PART FIVE — LEADER
CHAPTER 17 — DEADLINE
"I don't even know how to interpret this. The mind game had only one shot at Bean, and it puts up this one kid's face, and he goes off the charts with — what, fear? Rage? Isn't there anybody who knows how this so-called game works? It ran Ender through a wringer, brought in those pictures of his brother that it couldn't possibly have had, only it got them. And this one — was it some deeply insightful gambit that leads to powerful new conclusions about Bean's psyche? Or was it simply the only person Bean knew whose picture was already in the Battle School files?"
"Was that a rant, or is there any particular one of those questions you want answered?"
"What I want you to answer is this question: How the hell can you tell me that something was 'very significant' if you have no idea what it signifies!"
"If someone runs after your car, screaming and waving his arms, you know that something significant is intended, even if you can't hear a word he's saying."
"So that's what this was? Screaming?"
"That was an analogy. The image of Achilles was extraordinarily important to Bean."
"Important positive, or important negative?"
"That's too cut-and-dried. If it was negative, are his negative feelings because Achilles caused some terrible trauma in Bean? Or negative because having been torn away from Achilles was traumatic, and Bean longs to be restored to him?"
"So if we have an independent source of information that tells us to keep them apart ..."
"Then either that independent source is really really right ..."
"Or really really wrong."
"I'd be more specific if I could. We only had a minute with him."
"That's disingenuous. You've had the mind game linked to all his work with his teacher-identity."
"And we've reported to you about that. It's partly his hunger to have control — that's how it began — but it has since become a way of taking responsibility. He has, in a way, become a teacher. He has also used his inside information to give himself the illusion of belonging to the community."
"He does belong."
"He has only one close friend, and that's more of a big brother, little brother thing."
"I have to decide whether I can put Achilles into Battle School while Bean is there, or give up one of them in order to keep the other. Now, from Bean's response to Achilles's face, what counsel can you give me."
"You won't like it."
"Try me."
"From that incident, we can tell you that putting them together will be either a really really bad thing, or —"
"I'm going to have to take a long, hard look at your budget."
"Sir, the whole purpose of the program, the way it works, is that the computer makes connections we would never think of, and gets responses we weren't looking for. It's not actually under our control."
"Just because a program isn't out of control doesn't mean intelligence is present, either in the program or the programmer."
"We don't use the word 'intelligence' with software. We regard that as a naive idea. We say that it's 'complex.' Which means that we don't always understand what it's doing. We don't always get conclusive information."
"Have you ever gotten conclusive information about anything?"
"I chose the wrong word this time. 'Conclusive' isn't ever the goal when we are studying the human mind."
"Try 'useful.' Anything useful?"
"Sir, I've told you what we know. The decision was yours before we reported to you, and it's still your decision now. Use our information or not, but is it sensible to shoot the messenger?"
"When the messenger won't tell you what the hell the message is, my trigger finger gets twitchy. Dismissed."
*** Nikolai's name was on the list that Ender gave him, but Bean ran into problems immediately. "I don't want to," said Nikolai. It had not occurred to Bean that anyone would refuse. "I'm having a hard enough time keeping up as it is." "You're a good soldier." "By the skin of my teeth. With a big helping of luck." "That's how all good soldiers do it." "Bean, if I lose one practice a day from my regular toon, then I'll fall behind. How can I make it up? And one practice a day with you won't be enough. I'm a smart kid, Bean, but I'm not Ender. I'm not you. That's the thing that I don't think you really get. How it feels not to be you. Things just aren't as easy and clear." "It's not easy for me, either." "Look, I know that, Bean. And there are some things I can do for you. This isn't one of them. Please." It was Bean's first experience with command, and it wasn't working. He found himself getting angry, wanting to say screw you and go on to someone else. Only he couldn't be angry at the only true friend he had. And he also couldn't easily take no for an answer. "Nikolai, what we're doing won't be hard. Stunts and tricks." Nikolai closed his eyes. "Bean, you're making me feel bad." "I don't want you to feel bad, Sinterklaas, but this is the assignment I was given, because Ender thinks Dragon Army needs this. You were on the list, his choice not mine." "But you don't have to choose me." "So I ask the next kid, and he says, 'Nikolai's on this squad, right?' and I say, No, he didn't want to. That makes them all feel like they can say no. And they'll want to say no, because nobody wants to be taking orders from me." "A month ago, sure, that would have been true. But they know you're a solid soldier. I've heard people talk about you. They respect you." Again, it would have been so easy to do what Nikolai wanted and let him off the hook on this. And, as a friend, that would be the right thing to do. But Bean couldn't think as a friend. He had to deal with the fact that he had been given a command and he had to make it work. Did he really need Nikolai? "I'm just thinking out loud, Nikolai, because you're the only one I can say this to, but see, I'm scared. I wanted to lead a toon, but that's because I didn't know anything about what leaders do. I've had a week of battles to see how Crazy Tom holds the group of us together, the voice he uses for command. To see how Ender trains us and trusts us, and it's a dance, tiptoe, leap, spin, and I'm afraid that I'll fail, and there isn't time to fail, I have to make this work, and when you're with me, I know there's at least one person who isn't halfway hoping for this smart