Card, Orson Scott - Ender's Saga 1 - Ender's Game

by Orson Scott Card

  For a time, the only work in Eros was cleaning up after the bloody League War and receiving the reports of the starships, once warships, that were now exploring the bugger colony worlds.

  But now Eros was busier than ever, more crowded than it bad ever been during the war, as colonists were brought here to prepare for their voyages to the empty bugger worlds. Ender took part in the work, as much as they would let him, but it did not occur to them that this twelve-year-old boy might be as gifted at peace as he was at war. But he was patient with their tendency to ignore him, and learned to make his proposals and suggest his plans through the few adults who listened to him, and let them present them as their own. He was concerned, not about getting credit, but about getting the job done.

  The one thing he could not bear was the worship of the colonists. He learned to avoid the tunnels where they lived, because they would always recognise him -- the world had memorised his face -- and the they would scream and shout and embrace him and congratulate him and show him the children they had named after him and tell him how he was so young it broke their hearts and they didn't blame him for any of his murders because it wasn't his fault he was just a child--

  He hid from them as best he could.

  There was one colonist, though, he couldn't hide from.

  He wasn't inside Eros that day. He had gone up with the shuttle to the new ISL, where he had been learning to do surface work on the starships; it was unbecoming to an officer to do mechanical labour, Chamrajnagar told him, but Ender answered that since the trade he had mastered wasn't much called for now, it was about time he learned another skill.

  They spoke to him through his helmet radio and told him that someone was waiting to see him as soon as he could come in. Ender couldn't think of anyone he wanted to see, and so he didn't hurry. He finished installing the shield for the ship's ansible and then hooked his way across the face of the ship and pulled himself up into the airlock.

  She was waiting for him outside the changing room. For a moment he was annoyed that they would let a colonist come to bother him here, where he came to be alone; then he looked again, and realised that if the young woman were a little girl, he would know her.

  "Valentine," he said.

  "Hi, Ender."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Demosthenes retired. Now I'm going with the first colony."

  "It's fifty years to get there--"

  "Only two years if you're aboard the ship."

  "But if you ever came back, everybody you knew on Earth would be dead--"

  "That was what I had in mind. I was hoping, though, that someone I knew on Eros might come with me.

  "I don't want to go to a world we stole from the buggers. I just want to go home."

  "Ender, you're never going back to Earth. I saw to that before I left."

  He looked at her in silence.

  "I tell you that now, so that if you want to hate me, you can hate me from the beginning."

  They went to Ender's tiny compartment in the ISL and she explained. Peter wanted Ender back on Earth, under the protection of the Hegemon's Council. "The way things are right now, Ender, that would put you effectively under Peter's control, since half the council now does just what Peter wants. The ones that aren't Locke's lapdogs are under his thumb in other ways."

  "Do they know who he really is?"

  "Yes. He isn't publicly known,. but people in high places know him. It doesn't matter any more. He has too much power for them to worry about his age. He's done incredible things, Ender."

  "I noticed the treaty a year ago was named for Locke."

  "That was his breakthrough. He proposed it through his friends from the public policy nets, and then Demosthenes got behind it, too. It was the moment he had been waiting for, to use Demosthenes' influence with the mob and Locke's influence with the intelligentsia to accomplish something noteworthy. It forestalled a really vicious war that could have lasted for decades."

  "He decided to be a statesman?"

  "I think so. But in his cynical moments, of which there are many, he pointed out to me that if he had allowed the League to fall apart completely, he'd have to conquer the world piece by piece. As long as the Hegemony exists, he can do it in one lump."

  Ender nodded. "That's the Peter that I knew."

  "Funny, isn't it? That Peter would save millions of lives."

  "While I killed billions."

  "I wasn't going to say that."

  "So he wanted to use me?"

  "He had plans for you, Ender. He would publicly reveal himself when you arrived, going to meet you in front of all the videos. Ender Wiggin's older brother, who also happened to be the great Locke, the architect of peace. Standing next to you, he would look quite mature. And the physical resemblance between you is stronger than ever. It would be quite simple for him, then, to take over."

  "Why did you stop him?"

  "Ender, you wouldn't be happy spending the rest of your life as Peter's pawn."

  "Why not? I've spent my life as someone's pawn."

  "Me too. I showed Peter all the evidence that I had assembled, enough to prove in the eyes of the public that he was a psychotic killer. It included full-colour pictures of tortured squirrels and some of the monitor videos of the way he treated you. It took some work to get it all together, but by the time he saw it, he was willing to give me what I wanted. What I wanted was your freedom and mine."

  "It's not my idea of freedom to go live in the house of the people that I killed."

  "Ender, what's done is done. Their worlds are empty now, and ours is full. And we can take with us what their worlds have never known -- cities full of people who live private, individual lives, who love and hate each other for their own reasons. In all the bugger worlds, there was never more than a single story to be told; when we're there, the world will be full of stories, and we'll improvise their endings day by day. Ender, Earth belongs to Peter. And if you don't go with me now, he'll have you there, and use you up until you wish you'd never been born. Now is the only chance you'll get to get away."

