Ender's Shadow ew-6

by Orson Scott Card

  Bean shrugged.

  "You spent two hours on Vauban."

  "So what? I spent as long on Frederick the Great, and I don't think we're doing field drills, either, or bayoneting anyone who breaks ranks during a march into fire."

  "You didn't actually read Vauban, did you," said Dimak. "So I want to know what you were doing."

  "I was reading Vauban."

  "You think we don't know how fast you read?"

  "And thinking about Vauban?"

  "All right then, what were you thinking?"

  "Like you said. About how it applies to war in space." Buy some time here. What does Vauban have to do with war in space?

  "I'm waiting," said Dimak. "Give me the insights that occupied you for two hours just yesterday."

  "Well of course fortifications are impossible in space," said Bean. "In the traditional sense, that is. But there are things you can do. Like his mini-fortresses, where you leave a sallying force outside the main fortification. You can station squads of ships to intercept raiders. And there are barriers you can put up. Mines. Fields of flotsam to cause collisions with fast-moving ships, holing them. That sort of thing."

  Dimak nodded, but said nothing.

  Bean was beginning to warm to the discussion. "The real problem is that unlike Vauban, we have only one strong point worth defending – Earth. And the enemy is not limited to a primary direction of approach. He could come from anywhere. From anywhere all at once. So we run into the classic problem of defense, cubed. The farther out you deploy your defenses, the more of them you have to have, and if your resources are limited, you soon have more fortifications than you can man. What good are bases on moons Jupiter or Saturn or Neptune, when the enemy doesn't even have to come in on the plane of the ecliptic? He can bypass all our fortifications. The way Nimitz and MacArthur used two-dimensional island-hopping against the defense in depth of the Japanese in World War II. Only our enemy can work in three dimensions. Therefore we cannot possibly maintain defense in depth. Our only defense is early detection and a single massed force."

  Dimak nodded slowly. His face showed no expression. "Go on."

  Go on? That wasn't enough to explain two hours of reading? "Well, so I thought that even that was a recipe for disaster, because the enemy is free to divide his forces. So even if we intercept and defeat ninety-nine of a hundred attacking squadrons, he only has to get one squadron through to cause terrible devastation on Earth. We saw how much territory a single ship could scour when they first showed up and started burning over China. Get ten ships to Earth for a single day – and if they spread us out enough, they'd have a lot more than a day! – and they could wipe out most of our main population centers. All our eggs are in that one basket."

  "And all this you got from Vauban," said Dimak.

  Finally. That was apparently enough to satisfy him. "From thinking about Vauban, and how much harder our defensive problem is."

  "So," said Dimak, "what's your solution?"

  Solution? What did Dimak think Bean was? I'm thinking about how to get control of the situation here in Battle School, not how to save the world! "I don't think there is a solution," said Bean, buying time again. But then, having said it, he began to believe it. "There's no point in trying to defend Earth at all. In fact, unless they have some defensive device we don't know about, like some way of putting an invisible shield around a planet or something, the enemy is just as vulnerable. So the only strategy that makes any sense at all is an all-out attack. To send our fleet against their home world and destroy it."

  "What if our fleets pass in the night?" asked Dimak. "We destroy each other's worlds and all we have left are ships?"

  "No," said Bean, his mind racing. "Not if we sent out a fleet immediately after the Second Bugger War. After Mazer Rackham's strike force defeated them, it would take time for word of their defeat to come back to them. So we build a fleet as quickly as possible and launch it against their home world immediately. That way the news of their defeat reaches them at the same time as our devastating counterattack."

  Dimak closed his eyes. "Now you tell us."

  "No," said Bean, as it dawned on him that he was right about everything. "That fleet was already sent. Before anybody on this station was born, that fleet was launched."

  "Interesting theory," said Dimak. "Of course you're wrong on every point."

  "No I'm not," said Bean. He knew he wasn't wrong, because Dimak's air of calm was not holding. Sweat was standing out on his forehead. Bean had hit on something really important here, and Dimak knew it.

  "I mean your theory is right, about the difficulty of defense in space. But hard as it is, we still have to do it, and that's why you're here. As to some fleet we supposedly launched – the Second Bugger War exhausted humanity's resources, Bean. It's taken us this long to get a reasonable-sized fleet again. And to get better weaponry for the next battle. If you learned anything from Vauban, you should have learned that you can't build more than your people have resources to support. Besides which, you're assuming we know where the enemy's home world is. But your analysis is good insofar as you've identified the magnitude of the problem we face."

  Dimak got up from the bunk. "It's nice to know that your study time isn't completely wasted on breaking into the computer system," he said.

  With that parting shot, he left the barracks.

  Bean got up and walked back to his own bunk, where he got dressed. No time for a shower now, and it didn't matter anyway. Because he knew that he had struck a nerve in what he said to Dimak. The Second Bugger War hadn't exhausted humanity's resources, Bean was sure of that. The problems of defending a planet were so obvious that the I.F. couldn't possibly have missed them, especially not in the aftermath of a nearly-lost war. They knew they had to attack. They built the fleet. They launched it. It was gone. It was inconceivable that they had done anything else.

