Shadow of the giant

isn't
prewired. Lots of clear meadows. We can see if anybody's watching us."
    "Are you that closely watched?"
    "Russian government not as understanding as Hegemon.
Suriyawong stays in your confidence because you believe he always opposed
Achilles. But me? Not trusted. So if you think I have influence, very wrong
thinking, my friend."
    "Not why I'm here."
    "Yes, I know, you're here for the trade talks."
Vlad grinned.
    "Not much point to trade talks when smuggling and
bribery make any kind of customs collection a joke anyway," said Peter.
    "I'm glad you understand our way of doing things,"
said Vlad. "Trust no one that you haven't bribed within the last half
hour."
    "Don't tell me you really have that thick a Russian
accent, by the way," said Peter. "You grew up on Battle School. You
should speak Common like a native."
    "I do," said Vlad—still in a thick Russian accent.
"Except when my future depends on giving people no reason to remember how
different I am. Accents are hard to learn and hard to hold on to. So I will
maintain it now. I am not by nature a good actor."
    "May I call you Vlad?"
    "May I call you Peter?"
    "Yes."
    "Then yes also. Lowly strategic planner cannot be more
formal than Hegemon of whole world."
    "You know just how much of the world I'm Hegemon
over," said Peter. "And as I said, that's not why I'm here. Or not
directly."
    "What then? You want to hire me? Not possible. They may
not trust me here, but they certainly don't want me going anywhere else. I'm a
hero of the Russian people."
    "Vlad, if they trusted you, what do you think you'd be
doing right now?"
    Vlad laughed. "Leading the armies of Mother Russia, as
Alai and Hot Soup and Virlomi and so many others are already doing. So many
Alexanders."
    "Yes, I've heard that comparison," said Peter.
"But I see it another way. I see it as being the arms race that led up to
World War I."
    Vlad thought for a moment. "And we Battle School brats
are the arms race. If one nation has it, then another must have more. Yes,
that's what Achilles's little venture in kidnapping was about."
    "My point is: Having a Battle School graduate—particularly
one of Ender's Jeesh—makes war more, not less, probable."
    "I don't think so," said Vlad. "Yes, Hot Soup
and Alai are in the thick of things, but Virlomi wasn't in the Jeesh. And the
rest of the Jeesh—Bean and Petra are with you, struggling for world peace, yes?
Like beauty pageant contestants? Dink is in a joint Anglo-American project
which means he has had his balls cut off, militarily speaking. Shen is marking
time in some ceremonial position in Tokyo. Dumper is a monk, I think, or
whatever they call them. A shaman. In the Andes somewhere. Crazy Tom is at
Sandhurst confined to a classroom. Carn Carby is in Australia where they may or
may not have a military but nobody cares. And Fly Molo ... well, he's a busy
boy in the Philippines. But not their president or even an important
general."
    "That squares with my tally, though I think Carn would
argue with you about the value of the Australian military."
    Vlad waved the objection aside. "My point is, most
nations that have this 'treasured national resource' are far more concerned to
keep us under observation and away from power than to actually use us to make
war."
    Peter smiled. "Yes. Either they have you up to your
elbows in blood, or they have you locked in a box. Anybody happily
married?"
    "We're none of us even twenty-five yet. Well, maybe
Dink. He always lied about his age. Most of us are in our teens or barely out
of them."
    "They're afraid of you. All the more so now, because
the nations that actually used their Jeesh members in war are now governed by
them."
    "If you can call 'worldwide Islam' a nation. I,
personally, call it a riot with scripture."
    "Just don't say that in Baghdad or Tehran," said
Peter.
    "As if I could ever go to those places."
    "Vlad," said Peter. "How would you like to be
free of all this beauty?"
    Vlad hooted with laughter. "So you're here representing
Graff?"
    Peter was taken aback. "Graff came to you?"
    "Be head of a colony. Get away from it all.
All-expenses-paid vacation ... that takes the rest of your life!"
    "Not a vacation," said Peter. "Very hard
work. But at least you have a life."
    "So Peter the Hegemon wants Ender's Jeesh offplanet.
Forever."
    "Do you want my job?" said Peter. "I'll
resign it today if I thought it would go to you. You or any member of Ender's
Jeesh. You want it? Think you can hold it? Then it's yours. I only