"Here are your instructions, Wiggin. I expect that it is the last time I'll need to speak to you. You will stay out of the way when we're training in the battle room. You have to be there, of course, but you will not belong to any toon and you will not take part in any manoeuvres. When we're called to battle, you will dress quickly and present yourself at the gate with everyone else. But you will not pass through the gate until four full minutes after the beginning of the game, and then you will remain at the gate, with your weapon undrawn and unfired, until such time as the game ends."
Ender nodded. So he was to be a nothing. He hoped the trade happened soon.
He also noticed that Petra did not so much as cry out in pain, or touch her cheek, though one spot of blood had beaded and run, making a streak down to her jaw. Outcast she may be, but since Bonzo Madrid was not going to be Ender's friend, no matter what, he might as well make friends with Petra.
He was assigned a bunk at the far end of the room. The upper bunk, so that when he lay on his bed he couldn't even seen the door; the curve of the ceiling blocked it. There were other boys near him, tired-looking boys, sullen, the ones least valued. They had nothing of welcome to say to Ender.
Ender tried to palm his locker open, but nothing happened. Then he realised the lockers were not secured. All four of them had rings on them, to pull them open. Nothing would be private, then, now that he was in an army.
There was a uniform in the locker. Not the pale green of the Launchies, but the orange-trimmed dark green uniform of Salamander Army. It did not fit well. But then, they had probably never had to provide such a uniform for a boy so young.
He was starting to take it off when he noticed Petra walking down the aisle toward his bed. He slid off the bunk and stood on the floor to greet her.
"Relax," she said. "I'm not an officer."
"You're a toon leader, aren't you?"
Someone nearby snickered.
"Whatever gave you that idea, Wiggin?"
"You have a bunk in the front."
"I bunk in the front because I'm the best sharpshooter in Salamander Army, and because Bonzo is afraid I'll start a revolution if the toon leaders don't keep an eye on me. As if I could start anything with boys like these." She indicated the sullen-faced boys on the nearby bunks.
What was she trying to do, make it worse than it already was?
"Everybody's better than I am," Ender said, trying to dissociate himself from her contempt for the boys who would, after all, be his near bunkmates.
"I'm a girl," she said, "and you're a piss ant of a six-year-old. We have so much in common, why don't we be friends?"
"I won't do your desk work for you," he said.
In a moment she realised it was a joke. "Ha," she said. "It's all so military, when you're in the game. School isn't like it is for Launchies. Histories and strategy and tactics and buggers and math and stars, things you'll need as a pilot or a commander. You'll see."
"So you're my friend. Do I get a prize?" Ender asked. He was imitating her swaggering way of speaking, as if she cared about nothing.
"Bonzo isn't going to let you practice. He's going to make you take your desk to the battle room and study. He's right, in a way-- he doesn't want a totally untrained little kid start screwing up his precision manoeuvres." She lapsed into giria, the slangy talk that imitated the pidgin English of uneducated people. "Bonzo, he pre-cise. He so careful, he piss on a plate and never splash."
Ender grinned.
"The battle room is open all the time. If you want, I'll take you in the off hours and show you some of the things I know, I'm not a great soldier, but I'm pretty good, and I sure know more than you."
"If you want," Ender said.
"Starting tomorrow morning after breakfast."
"What if somebody's using the room? We always went right after breakfast, in my launch."
"No problem. There are really nine battle rooms."
"I never heard of any others."
"They all have the same entrance. The whole centre of the battle school, the hub of the wheel, is battle rooms. They don't rotate with the rest of the station. That's how they do the null g, the no-gravity-- it just holds still. No spin, no down. But they can set it up so that any one of the rooms is at the battle room entrance corridor that we all use. Once you're inside, they move it along and another battle room's in position."
"Oh."
"Like I said. Right after breakfast."
"Right," Ender said.
She started to walk away.
"Petra," he said.
She turned back.
"Thanks."
She said nothing, just turned around again and walked down the aisle.
Ender climbed back up on his bunk and finished taking off his uniform. He lay naked on the bed, doodling with his new desk, trying to decide if they had done anything to his access codes. Sure enough, they had wiped out his security system. He couldn't own anything here, not even his desk.
The lights dimmed a little. Getting toward bedtime. Ender didn't know which bathroom to use.
"Go left out of the door," said the boy on the next bunk. "We share it with Rat, Condor, and Squirrel."
Ender thanked him and started to walk on past.
"Hey," said the boy. "You can't go like that. Uniforms at all times out of this room."
"Even going to the toilet?"
"Especially. And you're forbidden to speak to anyone from any other army. At meals or in the toilet. You can get away with it sometimes in the game room, and of course whenever a teacher tells you to, but if Bonzo catch you, you dead, eh?"
"Thanks."
"And, uh, Bonzo get mad if you skin by Petra."
"She was naked when I came in, wasn't she?"
"She do what she like, but you keep you clothes on. Bonzo's orders."
That was stupid. Petra still looked like a boy, it was a stupid rule. It set her apart, made her different, split the army. Stupid stupid. How did Bonzo get to be a commander, if he didn't know better than that? Alai would be a better commander than Bonzo. He knew how to bring a group together.
