! Once the boat sinks and we're in the water, you won't be able to use the rifle!'

 

" 'You fool,' says the man. 'Why should I provoke the sharks? None of them has bit me yet.' "

 

Thorn seemed determined to press his luck. "The way I heard the story, the boat was surrounded by dolphins, and the man shot at them until he ran out of ammunition. 'Why did you do that?' his friend asked, and the man said, 'because one of them was a shark in disguise.'

 

" 'Which one?' said his companion.

 

" 'You fool,' says the man. 'I told you he's in disguise.' Then the blood in the water drew many sharks. But the man's gun was empty."

 

"Thank you all for your wise counsel," said Alai. "I must now think about all that you have said."

 

Virlomi smiled at Thorn. "I must remember your alternate version of the story. It's hard to decide which one is funnier. Maybe one is funny to Hindus, and the other to Muslims."

 

Alai stood up and began shaking hands with the men around the table, in effect dismissing each one in turn. It had already been rude for Virlomi to continue the conversation. But still she would not let up.

 

"Or perhaps," she said to the group as a whole, "Thorn's story is funny only to the sharks. Because if his story is believed, the sharks are safe."

 

Virlomi had never gone this far before. If she were a Muslim wife, he could take her by the arm and gently lead her from the room, then explain to her why she could not say such things to men who were not free to answer.

 

But then, if she were a Muslim wife, she wouldn't have been at the table in the first place.

 

Alai shook hands with the rest of them, and they showed their deference to him. But he also saw a growing wariness. His failure to stop Virlomi from giving such outrageous offense—to a man who had admittedly gone too far himself—looked like weakness to them. He knew they were wondering just how much influence Virlomi had over him. And whether he was truly functioning as Caliph any more, or was just a henpecked husband, married to a woman who thought she was a god.

 

In short, was Caliph Alai succumbing to idolatry by being married to this madwoman?

 

Not that anyone could say such a thing—even to each other, even in private.

 

In fact, they probably weren't thinking it, either.

 

I'm thinking it.

 

When he and Virlomi were alone, Alai walked out of the room to the conference room toilet, where he washed his face and hands.

 

Virlomi followed him inside.

 

"Are you strong or weak?" she asked. "I married you for your strength."

 

He said nothing.

 

"You know I'm right. Peter Wiggin can't touch us. Only Han Tzu stands between us and uniting the world under our rule."

 

"That's not true, Virlomi," said Alai.

 

"So you contradict me, too?"

 

"We're equals, Virlomi," said Alai. "We can contradict each other—when we're alone together."

 

"So if I'm wrong, who is a greater threat than Han Tzu?"

 

"If we attack Han Tzu, unprovoked, and it looks as if he might lose—or he does lose—then we can expect the Muslim population of Europe to be expelled, and the nations of Europe will unite, probably with the United States, probably with Russia. Instead of a mountain border that Han Tzu is not threatening, we'll have an indefensible border thousands of kilometers long in Siberia, and enemies whose combined military might will dwarf ours."

 

"America! Europe! Those fat old men."

 

"I see you're giving my ideas careful consideration," said Alai.

 

"Nothing's certain in war," said Virlomi. "This might happen, that might happen. I'll tell you what will happen. India will take action, whether the Muslims join us or not."

 

"India, which has little equipment and no trained army, will take on China's battle-hardened veterans—and without the help of the Turkish divisions in Xinjiang and the Indonesian divisions in Taiwan?"

 

"The Indian people do what I ask them," said Virlomi.

 

"The Indian people do what you ask them, as long as it's possible."

 

"Who are you to say what's possible?"

 

"Virlomi," said Alai. "I'm not Alexander of Macedonia."

 

"That much is abundantly clear. In fact, Alai, what battle have you ever fought and won?"

 

"You mean before or after the final war against the Buggers?"

 

"Of course—you were one of the sacred Jeesh! So you're right about everything forever!"

 

"And it was my plan that destroyed the Chinese will to fight."

 

"Your plan—which depended on my little band of patriots holding the Chinese army at bay in the mountains of eastern India."

 

"No, Virlomi. Your holding action saved thousands of lives, but if every single Chinese they sent over the mountain had faced us in India, we would have won."

 

"Easy to say."

 

"Because my plan was for the Turkish troops to take Beijing while most of the Chinese forces were tied up in India, at which point the Chinese troops would have been called back from India. Your heroic action saved many lives and made our victory quicker. By about two weeks and an estimated hundred thousand casualties. So I'm grateful. But you've never led large armies into combat."

