I don't own these characters.

Speaking for the Dragon

Andrew Wiggin had just finished teaching and was on his way home when a small voice spoke up in his ear. "Ender?" That voice belonged to Jane, his friend and companion who lived in the small jewel placed in his ear, audible only to himself.

Still, Andrew "Ender" Wiggin placed a finger in his ear so he could hear better in the noisy University hall. He sub-vocalized, "What's up, Jane?"

"You've got an interplanetary call coming through on the ansible network."

"A message?"

"No. A call. From Earth."

"From Earth? Who would call me from Earth?"

"Get this… It's Ranma Saotome."

Ender frowned and ran into the back of a student in the crowded hall from shock. He quickly apologized and moved out of the flow of traffic. He recovered with a start and started walking again, careful to watch his path as his mind churned. "Ranma… Saotome? Really?"

"Yeah." Even though Jane had no corporeal body, he could just imagine her nodding vigorously. "As far as I can tell, this is the real deal."

"But… how? He should have been dead a long time since."

"Come on, Ender. Do you think you and Valentine are the only ones who might have been using relativistic space-travel since the Third Bugger War?"

"No, I mean…" Ender trailed off and shook his head. He sometimes forgot that Jane wasn't Jane yet during Battle school. "It doesn't matter, Jane. Even if he had been traveling non-stop since then, he should still be dead. I mean, he was older than dirt when I met him at Battle School. Just look up when he was born."

There was small pause as Jane went looking for some records. He heard a whistle as she pulled up the information. "Says here he was born in 1970… That's nearly one hundred years before the first Bugger invasion! What in the hell...?"

Ender grunted in agreement. "I know. What does he want from me?"

"I don't know, but you want me to patch him through?"

Ender paused for a second then nodded. "Yeah, go ahead." He heard the line shift followed by a smooth, strong baritone voice in strangely accented standard.

"Is this Ender Wiggen?

Ender stopped dead. Nobody called him that anymore. "Who are you?"

"Ranma Saotome. I'm searching for Ender Wiggin, Battle School graduate of 2135, Speaker for the Hive Queen and the Hegemon. I believe you were my student at one time."

The line was silent as Ender licked his lips, trying to get some moisture back into his throat. Nobody but Jane and Valentine knew that he was Ender Wiggen, Ender the Xenocide, the young boy who had destroyed an entire race of beings because he was playing a game.

He'd have to add Ranma to that list, now.

"This is… Ender. It has been a long time, Sensei."

"It has. I have been looking for you for a while. I am happy to have found you at last."

"How are you still alive?" Ender grimaced. He hadn't meant to ask that, but he was just so shocked… There was an awkward pause as he heard Ranma grumble something in a language he had never heard before, but it was quickly covered by standard. "As to that… I will answer your questions. I have a request to make of you."

Ender blinked. "I will help if I am able. How may I assist you?"

"I am finally dying. I wish for you to speak for me."

Ender blinked. "Are you really prepared for that?"

"I am. Your… answering service…" Ender could hear a faint trace of amusement in his strangely accented voice, "will know how to contact me once you are in a place where we can have visual contact. I will be more than happy to pay for all expenses. I've somehow become quite wealthy in my long life." The amusement was more apparent with the last sentence.

"I will contact you shortly, then. You are on Earth?"

"Yes." There was a pregnant pause. "It is not like you remember it Ender."

"No, I imagine not."

"Until later, Ender." Ranma said something else in that incomprehensible language and the line went dead. As soon as it did, Jane whispered in his ear "that was Japanese. Japanese, Ender. Nobody's spoken that in nearly 3,000 years!"

Ender didn't respond. He stepped into the waiting public transport and sat down, lost in thought the entire way home.

=-=-=-=-=-

"Tell my why you think it is so important to conscript this man into the International Fleet and station him at the battle school?"

"You've seen his dossier, General. Ender's looked into personal defense classes, and I need someone who can not only teach him how to survive, but hone the ruthlessness in him."

"I thought you said we needed Ender to be nice, Colonel Graff."

"Yes, but we also need him alive. It won't do us any good against the buggers if Ender's injured or dead."

"Are you sure this is necessary? I mean, this guy's been retired for ever. Are you sure he's alive?"

"Absolutely. The battle school computer pulled up his image. It knows Ender better than anyone, and for what ever reason it suggested that he be the one leading Ender in self-defense."

"And the computer…"

"Can't tell us why, of course."

"Why can't Ender just use the normal instructor from Combat school?"

"Because Ender needs the best. He's smaller than the other boys, and when they come for him, he'll need the advantage that only that man can give him. Ender's isolation needs to be complete. This is just one more way of ensuring that he is kept separate from the other boys. It will push him just that much harder."