  So what was all this nonsense with the Battle School for? Was Dimak right, that Battle School was simply about building up the defensive fleet around Earth to counter any enemy assault that might have passed our invasion fleet on the way?

  If that were true, there would be no reason to conceal it. No reason to lie. In fact, all the propaganda on Earth was devoted to telling people how vital it was to prepare for the next Bugger invasion. So Dimak had done nothing more than repeat the story that the I.F. had been telling everybody on Earth for three generations. Yet Dimak was sweating like a fish. Which suggested that the story wasn't true.

  The defensive fleet around Earth was already fully manned, that was the problem. The normal process of recruitment would have been enough. Defensive war didn't take brilliance, just alertness. Early detection, cautious interception, protection of an adequate reserve. Success depended, not on the quality of command, but on the quantity of available ships and the quality of the weaponry. There was no reason for Battle School – Battle School only made sense in the context of an offensive war, a war where maneuver, strategy, and tactics would play an important role. But the offensive fleet was already gone. For all Bean knew, the battle had already been fought years ago and the I.F. was just waiting for news about whether we had won or lost. It all depended on how many light-years away the Bugger home planet was.

  For all we know, thought Bean, the war is already over, the I.F. knows that we won, and they simply haven't told anybody.

  And the reason for that was obvious. The only thing that had ended war on Earth and bound together all of humanity was a common cause – defeating the Buggers. As soon as it was known that the Bugger threat was eliminated, all the pent-up hostilities would be released. Whether it was the Muslim world against the West, or long-restrained Russian imperialism and paranoia against the Atlantic alliance, or Indian adventurism, or ... or all of them at once. Chaos. The resources of the International Fleet would be co-opted by mutinying commanders from one faction or another. Conceivably it could mean the destruction of Earth – without any help from the Formics at all.

  That's
what the I.F. was trying to prevent. The terrible cannibalistic war that would follow. Just as Rome tore itself apart in civil war after the final elimination of Carthage – only far worse, because the weapons were more terrible and the hatreds far deeper, national and religious hatreds rather than the mere personal rivalries among leading citizens of Rome.

  The I.F. was determined to prevent it.

  In that context, Battle School made perfect sense. For many years, almost every child on Earth had been tested, and those with any potential brilliance in military command were taken out of their homeland and put into space. The best of the Battle School graduates, or at least those most loyal to the I.F., might very well be used to command armies when the I.F. finally announced the end of the war and struck preemptively to eliminate national armies and unify the world, finally and permanently, under one government. But the main purpose of the Battle School was to get these kids off Earth so that they could not become commanders of the armies of any one nation or faction.

  After all, the invasion of France by the major European powers after the French Revolution led to the desperate French government discovering and promoting Napoleon, even though in the end he seized the reins of power instead of just defending the nation. The I.F. was determined that there would be no Napoleons on Earth to lead the resistance. All the potential Napoleons were here, wearing silly uniforms and battling each other for supremacy in a stupid game. It was all pig lists. By taking us, they have tamed the world.

  "If you don't get dressed, you'll be late for class," said Nikolai, the boy who slept on the bottommost bunk directly across from Bean.

  "Thanks," said Bean. He shed his dry towel and hurriedly pulled on his uniform.

  "Sorry I had to tell them about your using my password," said Nikolai.

  Bean was dumfounded.

  "I mean, I didn't know it was you, but they started asking me what I was looking for in the emergency map system, and since I didn't know what they were talking about, it wasn't hard to guess that somebody was signing on as me, and there you are, in the perfect place to see my desk whenever I sign on, and ... I mean, you're really smart. But it's not like I set out to tell on you."

  "That's fine," said Bean. "Not a problem."

  "But, I mean, what did you find out? From the maps?"

  Until this moment, Bean would have blown off the question – and the boy. Nothing much, I was just curious, that's what he would have said. But now his whole world had changed. Now it mattered that he have connections with the other boys, not so he could show his leadership ability to the teachers, but so that when war did break out on Earth, and when the I.F.'s little plan failed, as it was bound to do, he would know who his allies and enemies were among the commanders of the various national and factional armies.

  For the I.F.'s plan would fail. It was a miracle it hadn't failed already. It depended too heavily on millions of soldiers and commanders being more loyal to the I.F. than to their homeland. It would not happen. The I.F. itself would break up into factions, inevitably.

  But the plotters no doubt were aware of that danger. They would have kept the number of plotters as small as possible – perhaps only the triumvirate of Hegemon, Strategos, and Polemarch and maybe a few people here at Battle School. Because this station was the heart of the plan. Here was where every single gifted commander for two generations had been studied intimately. There were records on every one of them – who was most talented, most valuable. What their weaknesses were, both in character and in command. Who their friends were. What their loyalties were. Which of them, therefore, should be approached to command the I.F.'s forces in the intrahuman wars to come, and which should be stripped of command and held incommunicado until hostilities were over.

  No wonder they were worried about Bean's lack of participation in their little mind game. It made him an unknown quantity. It made him dangerous.