 

Virlomi waved it away, as if such a gesture could make the fact of it disappear.

 

"Virlomi," said Alai. "I love you, and I'm not trying to hurt you, but you've been fighting all this time against very bad commanders. You've never come up against someone like me. Or Han Tzu. Or Petra. And definitely no one like Bean."

 

"The stars of Battle School!" said Virlomi. "Ancient test scores and membership in a club whose president got outmaneuvered and sent into exile. What have you done lately, Caliph Alai?"

 

"I married a woman with a bold plan," said Alai.

 

"But what did I marry?" asked Virlomi.

 

"A man who wants the world to be united in peace. I thought the woman who built the Great Wall of India would want the same thing. I thought our marriage was part of that. I never knew you were so bloodthirsty."

 

"Not bloodthirsty, realistic. I see our true enemy and I'm going to fight him."

 

"Our rival is Peter Wiggin," said Alai. "He has a plan for uniting the world, but his depends on the Caliphate collapsing into chaos and Islam ceasing to be a force in the world. That's what the Martel essay was designed to do—provoke us into doing something stupid in Armenia. Or Nubia."

 

"Well, at least you see through that."

 

"I see through all of it," said Alai. "And you don't see the most obvious thing of all. The longer we wait, the closer we come to the day when Bean will die. It's a cruel and terrible fact, but when he's gone, then Peter Wiggin loses his greatest tool."

 

Virlomi looked at him with withering scorn. "Back to the Battle School test scores."

 

"All the kids in Battle School were tested," said Alai. "Including you."

 

"Yes, and what did that get any of them? They sat here in Hyderabad like passive slaves while Achilles bullied them. I escaped. Me. Somehow I was different. But did that show up on any of their tests in Battle School? There are things they didn't test for."

 

Alai did not tell her the obvious: She was different only because Petra asked her for help, and not someone else. She would not have escaped without Petra's request.

 

"Ender's Jeesh didn't come from the tests," said Alai. "We were chosen because of what we did."

 

"Because of what you did that Graff thought was important. There were qualities that he didn't know were important, so he didn't watch for them."

 

Alai laughed. "What, you're jealous because you weren't in Ender's Jeesh?"

 

"I'm disgusted that you still believe that Bean is irresistible because he's so 'smart.' "

 

"You haven't seen him in action," said Alai. "He's scary."

 

"No, you're just scared."

 

"Virlomi," said Alai, "don't do this."

 

"Don't do what?"

 

"Don't force my hand."

 

"I'm not forcing anything. We're equals, right? You'll tell your armies what to do, and I'll tell mine."

 

"If you send your troops on a suicide attack against China, then China will be at war with me, too. That's what our marriage means. So you're committing me to war whether I like it or not."

 

"I can win without you."

 

"Don't believe your own propaganda, my beloved," said Alai. "You aren't a god. You aren't infallible. And right now, you're so irrational that it scares me."

 

"Not irrational," said Virlomi. "Confident. And determined."

 

"You studied where I did. You already know all the reasons why an attack against China is insane."

 

"That's why we'll achieve surprise. That's why we'll win. Besides," said Virlomi, "our battle plans will be drawn up by the great Caliph Alai. And he was a member of Ender's Jeesh!"

 

"What happened to the idea of our being equals?" said Alai.

 

"We are equals."

 

"I never forced you to do anything."

 

"And I'm not forcing you, either."

 

"Saying that over and over won't make it true."

 

"I'm doing what I choose, and you're doing what you choose. The only thing I want from you is—I want your baby inside me before I lead my troops to war."

 

"What do you think this is, the middle ages? You don't lead your troops to war."

 

"I do," said Virlomi.

 

"You do if you're a squad commander. There's no point when you have an army of a million men. They can't see you so it doesn't help."

 

"You reminded me a minute ago that you aren't Alexander of Macedon. Well, Alai, I am Jeanne d'Arc."

 

"When I said I'm not Alexander," said Alai, "I wasn't referring to his military prowess. I was referring to his marriage to a Persian princess."

 

She looked irritated. "I studied his campaigns."

 

"He returned to Babylon and married a daughter of the old Persian Emperor. He made his officers marry Persians, too. He was trying to unite the Greeks with the Persians and form them into one nation, by making the Persians a little more Greek, and the Greeks a little more Persian."

