Enders In Exile

down there on Earth who are trying to keep you from ever coming
home. You win the victory and they want to exile you for life and you
don't
care
because all you can think about is your lost formics.
They're your dead wife and you can't let go."
    "It wasn't much of a
marriage," said Ender.
    "You're still in love."
    "Petra, cross-species
romance just isn't for me."
    "You said it yourself.
You had to love them to defeat them. You don't have to agree with me
now. It will come to you later. You'll wake up in a cold sweat and
you'll shout, 'Eureka! Petra was right!' Then you can start fighting
for the right to return to the planet you saved. You can start
caring
about something again."
    "I care about
you,
Petra," said Ender. What he didn't say was: I already care about
understanding the hive queens, but you don't count that because you
don't get it.
    She shook her head. "No
getting through the wall," she said. "But I thought it was worth one
last try. I'm right, though. You'll see. You can't let
these hive queens deform the rest of your life. You have to let them be
dead and move on."
    Ender smiled. "I hope
you find happiness at home, Petra. And love. And I hope you have the
babies that you want and a good life full of meaning and
accomplishment. You are so ambitious—and I think you'll have
it all, true love and domesticity and great achievements."
    Petra stood up. "What
makes you think I want babies?" she said.
    "I know you," said
Ender.
    "You
think
you know me."
    "The way you think you
know me?"
    "I'm not a lovesick
girl," said Petra, "and if I were, it wouldn't be over
you.
"
    "Ah, so it bothers you
when somebody presumes to know your deepest inner motivation."
    "It bothers me that
you're such an oomo."
    "Well, you've cheered
me up marvelous well, Miss Arkanian. We oomos are grateful when the
fine folk from the big house come to visit us."
    Petra's voice was angry
and defiant when she fired her parting shot. "Well, I actually
love
you and
care
about you, Ender Wiggin." Then she
turned and walked away.
    "And I love and care
about
you,
only you wouldn't believe me when I
said it!"
    At the door she turned
back to face him. "Ender Wiggin,
I
wasn't being
sarcastic or patronizing when I said that."
    "Neither was I!"
    But she was gone.
    "Maybe I've been trying
to study the wrong alien species," he said softly.
    He looked at the
display above his desk. It was still in motion, though muted, showing
bits from Mazer's testimony. He looked so cold, so aloof, as if he had
contempt for the whole business. When they asked about Ender's violence
and whether that made it hard to train him, Mazer turned to face the
judges and said, "I'm sorry, I misunderstood, isn't this a court
martial
?
Aren't we all soldiers here, trained to commit acts of violence?"
    The judge gaveled him
down and reprimanded him, but the point was made.
Violence was what the military existed for—controlled
violence, directed against appropriate targets. Without actually having
to say a word about Ender, Mazer had made it clear that violence wasn't
a drawback, it was the point.
    It made Ender feel
better. He could switch off the newslink and get back to work.
    He stood up to reach
across the table and retrieve the photos that Petra had moved. The face
of a dead formic farmer from one of the faroff planets stared up at
him, the torso open and the organs arranged neatly around the corpse.
    I can't believe you
gave
up,
Ender said silently to the picture. I can't believe that
a whole species lost its will to live. Why did you let me kill you?
    "I will not rest until
I know you," he whispered.
    But they were gone.
Which meant that he could never, never rest.

CHAPTER
3

    To: mazerrackham%[email protected]/imaginary.heroes
From: hgraff%[email protected]
{self-shred protocol}
Subj: How about a little voyage?
    Dear Mazer,
    I know as well as
anyone that you almost refused to come home from your last voyage, and
I'm certainly not going to let them send you anywhere now. But you took
too big a risk testifying for me (or for Ender; or for truth and
justice; I don't presume to guess your motives) and the heat is on. The
best way, I think, for you to become less visible and therefore less
likely to be further interfered with is to let it be known that you
will be the commander of a certain colony ship. The one that's going to
carry Ender away to safety.
    Once you're fully
ignored because you're supposedly going on a forty-year voyage, it will
be easy enough to