First meetings in the Enderverse

credit. She tried to convince herself that what mattered was the science, not the prestige. She was not one of those pathetic on-the-make grad students who were all about career, with research serving as no more than a stepping stone. It was the research itself that she cared about. So why not recognize the political realities, accept their quislingesque “offer,” and be content?
    It’s not about the credit. It’s about the Hegemony perverting the whole system of science as a means of extortion. Not that science is particularly pure, except compared to politics. She found herself displaying the data of her students on her desk, calling up their pictures and records and glancing at them. In the back of her mind she knew she was looking for John Paul Wiggin. What he had said about his school records being a lie intrigued her. And looking him up was such a trivial task that she could do it even while fretting over what they were doing to her. John Paul Wiggin. Second child of Brian and Anne Wiggin; older brother named Andrew. Born in Racine, Wisconsin, so apparently he was an expert on what weather was appropriate for sweaters. Straight As in the Racine public school system. Graduated a year early, valedictorian, lots of clubs, three years of soccer. Exactly what the admissions people were looking for. And his record here was just as good-nothing less than an A, and not an easy course on the list. A year younger than her. And yet… no declared major, which suggested that even though he had enough credit hours that he could graduate at the end of this year, he still hadn’t settled on a field of study.
    A bright dilettante. A time-waster.
    Except that he said it was all a lie.
    Which parts? Surely not the grades-he was clearly bright enough to earn them. And what else could possibly be a lie? What would be the point?
    He was just a boy trying to be intriguing. He spotted that she was young for a teacher, and in his school-centered life, the teacher was at the pinnacle of prestige. Maybe he tried to ingratiate himself with all his teachers. If he became a problem, she’d have to ask around and see if it was a pattern. The desk beeped to tell her she had a call.
    She pressed NO PICTURE and then ANSWER. She knew who it was, of course, even though no identity or telephone number appeared.
    “Hello, Father,” she said.
    “Turn on the picture, darlin’, I want to see your face.”
    “You’ll have to search through your memory,” she said. “Father, I don’t want to talk right now.”
    “Those bastards can’t do this to you.”
    “Yes they can.”
    “I’m sorry, darlin’, I never meant my own decisions to impinge on you.”
    “If the Buggers blow up planet Earth,” she said, “because you aren’t there to stop them, that will impinge on me.”
    “And if we defeat the Buggers but we’ve lost everything that makes it worth being human-”
    “Father, don’t give me the stump speech, I’ve got it down pat.”
    “Darlin’, I’m just saying that I wouldn’t have done this if I’d known they’d try to take away your career.”
    “Oh, right, you’ll put the whole human race at risk, but not your daughter’s career.”
    “I’m not putting anything at risk. They already have everything I know. I’m a theorist, not a commander-it’s a commander they need now, a whole different skill set. So this is really just… what, their fit of pique because my leaving the I.F. was bad public relations for them and-”
    “Father, didn’t you notice that I didn’t call you?”
    “You only just found out.”
    “Yes, and who told you? Someone from the school?”
    “No, it was Grasdolf, he has a friend at the foundation and-”
    “Exactly.”
    Father sighed. “You’re such a cynic.”
    “What good does it do to take a hostage if you don’t send a ransom note?”
    “Grasdolf is a friend, they’re just using him, and I meant what I said about-”
    “Father, you might think, for a moment, that you’d give up your quixotic crusade in order to make my life easier, but the fact is you won’t, and you know it and I know it. I don’t even want you to give it up. I don’t even care. All right? So your conscience is clear, their attempt at extortion was bound to fail, the school is taking care of me after their fashion, and hey, I’ve got a smart, cute, and annoyingly conceited boy in one of my classes trying to hit on me, so life is just about perfect.”
    “Aren’t you just the noblest