little kid to fail." "Don't kid yourself," said Nikolai. "As long as we're being honest." That stung. But a leader had to take that, didn't he? "No matter what you feel, Nikolai, you'll give me a chance," said Bean. "And because you're giving me a chance, the others will, too. I need ... loyalty." "So do I, Bean." "You need my loyalty as a friend, in order to let you, personally, be happy," said Bean. "I need loyalty as a leader, in order to fulfil the assignment given to us by our commander." "That's mean," said Nikolai. "Eh," said Bean. "Also true." "You're mean, Bean." "Help me, Nikolai." "Looks like our friendship goes only one way." Bean had never felt like this before — this knife in his heart, just because of the words he was hearing, just because somebody else was angry with him. It wasn't just because he wanted Nikolai to think well of him. It was because he knew that Nikolai was at least partly right. Bean was using his friendship against him. It wasn't because of that pain, however, that Bean decided to back off. It was because a soldier who was with him against his will would not serve him well. Even if he was a friend. "Look, if you won't, you won't. I'm sorry I made you mad. I'll do it without you. And you're right, I'll do fine. Still friends, Nikolai?" Nikolai took his offered hand, held it. "Thank you," he whispered. Bean went immediately to Shovel, the only one on Ender's list who was also from C toon. Shovel wasn't Bean's first choice — he had just the slightest tendency to delay, to do things half-heartedly. But because he was in C toon, Shovel had been there when Bean advised Crazy Tom. He had observed Bean in action. Shovel set aside his desk when Bean asked if they could talk for a minute. As with Nikolai, Bean clambered up onto the bunk to sit beside the larger boy. Shovel was from Cagnes-sur-Mer, a little town on the French Riviera, and he still had that open-faced friendliness of Provence. Bean liked him. Everybody liked him. Quickly Bean explained what Ender had asked him to do — though he didn't mention that it was just a sideshow.
Nobody would give up a daily practice for a something that wouldn't be crucial to victory. "You were on the list Ender gave me, and I'd like you to —" "Bean, what are you doing?" Crazy Tom stood in front of Shovel's bunk. At once Bean realised his mistake. "Sir," said Bean, "I should have talked to you first. I'm new at this and I just didn't think." "New at what?" Again Bean laid out what he had been asked to do by Ender. "And Shovel's on the list?" "Right." "So I'm going to lose you and Shovel from my practices?" "Just one practice per day." "I'm the only toon leader who loses two." "Ender said one from each toon. Five, plus me. Not my choice." "Merda," said Crazy Tom. "You and Ender just didn't think of the fact that this is going to hit me harder than any of the other toon leaders. Whatever you're doing, why can't you do it with five instead of six? You and four others — one from each of the other toons?" Bean wanted to argue, but realised that going head to head wasn't going to get him anywhere. "You're right, I didn't think of that, and you're right that Ender might very well change his mind when he realises what he's doing to your practices. So when he comes in this morning, why don't you talk to him and let me know what the two of you decide? In the meantime, though, Shovel might tell me no, and then the question doesn't matter any more, right?" Crazy Tom thought about it. Bean could see the anger ticking away in him. But leadership had changed Crazy Tom. He no longer blew up the way he used to. He caught himself. He held it in. He waited it out. "OK, I'll talk to Ender. If Shovel wants to do it." They both looked at Shovel. "I think it'd be OK," said Shovel. "To do something weird like this." "I won't let up on either of you," said Crazy Tom. "And you don't talk about your wacko toon during my practices. You keep it outside." They both agreed to that. Bean could see that Crazy Tom was wise to insist on that. This special assignment would set the two of them apart from the others in C toon. If they rubbed their noses in it, the others could feel shut out of an elite. That problem wouldn't show up as much in any of the other toons, because there'd only be one kid from each toon in Bean's squad. No chat. Therefore no nose-rubbing. "Look, I don't have to talk to Ender about this," said Crazy Tom. "Unless it becomes a problem. OK?" "Thanks," said Bean. Crazy Tom went back to his own bunk. I did that OK, thought Bean. I didn't screw up. "Bean?" said Shovel. "Eh?" "One thing." "Eh." "Don't call me Shovel." Bean thought back. Shovel's real name was Ducheval. "You prefer 'Two Horses'? Sounds kind of like a Sioux warrior." Shovel grinned. "That's better than sounding like the tool you use to clean the stable." "Ducheval," said Bean. "From now on." "Thanks. When do we start?" "Free time practice today." "Bacana." Bean almost danced away from Ducheval's bunk. He had done it. He had handled it. Once, anyway. And by the time breakfast was over, he had all five on his toon. With the other four, he checked with their toon leaders first. No one turned him down. And he got his squad to promise to call Ducheval by his right name from then on. *** Graff had Dimak and Dap in his makeshift office in the battle room bridge when Bean came. It was the usual argument between Dimak and Dap — that is, it was about nothing, some trivial question of one violating some minor protocol or other, which escalated quickly into a flurry of formal complaints. Just another skirmish in their rivalry, as Dap and Dimak tried to gain some advantage for their protégés, Ender and Bean, while at the same time trying to keep Graff from putting them in the physical danger that both saw looming. When the knock came at the door, voices had been raised for some time, and because the knock was not loud, it occurred to Graff to wonder what might have been overheard. Had names been mentioned? Yes. Both Bean and Ender. And also Bonzo. Had Achilles's name come up? No. He had just been referred to as "another irresponsible decision endangering the future of the human race, all because of some insane theory about games being one thing and genuine