Ender's Game

Valentine, I've decided not to kill you. I've decided that you're going to help me.'

'I am?' A few years ago, Valentine would have been terrified at Peter's threats. Now, though, she was not so afraid. Not that she doubted that he was capable of killing her. She couldn't think of anything so terrible that she didn't believe Peter might do it. She also knew, though, that Peter was not insane, not in the sense that he wasn't in control of himself. He was in better control of himself than anyone she knew. Except perhaps herself. Peter could delay any desire as long as be needed to; he could conceal any emotion. And so Valentine knew that he would never hurt her in a fit of rage. He would only do it if the advantages outweighed the risks. And they did not. In a way, she actually preferred Peter to other people because of this. He always, always acted out of intelligent self-interest. And so, to keep herself safe, all she had to do was make sure it was more in Peter's interest to keep her alive than to have her dead.

'Valentine, things are coming to a head. I've been tracking troop movements in Russia.'

'What are we talking about?'

'The world, Val. You know Russia? Big empire? Warsaw Pact? Rulers of Eurasia from the Netherlands to Pakistan?'

'They don't publish their troop movements, Peter.'

'Of course not. But they do publish their passenger and freight train schedules. I've had my desk analyzing those schedules and figuring out when the secret troop trains are moving over the same tracks. Done it backward over the past three years. In the last six months, they've stepped up, they're getting ready for war. Land war.'

'But what about the League? What about the buggers?' Valentine didn't know what Peter was getting at, but he often launched discussions like this, practical discussions of world events. He used her to test his ideas, to refine them. In the process, she also refined her own thinking. She found that while she rarely agreed with Peter about what the world ought to be, they rarely disagreed about what the world actually was. They had become quite deft at sifting accurate information out of the stories of the hopelessly ignorant, gullible news writers. The news herd, as Peter called them.

'The Polemarch is Russian, isn't he? And he knows what's happening with the fleet. Either they've found out the buggers aren't a threat after all, or we're about to have a big battle. One way or another, the bugger war is about to be over. They're getting ready for after the war.'

'If they're moving troops, it must be under the direction of the Strategos.'

'It's all internal, within the Warsaw Pact.'

This was disturbing. The facade of peace and cooperation had been undisturbed almost since the bugger wars began. What Peter had detected was a fundamental disturbance in the world order. She had a mental picture, as clear as memory, of the way the world had been before the buggers forced peace upon them. 'So it's back to the way it was before.'

'A few changes. The shields make it so nobody bothers with nuclear weapons anymore. We have to kill each other thousands at a time instead of millions.' Peter grinned. 'Val, it was bound to happen. Right now there's a vast international fleet and army in existence, with American hegemony. When the bugger wars are over, all that power will vanish, because it's all built on fear of the buggers. And suddenly we'll look around and discover that all the old alliances are gone, dead and gone, except one, the Warsaw Pact. And it'll be the dollar against five million lasers. We'll have the asteroid belt, but they'll have Earth, and you run out of raisins and celery kind of fast out there, without Earth.'

What disturbed Valentine most of all was that Peter did not seem at all worried. 'Peter, why do I get the idea that you are thinking of this as a golden opportunity for Peter Wiggin?'

'For both of us, Val.'

'Peter, you're twelve years old. I'm ten. They have a word for people our age. They call us children and they treat us like mice.'

'But we don't think like other children, do we, Val? We don't talk like other children. And above all, we don't write like other children.'

'For a discussion that began with death threats, Peter, we've strayed from the topic, I think.' Still, Valentine found herself getting excited. Writing was something Val did better than Peter. They both knew it. Peter had even named it once, when he said that he could always see what other people hated most about themselves, and bully them, while Val could always see what other people liked best about themselves, and flatter them. It was a cynical way of putting it, but it was true. Valentine could persuade other people to her point of view—she could convince them that they wanted what she wanted them to want. Peter, on the other hand, could only make them fear what he wanted them to fear. When he first pointed this out to Val, she resented it. She had wanted to believe she was good at persuading people because she was right, not because she was clever. But no matter how much she told herself that she didn't ever want to exploit people the way Peter did, she enjoyed knowing that she could, in her way, control other people. And not just control what they did. She could control, in a way, what they wanted to do. She was ashamed that she took pleasure in this power, and yet she found herself using it sometimes. To get teachers to do what she wanted, and other students. To get Mother and Father to see things her way. Sometimes, she was able to persuade even Peter. That was the most frightening thing of all—that she could understand Peter well enough, could empathize with him enough to get inside him that way. There was more Peter in her than she could bear to admit, though sometimes she dared to think about it anyway. This is what she thought as Peter spoke: You dream of power, Peter, but in my own way I am more powerful than you.

'I've been studying history,' Peter said. 'I've been learning things about patterns in human behavior. There are times when the world is rearranging itself, and at times like that, the right words can change the world. Think what Pericles did in Athens, and Demosthenes—'

'Yes, they managed to wreck Athens twice.'

'Pericles, yes, but Demosthenes was right about Philip—'

'Or provoked him—'

'See? This is what historians usually do, quibble about cause and effect when the point is, there are times when the world is in flux and the right voice in the right place can move the world. Thomas Paine and Ben Franklin, for instance. Bismarck. Lenin.'

'Not exactly parallel cases, Peter.' Now she was disagreeing with him out of habit; she saw what he was getting at, and she thought it might just be possible.

'I didn't expect you to understand. You still believe that teachers know something worth learning.'

I understand more than you think, Peter. 'So you see yourself as Bismarck?'

'I see myself as knowing how to insert ideas into the public mind. Haven't you ever thought of a phrase, Val, a clever thing to say, and said it, and then two weeks or a month later you hear some adult saying it to another adult, both of them strangers? Or you see it on a video or pick it up on a net?'

'I always figured I heard it before and only thought I was making it up.'

'You were wrong. There are maybe two or three thousand people in the world as smart as us, little sister. Most of them are making a living somewhere. Teaching, the poor bastards, or doing research. Precious few of them are actually in positions of power.'

'I guess we're the lucky few.'

'Funny as a one-legged rabbit, Val.'

'Of which there are no doubt several in these woods.'

'Hopping in neat little circles.'

Valentine laughed at the gruesome image and hated herself for thinking it was funny.

'Val, we can say the words that everyone else will be saying two weeks later. We can do that. We don't have to wait until we're grown up and safely put away in some career.'

'Peter, you're twelve.'

'Not on the nets I'm not. On the nets I can name myself anything I want, and so can you.'

'On the nets we are clearly identified as students, and we can't even get into the real discussions except in audience mode, which means we can't say anything anyway.'

'I have a plan.'

'You always do.' She pretended nonchalance but she listened eagerly.