Enders In Exile

a celebrity.
    In the
barracks—no, the dormitory—that used to be for
newly arrived students—launchies, as they were
called—there was one woman with a babe in arms who remained
steadfastly aloof. Virlomi was content with that—she
didn't have to be everyone's favorite person—but soon it
became clear, as she visited that barracks more and more, that Nichelle
Firth was not just shy or aloof, she was actively hostile.
    Virlomi became
fascinated by her and tried to find out more about her. But the
biography in her file was so sparse that it made Virlomi suspect it was
bogus; there were several like that, belonging to people who were
joining the colony specifically to leave all their past, even their
identity, behind them.
    There was no talking to
the woman directly, however. Her face became a pleasant blank and she
answered succinctly or not at all; when she chose not to answer, she
smiled with a set jaw, so that despite the toothy grin Virlomi was
aware of the anger behind it. She did not push the matter further.
    But she did watch for
Nichelle's reactions to things Virlomi and others said when Nichelle
was within earshot, but not part of the group. What seemed to set her
off, what made her huffy in her body language, was any mention of the
Hegemony or Peter Wiggin or the wars on Earth or the Free People of
Earth or the Ministry of Colonization. Also the names of Ender Wiggin,
Graff, Suriyawong, and, above all, Julian
Delphiki—"Bean"—seemed to make her hold tightly to
her baby and start to whisper some sort of incantation to the child.
    Virlomi introduced some
of these names herself, as a test. Nichelle Firth was certainly not
someone who had taken part in the war in any way—her picture
got no response from Peter's staff when she sent an inquiry. Yet she
seemed to take the events of recent history quite personally.
    Only toward the end of
the preparation period did it occur to her to try one other name. She
worked it into a conversation with a pair of Belgians, but made sure
they were near enough to Nichelle that she could hear them. "Achilles
Flandres," she said, referring to him as the most famous Belgian in
recent history. Of course they were offended and denied that he was
really Belgian, but while she was smoothing things over with them, she
was also watching Nichelle.
    Her reaction was
strong, yes, and at first glance seemed to be the same as
always—hold the baby close, nuzzle it, speak to it.
    But then Virlomi
realized: She was not stiff. She was not huffy. Instead she
was tender with the child. She was gentle and seemed happy. She was
smiling.
    And she was whispering
the name "Achilles Flandres" over and over.
    This was so disturbing
that Virlomi wanted to go over to her and scream at her: How dare you
venerate the name of that monster!
    But she was too keenly
aware of her own monstrous deeds. There were differences between her
and Achilles, yes, but there were similarities, too, and it was not
wise of her to condemn him too vehemently. So the woman felt some
affinity for him. What of that?
    Virlomi left the
barracks then and searched again. No record of Achilles ever being in a
place where he might have met this definitely American woman. Virlomi
could not imagine her speaking French, not even badly. She didn't seem
educated enough—like most Americans, she would have only the
one language, spoken raggedly but loudly. The baby could not possibly
be Achilles'.
    But she had to check.
The woman's behavior pointed so clearly toward that possibility.
    She did not allow Firth
mother-and-child to go into stasis and be stowed on the ship until she
got back the results of a comparison between the baby's genetic print
and the records of Achilles Flandres's genes.
    No match. He could not
possibly be the father.
    All right then, thought
Virlomi. The woman is strange. She'll be a problem. But not one that
can't be handled with time. Far away from Earth, whatever it was that
made her such a devotee of the monster will fade. She will accept the
pressure of the friendship of others.
    Or she won't, and then
her offense will be self-punishing, as she earns ostracism from those
whose friendship she refused. Either way, Virlomi would deal with it.
How much trouble can one woman be, out of thousands of colonists? It's
not as if Nichelle Firth was any kind of leader. No one would follow
her. She would amount to nothing.
    Virlomi gave orders
clearing the Firths for stasis. But because of the delay, they were
still