  Ender said nothing.

  "I know what you're thinking, Ender. You're thinking that I'm trying to control you just as much as Peter or Graff or any of the others."

  "It crossed my mind."

  "Welcome to the human race. Nobody controls his own life, Ender. The best you can do is choose to be controlled by good people, by people who love you. I didn't come here because I wanted to be a colonist. I came because I've spent my whole life in the company of the brother that I hated. Now I want a chance to know the brother that I loved, before it's too late, before we're not children any more."

  "It's already too late for that."

  "You're wrong, Ender. You think you're grown up and tired and jaded with everything, but in your heart you're just as much a kid as I am. We can keep it secret from everybody else. While you're governing the colony and I'm writing political philosophy, they'll never guess that in the darkness of night we sneak into each other's room and play checkers and have pillow fights."

  Ender laughed, but he had noticed some things she dropped too casually for them to be accidental. "Governing?"

  "I'm Demosthenes, Ender, I went out with a bang. A public announcement that I believed so much in the colonisation movement that I was going in the first ship myself. At the same time, the Minister of Colonisation, a former colonel named Graff, announced that the pilot of the colony ship would be the great Mazer Rackham, and the governor of the colony would be Ender Wiggin."

  "They might have asked me."

  "I wanted to ask you myself."

  "But it's already announced."

  "No. They'll be announcing it tomorrow, if you accept. Mazer accepted a few hours ago, back in Eros."

  "You're telling everyone that you're Demosthenes? A fourteen-year-old girl?"

  "We're only telling them that Demosthenes is going with the colony. Let them spend the next fifty years poring over the passenger list, trying to
figure out which one of them is the great demagogue of the Age of Locke."

  Ender laughed and shook his head. "You're actually having fun, Val."

  "I can't think why I shouldn't."

  "All right," said Ender. "I'll go. Maybe even as governor, as long as you and Mazer are there to help me. My abilities are a little underused at present."

  She squealed and hugged him, for all the world like a typical teenage girl who just got the present that she wanted from her little brother.

  "Val," he said, "I just want one thing clear. I'm not going for you. I'm not going in order to be governor, or because I'm bored here. I'm going because I know the buggers better than any other living soul, and maybe if I go there I can understand them better. I stole their future from them; I can only begin to repay by seeing what I can learn from their past."

  ***

  The voyage was long. By the end of it, Val had finished the first volume of her history of the bugger wars and transmitted it by ansible, under Demosthenes' name, back to Earth, and Ender had won something better than the adulation of the passengers. They knew him now, and he had won their love and their respect.

  He worked hard on the new world, governing by persuasion rather than fiat, and working as hard as anyone at the tasks involved in setting up a self-sustaining economy. But his most important work, as everyone agreed, was exploring what the buggers had left behind, trying to find among structures, machinery, and fields long untended some things that human beings could use, could learn from. There were no books to read -- the buggers never needed them. With all things present in their memories, all things spoken as they were thought, when the buggers died their knowledge died with them.

  And yet. From the sturdiness of the roofs that covered their animal sheds and their food supplies, Ender learned that winter would be hard, with heavy snows. From fences with sharpened stakes that pointed outward he learned that there were marauding animals that were a danger to the crops or the herds. From the mill he learned that the long, foul-tasting fruits that grew in the overgrown orchards were dried and ground into meal. And from the slings that once were used to carry infants along with adults into the fields, he learned that even though the buggers were not much for individuality, they did love their children.

  Life settled down, and years passed. The colony lived in wooden houses and used the tunnels of the bugger city for storage and manufactories. They were governed by a council now, and administrators were elected, so that Ender, though they still called him governor, was in fact only a judge. There were crimes and quarrels alongside kindness and cooperation; there were people who loved each other and people who did not; it was a human world. They did not wait so eagerly for each new transmission from the ansible; the names that were famous on Earth meant little to them now. The only name they knew was that of Peter Wiggin, the Hegemon of Earth; the only news that came was news of peace, of prosperity, of great ships leaving the littoral of Earth's solar system, passing the comet shield and filling up the bugger worlds. Soon there would be other colonies on this world, Ender's World; soon there would be neighbours; already they were halfway here; but no one cared. They would help the newcomers when they came, teach them what they had learned, but what mattered in life now was who would marry whom, and who was sick, and when was planting time, and why should I pay him when the calf died three weeks after I got it.

  "They've become people of the land," said Valentine. "No one cares now that Demosthenes is sending the seventh volume of his history today. No one here will read it."

  Ender pressed a button and his desk showed him the next page. "Very insightful, Valentine. How many more volumes until you're through?"

  "Just one. The story of Ender Wiggin."

  "What will you do, wait to write it until I'm dead?"

  "No. Just write it, and when I've brought it up to the present day, I'll stop."

  "I have a better idea. Take it up to the day we won the final battle. Stop it there. Nothing that I've done since then is worth writing down."