life-and-death struggles being another, completely unproven and unprovable except in the blood of some child!" That was Dap, who had a tendency to wax eloquent. Graff, of course, was already sick at heart, because he agreed with both teachers, not only in their arguments against each other, but also in their arguments against his own policy. Bean was demonstrably the better candidate on all tests; Ender was just as demonstrably the better candidate based on his performance in actual leadership situations. And Graff was being irresponsible to expose both boys to physical danger. But in both cases, the child had serious doubts about his own courage. Ender had his long history of submission to his older brother, Peter, and the mind game had shown that in Ender's unconscious, Peter was linked to the Buggers. Graff knew that Ender had the courage to strike, without restraint, when the time came for it. That he could stand alone against an enemy, without anyone to help him, and destroy the one who would destroy him. But Ender didn't know it, and he had to know. Bean, for his part, had shown physical symptoms of panic before his first battle, and while he ended up performing well, Graff didn't need any psychological tests to tell him that the doubt was there. The only difference was, in Bean's case Graff shared his doubt. There was no proof that Bean would strike. Self-doubt was the one thing that neither candidate could afford to have. Against an enemy that did not hesitate — that could not hesitate — there could be no pause for reflection. The boys had to face their worst fears, knowing that no one would intervene to help. They had to know that when failure would be fatal, they would not fail. They had to pass the test and know that they had passed it. And both boys were so perceptive that the danger could not be faked. It had to be real. Exposing them to that risk was utterly irresponsible of Graff. Yet he knew that it would be just as irresponsible not to. If Graff played it safe, no one would blame him if, in the actual war, Ender or Bean failed. That would be small consolation, though, given the consequences of failure. Whichever way he guessed, if he was wrong, everybody on Earth might pay the ultimate price. The only thing that made it possible was that if either of them was killed, or damaged physically or mentally, the other was still there to carry on as the sole remaining candidate. If both failed, what then? There were many bright children, but none who were that much better than commanders already in place, who had graduated from Battle School many years ago. Somebody has to roll the dice. Mine are the hands that hold those dice. I'm not a bureaucrat, placing my career above the larger purpose I was put here to serve. I will not put the dice in someone else's hands, or pretend that I don't have the choice I have. For now, all Graff could do was listen to both Dap and Dimak, ignore their bureaucratic attacks and manoeuvres against him, and try to keep them from each other's throats in their vicarious rivalry. That small knock at the door — Graff knew before the door opened who it would be. If he had heard the argument, Bean gave no sign. But then, that was Bean's specialty, giving no sign. Only Ender managed to be more secretive — and he, at least, had played the mind game long enough to give the teachers a map of his psyche. "Sir," said Bean. "Come in, Bean." Come in, Julian Delphiki, longed-for child of good and loving parents. Come in, kidnapped child, hostage of fate. Come and talk to the Fates, who are playing such clever little games with your life. "I can wait," said Bean. "Captain Dap and Captain Dimak can hear what you have to say, can't they?" asked Graff. "If you say so, sir. It's not a secret. I would like to have access to station supplies." "Denied." "That's not acceptable, sir." Graff saw how both Dap and Dimak glanced at him. Amused at the audacity of the boy? "Why do you think so?" "Short notice, games every day, soldiers exhausted and yet still being pressured to perform in class — fine, Ender's dealing with it and so are we. But the only possible reason you could be doing this is to test our resourcefulness. So I want some resources." "I don't remember your being commander of Dragon Army," said Graff. "I'll listen to a requisition for specific equipment from your commander." "Not possible," said Bean. "He doesn't have time to waste on foolish bureaucratic procedures." Foolish bureaucratic procedures. Graff had used that exact phrase in the argument just a few minutes ago. But Graff's voice had not been raised. How long had Bean been listening outside the door? Graff cursed himself silently. He had moved his office up here specifically because he knew Bean was a sneak and a spy, gathering inte
lligence however he could. And then he didn't even post a guard to stop the boy from simply walking up and listening at the door. "And you do?" asked Graff. "I'm the one he assigned to think of stupid things you might do to rig the game against us, and think of ways to deal with them." "What do you think you're going to find?" "I don't know," said Bean. "I just know that the only things we ever see are our uniforms and flash suits, our weapons and our desks. There are other supplies here. For instance, there's paper. We never get any except during written tests, when our desks are closed to us." "What would you do with paper in the battle room?" "I don't know," said Bean. "Wad it up and throw it around. Shred it and make a cloud of dust out of it." "And who would clean this up?" "Not my problem," said Bean. "Permission denied." "That's not acceptable, sir," said Bean. