Ender's Game

'You weren't commander then.'

'You gave me a completely green army, Major Anderson, sir—'

'You have quite a few veterans.'

'They aren't any good.'

'Nobody gets here without being brilliant, Ender. Make them good.'

'I needed Alai and Shen to—'

'It's about time you grew up and did some things on your own, Ender. You don't need these other boys to hold your hand. You're a commander now. So kindly act like it, Ender.'

Ender walked past Anderson toward the battleroom. Then he stopped, turned, asked a question. 'Since these evening practices are now regularly scheduled, does it mean I can use the hook?'

Did Anderson almost smile? No. Not a chance of that. 'We'll see,' he said.

Ender turned his back and went on into the battleroom. Soon his army arrived, and no one else; either Anderson waited around to intercept anyone coming to Ender's practice group, or word had already passed through the whole school that Ender's informal evenings were through.

It was a good practice, they accomplished a lot, but at the end of it Ender was tired and lonely. There was a half hour before bedtime. He couldn't go into his army's barracks—he had long since learned that the best commanders stay away unless they have some reason to visit. The boys have to have a chance to be at peace, at rest, without someone listening to favor or despise them depending on the way they talk and act and think.

So he wandered to the game room, where a few other boys were using the last half hour before final bell to settle bets or beat their previous scores on the games. None of the games looked interesting, but he played one anyway, an easy animated game designed for Launchies. Bored, he ignored the objectives of the game and used the little player-figure, a bear, to explore the animated scenery around him.

'You'll never win that way.'

Ender smiled, 'Missed you at practice, Alai.'

'I was there. But they had your army in a separate place. Looks like you're big time now, can't play with the little boys anymore.'

'You're a full cubit taller than I am.'

'Cubit! Has God been telling you to build a boat or something? Or are you in an archaic mood?'

'Not archaic, just arcane. Secret, subtle, roundabout. I miss you already, you circumcised dog.'

'Don't you know? We're enemies now. Next time I meet you in battle, I'll whip your ass.'

It was banter, as always, but now there was too much truth behind it. Now when Ender heard Alai talk as if it were all a joke, he felt the pain of losing a friend, and the worse pain of wondering if Alai really felt as little pain as he showed.

'You can try,' said Ender. 'I taught you everything you know. But I didn't teach you everything I know.'

'I knew all along that you were holding something back, Ender.

A pause. Ender's bear was in trouble on the screen. He climbed a tree. 'I wasn't, Alai. Holding anything back.'

'I know.' said Alai. 'Neither was I.'

'Salaam, Alai.'

'Alas, it is not to be.'

'What isn't?'

'Peace. It's what salaam means. Peace be unto you.'

The words brought forth an echo from Ender's memory. His mother's voice reading to him softly, when he was very young. Think not that I came to send peace on earth. I came not to send peace, but a sword. Ender had pictured his mother piercing Peter the Terrible with a bloody rapier, and the words had stayed in his mind along with the image.

In the silence, the bear died. It was a cute death, with funny music. Ender turned around. Alai was already gone. He felt like part of himself had been taken away, an inward prop that was holding up his courage and confidence. With Alai, to a degree impossible even with Shen, Ender had come to feel a unity so strong that the word we came to his lips much more easily than I.

But Alai had left something behind. Ender lay in bed, dozing into the night, and felt Alai's lips on his cheek as he muttered the word peace. The kiss, the word, the peace were with him still. I am only what I remember, and Alai is my friend in memories so intense that they can't tear him out. Like Valentine, the strongest memory of all.

The next day he passed Alai in the corridor, and they greeted each other, touched hands, talked, but they both knew that there was a wall now. It might be breached, that wall, sometime in the future, but for now the only real conversation between them was the roots that had already grown low and deep, under the wall, where they could not be broken.

The most terrible thing, though, was the fear that the wall could never be breached, that in his heart Alai was glad of the separation, and was ready to be Ender's enemy. For now that they could not be together, they must be infinitely apart, and what had been sure and unshakable was now fragile and insubstantial; from the moment we are not together, Alai is a stranger, for he has a life now that will be no part of mine, and that means that when I see him we will not know each other.

It made him sorrowful, but Ender did not weep. He was done with that. When they had turned Valentine into a stranger, when they had used her as a tool to work on Ender, from that day forward they could never hurt him deep enough to make him cry again. Ender was certain of that.

And with that anger, he decided he was strong enough to defeat them—the teachers, his enemies.

11

Veni Vidi Vici

'You can't be serious about this schedule of battles.'

'Yes I can.'

'He's only had his army three and a half weeks.'

'I told you. We did computer simulations on probable results. And here is what the computer estimated Ender would do.'

'We want to teach him, not give him a nervous breakdown.'

'The computer knows him better than we do.'

'The computer is also not famous for having mercy.'

'If you wanted to be merciful, you should have gone to a monastery.'

'You mean this isn't a monastery?'

'This is best for Ender, too. We're bringing him to his full potential.'

'I thought we'd give him two years as commander. We usually give them a battle every two weeks, starting after three months. This is a little extreme.'

'Do we have two years to spare?'

'I know. I just have this picture of Ender a year from now. Completely useless, worn out, because he was pushed farther than he or any living person could go.'

'We told the computer that our highest priority was having the subject remain useful after the training program.'

'Well, as long as he's useful—'

'Look, Colonel Graff, you're the one who made me prepare this, over my protests, if you'll remember.'

'I know, you're right, I shouldn't burden you with my conscience. But my eagerness to sacrifice little children in order to save mankind is wearing thin. The Polemarch has been to see the Hegemon. It seems Russian intelligence is concerned that some of the active citizens on the nets are already figuring how America ought to use the I.F. to destroy the Warsaw Pact as soon as the buggers are destroyed.'

'Seems premature.'