Enders In Exile

never bring it within
firing range of Earth."
    "Not the M.D. Device,
you poor sap. I'm referring to our brother. Our civilization-destroying
junior sib."
    "Don't you dare talk
about him with scorn!"
    Peter's expression
turned into a mocking simper. But behind his visage there was anger and
hurt. She still had the power to get to him, just by making it clear
how much more she loved Ender.
    "Demosthenes is going
to write an essay pointing out that America must get Andrew Wiggin back
to Earth immediately. No more delays. The world is too dangerous a
place for America not to have the immediate services of the greatest
military leader the world has ever known."
    Immediately a fresh
wave of hatred for Peter swept over Valentine. Partly because she
realized
his
approach would work far better than
the essay she had already written. She hadn't internalized Demosthenes
as well as she thought. Demosthenes would absolutely call for Ender's
immediate return and enlistment in the American military.
    And that would be as
destabilizing, in its own way, as a call for forward deployment of
nukes. Demosthenes' essays were watched very carefully by the rivals
and enemies of the United States. If he called for Ender to come home
at once, they would all start maneuvering to keep Ender in space; and
some, at least, would openly accuse America of having aggressive
intentions.
    It would then be
Locke's place, in a few days or weeks, to come up with a compromise, a
statesmanlike solution: Leave the kid in space.
    Valentine knew exactly
why Peter had changed his mind. It was that stupid remark of Father's
at dinner—his reminder that Peter would be in Ender's shadow,
no matter what he did.
    Well, even political
sheep sometimes said something that had a good result. Now Val wouldn't
even have to persuade Peter of the need to keep Ender away from Earth.
It would be all his idea instead of hers.

    * * * * *
    Theresa once again sat
on the bed, crying. Strewn about her were printouts of the Demosthenes
and Locke essays that she knew would keep Ender from returning home.
    "I can't help it," she
said to her husband. "I know it's the right thing—just as
Graff
wanted
us to understand it. But I thought
I'd see him again. I really did."
    John Paul sat beside
her on the bed and put his arms around her. "It's the hardest thing we
ever did."
    "Not giving him up in
the first place?"
    "That was hard," said
John Paul, "but we didn't have a choice. They were going to take him
anyway. This time, though. You know that if we went on the nets and put
up vids of us pleading for our son to come home—we'd have a
pretty good chance."
    "And our little boy is
going to wonder why we
don't
do it."
    "No he's not."
    "Oh, you think he's so
smart he'll figure out what we're doing? Why we're doing
nothing
?"
    "Why wouldn't he?"
    "Because he doesn't
know us," said Theresa. "He doesn't know what we think or feel. As far
as he can tell, we've forgotten all about him."
    "One thing I feel good
about, in this whole mess," said John Paul. "We're still good at
manipulating our genius children."
    "Oh, that," said
Theresa dismissively. "It's easy to manipulate your children when
they're absolutely sure you're stupid."
    "What makes me
saddest," said John Paul, "is that Locke is getting credit for caring
about Ender more than anybody. So when his identity does come out,
it'll look as though he loyally stepped in to protect his brother."
    "He's our boy, that
Peter," said Theresa. "Oh, what a piece of work he is."
    "I have a philosophical
question. I wonder if what we call 'goodness' is
actually a maladaptive trait. As long as most people have it, and the
rules of society promote it as a virtue, then the
natural
rulers have a clear field of action. It's because of Ender's goodness
that it's Peter we'll have at home on Earth."
    "Oh, Peter's good,"
said Theresa bitterly.
    "Yes, I forgot," said
John Paul. "It's for the good of the human race that he'll become ruler
of the world. An altruistic sacrifice."
    "When I read his
simpering essays I want to claw his eyes out."
    "He's our son, too,"
said John Paul. "As much a product of our genes as Ender or Val. And we
did goad him into this."
    Theresa knew he was
right. But it didn't help. "He didn't have to enjoy himself so much,
did he?"

CHAPTER
2

    To: hgraff%[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: You know the truth
    You know who decides
what to write. No doubt you can even guess why. I'm not going to try