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Bean, but it matters less than a cockroach's fart whether you accept my decision or not." "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, sir, but you clearly have no idea what you're doing. You're improvising. Screwing with the system. The damage you're doing is going to take years to undo, and you don't care. That means that it doesn't matter what condition this school is in a year from now. That means that everybody who matters is going to be graduated soon. Training is being accelerated because the Buggers are getting too close for delays. So you're pushing. And you're especially pushing Ender Wiggin." Graff felt sick. He knew that Bean's powers of analysis were extraordinary. So, also, were his powers of deception. Some of Bean's guesses weren't right — but was that because he didn't know the truth, or because he simply didn't want them to know how much he knew, or how much he guessed? I never wanted you here, Bean, because you're too dangerous. Bean was still making his case. "When the day comes that Ender Wiggin is looking for ways to stop the Buggers from getting to Earth and scouring the whole planet the way they started to back in the First Invasion, are you going to give him some bullshit answer about what resources he can or cannot use?" "As far as you're concerned, the ship's supplies don't exist." "As far as I'm concerned," said Bean, "Ender is this close to telling you to fry up your game and eat it. He's sick of it — if you can't see that, you're not much of a teacher. He doesn't care about the standings. He doesn't care about beating other kids. All he cares about is preparing to fight the Buggers. So how hard do you think it will be for me to persuade him that your program here is crocked, and it's time to quit playing?" "All right," said Graff. "Dimak, prepare the brig. Bean is to be confined until the shuttle is ready to take him back to Earth. This boy is out of Battle School." Bean smiled slightly. "Go for it, Colonel Graff. I'm done here anyway. I've got everything I wanted here — a first-rate education. I'll never have to live on the street again. I'm home free. Let me out of your game, right now, I'm ready." "You won't be free on Earth, either. Can't risk having you tell these wild stories about Battle School," said Graff. "Right. Take the best student you ever had here and put him in jail because he asked for access to the supply closet and you didn't like it. Come on, Colonel Graff. Swallow hard and back down. You need my cooperation more than I need yours." Dimak could barely conceal his smile. If only confronting Graff like this were sufficient proof of Bean's courage. And for all that Graff had doubts about Bean, he didn't deny that he was good at manoeuvre. Graff would have given almost anything not to have Dimak and Dap in the room at this moment. "It was your decision to have this conversation in front of witnesses," said Bean. What, was the kid a mind reader? No, Graff had glanced at the two teachers. Bean simply knew how to read his body language. The kid missed nothing. That's why he was so valuable to the program. Isn't this why we pin our hopes on these kids? Because they're good at manoeuvre? And if I know anything about command, don't I know this — that there are times when you cut your losses and leave the field? "All right, Bean. One scan through supply inventory." "With somebody to explain to me what it all is." "I thought you already knew everything." Bean was polite in victory; he did not respond to taunting. The sarcasm gave Graff a little compensation for having to back down. He knew that's all it was, but this job didn't have many perks. "Captain Dimak and Captain Dap will accompany you," said Graff. "One scan, and either one of them can veto anything you request. They will be responsible for the consequences of any injuries resulting from your use of any item they let you have." "Thank you, sir," said Bean. "In all likelihood I won't find anything useful. But I appreciate your fair-mindedness in letting us search the station's resources to further the educational objectives of the Battle School." The kid had the jargon down cold. All those months of access to the student data, with all the notations in the files, Bean had clearly learned more than just the factual contents of the dossiers. And now Bean was giving him the spin that he should use in writing up a report about his decision. As if Graff were not perfectly capable of creating his own spin. The kid is patronising me. Little bastard thinks that he's in control. Well, I have some surprises for him, too. "Dismissed," said Graff. "All of you." They got up, saluted, left. Now, thought Graff, I have to second-guess all my future decisions, wondering how much my choices are influenced by the fact that this kid really pisses me off. *** As Bean scanned the inventory list, he was really searching primarily for something, anything, that might be made into a weapon that Ender or some of his army could carry to protect him from physical attack by Bonzo. But there was nothing that would be both concealable from the teachers and powerful enough to give smaller kids sufficient leverage over larger ones. It was a disappointment, but he'd find other ways to neutralise the threat. And now, as long as he was scanning the inventory, was there anything that he might be able to use in the battle room? Cleaning supplies weren't very promising. Nor would the hardware stocks make much sense in the battle room. What, throw a handful of screws? The safety equipment, though ... "What's a deadline?" asked Bean. Dimak answered. "Very fine, strong cord that's used to secure maintenance and construction workers when they're working outside the station." "How long?" "With links, we can assemble several kilometers of secure deadline," said Dimak. "But each coil un-spools to a hundred meters." "I want to see it." They took him into parts of the station that children never went to. The decor was far more utilitarian here. Screws and rivets were visible in the plates on the walls. The intake ducts were visible instead of being hidden inside the ceiling. There were no friendly light stripes for a child to touch and get directions to his barracks. All the palm pads were too high for a child to comfortably use. And the staff they passed saw Bean and then looked at Dap and Dimak as if they were crazy. The coil was amazingly small. Bean hefted it. Light, too. He un-spooled a few decametres of it. It was almost invisible. "This will hold?" "The weight of two adults," said Dimak. "It's so fine. Will it cut?" "Rounded so smoothly it can't cut anything. Wouldn't do us any good if it went slicing through things. Like spacesuits." "Can I cut it into short lengths?" "With a blowtorch," said Dimak. "This is what