Enders In Exile

conclusions—he's a cautious
boy—but from what he says, Sel thinks it's some kind of
genetic merge between a formicoid species and a local
worm—conceivably even the bloodworm that tried to wipe out
our first generation."
    "The one you take
injections to control?"
    "We have better methods
now," said Ix. "Preventive rather than maintenance. They can't take
hold. The original problem was that we were already deeply infected
before we knew the problem existed—they had to be rooted out.
But my generation never got the infection. You won't either. You'll
see."
    "Define 'formicoid,' "
said Ender.
    "Look, I'm not sure
myself, Po and I didn't talk long. But . . . my guess is that he meant
'formicoid' the way we'd say 'mammalian' or even 'chordate,' rather
than 'humanoid.' "
    Ender looked a little
disappointed. "You've got to understand, I'm a little obsessed with the
formics. My old enemy, you know? Anything that might bring me closer to
understanding them . . ."
    Ix said nothing. Either
he understood or he didn't. Either way, what
he
cared about was that both his son and his mentor were out there,
without food and with a vastly important scientific discovery that
would make waves on Earth and in all the colonies.
    With only one satellite
in the sky so far—the original transport ship—there
was no way to triangulate a global positioning system. That would come
later, when Morgan's people placed their network of geosyncs into
orbit. For now, they depended entirely on the maps that had been
generated before they landed, and Po's description of the route they
would need to follow. Ender was impressed that the kid's instructions
were perfect. Not a missed landmark, not a wrong turn. No delays at all.
    Even proceeding
cautiously, they made good time. They were there five hours after the
call from Po, and it was still daylight, though it wouldn't be for much
longer. As they skimmed into the valley with all its cave entrances,
Ender saw with some amusement that the young man waving to them was no
more than a year or two older than he was. Why had he been surprised
that Po could do a good, reliable job? Hadn't Ender himself been doing
a man's job for years?
    Ix was off the skimmer
almost before it stopped, and ran to his son and embraced him. Ender
might be governor, but Ix was in charge here, giving instructions to
the marines about where to park and unload. Ender authorized the
instructions with a wink, and then set to work helping the men with
their work. He was tall enough now that he could do a decent share
of it, though not as much as two adult men with marine training. They
found things to chat about while they worked, and Ender broached a
subject that he'd been thinking about through most of the voyage.
    "A world like this,"
said Ender, "almost makes you sorry to leave again, doesn't it?"
    "Not me," said one of
them. "Everything's so dirty. Give me shipboard life and crappy food!"
    But the other one said
nothing, just glanced at Ender and then looked away. So he was
considering it. Staying. That was something Ender would have to
negotiate with Morgan. He would be sorry if the way he thwarted
Morgan's plans made it impossible to work out a way for some of the
crew to stay. Still, there'd be time to figure it out. Work out a
trade—because there had to be at least a few of the younger
generation born here on Shakespeare who were longing to get out of this
place, this tiny village, and see a wider world. It was the old
tradition of the sea. And of the circus. Lose a few crew members in
every port or town, but pick up a few others who have an itchy foot or
a dreamy eye.
    Out of the cavern
emerged an old man, who took more than a few moments to straighten up
from being inside the cave. He spoke for a few moments to Po and Ix,
and then, as they headed inside the cavern, dragging a sledge filled
with roots and fruits—a sledge that Ix had made sure they
loaded onto a skimmer—Sel Menach turned to look at Ender for
the first time.
    "Ender Wiggin," he said.
    "Sel Menach," said
Ender. "Po said you had a giant worm situation going on here."
    Sel looked at the
marines, who had their hands on their sidearms. "No weapons needed.
We're not exactly talking with the things, but they understand
rudimentary images."
    "Things?" asked Ender.
    "While we were feeding
the one, two others came up. I don't know if it's enough to sustain a
breeding population, but it's better than coming upon a species when
only one specimen is left alive.