Ender's Shadow

direction, just nausea and fear.
      Bean closed his eyes. It didn't help. He opened them again, tried to reorient himself. No direction provided equilibrium. But he had schooled himself on the street not to succumb to nausea -- a lot of the food he had to eat had already gone a little bad, and he couldn't afford to throw it up. So he went into his anti-nausea routine -- deep breaths, distracting himself by concentrating on wiggling his toes. And, after a surprisingly short time, he was used to the null-G. As long as he didn't expect any direction to be down, he was fine.
      The other kids didn't have his routine, or perhaps they were more susceptible to the sudden, relentless loss of balance. Now the reason for the prohibition against eating before the launch became clear. There was plenty of retching going on, but with nothing to throw up, there was no mess, no smell.
      Dimak came back into the shuttle cabin, this time standing on the ceiling. Very cute, thought Bean. Another lecture began, this time about how to get rid of planetside assumptions about directions and gravity. Could these kids possibly be so stupid they needed to be told such obvious stuff?
      Bean occupied the time of the lecture by seeing how much pressure it took to move himself around within his loosely-fitting harness. Everybody else was big enough that the harnesses fit snugly and prevented movement. Bean alone had room for a little maneuvering. He made the most of it. By the time they arrived at Battle School, he was determined to have at least a little skill at movement in null-G. He figured that in space, his survival might someday depend on knowing just how much force it would take to move his body, and then how much force it would take to stop. Knowing it in his mind wasn't half so important as knowing it with his body. Analyzing things was fine, but good reflexes could save your life.

6
     
    Ender’s Shadow
     
     
      "Normally your reports on a launch group are brief. A few troublemakers, an incident report, or -- best of all -- nothing.”
      "You're free to disregard any portion of my report, sir.”
      "Sir? My, but aren't we the prickly martinet today.”
      "What part of my report did you think was excessive?”
      "I think this report is a love song.”
      "I realize that it might seem like sucking up, to use with every launch the technique you used with Ender Wiggin --”
      "You use it with every launch?”
      "As you noticed yourself, sir, it has interesting results. It causes an immediate sorting out.”
      "A sorting out into categories that might not otherwise exist. Nevertheless, I accept the compliment implied by your action. But seven pages about Bean -- really, did you actually learn that much from a response that was primarily silent compliance?”
      "That is just my point, sir. It was not compliance at all. It was -- I was performing the experiment, but it felt as though his were the big eye looking down the microscope, and I were the specimen on the slide.”
      "So he unnerved you.”
      "He would unnerve anyone. He's cold, sir. And yet”
      "And yet hot. Yes, I read your report. Every scintillating page of it.”
      "Yes sir.”
      "I think you know that it is considered good advice for us not to get crushes on our students.”
      "Sir?”
      "In this case, however, I am delighted that you are so interested in Bean. Because, you see, I am not. I already have the boy I think gives us our best chance. Yet there is considerable pressure, because of Bean's damnable faked-up test scores, to give him special attention. Very well, he shall have it. And you shall give it to him.”
      "But sir ...”
      "Perhaps you are unable to distinguish an order from an invitation.”
      "I'm only concerned that ... I think he already has a low opinion of me.”
      "Good. Then he'll underestimate you. Unless you think his low opinion might be correct.”
      "Compared to him, sir, we might all be a little dim.”
      "Close attention is your assignment. Try not to worship him.”
     
      All that Bean had on his mind was survival, that first day in Battle School. No one would help him -- that had been made clear by Dimak's little charade in the shuttle. They were setting him up to be surrounded by ... what? Rivals at best, enemies at worst. So it was the street again. Well, that was fine. Bean had survived on the street. And would have kept on surviving, even if Sister Carlotta hadn't found him. Even Pablo