I want." "Just one?" asked Dap, rather sarcastically. "And a blowtorch," said Bean. "Denied," said Dimak. "I was joking," said Bean. He walked out of the supply room and started jogging down the corridor, retracing the route they had just taken. They jogged after him. "Slow down!" Dimak called out. "Keep up!" Bean answered. "I've got a toon waiting for me to train them with this." "Train them to do what!" "I don't know!" He got to the pole and slid down. It passed him right through to the student levels. Going this direction, there was no security clearance at all. His toon was waiting for him in the battle room. They'd been working hard for him the past few days, trying all kinds of lame things. Formations that could explode in midair. Screens. Attacks without guns, disarming enemies with their feet. Getting into and out of spins, which made them almost impossible to hit but also kept them from shooting at anybody else. The most encouraging thing was the fact that Ender spent almost the entire practice time watching Bean's squad whenever he wasn't actually responding to questions from leaders and soldiers in the other toons. Whatever they came up with, Ender would know about it and have his own ideas about when to use it. And, knowing that Ender's eyes were on the
m, Bean's soldiers worked all the harder. It gave Bean more stature in their eyes, that Ender really did care about what they did. Ender's good at this, Bean realised again for the hundredth time. He knows how to form a group into the shape he wants it to have. He knows how to get people to work together. And he does it by the most minimal means possible. If Graff were as good at this as Ender, I wouldn't have had to act like such a bully in there today. The first thing Bean tried with the deadline was to stretch it across the battle room. It reached, with barely enough slack to allow knots to be tied at both ends. But a few minutes of experimentation showed that it would be completely ineffective as a tripwire. Most enemies would simply miss it; those that did run into it might be disoriented or flipped around, but once it was known that it was there, it could be used like part of a grid, which meant it would work to the advantage of a creative enemy. The deadline was designed to keep a man from drifting off into space. What happens when you get to the end of the line? Bean left one end fastened to a handhold in the wall, but coiled the other end around his waist several times. The line was now shorter than the width of the battle room's cube. Bean tied a knot in the line, then launched himself toward the opposite wall. As he sailed through the air, the deadline tautening behind him, he couldn't help thinking: I hope they were right about this wire not being capable of cutting. What a way to end — sliced in half in the battle room. That would be an interesting mess for them to clean up. When he was a meter from the wall, the line went taut. Bean's forward progress was immediately halted at his waist. His body jack-knifed and he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. But the most surprising thing was the way his inertia was translated from forward movement into a sideways arc that whipped him across the battle room toward where D toon was practising. He hit the wall so hard he had what was left of his breath knocked out of him. "Did you see that!" Bean screamed, as soon as he could breathe. His stomach hurt — he might not have been sliced in half, but he would have a vicious bruise, he knew that at once, and if he hadn't had his flash suit on, he could well believe there would have been internal injuries. But he'd be OK, and the deadline had let him change directions abruptly in midair. "Did you see it! Did you see it!" "Are you all right!" Ender shouted. He realised that Ender thought he was injured. Slowing down his speech, Bean called out again, "Did you see how fast I went! Did you see how I changed direction!" The whole army stopped practice to watch as Bean played more with the deadline. Tying two soldiers together got interesting results when one of them stopped, but it was hard to hold on. More effective was when Bean had Ender use his hook to pull a star out of the wall and put it into the middle of the battle room. Bean tied himself and launched from the star; when the line went taut, the edge of the star acted as a fulcrum, shortening the length of the line as he changed direction. And as the line wrapped around the star, it shortened even more upon reaching each edge. At the end, Bean was moving so fast that he blacked out for a moment upon hitting the star. But the whole of Dragon Army was stunned at what they had seen. The deadline was completely invisible, so it looked as though this little kid had launched himself and then suddenly started changing direction and speeding up in mid-flight. It was seriously disturbing to see it. "Let's do it again, and see if I can shoot while I'm doing it," said Bean. *** Evening practice didn't end till 2140, leaving little time before bed. But having seen the stunts Bean's squad was preparing, the army was excited instead of weary, fairly scampering through the corridors. Most of them probably understood that what Bean had come up with were stunts, nothing that would be decisive in battle. It was fun anyway. It was new. And it was Dragon. Bean started out leading the way, having been given that honour by Ender. A time of triumph, and even though he knew he was being manipulated by the system — behaviour modification through public honours — it still felt good. Not so good, though, that he let up his alertness. He hadn't gone far along the corridor until he realised that there were too many Salamander uniforms among the other boys wandering around in this section. By 2140, most armies were in their barracks, with only a few stragglers coming back from the library or the vids or the game room. Too many Salamanders, and the other soldiers were often big kids from armies whose commanders bore no special love toward Ender. It didn't take a genius to recognise a trap. Bean jogged back and tagged Crazy Tom, Vlad, and Hot Soup, who were walking together. "Too many Salamanders," Bean said. "Stay back with Ender." They got it at once — it