Ender's Game (Ender Wiggins Saga)

relativistic speed--”
      "And then I turned around and came home. A very dull voyage, Ender. Fifty years in space. Officially, only eight years passed for me, but it felt like five hundred. All so I could teach the next commander everything I knew.”
      "Am I to be the commander, then?”
      "Let's say that you're our best bet at present.”
      "There are others being prepared, too?”
      "No.”
      "That makes me the only choice, then, doesn't it'?”
      Mazer shrugged.
      "Except you. You're still alive, aren't you? Why not you?”
      Mazer shook his head.
      "Why not? You won before.”
      "I cannot be the commander for good and sufficient reasons.”
      "Show me how you beat the buggers, Mazer.”
      Mazer's face went inscrutable.
      "You've shown me every other battle seven times at least. I think I've seen ways to beat what the buggers did before, but you've never shown me how you actually did beat them.”
      "The video is a very tightly kept secret, Ender.”
      "I know. I've pieced it together, partly. You, with your tiny reserve force, and their armada, those great big heavy-bellied starships launching their swarms of fighters. You dart in at one ship, fire at it, an explosion. That's where they always stop the clips. After that, it's just soldiers going into bugger ships and already finding them dead inside.”
      Mazer grinned. "So much for tightly kept secrets. Come on, let's watch the video.”
      They were alone in the video room, and Ender palmed the door locked. "All right, let's watch.”
      The video showed exactly what Ender had pieced together. Mazer's suicidal plunge into the heart of the enemy formation, the single explosion, and then--
      Nothing. Mazer's ship went on, dodged the shock wave, and wove his way among the other bugger ships. They did not fire on him. They did not change course. Two of them crashed into each other and exploded a needless collision that either pilot could have avoided. Neither made the slightest movement.
      Mazer sped up the action. Skipped ahead. "We waited for three hours," he said. "Nobody could believe it." Then the I.F. ships began approaching the bugger starships. Marines began their cutting and boarding operations. The videos showed the buggers already dead at their posts.
      "So you see," said Mazer, "you already knew all there was to see.”
      "Why did it happen?”
      "Nobody knows. I have my personal opinions. But there are plenty of scientists who tell me I'm less than qualified to have opinions.”
      "You're the one who won the battle.”
      "I thought that qualified me to comment, too, but you know how it is. Xenobiologists and xenopsychologists can't accept the idea that a starpilot scooped them by sheer guesswork. I think they all hate me because, after they saw these videos, they had to live out the rest of their natural lives here on Eros. Security, you know. They weren't happy.”
      "Tell me.”
      "The buggers don't talk. They think to each other, and it's instantaneous like the philotic effect. Like the ansible. But most people always thought that meant a controlled communication like language -- I think you a thought and then you answer me. I never believed that. It's too immediate , the way they respond together to things. You've seen the videos. They aren't conversing and deciding among possible courses of action. Every ship acts like part of a single organism. It responds the way your body responds during combat, different parts automatically, thoughtlessly doing everything they're supposed to do. They aren't having a mental conversation between people with different thought processes. All their thoughts are present, together, at once.”
      "A single person, and each bugger is like a hand or a foot?”
      "Yes. I wasn't the first person to suggest it, but I was the first person to believe it. And something else. Something so childish and stupid that the xenobiologists laughed me to silence when I said it after the battle. The buggers are bugs . They're like ants and bees. A queen, the workers. That was maybe a hundred million years ago, but that's how they started, that kind of pattern. It's a sure thing none of the buggers we saw had any way of making more little buggers. So when they evolved this ability to think together, wouldn't they still keep the queen? Wouldn't the queen still be the center of the group? Why would that ever change?”
      "So it's the queen who controls the whole group.”
      "I