The Ender Quintet (Omnibus)

by Card, Orson Scott

  A second later he smashed into the forcefield of the enemy’s door and rebounded with a crazy spin. He landed in a group of enemy soldiers behind a star; they shoved him off and spun him even more rapidly. He rebounded out of control through the rest of the battle, though gradually friction with the air slowed him down. He had no way of knowing how many men he had frozen before getting iced himself, but he did get the general idea that Rat Army won again, as usual.

  After the battle Rose didn’t speak to him. Ender was still first in the standings, since he had frozen three, disabled two, and damaged seven. There was no more talk about insubordination and whether Ender could use his desk. Rose stayed in his part of the barracks, and left Ender alone.

  Dink Meeker began to practice instant emergence from the corridor—Ender’s attack on the enemy while they were still coming out of the door had been devastating. “If one man can do that much damage, think what a toon can do.” Dink got Major Anderson to open a door in the middle of a wall, even during practice sessions, instead of just the floor-level door, so they could practice launching under battle conditions. Word got around. From now on no one could take five or ten or fifteen seconds in the corridor to size things up. The game had changed.

  More battles. This time Ender played a proper role within a toon. He made mistakes. Skirmishes were lost. He dropped from first to second in the standings, then to fourth. Then he made fewer mistakes, and began to feel comfortable within the framework of the toon, and he went back up to third, then second, then first.

  After practice one afternoon, Ender stayed in the battleroom. He had noticed that Dink Meeker usually came late to dinner, and he assumed it was for extra practice. Ender wasn’t very hungry, and he wanted to see what it was Dink practiced when no one else could see.

  But Dink didn’t practice. He stood near the door, watching Ender.

  Ender stood across the room, watching Dink.

  Neither spoke. It was plain Dink expected Ender to leave. It was just as plain that Ender was saying no.

  Dink turned his back on Ender, methodically took off his flash suit, and gently pushed off from the floor. He drifted slowly toward the center of the room, very slowly, his body relaxing almost completely, so that his hands and arms seemed to be caught by almost nonexistent air currents in the room.

  After the speed and tension of practice, the exhaustion, the alertness, it was restful just to watch him drift. He did it for ten minutes or so before he reached another wall. Then he pushed off rather sharply, returned to his flash suit, and pulled it on.

  “Come on,” he said to Ender.

  They went to the barracks. The room was empty, since all the boys were at dinner. Each went to his own bunk and changed into regular uniforms. Ender walked to Dink’s bunk and waited for a moment till Dink was ready to go.

  “Why did you wait?” asked Dink.

  “Wasn’t hungry.”

  “Well, now you know why I’m not a commander.”

  Ender had wondered.

  “Actually, they promoted me twice, and I refused.”

  Refused?

  “The second time they took away my old locker and bunk and desk, assigned me to a commander’s cabin, and gave me an army. But I just stayed in the cabin until they gave in and put me back into somebody else’s army.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I won’t let them do it to me. I can’t believe you haven’t seen through all this crap yet, Ender. But I guess you’re young. These other armies, they aren’t the enemy. It’s the teachers, they’re the enemy. They get us to fight each other, to hate each other. The game is everything. Win win win. It amounts to nothing. We kill ourselves, go crazy trying to beat each other, and all the time the old bastards are watching us, studying us, discovering our weak points, deciding whether we’re good enough or not. Well, good enough for what? I was six years old when they brought me here. What the hell did I know? They decided I was right for the program, but nobody ever asked me if the program was right for me.”

  “So why don’t you go home?”

  Dink smiled crookedly. “Because I can’t give up the game.” He tugged at the fabric of his flash suit, which lay on the bunk beside him. “Because I love this.”

  “So why not be a commander?”

  Dink shook his head. “Never. Look what it does to Rosen. The boy’s crazy. Rose de Nose. Sleeps in here with us instead of in his cabin. Why? Because he’s scared to be alone, Ender. Scared of the dark.”

  “Rose?”

  “But they made him a commander and so he has to act like one. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s winning, but that scares him worst of all, because he doesn’t know why he’s winning, except that I have something to do with it. Any minute somebody could find out that Rosen isn’t some magic Israeli general who can win no matter what. He doesn’t know why anybody wins or loses. Nobody does.”

  “It doesn’t mean he’s crazy, Dink.”

  “I know, you’ve been here a year, you think these people are normal. Well, they’re not. We’re not. I look in the library, I call up books on my desk. Old ones, because they won’t let us have anything new, but I’ve got a pretty good idea what children are, and we’re not children. Children can lose sometimes, and nobody cares. Children aren’t in armies, they aren’t commanders, they don’t rule over forty other kids, it’s more than anybody can take and not get crazy.”

  Ender tried to remember what other children were like, in his class at school, back in the city. But all he could think of was Stilson.

  “I had a brother. Just a normal guy. All he cared about was girls. And flying. He wanted to fly. He used to play ball with the guys. A pickup game, shooting balls at a hoop, dribbling down the corridors until the peace officers confiscated your ball. We had a great time. He was teaching me how to dribble when I was taken.”

  Ender remembered his own brother, and the memory was not fond.

