'It crossed my mind.'
'Welcome to the human race. Nobody controls his own life, Ender. The best you can do is choose to be controlled by good people, by people who love you. I didn't come here because I wanted to be a colonist. I came because I've spent my whole life in the company of the brother that I hated. Now I want a chance to know the brother that I loved, before it's too late, before we're not children anymore.'
'It's already too late for that.'
'You're wrong, Ender. You think you're grown up and tired and jaded with everything, but in your heart you're just as much a kid as I am. We can keep it secret from everybody else. While you're governing the colony and I'm writing political philosophy, they'll never guess that in the darkness of night we sneak into each other's room and play checkers and have pillowfights.'
Ender laughed, but he had noticed some things she dropped too casually for them to be accidental. 'Governing?'
'I'm Demosthenes, Ender, I went out with a bang. A public announcement that I believed so much in the colonization movement that I was going in the first ship myself. At the same time, the Minister of Colonization, a former colonel named Graff, announced that the pilot of the colony ship would be the great Mazer Rackham, and the governor of the colony would be Ender Wiggin.'
'They might have asked
'I wanted to ask you myself.'
'But it's already announced.'
'No. They'll be announcing it tomorrow, if you accept. Mazer accepted a few hours ago, back in Eros.'
'You're telling everyone that you're Demosthenes? A fourteen-year-old girl?'
'We're only telling them that Demosthenes is going with the colony. Let them spend the next fifty years poring over the passenger list, trying to figure out which one of them is the great demagogue of the Age of Locke.'
Ender laughed and shook his head. 'You're actually having fun, Val.'
'I can't think why I shouldn't.'
'All right,' said Ender. 'I'll go. Maybe even as governor, as long as you and Mazer are there to help me. My abilities are a little underused at present.'
She squealed and hugged him, for all the world like a typical teenage girl who just got the present that she wanted from her little brother.
'Val,' he said, 'I just want one thing clear. I'm not going for you. I'm not going in order to be governor, or because I'm bored here. I'm going because I know the buggers better than any other living soul, and maybe if I go there I can understand them better. I stole their future from them; I can only begin to repay by seeing what I can learn from their past.'
The voyage was long. By the end of it, Val had finished the first volume of her history of the bugger wars and transmitted it by ansible, under Demosthenes' name, back to Earth, and Ender had won something better than the adulation of the passengers. They knew him now, and he had won their love and their respect.
He worked hard on the new world, governing by persuasion rather than fiat, and working as hard as anyone at the tasks involved in setting up a self-sustaining economy. But his most important work, as everyone agreed, was exploring what the buggers had left behind, trying to find among structures, machinery, and fields long untended some things that human beings could use, could learn from. There were no books to read—the buggers never needed them. With all things present in their memories, all things spoken as they were thought, when the buggers died their knowledge died with them.
And yet. From the sturdiness of the roofs that covered their animal sheds and their food supplies, Ender learned that winter would be hard, with heavy snows. From fences with sharpened stakes that pointed outward he learned that there were marauding animals that were a danger to the crops or the herds. From the mill he learned that the long, foul-tasting fruits that grew in the overgrown orchards were dried and ground into meal. And from the slings that once were used to carry infants along with adults into the fields, he learned that even though the buggers were not much for individuality, they did love their children.
Life settled down, and years passed. The colony lived in wooden houses and used the tunnels of the bugger city for storage and manufactories. They were governed by a council now, and administrators were elected, so that Ender, though they still called him governor, was in fact only a judge. There were crimes and quarrels alongside kindness and cooperation; there were people who loved each other and people who did not; it was a human world. They did not wait so eagerly for each new transmission from the ansible; the names that were famous on Earth meant little to them now. The only name they knew was that of Peter Wiggin, the Hegemon of Earth; the only news that came was news of peace, of prosperity, of great ships leaving the littoral of Earth's solar system, passing the comet shield and filling up the bugger worlds. Soon there would be other colonies on this world, Ender's World; soon there would be neighbors; already they were halfway here; but no one cared. They would help the newcomers when they came, teach them what they had learned, but what mattered in life now was who would marry whom, and who was sick, and when was planting time, and why should I pay him when the calf died three weeks after I got it.
'They've become people of the land,' said Valentine. 'No one cares now that Demosthenes is sending the seventh volume of his history today. No one here will read it.'
Ender pressed a button and his desk showed him the next page. 'Very insightful, Valentine. How many more volumes until you're through?'
'Just one. The story of Ender Wiggin.'
'What will you do, wait to write it until I'm dead?'
'No. Just write it, and when I've brought it up to the present day, I'll stop.'
'I have a better idea. Take it up to the day we won the final battle. Stop it there. Nothing that I've done since then is worth writing down.'
'Maybe,' said Valentine. 'And maybe not.'
The ansible had brought them word that the new colony ship was only a year away. They asked Ender to find a place for them to settle in, near enough to Ender's colony that the two colonies could trade, but far enough apart that they could be governed separately. Ender used the helicopter and began to explore. He took one of the children along, an eleven-year-old boy named Abra; he had been only three when the colony was founded, and he remembered no other world than this. He and Ender flew as far as the copter would carry them, then camped for the night and got a feel for the land on foot the next morning.
It was on the third morning that Ender suddenly began to feel an uneasy sense that he had been in this place before. He looked around; it was new land, he had never seen it. He called out to Abra.
'Ho, Ender!' Abra called. He was on top of a steep low hill. 'Come up!'
Ender scrambled up, the turves coming away from his feet in the soft ground. Abra was pointing downward.
'Can you believe this?' he asked.
The hill was hollow. A deep depression in the middle, partially filled with water, was ringed by concave slopes that cantilevered dangerously over the water. In one direction the hill gave way to two long ridges that made a V-shaped valley: in the other direction the rose to a piece of white rock, grinning like a skull with a tree growing out of its mouth.
'It's like a giant died here,' said Abra, 'and the Earth grew up to cover his carcass,'
Now Ender knew why it had looked familiar. The Giant's corpse. He had played here too many times as a child not to know this place. But it was not possible. The computer in the Battle School could not possibly have seen this place. He looked through his binoculars in a direction he knew well, fearing and hoping that he would see what belonged in that place.
Swings and slides. Monkey bars. Now overgrown, but the shapes still unmistakable.
'Somebody had to have built this,' Abra said, 'Look, this skull place, it's not rock, look at it. This is concrete.'
'I know,' said Ender. 'They built it for me.'
'What?'