 

"Your point?"

 

"The Greeks said, We conquered the world by being Greek. The Persians lost their empire by being Persian."

 

"So you aren't trying to make your Muslims more Hindu or my Hindus more Muslim. Very good."

 

"He tried to combine soldiers of Persia and soldiers of Greece into one army. It didn't work. It fell apart."

 

"We're not making those mistakes."

 

"Exactly," said Alai. "I'm not going to make mistakes that destroy my Caliphate."

 

Virlomi laughed. "All right, then. If you think invading China is such a mistake, what are you going to do? Divorce me? Void our treaty? What then? You'll have to retreat from India and you'll look like even more of a zhopa. Or you'll try to stay and then I'll go to war against you. It all comes crashing down, Alai. So you're not going to get rid of me. You're going to stay my husband and you're going to love me and we'll have babies together and we'll conquer the world and govern it together and do you know why?"

 

"Why?" he said sadly.

 

"Because that's how I want it. That's what I've learned over the past few years. Whatever I think of, if I decide I want it, if I do what I know I need to do, then it happens. I'm the lucky girl whose dreams come true."

 

She came to him, wrapped her arms around him, kissed him. He kissed her back, because it would be unwise of him to show her how sad and frightened he was, and how little he desired her now.

 

"I love you," she said. "You're my best dream."

 

 

 

 

20

 

 

PLANS

 

 

 

From: lmperialSelf%HotSoup@ForbiddenCity.ch.gov

 

To: Weaver%Virlomi@Motherlndia.in.net, Caliph%Salaam@caliph.gov

 

Re: Don't do this

 

 

Alai, Virlomi, what are you thinking? Troop movements can't be hidden. Do you really want this bloodbath? Are you bent on proving that Graff is right and none of us belong on Earth?

 

 

Hot Soup

 

 

From: Weaver%Virlomi@Motherlndia.in.net

 

To: lmperialSelf%HotSoup@ForbiddenCity.ch.gov

 

Re: Silly boy

 

 

Did you think that Chinese offenses in India would be forgotten? If you don't want bloodshed, then swear allegiance to Mother India and Caliph Alai. Disband your armies and offer no resistance. We will be far more merciful to the Chinese than the Chinese were to India.

 

 

From: Caliph%Jeeshman@caliph.gov

 

To: lmperialSelf%HotSoup@ForbiddenCity.ch.gov

 

Re: Look again

 

 

Take no precipitate action, my friend. Things will not go as they appear to be going.

 

 

 

Mazer Rackham sat across from Peter Wiggin in his office in Rotterdam.

 

"We're very concerned," said Rackham.

 

"So am I."

 

"What have you set in motion here, Peter?"

 

"Mazer," said Peter, "all I've done is keep pressing, using what small tools I have. They decide how to respond to that pressure. I was prepared for an invasion of Armenia or Nubia. I was prepared to take advantage of a mass expulsion of Muslims from some or all European nations."

 

"And war between India and China? Are you prepared for that?"

 

"These are your geniuses, Mazer. Yours and Graff's. You trained them. You explain to me why Alai and Virlomi are doing something so stupid and suicidal as to throw badly armed Indian troops against Han Tzu's battle-hardened, fully equipped, revenge-hungry army."

 

"So that's not something you did."

 

"I'm not like you and Graff," said Peter, irritated. "I don't think I'm some master puppeteer. I've got this amount of power and influence in the world, and it doesn't amount to much. I have a billion or so citizens who have not yet become a genuine nation, so I have to keep dancing just to keep the FPE viable. I have a military force which is well trained and well equipped, has excellent morale, and is so small it wouldn't even be noticed on a battlefield in China or India. I have my personal reputation as Locke and my not-so-empty-anymore office as Hegemon. And I have Bean, both his actual abilities and his extravagant reputation. That's my arsenal. Do you see anything in that list that would allow me to even think of starting a war between two major world powers over whom I have no influence?"

 

"It just played into your hands so nicely, we couldn't help but think you had something to do with it."

 

"No, you did," said Peter. "You made these kids crazy in Battle School. Now they're all mad kings, using the lives of their subjects as playing pieces in a tawdry game of one-upmanship."

 

Rackham sat back, looking a little sick. "We didn't want this either. And I don't think they're crazy. Somebody must see some advantage in starting this war, and yet I can't think who. You're the only one who stands to gain, so we thought..."