  Dink misunderstood the expression on Ender’s face. “Hey, I know, nobody’s supposed to talk about home. But we came from somewhere. The Battle School didn’t create us, you know. The Battle School doesn’t create anything. It just destroys. And we all remember things from home. Maybe not good things, but we remember and then we lie and pretend that—look, Ender, why is it that nobody talks about home, ever? Doesn’t that tell you how important it is? That nobody even admits that—oh hell.”

  “No, it’s all right,” Ender said. “I was just thinking about Valentine. My sister.”

  “I wasn’t trying to make you upset.”

  “It’s OK. I don’t think of her very much, because I always get—like this.”

  “That’s right, we never cry. I never thought of that. Nobody ever cries. We really are trying to be adults. Just like our fathers. I bet your father was like you. I bet he was quiet and took it, and then busted out and—”

  “I’m not like my father.”

  “So maybe I’m wrong. But look at Bonzo, your old commander. He’s got an advanced case of Spanish honor. He can’t allow himself to have weaknesses. To be better than him, that’s an insult. To be stronger, that’s like cutting off his balls. That’s why he hates you, because you didn’t suffer when he tried to punish you. He hates you for that, he honestly wants to kill you. He’s crazy. They’re all crazy.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  “I be crazy too, little buddy, but at least when I be craziest, I be floating all alone in space and the crazy, she float out of me, she soak into the walls, and she don’t come out till there be battles and little boys bump into the walls and squish out de crazy.”

  Ender smiled.

  “And you be crazy too,” said Dink. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

  “Maybe you can be a commander and not be crazy. Maybe knowing about craziness means you don’t have to fall for it.”

  “I’m not going to let the bastards run me, Ender. They’ve got you pegged, too, and they don’t plan to treat you kindly. Look what they’ve done to you so far.”

>   “They haven’t done anything except promote me.”

  “And she make you life so easy, neh?”

  Ender laughed and shook his head. “So maybe you’re right.”

  “They think they got you on ice. Don’t let them.”

  “But that’s what I came for,” Ender said. “For them to make me into a tool. To save the world.”

  “I can’t believe you still believe it.”

  “Believe what?”

  “The bugger menace. Save the world. Listen, Ender, if the buggers were coming back to get us, they’d be here. They aren’t invading again. We beat them and they’re gone.”

  “But the videos—”

  “All from the First and Second Invasions. Your grandparents weren’t born yet when Mazer Rackham wiped them out. You watch. It’s all a fake. There is no war, and they’re just screwing around with us.”

  “But why?”

  “Because as long as people are afraid of the buggers, the I.F. can stay in power, and as long as the I.F. is in power, certain countries can keep their hegemony. But keep watching the vids, Ender. People will catch onto this game pretty soon, and there’ll be a civil war to end all wars. That’s the menace, Ender, not the buggers. And in that war, when it comes, you and I won’t be friends. Because you’re American, just like our dear teachers. And I am not.”

  They went to the mess hall and ate, talking about other things. But Ender could not stop thinking about what Dink had said. The Battle School was so enclosed, the game so important in the minds of the children, that Ender had forgotten there was a world outside. Spanish honor. Civil war. Politics. The Battle School was really a very small place, wasn’t it?

  But Ender did not reach Dink’s conclusions. The buggers were real. The threat was real. The I.F. controlled a lot of things, but it didn’t control the videos and the nets. Not where Ender had grown up. In Dink’s home in the Netherlands, with three generations under Russian hegemony, perhaps it was all controlled, but Ender knew that lies could not last long in America. So he believed.

  Believed, but the seed of doubt was there, and it stayed, and every now and then sent out a little root. It changed everything, to have that seed growing. It made Ender listen more carefully to what people meant, instead of what they said. It made him wise.

  There weren’t as many boys at the evening practice, not by half.

  “Where’s Bernard?” asked Ender.

  Alai grinned. Shen closed his eyes and assumed a look of blissful meditation.

  “Haven’t you heard?” said another boy, a Launchy from a younger group. “Word’s out that any Launchy who comes to your practice sessions won’t ever amount to anything in anybody’s army. Word’s out that the commanders don’t want any soldiers who’ve been damaged by your training.”

  Ender nodded.

  “But the way I brain it,” said the Launchy, “I be the best soldier I can, and any commander worth a damn, he take me. Neh?”

  “Eh,” said Ender, with finality.

  They went on with practice. About a half hour into it, when they were practicing throwing off collisions with frozen soldiers, several commanders in different uniforms came in. They ostentatiously took down names.

  “Hey,” shouted Alai. “Make sure you spell my name right!”

  The next night there were even fewer boys. Now Ender was hearing the stories—little Launchies getting slapped around in the bathrooms, or having accidents in the mess hall and the game room, or getting their files trashed by older boys who had broken the primitive security system that guarded the Launchies’ desks.

  “No practice tonight,” Ender said.

  “The hell there’s not,” said Alai.

  “Give it a few days. I don’t want any of the little kids getting hurt.”

  “If you stop, even one night, they’ll figure it works to do this kind of thing. Just like if you’d ever backed down to Bernard back when he was being a swine.”

