Ender's Game (Ender Wiggins Saga)

that had saved them. There was no glory in that .
      Only as Ender himself was leaving the battleroom did he realize that Bonzo would not realize that Ender was angry at the teachers. Spanish honor. Bonzo would only know that he had been defeated even when the odds were stacked in his favor; that Ender had had the youngest child in his army publicly state what Bonzo should have done to win; and that Ender had not even stayed to receive Bonzo's dignified surrender. If Bonzo had not already hated Ender he would surely have begun; and hating him as he did, this would surely turn his rage murderous. Bonzo was the last person to strike me, thought Ender. I'm sure he has not forgotten that.
      Nor had he forgotten the bloody affair in the battleroom when the older boys tried to break up Ender's practice session. Nor had many others. They were hungry for blood then; Bonzo will be thirsting for it now. Ender toyed with the idea of going back to take advanced personal defense; but with battles now possible not only every day, but twice in the same day, Ender knew he could not spare the time. I'll have to take my chances. The teachers got me into this -- they can keep me safe.
     
     
     
      Bean flopped down on his bunk in utter exhaustion -- half the boys in the barracks were already asleep, and it was still fifteen minutes before lights out. Wearily he pulled his desk from its locker and signed on. There was a test tomorrow in geometry and Bean was woefully unprepared. He could always reason things out if he had enough time, and he had read Euclid when he was five, but the test had a time limit so there wouldn't be a chance to think. He had to know. And he didn't know. And he would probably do badly on the test. But they had won twice today, and so he felt good.
      As soon as he signed on, however, all thoughts of geometry were banished. A message paraded around the desk:
     
    SEE ME AT ONCE -- ENDER
     
      The time was 2150, only ten minutes before lights out. How long ago had Ender sent it? Still, he'd better not ignore it. There might be another battle in the morning -- the thought made him weary -- and whatever Ender wanted to talk to him about, there wouldn't be time then. So Bean rolled off the bunk and walked emptily through the corridor to Ender's room. He knocked.
      "Come in," said Ender.
      "Just saw your message.”
      "Fine," said Ender.
      "It's near lights out.”
      "I'll help you find your way in the dark.”
      "I just didn't know if you knew what time it was--”
      "I always know what time it is.”
      Bean sighed inwardly. It never failed. Whenever he had any conversation with Ender, it turned into an argument. Bean hated it. He recognized Ender's genius and honored him for it. Why couldn't Ender ever see anything good in him?
      "Remember four weeks ago, Bean? When you told me to make you a toon leader?”
      "Eh.”
      "I've made five toon leaders and five assistants since then. And none of them was you." Ender raised his eyebrows. "Was I right?”
      "Yes, sir.”
      "So tell me how you've done in these eight battles.”
      "Today was the first time they disabled me, but the computer listed me as getting eleven hits, before I had to stop. I've never had less than five hits in a battle. I’ve also completed every assignment I've been given.”
      "Why did they make you a soldier so young, Bean?”
      "No younger than you were.”
      "But why?”
      "I don't know.”
      "Yes you do, and so do I.”
      "I've tried to guess, but they're just guesses. You're-- very good. They knew that, they pushed you ahead--”
      "Tell me why , Bean.”
      "Because they need us, that's why." Bean sat down on the floor and stared at Enders feet. "Because they need somebody to beat the buggers. That's the only thing they care about.”
      "It's important that you know that, Bean. Because most boys in this school think the game is important for itself -- but it isn't. It's only important because it helps them find kids who might grow up to be real commanders, in the real war. But as for the game, screw that. That's what they're doing. Screwing up the game.”
      "Funny. I thought they were just doing it to us.”
      "A game nine weeks earlier than it should have come. A game every day. And now two games in the same day. Bean, I don't know what the teachers are doing, but my army is getting tired, and I’m getting tired, and they don't care at all about the rules of the game. I've pulled the