I know how to bring a group together, too, thought Ender. Maybe I'll be commander someday.
In the bathroom, he was washing his hands when somebody spoke to hmm. "Hey, they putting babies in Salamander uniforms now?"
Ender didn't answer just dried off his hands.
"Hey, look! Salamander's getting babies now! Look at this! He could walk between my legs without touching my balls!"
"Cause you got none, Dink, that's why," somebody answered.
As Ender left the room, he heard somebody else say, "It's Wiggin. You know, the smart ass from the game room."
He walked down the corridor smiling. He may be short, but they knew his name. From the game room, of course, so it meant nothing. But they'd see. He'd be a good soldier, too. They'd all know his name soon enough. Not in Salamander Army, maybe, but soon enough.
***
Petra was waiting in the corridor that led to the battle room. "Wait a minute," she said to Ender. "Rabbit Army just went in, and it takes a few minutes to change to the next battle room."
Ender sat down beside her. "There's more to the battle room than just switching from one to the next," he said. "For instance, why is there gravity in the corridor outside the room, just before we go in?"
Petra closed her eyes. "And if the battle rooms are really free-floating, what happens when one is connected? Why doesn't it start to move with the rotation of the school?"
Ender nodded.
"These are the mysteries," Petra said in a deep whisper. "Do not pry into them. Terrible things happened to the last soldier who tried. He was discovered hanging by his feet from the ceiling of the bathroom, with his head stuffed in the toilet."
"So I'm not the first person to ask the question."
"You remember this, little boy." When she said little boy it sounded friendly, not contemptuous. "They never tell you any more truth than they have to. But an
y kid with brains knows that there've been some changes in science since the days of old Mazer Rackham and the Victorious Fleet. Obviously we can now control gravity. Turn it on and off, change the direction, maybe reflect it-- I've thought of lots of neat things you could do with gravity weapons and gravity drives on starships. And think how starships could move near planets. Maybe tear big chunks out of them by reflecting the planet's own gravity back on itself, only from another direction, and focused down to a smaller point. But they say nothing."
Ender understood more than she said. Manipulation of gravity was one thing; deception by the officers was another; but the most important message was this: the adults are the enemy, not the other armies. They do not tell us the truth.
"Come, little boy," she said. "The battle room is ready. Petra's hands are steady. The enemy is deady." She giggled. "Petra the poet, they call me."
"They also say you're crazy as a loon."
"Better believe it, baby butt." She had ten target balls in a bag. Ender held onto her suit with one hand and the wall with the other, to steady her as she threw them, hard, in different directions. In the null gravity, they bounced every which way. "Let go of me," she said. She shoved off, spinning deliberately; with a few deft hand moves she steadied herself, and began aiming carefully at ball after ball. When she shot one, its glow changed from white to red. Ender knew that the colour change lasted less than two minutes. Only one ball had changed back to white when she got the last one.
She rebounded accurately from a wall and came at high speed back to Ender. He caught her and held her against her own rebound, one of the first techniques they had taught him as a Launchy.
"You're good," he said.
"None better. And you're going to learn how to do it."
Petra taught him to hold his arm straight, to aim with the whole arm. "Something most soldiers don't realise is that the farther away your target is, the longer you have to hold the beam within about a two-centimetre circle. It's the difference between a tenth of a second and a half a second, but in battle that's a long time. A lot of soldiers think they missed when they were right on target, but they moved away too fast. So you can't use your gun like a sword, swish swish slice-em-in-half. You got to aim."
She used the ball caller to bring the targets back, then launched them slowly, one by one. Ender fired at them. He missed every one.
"Good," she said. "You don't have any bad habits."
"I don't have any good ones, either," he pointed out.
"I give you those."
They didn't accomplish much that first morning. Mostly talk. How to think while you were aiming. You've got to hold your own motion and your enemy's motion in your mind at the same time. You've got to hold your arm straight out and aim with your body, so in case your arm is frozen you can still shoot. Learn where your trigger actually fires and ride the edge, so you don't have to pull so far each time you fire. Relax your body, don't tense up; it makes you tremble.
It was the only practice Ender got that day. During the army's drills in the afternoon, Ender was ordered to bring his desk and do his school work, sitting in a corner of the room. Bonzo had to have all his soldiers in the battle room, but he didn't have to use them.
Ender did not do his school work, however. If he couldn't have drill as a soldier, he could study Bonzo as a tactician. Salamander Army was divided into the standard four toons of ten soldiers each. Some commanders set up their toons so that A toon consisted of the best soldiers, and D toon had the worst. Bonzo had mixed them, so that each consisted of good soldiers and weaker ones.
Except that B toon had only nine boys. Ender wondered who had been transferred to make room for him. It soon became plain that the leader of toon B was new. No wonder Bonzo was so disgusted-- he had lost a toon leader to get Ender.
And Bonzo was right about another thing. Ender was not ready.