 

"Believe it or not," said Peter, "I would not start a war like this, even if I thought I could profit from picking up the pieces. The only people who start wars that are bound to depend on human waves getting cut down by machine guns are fanatics or idiots. I think we can safely rule out idiocy. So ... that leaves Virlomi."

 

"That's what we're afraid of. That she's actually come to believe her image. God-blessed and irresistible." Rackham raised an eyebrow. "But you knew that. You met with her."

 

"She proposed marriage to me," said Peter. "I turned her down."

 

"Before she went to Alai."

 

"I have a feeling that she married Alai on the rebound."

 

Rackham laughed. "She offered you India."

 

"She offered me an entanglement. I turned it into an opportunity."

 

"You knew when you turned her down that she'd be angry and do something stupid."

 

Peter shrugged. "I knew she'd do something spiteful. Something to show her power. I had no idea she'd try Alai, and I certainly had no idea he'd actually fall for it. Didn't he know she was crazy? I mean, not clinically, but drunk on power."

 

"You tell me why he did it," said Rackham.

 

"He was one of Ender's Jeesh," said Peter. "You and Graff must have so much paper on Alai that you know when he scratches his butt."

 

Rackham only waited.

 

"Look, I don't know why he did it, except maybe he thought he could control her," said Peter. "When he came home from Eros, he was a naive and righteous Muslim boy who's been sheltered ever since. Maybe he just wasn't ready to deal with a real live woman. The question now is, how will this play out?"

 

"How do you think it will play out?"

 

"Why should I tell you what I think?" said Peter. "What possible advantage will I get from you and Graff knowing what I'm expecting and what I'm preparing to do about it?"

 

"How will it hurt?"

 

"It'll hurt because if you decide your goals are different from mine, you'll meddle. Some of your meddling I've appreciated, but right now I don't want either the I.F. or ColMin doing one damn thing. I'm juggling too many balls to want some volunteer juggler to come in and try to help."

 

Rackham laughed. "Peter, Graff was so right about you."

 

"What?"

 

"When he rejected you for Battle School."

 

"Because I was too aggressive," said Peter wryly. "And look what he actually accepted."

 

"Peter," said Rackham. "Think about what you just said."

 

Peter thought about it. "You mean about juggling."

 

"I mean about why you were rejected for Battle School."

 

Peter immediately felt stupid. His parents had been told that he was rejected because he was too aggressive—dangerously so. And he had wormed that information out of them at a very young age. Ever since then, it had been a burden he carried around inside—the judgment that he was dangerous. Sometimes it had made him bold; more often, it had made him not trust his own judgment, his own moral framework. Am I doing this because it's right? Am I doing this because it will really be to my benefit? Or only because I'm aggressive and can't stand to sit back and wait? He had forced himself to be more patient, more subtle than his first impulse. Time after time he had held back. It was because of this that he had used Valentine and now Petra to write the more dangerous, demagogic essays—he didn't want any kind of textual analysis to point to him as the author. It was why he had held back from any kind of serious arm-twisting with nations that kept playing with him about joining the FPE—he couldn't afford to have anyone perceive him as coercive.

 

And all this time, that assessment of him was a lie.

 

"I'm not too aggressive."

 

"It's impossible to be too aggressive for Battle School," said Rackham. "Reckless—now, that would be dangerous. But nobody has ever called you reckless, have they? And your parents would have known that was a lie, because they could have seen what a calculating little bastard you were, even at the age of seven."

 

"Why thanks."

 

"No, Graff looked at your tests and watched what the monitor showed us, and then he talked to me and showed me, and we realized: You weren't what we wanted as commander of the army, because people don't love you. Sorry, but it's true. You're not warm. You don't inspire devotion. You would have been a good commander under someone like Ender. But you could never have held the whole thing together the way he did."

 

"I'm doing fine now, thanks."

 

"You're not commanding soldiers. Peter, do Bean or Suri love you? Would they die for you? Or do they serve you because they believe in your cause?"

 

"They think the world united under me as Hegemon would be better than the world united under anyone else, or not united at all."

 

"A simple calculation."

 

"A calculation based on trust that I've damn well earned."

 

"But not personal devotion," said Rackham. "Even Valentine—she was never devoted to you, and she knew you better than anyone."

 

"She pretty much hated me."

 

"Too strong, Peter. Too strong a word. She didn't trust you. She feared you. She saw your mind like clockwork. Very smart. She always figured you were six steps ahead of her."

 

Peter shrugged.