was public knowledge that Bonzo was breathing out threats about what "somebody" ought to do to Ender Wiggin, just to put him in his place. Bean continued his shambling, easygoing run toward the back of the army, ignoring the smaller kids but tagging the other two toon leaders and all the seconds — the older kids, the ones who might have some chance of standing up to Bonzo's crew in a fight. Not much of a chance, but all that was needed was to keep them from getting at Ender until the teachers intervened. No way could the teachers stand aloof if an out-and-out riot erupted. Or could they? Bean passed right by Ender, got behind him. He saw, coming up quickly, Petra Arkanian in her Phoenix Army uniform. She called out. "Ho, Ender!" To Bean's disgust, Ender stopped and turned around. The boy was too trusting. Behind Petra, a few Salamanders fell into step. Bean looked the other way, and saw a few more Salamanders and a couple of set-faced boys from other armies, drifting down the corridor past the last of the Dragons. Hot Soup and Crazy Tom were coming quickly, with more toon leaders and the rest of the larger Dragons coming behind them, but they weren't moving fast enough. Bean beckoned, and he saw Crazy Tom pick up his pace. The others followed suit. "Ender, can I talk to you," said Petra. Bean was bitterly disappointed. Petra was the Judas. Setting Ender up for Bonzo — who would have guessed? She hated Bonzo when she was in his army. "Walk with me," said Ender. "It's just for a moment," said Petra. Either she was a perfect actress or she was oblivious, Bean realised. She only seemed aware of the other Dragon uniforms, never as much as glancing at anybody else. She isn't in on it after all, thought Bean. She's just an idiot. At last, Ender seemed to be aware of his exposed position. Except for Bean, all the other Dragons were past him now, and that was apparently enough — at last — to make him uncomfortable. He turned his back on Petra and walked away, briskly, quickly closing the gap between him and the older Dragons. Petra was angry for a moment, then jogged quickly to catch up with him. Bean stood his ground, looking at the oncoming Salamanders. They didn't even glance at him. They just picked up their pace, continuing to gain on Ender almost as fast as Petra was. Bean took three steps and slapped the door of Rabbit Army barracks. Somebody opened it. Bean had only to say, "Salamander's making a move against Ender," and at once Rabbits started to pour out the door into the corridor. They emerged just as the Salamanders reached them, and started following along. Witnesses, thought Bean. And helpers, too, if the fight seemed unfair. Ahead of him, Ender and Petra were talking, and the larger Dragons fell in step around them. The Salamanders continued to follow closely, and the other thugs joined them as they passed. But the danger was dissipating. Rabbit Army and the older Dragons had done the job. Bean breathed a little easier. For the moment, at least, the danger was over. Bean caught up with Ender in time to hear Petra angrily say, "How can you think I did? Don't you know who your friends are?" She ran off, ducked into a ladder way, scrambled upward. Carn Carby of Rabbit caught up with Bean. "Everything OK?" "I hope you don't mind my calling out your army." "They came and got me. We seeing Ender safely to bed?" "Eh." Carn dropped back and walked along with the bulk of his soldiers. The Salamander thugs were now outnumbered about three to one. They backed off even more, and some of them peeled away and disappeared up ladder ways or down poles. When Bean caught up with Ender again, he was surrounded by his toon leaders. There was nothing subtle about it now — they were clearly his bodyguards, and some of the younger Dragons had realised what was happening and were filling out the formation. They got Ender to the door of his quarters and Crazy Tom pointedly entered before him, then allowed him to go in when he certified that no one was l
ying in wait. As if one of them could palm open a commander's door. But then, the teachers had been changing a lot of the rules lately. Anything could happen. Bean lay awake for a while, trying to think what he could do. There was no way they could be with Ender every moment. There was classwork — armies were deliberately broken up then. Ender was the only one who could eat in the commanders' mess, so if Bonzo jumped him there ... but he wouldn't, not with so many other commanders around him. Showers. Toilet stalls. And if Bonzo assembled the right group of thugs, they'd slap Ender's toon leaders aside like balloons. What Bean had to do was try to peel away Bonzo's support. Before he slept, he had a half-assed little plan that might help a little, or might make things worse, but at least it was something, and it would be public, so the teachers couldn't claim after the fact, in their typical bureaucrat cover-my-butt way that they hadn't known anything was going on. He thought he could do something at breakfast, but of course there was a battle first thing in the morning. Pol Slattery, Badger Army. The teachers had found a new way to mess with the rules, too. When Badgers were flashed, instead of staying frozen till the end of the game they thawed after five minutes, the way it worked in practice. But Dragons, once hit, stayed rigid. Since the battle room was packed with stars — plenty of hiding places — it took a while to realise that they were having to shoot the same soldiers more than once as they manoeuvred through the stars, and Dragon Army came closer to losing than it ever had. It was all hand to hand, with a dozen of the remaining Dragons having to watch batches of frozen Badgers, re-shooting them periodically and meanwhile frantically looking around for some other Badger sneaking up from behind. The battle took so long that by the time they got out of the battle room, breakfast was over. Dragon Army was pissed off — the ones who had been frozen early on, before they knew the trick, had spent more than an hour, some of them, floating in their rigid suits, growing more and more frustrated as the time wore on. The others, who had been forced to fight outnumbered and with little visibility against enemies who kept