  "Maybe," said Valentine. "And maybe not."

  ***

  The ansible had brought them word that the new colony ship was only a year away. They asked Ender to find a place for them to settle in, near enough to Ender's colony that the two colonies could trade, but far enough apart that they could be governed separately. Ender used the helicopter and began to explore. He took one of the children along, an eleven-year-old boy named Abra; he had been only three when the colony was founded, and he remembered no other world than this. He and Ender flew as far as the copter would carry them, then camped for the night and got a feel for the land on foot the next morning.

  It was on the third morning that Ender suddenly began to feel an uneasy sense that he had been in this place before. He looked around; it was new land, he had never seen it. He called out to Abra.

  "Ho, Ender!" Abra called. He was on top of a steep low hill. "Come up!"

  Ender scrambled up, the curves coming away from his feet in the soft ground. Abra was pointing downward.

  "Can you believe this?" he asked.

  The hill was hollow. A deep depression in the middle, partially filled with water, was ringed by concave slopes that cantilevered dangerously over the water. In one direction the hill gave way to two long ridges that made a V-shaped valley: in the other direction the rose to a piece of white rock, grinning like a skull with a tree growing out of its mouth.

  "It's like a giant died here," said Abra, "and the Earth grew up to cover his carcass,"

  Now Ender knew why it had looked familiar. The Giant's corpse. He had played here too many times as a child not to know this place. But it was not possible. The computer in the Battle School could not possibly have seen this place. He looked through his binoculars in a direction he knew well, fearing and hoping that he would see what belonged in that place.

  Swings and slides. Monkey bars. Now overgrown, but the shapes still unmistakable.

  "Somebody had to have built this," Abra said, "Look, this skull place, it's not rock, look at it. This is concrete."

  "I know," said Ender. "They built it for me."

  "What?"

  "I know this place, Abra. The buggers built it for me."

  "The buggers were all dead fifty years before we got here."

  "You're right, it's impossible, but I know what I know. Abra, I shouldn't take you with me. It might be dangerous. If they knew me well enough to build this place, they might be planning to--"

  "To get even with you."

  "For killing them."

  "So don't go, Ender. Don't do what they want you to do."

  "If they want to get revenge, Abra, I don't mind. But perhaps they don't. Perhaps this is the closest they could come to talking. To writing me a note."

  "They didn't know how to read and write."

  "Maybe they were learning when they died."

  "Well, I'm sure as hell not sticking around here if you're taking off somewhere. I'm going with you."

  "No. You're too young to take the risk of--"

  "Come on! You're Ender Wiggin. Don't tell me what eleven-year-old kids can do!"

  Together they flew in the copter, over the playground, over the woods, over the well in the forest clearing. Then out to where there was, indeed, a cliff, with a cave in the cliff wall and a ledge right where the End of the World should be. And there in the distance, just where it should be in the fantasy game, was the castle tower.

  He left Abra with the copter. "Don't come after me, and go home in an hour if I don't come back."

  "Eat it, Ender, I'm coming with you."

  "Eat it yourself, Abra, or I'll stuff you with mud."

  Abra could tell, despite Ender's joking tone, that he meant it, and so he stayed.

  The walls of the tower were notched and ledged for easy climbing. They meant him to get in.

  The room was as it had always been. Ender remembered well enough to look for a snake on the floor, but there was only a rug with a carved snake's
head at one corner. Imitation, not duplication; for a people who made no art, they had done well. They must have dragged these images from Ender's own mind, finding him and learning his darkest dreams across the light years. But why? To bring him to this room, of course. To leave a message for him. But where was the message, and how would he understand it?

  The mirror was waiting for him on the wall. It was a dull sheet of metal, in which the rough shape of a human face had been scratched. They tried to draw the image I should see in the picture.

  And looking at the mirror he could remember breaking it, pulling it from the wall, and snakes leaping out of the hidden place, attacking him, biting him wherever their poisonous fangs could find purchase.

  How well do they know me, wondered Ender. Well enough to know how often I have thought of death, to know that I am not afraid of it? Well enough to know that even if I feared death, it would not stop me from taking that mirror from the wall.

  He walked to the mirror, lifted, pulled away. Nothing jumped from the space behind it. Instead, in a hollowed-out place, there was a white ball of silk with a few frayed strands sticking out here and there. An egg? No. The pupa of a queen bugger, already fertilised by the larval males, ready, out of her own body, to hatch a hundred thousand buggers, including a few queens and males. Ender could see the slug-like males clinging to the walls of a dark tunnel, and the large adults carrying the infant queen to the mating room; each male in turn penetrated the larval queen, shuddered in ecstasy, and died, dropping to the tunnel floor and shrivelling. Then the new queen was laid before the old, a magnificent creature clad in soft and shimmering wings, which had long since lost the power of flight but still contained the power of majesty. The old queen kissed her to sleep with the gentle poison in her lips, then wrapped her in threads from her belly, and commanded her to become herself, to become a new city, a new world, to give birth to many queens and many worlds.