  “Besides,” said Shen, “we aren’t scared and we don’t care, so you owe it to us to go on. We need the practice and so do you.”

  Ender remembered what Dink had said. The game was trivial, compared to the whole world. Why should anybody give every night of his life to this stupid, stupid game?

  “We don’t accomplish that much anyway,” Ender said. He started to leave.

  Alai stopped him. “They scare you, too? They slap you up in the bathroom? Stick you head in the pissah? Somebody gots a gun up you bung?”

  “No,” Ender said.

  “You still my friend?” asked Alai, more quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I still you friend, Ender, and I stay here and practice with you.”

  The older boys came again, but fewer of them were commanders. Most were members of a couple of armies. Ender recognized Salamander uniforms. Even a couple of Rats. They didn’t take names this time. Instead, they mocked and shouted and ridiculed as the Launchies tried to master difficult skills with untrained muscles. It began to get to a few of the boys.

  “Listen to them,” Ender said to the other boys. “Remember the words. If you ever want to make your enemy crazy, shout that kind of stuff at them. It makes them do dumb things, to be mad. But we don’t get mad.”

  Shen took the idea to heart, and after each jibe from the older boys, he had a group of four Launchies recite the words, loudly, five or six times. When they started singing the taunts like nursery rhymes, some of the older boys launched themselves from the wall and came out for a fight.

  The flash suits were designed for wars fought with harmless light; they offered little protection and seriously hampered movement if it came to hand-to-hand fighting in nullo. Half the boys were flashed, anyway, and couldn’t fight; but the stiffness of their suits made them potentially useful. Ender quickly ordered his Launchies to gather in one corner of the room. The older boys laughed at them even more, and some who had waited by the wall came forward to join in the attack, seeing Ender’s group in retreat.

  Ender and Alai decided to throw a frozen soldier in the face of an enemy. The frozen Launchy struck helmet first, and the two caromed off each other. The older boy clutched his chest where the helmet had hit him, and screamed in pain.

  The mockery was over. The rest of the older boys launched themselves to enter the battle. Ender didn’t really have much hope of any of the boys getting away without some injury. But the enemy was coming haphazardly, uncoordinatedly; they had never worked together before, while Ender’s little practice army, though there were only a dozen of them now, knew each other well and knew how to work together.

  “Go nova!” shouted Ender. The other boys laughed. They gathered into three groups, feet together, squatting, holding hands so they formed small stars against the back wall. “We’ll go around them and make for the door. Now!”

  At his signal, the three stars burst apart, each boy launching in a different direction, but angled so he could rebound off a wall and head for the door. Since all of the enemy were in the middle of the room, where course changes were far more difficult, it was an easy maneuver to carry out.

  Ender had positioned himself so that when he launched, he would rendezvous with the frozen soldier he had just used as a missile. The boy wasn’t frozen now, and he let Ender catch him, whirl him around and send him toward the door. Unfortunately, the necessary result of the action was for Ender to head in the opposite direction, and at a reduced speed. Alone of all his soldiers, he was drifting fairly slowly, and at the end of the battleroom where the older boys were gathered. He shifted himself so he could see that all his soldiers were safely gathered at the far wall.

  In the meantime, the furious and disorganized enemy had just spotted him. Ender calculated how soon he would reach the wall so he could launch again. Not soon enough. Several enemies had already rebounded toward him. Ender was startled to see Stilson’s face among them. Then he shuddered and realized he had been wrong. Still, it was the same situation, and this time they wouldn’t sit still fo
r a single combat settlement. There was no leader, as far as Ender knew, and these boys were a lot bigger than him.

  Still, he had learned some things about weight-shifting in personal combat class, and about the physics of moving objects. Game battles almost never got to hand-to-hand combat—you never bumped into an enemy that wasn’t frozen unless you were frozen yourself. So in the few seconds he had, Ender tried to position himself to receive his guests.

  Fortunately, they knew as little about nullo fighting as he did, and the few who tried to punch him found that throwing a punch was pretty ineffective when their bodies moved backward just as quickly as their fists moved forward. But there were some in the group who had bone-breaking on their minds, as Ender quickly saw. He didn’t plan to be there for it, though.

  He caught one of the punchers by the arm and threw him as hard as he could. It hurled Ender out of the way of the rest of the first onslaught, though he still wasn’t getting any closer to the door. “Stay there!” he shouted at his friends, who obviously were forming up to come and rescue him. “Just stay there!”

  Someone caught Ender by the foot. The tight grip gave Ender some leverage; he was able to stamp firmly on the other boy’s ear and shoulder, making him cry out and let go. If the boy had let go just as Ender kicked downward, it would have hurt him much less and allowed Ender to use the maneuver as a launch. Instead, the boy had hung on too well; his ear was torn and scattering blood in the air, and Ender was drifting even more slowly.

  I’m doing it again, thought Ender. I’m hurting people again, just to save myself. Why don’t they leave me alone, so I don’t have to hurt them?

  Three more boys were converging on him now, and this time they were acting together. Still, they had to grab him before they could hurt him. Ender positioned himself quickly so that two of them would take his feet, leaving his hands free to deal with the third.