reviving, they were exhausted. Including Ender. Ender gathered his army in the corridor and said, "Today you know everything. No practice. Get some rest. Have some fun. Pass a test." They were all grateful for the reprieve, but still, they weren't getting any breakfast today and nobody felt like cheering. As they walked back to the barracks, some of them grumbled, "Bet they're serving breakfast to Badger Army right now." "No, they got them up and served them breakfast before." "No, they ate breakfast and then five minutes later they get to eat another." Bean, however, was frustrated because he hadn't had a chance to carry out his plan at breakfast. It would have to wait till lunch. The good thing was that because Dragon wasn't practising, Bonzo's guys wouldn't know where to lie in wait for him. The bad thing was that if Ender went off by himself, there'd be nobody to protect him. So Bean was relieved when he saw Ender go into his quarters. In consultation with the other toon leaders, Bean set up a watch on Ender's door. One Dragon sat outside the barracks for a half-hour shift, then knocked on the door and his replacement came out. No way was Ender going to go wandering off without Dragon Army knowing it. But Ender never came out and finally it was lunchtime. All the toon leaders sent the soldiers on ahead and then detoured past Ender's door. Fly Molo knocked loudly — actually, he slapped the door hard five times. "Lunch, Ender." "I'm not hungry." His voice was muffled by the door. "Go on and eat." "We can wait," said Fly. "Don't want you walking to the commanders' mess alone." "I'm not going to eat any lunch at all," said Ender. "Go on and I'll see you after." "You heard him," said Fly to the others. "He'll be safe in here while we eat." Bean had noticed that Ender did not promise to stay in his room throughout lunch. But at least Bonzo's people wouldn't know where he was. Unpredictability was helpful. And Bean wanted to get the chance to make his speech at lunch. So he ran to the mess room and did not get in line, but instead bounded up onto a table and clapped his hands loudly to get attention. "Hey, everybody!" He waited until the group went about as close to silent as it was going to get. "There's some of you here who need a reminder of a couple of points of I.F. law. If a soldier is ordered to do something illegal or improper by his commanding officer, he has a responsibility to refuse the order and report it. A soldier who obeys an illegal or improper order is fully responsible for the consequences of his actions. Just in case any of you here are too dim to know what that means, the law says that if some commander orders you to commit a crime, that's no excuse. You are forbidden to obey." Nobody from Salamander would meet Bean's gaze, but a thug in Rat uniform answered in a surly tone. "You got something in mind, here, pinprick?" "I've got you in mind, Lighter. Your scores are pretty much in the bottom ten percent in the school, so I thought you might need a little extra help." "You can shut your face hole right now, that's the help I need!" "Whatever Bonzo had you set to do last night, Lighter, you and about twenty others, what I'm telling you is if you'd actually tried something, every single one of you would have been out of Battle School on his ass. Iced. A complete failure, because you listened to Bonehead Madrid. Can I be any more clear than that?" Lighter laughed — it sounded forced, but then, he wasn't the only one laughing. "You don't even know what's going on, pinprick," one of them said. "I know Bonehead's trying to turn you into a street crew, you pathetic losers. He can't beat Ender in the battle room, so he's going to get a dozen tough guys to beat up one little kid. You all hear that? You know what Ender is — the best damn commander ever to come through here. He might be the only one able to do what Mazer Rackham did and beat the Buggers when they come back, did you think of that? And these guys are so smart they want to beat his brains out. So when the Buggers come, and we've only got pus-brains like Bonzo Madrid to lead our fleets to defeat, then as the Buggers scour the Earth and kill every last man, woman, and child, the survivors will all know that these fools are the ones who got rid of the one guy who could have led us to victory!" The whole place was dead silent now, and Bean could see, looking at the ones he recognised as having been with Bonzo's group last night, that he was getting through to them. "Oh, you forgot the Buggers, is that it? You forgot that this Battle School wasn't put here so you could write home to Mommy about your high standings on the scoreboard. So you go ahead and help Bonzo out, and while you're at it, why not just slit your own throats, too, cause that's what you're doing if you hurt Ender Wiggin. But for the rest of us — well, how many here think that Ender Wiggin is the one commander we would all want to follow into battle? Come on, how many of you!" Bean began to clap his hands slowly, rhythmically. Immediately, all the Dragons joined in. And very quickly, most of the rest of the soldiers were also clapping. The ones who weren't were conspicuous and could see how the others looked at them with scorn or hate. Pretty soon, the whole room was clapping. Even the food servers. Bean thrust both his hands straight up in the air. "The butt-faced Buggers are the only enemy! Humans are all on the same side! Anybody who raises a hand against Ender Wiggin is a Bugger-lover!" They responded with cheers and applause, leaping to their feet. It was Bean's first attempt at rabble-rousing. He was pleased to see that, as long as the cause was right, he was pretty damn good at it. Only later, when he had his food and was sitting with C toon, eating it, did Lighter himself come up to Bean. He came up from behind, and the rest of C toon was on their feet, ready to take him on, before Bean even knew he was there. But Lighter motioned them to sit down, then leaned over and spoke right into Bean's ear. "Listen to this, Queen Stupid. The soldiers who are planning to take Wiggin apart aren't even here. So much for your stupid speech." Then he was gone. And, a moment later, so was Bean, with C toon gathering the rest of Dragon Army to follow behind him. Ender wasn't in his quarters, or at least he didn't answer. Fly Molo, as A toon commander, took charge and divided them into groups to search the barracks, the game room, the vid room, the library, the gym. But Bean called out for his squad to follow him. To the bathroom. That's the one place that Bonzo and his boys could plan on Ender having to go, eventually. By the time Bean got there, it was all over. Teachers and
