Speaker for the Dead

that the directives of the Lusitanian Evacuation Committee are carried out."
      "Evacuation?"
      "The colony's license has been revoked. They're sending starships to take us all away. Every sign of human habitation here is to be removed. Even the gravestones that mark our dead. "
      Ender tried to measure her response. He had not thought Bosquinha was the kind who would bow to mindless authority. "Do you intend to submit to this?"
      "The power and water supplies are controlled by ansible. They also control the fence. They can shut us in here without power or water or sewers, and we can't get out. Once Miro and Ouanda are aboard your starship, headed for Trondheim, they say that some of the restrictions will be relaxed." She sighed. "Oh, Speaker, I'm afraid this isn't a good time to be a tourist in Lusitania."
      "I'm not a tourist." He didn't bother telling her his suspicion that it might not be pure coincidence, Congress noticing the Questionable Activities when Ender happened to be there. "Were you able to save any of your files?"
      Bosquinha sighed. "By imposing on you, I'm afraid. I noticed that all your files were maintained by ansible, offworld. We sent our most crucial files as messages to you."
      Ender laughed. "Good, that's right, that was well done."
      "It doesn't matter. We can't get them back. Or, well, yes, we can, but they'll notice it at once and then you'll be in just as much trouble as the rest of us. And they'll wipe out everything then."
      "Unless you sever the ansible connection immediately after copying all my files to local memory."
      "Then we really would be in rebellion. And for what?"
      "For the chance to make Lusitania the best and most important of the Hundred Worlds."
      Bosquinha laughed. "I think they'll regard us as important, but treason is hardly the way to be known as the best."
      "Please. Don't do anything. Don't arrest Miro and Ouanda. Wait for an hour and let me meet with you and anyone else who needs to be in on the decision."
      "The decision whether or not to rebel? I can't think why you should be in on that decision, Speaker."
      "You'll understand at the meeting. Please, this place is too important for the chance to he missed."
      "The chance for what?"
      "To undo what Ender did in the Xenocide three thousand years ago."
      Bosquinha gave him a sharp-eyed look. "And here I thought you had just proved yourself to be nothing but a gossipmonger."
      She might have been joking. Or she might not. "If you think that what I just did was gossip-mongering, you're too stupid to lead this community in anything." He smiled.
      Bosquinha spread her hands and shrugged. "Pois é," she said. Of course. What else?
      "Will you have the meeting?"
      "I'll call it. In the Bishop's chambers."
      Ender winced.
      "The Bishop won't meet anywhere else," she said, "and no decision to rebel will mean a thing if he doesn't agree to it." Bosquinha laid her hand on his chest. "He may not even let you into the Cathedral. You are the infidel."
      "But you'll try."
      "I'll try because of what you did tonight. Only a wise man could see my people so clearly in so short a time. Only a ruthless one would say it all out loud. Your virtue and your flaw-- we need them both."
      Bosquinha turned and hurried away. Ender knew that she did not, in her inmost heart, want to comply with Starways Congress. It had been too sudden, too severe; they had preempted her authority as if she were guilty of a crime. To give in smacked of confession, and she knew she had done nothing wrong. She wanted to resist, wanted to find some plausible way to slap back at Congress and tell them to wait, to be calm. Or, if necessary, to tell them to drop dead. But she wasn't a fool. She wouldn't do anything to resist them unless she knew it would work and knew it would benefit her people. She was a good Governor, Ender knew. She would gladly sacrifice her pride, her reputation, her future for her people's sake.
      He was alone in the praça. Everyone had gone while Bosquinha talked to him. Ender felt as an old soldier must feel, walking over placid fields at the site of a long-ago battle, hearing the echoes of the carnage in the breeze across the rustling grass.
      "Don't let them sever the ansible connection."
      The voice in his ear startled him, but he knew it at once. "Jane," he said.
      "I can make them think you've cut off your ansible, but if you really do it then I won't be able to help