All the practice time was spent working on manoeuvres. Toons that couldn't see each other practised performing precision operations together with exact timing; toons practised using each other to make sudden changes of direction without losing formation. All these soldiers took for granted skills that Ender didn't have. The ability to make a soft landing and absorb most of the shock. Accurate flight. Course adjustment using the frozen soldiers floating randomly through the room. Rolls, spins, dodges. Sliding along the walls-- a very difficult manoeuvre and yet one of the most valuable, since the enemy couldn't get behind you.
Even as Ender learned how much he did not know, he also saw things that he could improve on. The well-rehearsed formations were a mistake. It allowed the soldiers to obey shouted orders instantly, but it also meant they were predictable. Also, the individual soldiers were given little initiative. Once a pattern was set, they were to follow it through. There was no room for adjustment to what the enemy did against the formation. Ender studied Bonzo's formations like an enemy commander would, noting ways to disrupt the formation.
During free play that night, Ender asked Petra to practice with him.
"No," she said. "I want to be a commander someday, so I've got to play the game room." It was a common belief that the teachers monitored the games and spotted potential commanders there. Ender doubted it, though. Toon leaders had a better chance to show what they might do as commanders than any video player.
But he didn't argue with Petra. The after-breakfast practice was generous enough. Still, he had to practice. And he couldn't practice alone, except a few of the basic skills. Most of the hard things required partners or teams. If only he still had Alai or Shen to practice with.
Well, why shouldn't he practice with them? He had never heard of a soldier practising with Launchies, but there was no rule against it. It just wasn't done; Launchies were held in too much contempt. Well, Ender was still being treated like a Launchy anyway. He needed someone to practice with, and in return he could help them learn some of the things he saw the older boys doing.
"Hey, the great soldier returns!" said Bernard. Ender stood in the doorway of his old barracks. He'd only been away for a day, but already it seemed like an alien place, and the others of his launch group were strangers. Almost he turned around and left. But there was Alai, who had made their friendship sacred. Alai was not a stranger.
Ender made no effort to conceal how he was treated in Salamander Army. "And they're right. I'm about as useful as a sneeze in a spacesuit." Alai laughed, and other Launchies started to gather around. Ender proposed his bargain. Free play, every day, working hard in the battle room, under Ender's direction. They would learn things from the armies, from the battles Ender would see; he would get the practice he needed in developing soldier skills. "We'll get ready together."
A lot of boys wanted to come, too. "Sure," Ender said. "If you're coming to work. If you're just farting around, you're out. I don't have any time to waste."
They didn't waste any time. Ender was clumsy, trying to describe what he had seen, working out ways to do it. But by the time free play ended, they had learned some things. They were tired, but they were getting the knack of a few techniques.
"Where were you?" asked Bonzo.
Ender stood stiffly by his commander's bunk. "Practising in a battle room."
"I hear you had some of your old Launchy group with you."
"I couldn't practice alone."
"I won't have any soldiers in Salamander Army hanging around with Launchies. You're a soldier now."
Ender regarded him in silence.
"Did you hear me, Wiggin?"
"Yes, sir."
"No more practising with those little farts."
"May I speak to you privately?" asked Ender.
It was a request that commanders were required to allow. Bonzo's face went angry, and he led Ender out into the corridor. "Listen, Wiggin, I don't want you, I'm trying to get rid of you, but don't give me any problems or I'll paste you to the wall."
A good commander, thought Ender, doesn't have to make stupid threats.
Bonzo
grew annoyed at Ender's silence. "Look, you asked me to come out here, now talk."
"Sir, you were correct not to place me in a toon. I don't know how to do anything."
"I don't need you to tell me when I'm correct."
"But I'm going to become a good soldier. I won't screw up your regular drill, but I'm going to practice, and I'm going to practice with the only people who will practice with me, and that's my Launchies."
"You'll do what I tell you, you little bastard."
"That's right, sir. I'll follow all the orders that you're authorised to give. But free play is free. No assignments can be given. None. By anyone.
He could see Bonzo's anger growing hot. Hot anger was bad. Ender's anger was cold, and he could use it. Bonzo's was hot, and so it used him.
"Sir, I've got my own career to think of. I won't interfere in your training and your battles, but I've got to learn sometime. I didn't ask to be put into your army, you're trying to trade me as soon as you can. But nobody will take me if I don't know anything, will they? Let me learn something, and then you can get rid of me all the sooner and get a soldier you can really use."
Bonzo was not such a fool that anger kept him from recognising good sense when he heard it. Still, he couldn't let go of his anger immediately.
"While you're in Salamander Army, you'll obey me."
"If you try to control my free play, I can get you iced."
It probably wasn't true. But it was possible. Certainly if Ender made a fuss about it, interfering with free play could conceivably get Bonzo removed from command. Also, there was the fact that the officers obviously saw something in Ender, since they had promoted him. Maybe Ender did have influence enough with the teachers to ice somebody. "Bastard," said Bonzo.
"It isn't my fault you gave me that order in front of everybody," Ender said. "But if you want, I'll pretend you won this argument. Then tomorrow you can tell me you changed your mind."
"I don't need you to tell me what to do."
"I don't want the other guys to think you backed down. You wouldn't be able to command as well."
Card, Orson Scott - Ender's Saga 1 - Ender's Game Page 8