medical staff were clattering down the halls. Dink Meeker was walking with Ender, his arm across Ender's shoulder, away from the bathroom. Ender was wearing only his towel. He was wet, and there was blood all over the back of his head and dripping down his back. It took Bean only a moment to realise that it was not his blood. The others from Bean's squad watched as Dink led Ender back to his quarters and helped him inside. But Bean was already on his way to the bathroom. The teachers ordered him out of the way, out of the corridor. But Bean saw enough. Bonzo lying on the floor, medical staff doing CPR. Bean knew that you don't do that to somebody whose heart is beating. And from the inattentive way the others were standing around, Bean knew it was only a formality. Nobody expected Bonzo's heart to start again. No surprise. His nose had been jammed up inside his head. His face was a mass of blood. Which explained the bloody back of Ender's head. All our efforts didn't amount to squat. But Ender won anyway. He knew this was coming. He learned self-defence. He used it, and he didn't do a half-assed job of it, either. If Ender had been Poke's friend, Poke wouldn't have died. And if Ender had depended on Bean to save him, he'd be just as dead as Poke. Rough hands dragged Bean off his feet, pushed him against a wall. "What did you see!" demanded Major Anderson. "Nothing," said Bean. "Is that Bonzo in there? Is he hurt?" "This is none of your business. Didn't you hear us order you away?" Colonel Graff arrived then, and Bean could see that the teachers around him were furious at him — yet couldn't say anything, either because of military protocol or because one of the children was present. "I think Bean has stuck his nose into things once too often," said Anderson. "Are you going to send Bonzo home?" asked Bean. "Cause he's just going to try it again." Graff gave him a withering glance. "I heard about your speech in the mess hall," said Graff. "I didn't know we brought you up here to be a politician." "If you don't ice Bonzo and get him out of here, Ender's never going to be safe, and we won't stand for it!" "Mind your own business, little boy," said Graff. "This is men's work here." Bean let himself be dragged away by Dimak. Just in case they still wondered whether Bean saw that Bonzo was dead, he kept the act going just a little longer. "He's going to come after me, too," he said. "I don't want Bonzo coming after me." "He's not coming after you," said Dimak. "He's going home. Count on it. But don't talk about this to anyone else. Let them find out when the official word is given out. Got it?" "Yes, sir," said Bean. "And where did you get all that nonsense about not obeying a commander who gives illegal orders?" "From the Uniform Code of Military Conduct," said Bean. "Well, here's a little fact for you — nobody has ever been prosecuted for obeying orders." "That," said Bean, "is because nobody's done anything so outrageous that the general public got involved." "The Uniform Code doesn't apply to students, at least not that part of it." "But it applies to teachers," said Bean. "It applies to you. Just in case you obeyed any illegal or improper orders today. By ... what, I don't know ... standing by while a fight broke out in a bathroom? Just because your commanding officer told you to let a big kid beat up on a little kid." If that information bothered Dimak, he gave no sign. He stood in the corridor and watched as Bean went into the Dragon Army barracks. It was crazy inside. Dragon Army felt completely helpless and stupid, furious and ashamed. Bonzo Madrid had outsmarted them! Bonzo had gotten Ender alone! Where were Ender's soldiers when he needed them? It took a long time for things to calm down. Through it all, Bean just sat on his bunk, thinking his own thoughts. Ender didn't just win his fight. Didn't just protect himself and walk away. Ender killed him. Struck a blow so devastating that his enemy will never, never come after him again. Ender Wiggin, you're the one who was born to be commander of the fleet that defends Earth from the Third Invasion. Because that's what we need — someone who'll strike the most brutal blow possible, with perfect aim and with no regard for consequences. Total war. Me, I'm no Ender Wiggin. I'm just a street kid whose only skill was staying alive. Somehow. The only time I was in real danger, I ran like a squirrel and took refuge with Sister Carlotta. Ender went alone into battle. I go alone into my hidey-hole. I'm the guy who makes big brave speeches standing on tables in the mess hall. Ender's the guy who meets the enemy naked and overpowers him against all odds. Whatever genes they altered to make me, they weren't the ones that mattered. Ender almost died because of me. Because I goaded Bonzo. Because I failed to keep watch at the crucial time. Because I didn't stop and think like Bonzo and figure out that he'd wait for Ender to be alone in the shower. If Ender had died today, it would have been my fault all over again. He wanted to kill somebody. Couldn't be Bonzo. Bonzo was already dead. Achilles. That's the one he needed to kill. And if Achilles had been there at that moment, Bean would have tried. Might have succeeded, too, if violent rage and desperate shame were enough to beat down any advantage of size and experience Achilles might have had. And if Achilles killed Bean anyway, it was no worse than Bean deserved, for having failed Ender Wiggin so completely. He felt his bed bounce. Nikolai had jumped the gap between the upper bunks. "It's OK," murmured Nikolai, touching Bean's shoulder. Bean rolled onto his back, to face Nikolai. "Oh," said Nikolai. "I thought you were crying." "Ender won," said Bean. "What's to cry about?"
Card, Orson Scott - Ender's Saga 5 - Ender's Shadow Page 18