  Now it was even more dangerous for Bean to play than ever. Not playing might make them suspicious and fearful – but in whatever move they planned against him, at least they wouldn't know anything about him. While if he did play, then they might be less suspicious – but if they did move against him, they would do it knowing whatever information the game gave to them. And Bean was not at all confident of his ability to outplay the game. Even if he tried to give them misleading results, that strategy in itself might tell them more about him than he wanted them to know.

  And there was another possibility, too. He might be completely wrong. There might be key information that he did not have. Maybe no fleet had been launched. Maybe they hadn't defeated the Buggers at their home world. Maybe there really was a desperate effort to build a defensive fleet. Maybe maybe maybe.

  Bean had to get more information in order to have some hope that his analysis was correct and that his choices would be valid.

  And Bean's isolation had to end.

  "Nikolai," said Bean, "you wouldn't believe what I found out from those maps. Did you know there are nine decks, not just four?"

  "Nine?"

  "And that's just in this wheel. There are two other wheels they never tell us about."

  "But the pictures of the station show only the one wheel."

  "Those pictures were all taken when there was only one wheel. But in the plans, there are three. Parallel to each other, turning together."

  Nikolai looked thoughtful. "But that's just the plans. Maybe they never built those other wheels."

  "Then why would they still have maps for them in the emergency system?"

  Nikolai laughed. "My father always said, bureaucrats never throw anything away."

  Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? The emergency map system was no doubt programmed before the first wheel was ever brought into service. So all those maps would already be in the system, even if the other wheels were never built, even if two-thirds of the maps would never have a corridor wall to be displayed on. No one would bother to go into the system and clean them out.

  "I never thought of that," said Bean. He knew, given his reputation for brilliance, that he could pay Nikolai no higher compliment. As indeed the reaction of the other kids in nearby bunks showed. No one had ever had such a conversation with Bean before. No one had ever thought of something that Bean hadn't obviously thought of first. Nikolai was blushing with pride.

  "But the nine decks, that makes sense," said Nikolai.

  "Wish I knew what was on them," said Bean.

  "Life support," said the girl named Corn Moon. "They got to be making oxygen somewhere here. That takes a lot of plants."

  More kids joined in. "And staff. All we ever see are teachers and nutritionists."

  "And maybe they did build the other wheels. We don't know they didn't."

  The speculation ran rampant through the group. And at the center of it all: Bean.

  Bean and his new friend, Nikolai.

  "Come on," said Nikolai, "we'll be late for math."

  PART THREE – SCHOLAR

  CHAPTER 9 – GARDEN OF SOFIA

  "So he found out how many decks there are. What can he possibly do with that information?"

  "Yes, that's the exact question. What was he planning, that he felt it necessary to find that out? Nobody else even looked for that, in the whole history of this school."

  "You think he's plotting revolution?"

  "All we know about this kid is that he survived on the streets of Rotterdam. It's a hellish place, from what I hear. The kids are vicious. They make _Lord of the Flies_ look like _Pollyanna_."

  "When did you read _Pollyanna_?"

  "It was a book?"

  "How can he plot a revolution? He doesn't have any friends."

  "I never said anything about revolution, that's your theory."

  "I don't have a theory. I don't understand this kid. I never even wanted him up here. I think we should just send him home."

  "No."

  "No sir, I'm sure you meant to say."

  "After three months in Battle School, he figu
red out that defensive war makes no sense and that we must have launched a fleet against the Bugger home worlds right after the end of the last war."

  "He knows that? And you come telling me he knows how many decks there are?"

  "He doesn't know it. He guessed. I told him he was wrong."

  "I'm sure he believed you."

  "I'm sure he's in doubt."

  "This is all the more reason to send him back to Earth. Or out to some distant base somewhere. Do you realize the nightmare if there's a breach of security on this?"

  "Everything depends on how he uses the information."

  "Only we don't know anything about him, so we have no way of knowing how he'll use it."

  "Sister Carlotta —"

  "Do you hate me? That woman is even more inscrutable than your little dwarf."

  "A mind like Bean's is not to be thrown away just because we fear there might be a security breach."

  "Nor is security to be thrown away for the sake of one really smart kid."

  "Aren't we smart enough to create new layers of deception for him? Let him find out something that he'll think is the truth. All we have to do is come up with a lie that we think he'll believe."

  ***

  Sister Carlotta sat in the terrace garden, across the tiny table from the wizened old exile.

  "I'm just an old Russian scientist living out the last years of his life on the shores of the Black Sea." Anton took a long drag on his cigarette and blew it out over the railing, adding it to the pollution flowing from Sofia out over the water.

  "I'm not here with any law enforcement authority," said Sister Carlotta.

  "You have something much more dangerous to me. You are from the Fleet."

  "You're in no danger."

  "That's true, but only because I'm not going to tell you anything."

  "Thank you for your candor."

  "You value candor, but I don't think you would appreciate it if I told you the thoughts your body arouses in the mind of this old Russian."

  "Trying to shock nuns is not much sport. There is no trophy."