First meetings in the Enderverse

work.”
    “Come see him yourself,” said Helena. “He’ll be six in a few days. Come see him. Then tell me whether he’s worth the risk of an international incident.”
    This was not at all how John Paul wanted to spend his birthday. Mother had made candy all day with sugar she begged from neighbors, and John Paul wanted to suck on his, not chew it, so it would last and last. Instead Father told him either to spit it out into the garbage or swallow it, and so now it was swallowed and gone, all for these people from the International Fleet.
    “We got some questionable results from the preliminary screening,” said the man. “Perhaps because the child had listened to three previous tests. We need to get accurate information, that’s all.”
    He was lying-that was obvious, from the way he moved, the way he looked Father right in the eye, unwaveringly. A liar who knew he was lying and was trying hard not to look like he was lying. The way Thomas always did. It fooled Father but never Mother, and never John Paul. So if the man was lying, why? Why was he really coming to test John Paul again?
    He remembered what he had thought right after the woman tested him three weeks ago, that she had found what she was looking for. But then nothing had happened and he figured he must have been wrong. Now she was back and the man who was with her was telling lies. The family was banished to other rooms. It was evening, time for Father to go to his second job, only he couldn’t go while these people were here or they’d know, or guess, or wonder what he was doing, hour after hour during the evening. So the longer this took, the less money Father would earn tonight, and therefore the less food they’d be able to eat, the less clothing they’d have to wear. The man even sent the woman out of the room. That annoyed John Paul. He liked the woman. He didn’t like at all the way the man looked at their house. At the other children. At Mother and Father. As if he thought himself better than they were.
    The man asked a question.
    John Paul answered in Polish instead of Common.
    The man looked at him blankly. He called out, “I thought he spoke Common!”
    The woman stuck her head back into the room. Apparently she had only gone to the kitchen. “He does, fluently,” said the woman.
    The man looked back at John Paul, and the disdainful look was gone. “So what game are you playing?”
    In Polish, John Paul said, “The only reason we’re poor is because the Hegemon punishes Catholics for obeying God.”
    “In Common, please,” said the man.
    “The language is called English,” said John Paul in Polish, “and why should I talk to you at all?”
    The man sighed. “Sorry to waste your time.” He got up.
    The woman came back into the room. They thought they were whispering soft enough, but like most adults, they thought that children didn’t understand adult conversations so they weren’t all that careful about being quiet.
    “He’s defying you,” said the woman.
    “Yes, I guessed that,” said the man testily.
    “So if you go, he wins.”
    Good one, thought John Paul. This woman wasn’t stupid. She knew what to say to make this man do what she wanted.
    “Or somebody does.”
    She walked over to John Paul. “Colonel Sillain thinks I was lying when I said you did so well on the tests.” In Common, John Paul said, “How well did I do?”
    The woman only got a little smile on her face and glanced back at Col. Sillain. Sillain sat back down. “All right then. Are you ready?”

    In Polish, John Paul said, “I’m ready if you speak Polish.” Impatiently, Sillain turned back to the woman. “What does he want?”
    In Common, John Paul said to the woman, “Tell him I don’t want to be tested by a man who thinks my family is scum.”
    “In the first place,” said the man, “I don’t think that.”
    “Liar,” said John Paul in Polish.
    He turned to the woman. She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t speak Polish either.”
    John Paul said to her, in Common, “You rule over us but you don’t bother to learn our language. Instead we have to learn yours.”
    She laughed. “It’s not my language. Or his. Common is just a universalized dialect of English, and I’m German.” She pointed at Sillain. “He’s Finnish. Nobody speaks his language anymore. Not even the Finns.”
    “Listen,” said Sillain, turning to John Paul. “I’m not going to play around anymore. You speak Common, and I don’t speak