A War of Gifts: An Ender Story

choices left.
    So there was Wiggin, sitting with his back to the wall, gripping his left leg so tightly that his head rested on his own knee. He was obviously in pain.
    Zeck almost walked past him. What did he owe any of these people?
    Then he remembered the Samaritan who stopped for the injured man-and the priest and the Levite who didn’t. “Something wrong?” asked Zeck.
    “Thinking about something and didn’t watch where I was stepping,” said Wiggin through gritted teeth.
    “Bruise? Broken skin?”
    “Twisted ankle,” said Wiggin.
    “Swollen?”
    “I don’t know yet,” said Wiggin. “When I move it, it throbs.”
    “Bring your other leg up so I can compare ankles.”
    Wiggin did. Zeck pulled his shoes and socks off, despite the way Wiggin winced when he moved his left foot. The bare ankles looked exactly alike, as far as he could tell. “Doesn’t look swollen.”
    “Good,” said Wiggin. “Then I guess I’m okay.” He reached out and grabbed Zeck’s upper arm and began to pull himself up.
    “I’m not a fire pole,” said Zeck. “Let me help you up instead of just grabbing my arm.”
    “Sure, sorry,” said Wiggin.
    In a moment, Wiggin was up and wincing as he tried to walk off the injury. “Owie owie owie,” he breathed, in a parody of a suffering toddler. Then he gave Zeck a tiny smile. “Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it,” said Zeck. “Now what did you want to talk to me about?”
    Wiggin smiled a little more broadly. “I don’t know,” he said. No attempt to deny that this whole thing had been staged to have an opportunity to talk. “I just know that whatever your plan is, it’s working too well or it isn’t working at all.”
    “I don’t have a plan,” said Zeck. “I just want to go home.”
    “We all want to go home,” said Wiggin. “But we also want other things. Honor. Victory. Save the world. Prove you can do something hard. You don’t care about anything except getting out of here, no matter what it costs.”
    “That’s right.”
    “So, why? And don’t tell me you’re homesick. We all cried for mommy and daddy our first few nights here, and then we stopped. If there’s anybody here tough enough to take a little homesickness, it’s you.”
    “So now you’re my counselor? Forget it, Wiggin.”
    “What are you afraid of?” asked Wiggin.
    “Nothing,” said Zeck.
    “Kuso,” said Wiggin.
    “Now I’m supposed to pour out my heart to you, is that it? Because you asked what I was afraid of, and that shows me how insightful you are, and I tell you all my deepest fears, and you make me feel better, and then we’re lifelong friends and I decide to become a good soldier to please you.”
    “You don’t eat,” said Wiggin. “Humans can’t live in the kind of isolation you’re living in. I think you’re going to die. If your body doesn’t die, your soul will.”
    “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you don’t believe in souls.”
    “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious,” said Wiggin, “but you don’t know squat about what I believe. I have religious parents too.”
    “Having religious parents says nothing about what you believe.”
    “But nobody here is religious without religious parents,” said Wiggin. “Come on, how old were you when they took you? Six? Seven?”
    “I hear you were five.”
    “And now we’re so much older. You’re eight now?”
    “Almost nine.”
    “But we’re so mature.”
    “They picked us because we have a mental age much higher than the norm.”
    “I have religious parents,” said Wiggin. “Unfortunately not the same religion, which caused a little conflict. For instance, my mother doesn’t believe in infant baptism and my father does, so my father thinks I’m baptized and my mother doesn’t.”
    Zeck winced a little at the idea. “You can’t have a strong marriage when the parents don’t share the same faith.”
    “Well, my parents do their best,” said Wiggin. “And I bet your parents don’t agree on everything.”
    Zeck shrugged.
    “I bet they don’t agree on you.”
    Zeck turned away. “This is completely none of your business.”
    “I bet your mother was glad you went into space. To get you away from your father. That’s how much they disagree on religion.”
    Zeck turned around to face him, furious now. “What did those bunducks tell you about me? They have no right.”
    “Nobody told me anything,” said Wiggin. “It’s you, oomay. Back when people were still