 

"But you weren't, were you?"

 

"Ruling the world isn't a chess game," said Peter. "Or if it is, it's a game with a thousand powerful pieces and eight billion pawns, and the pieces keep changing their capabilities, and the gameboard never stays the same. So just how far ahead can you possibly see? All I could do was put myself into a position with the most possible influence, and then exploit whatever opportunities came."

 

Rackham nodded. "But one thing was certain. Your off-the-charts aggressiveness, your passion to control events, we knew that you would place yourself in the center of everything."

 

It was Peter's turn to laugh. "So you left me home from Battle School so I would be what I am now."

 

"As I said, you weren't suited for military life. You don't take orders very well. People aren't devoted to you, and you aren't devoted to anyone else."

 

"I might be, if I found somebody I respected enough."

 

"The only person you ever respected that much is on a colony ship right now and you'll never see him again."

 

"I could never have followed Ender."

 

"No, you never could. But he's the only person you respected enough. The trouble was, he was your younger brother. You couldn't have lived with the shame."

 

"Well, all this analysis is nice, but how does it help us now?"

 

"We don't have a plan either, Peter," said Rackham. "We're also just moving useful pieces into place. Taking others out of play. We have some assets, just as you do. We have our arsenal."

 

"You have the whole I.F. You could put a stop to all of this."

 

"No," said Rackham. "Polemarch Chamrajnagar is adamant about it, and he's right. We could force the world's armies to come to a halt. They would all obey us or pay a terrible price. But who would be ruling the world then?"

 

"The fleet."

 

"And who is the fleet? It's volunteers from Earth. And from that moment on, who would be our volunteers? People who love the idea of going out into space? Or people who want to control the government of Earth? It would turn us into an Earth-centered institution. It would destroy the colonization project. And the Fleet would be hated, because it would soon be dominated by people who loved power."

 

"Makes you sound like a bunch of nervous virgins."

 

"We are," said Rackham. "And that's a strange line, coming from a nervous virgin like you."

 

Peter didn't bother responding to that. "So you and Graff won't do anything that would compromise the purity of the I.F."

 

"Unless somebody brings out the nukes again. We won't let that happen. Two nuclear wars were enough."

 

"We never had a nuclear war."

 

"World War II was a nuclear war," said Rackham. "Even if only two bombs were dropped. And the bomb that destroyed Mecca was the end of a civil war within Islam being fought out through surrogates and terrorism. Ever since then, nobody has even considered using nukes. But wars that are ended by nukes are nuclear wars."

 

"Fine. Definitions."

 

"Hyrum and I are doing everything we can," said Rackham. "So is the Polemarch. And believe it or not, we're trying to help you. We want you to succeed."

 

"And now you're pretending that you've been rooting for me all along?"

 

"Not at all," said Rackham. "We had no idea whether you'd be a tyrant or a wise ruler. No idea of what method you'd use or what your world government would be like. We knew you couldn't do it by charisma because you don't have much. And I'll admit you emerged with greater clarity after we got a good look at Achilles."

 

"So you didn't really get behind me until you realized I was better than Achilles."

 

"Your achievements were so extraordinary that we were still wary of you. Then Achilles showed us that you were actually cautious and self-restrained, compared to what could have been done by somebody who was truly ruthless. We saw a tyrant on the make, and we realized you weren't one."

 

"Depending on how you define 'tyrant.' "

 

"Peter, we're trying to help you. We want you to unite the world under civilian government. Without any advice from us, you've determined to do it by persuasion and plebiscite instead of using armies and terror."

 

"I use armies."

 

"You know what I mean," said Rackham.

 

"I just didn't want you to have any illusions."

 

"So tell me what you're thinking. What you're planning. So we won't interfere with our meddling."

 

"Because you're on my side," Peter said scornfully.

 

"No, we're not 'on your side.' We're not really in this game, except insofar as it affects us. We're in the business of dispersing the human race to as many worlds as possible. But so far, only two colony ships have taken off. And it will be another generation before any of them lands. Far longer before we know whether the colonies will take hold and succeed. Even longer than that before we know if they'll become isolated worlds or trade will be profitable enough to make interstellar travel economically feasible. That's all we care about. But to accomplish it, we have to get recruits from Earth, and we have to pay for the ships—again, from Earth. And we have to do it without any hope of financial return for a hundred years at the best. Capitalism is not good at thinking a hundred years ahead. So we need government funding."