"You're a real bastard, Colonel."

"Thank you. Do I get a raise?"

"No."

"Then will you authorize the conscription?"

"Fine. I authorize you to conscript this guy to be a martial arts instructor at the Battle School."

Ranma quietly placed the tea service on the table and offered a cup to both gentlemen in the International Fleet uniforms sitting across from him.

"Tea?"

The heavier set of the two nodded. "Thank you." He took a sip. "Your standard is accented very strangely."

Ranma nodded. "I get that a lot." The younger of the two men had yet to speak. He took a sip of his own tea and waited. No one spoke. The silence stretched as Ranma was completely comfortable sitting, not put out in the least by the stern visage and sense of importance the men in front of him radiated. Ranma managed to finish his tea and set the cup down, content to stare back at the gentlemen until they moved first. It was a small thing, but Ranma wanted as much bargaining room as possible. Finally, the younger man spoke.

"I'm Major Anderson." He jerked his head towards his companion. "This is Colonel Graff. Do you know why we are here?"

Ranma shook his head. "No, but I'm sure you'd be happy to tell me."

Colonel Graff reached into his attaché case and pulled out a slim folder. He opened it and pulled out a single piece of paper on IF letterhead and placed on the table. With a curt, "read this," Graff pushed the paper towards Ranma and sat up straight, both men watching his face. The text was short and to the point:

Selective Service System

Order to Report for International Fleet Physical Examination

TO: LOCAL BOARD 151

Ranma Saotome SELECTIVE SERVICE SYSTEM

Tendo Dojo, 1 Diet Place

Nerima Ku, Tokyo, Japan

Japan

You are hereby directed to present yourself for International Fleet Physical Examination to the local board named above by reporting at:

6:54 A.M. on the 15th of August, 2134.

Failure to comply with this order will result in termination of citizen status and forfeiture of all rights, liberties, and protections of the state.

Ranma read the slip of paper and pushed it back across the table. "There must be a mistake. I'm entirely too old to become a soldier."

"We don't have much of a choice."

Ranma looked at the speaker. Graff, if he remembered correctly. "There's always a choice, Mr. Graff. Are things so bad that you have to conscript old men long past their prime?"

The two military men looked at each other briefly. "We don't have to answer your questions, you know."

"I know. Major Anderson, was it?" The younger man nodded. Ranma picked up the conscription notice and let it hang limply from his fingers. "I should just act like a good citizen and do my duty to fight the Buggers." Ranma snorted. "I also know that if you don't at least explain a few things to me, you have no chance of getting me to comply."

"Your family would lose the rights to this property," said Anderson.

Ranma shrugged. "If it must be so." Ranma stood and offered the notice back to the International Fleet officers seated before him. "Begin your proceedings if you must. I still refuse to fight…"

Graff interrupted him. "We don't need you to fight."

Ranma remained standing, but let the sheet drop to the tabletop. "Then why? If you don't need me to fight, why do you need me at all? Surely there are more able-bodied persons the fleet can conscript."

The officers exchanged glances again. With a barely perceptible shrug, Colonel Graff reached into his attaché case and pulled out a thicker paper file. It was with a growing sense of dread that Ranma listened as Graff opened the cover and began reading. "Ranma Saotome. Born 1970 in Tokyo, Japan. The only child of Genma and Nodoka Saotome. Graduate of Nerima's Furinkan High School, Gold medalist in the 2012 Chicago Olympics in Tae Kwon Do, Judo, and Aikido. Interestingly enough, Ranma Saotome also happens to be one of the few survivors of the attempted Bugger colonization of Japan." Graff paused and arched an eyebrow, looking up at Ranma. He idly began flipping through the pages, rattling off more facts. "This is some pretty incredible stuff here."

"Nice to see you done your home work," Ranma said. He crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

Graff held up two fingers. "Two things. I meant what I said about not wanting you to fight. But, one, we need you to train someone. And two, after you're done, we'd like you to quietly disappear."

Ranma frowned. "Why?"

"You would be… dangerous to have around if your existence was known."

Ranma pointed at the stack of papers Graff's hands. "But the fleet knows about me already."

Graff shook his head. "You're wrong about that." He hefted the file. "Right now, only three people know about you. Me, Anderson, and the General who authorized your conscription. These are the only copies that exist about you. We'll destroy them afterwards if we're satisfied."

Ranma's eyebrows narrowed. "And if you're not satisfied?"

Graff shrugged. "It won't matter, because the Third Invasion will happen, and we'll all be dead." Graff tucked the paper files back in his case and stood. "Look, I wouldn't do this, but the immediate threat of invasion by Buggers has required the International Fleet to do what needs to be done. When the immediate threat is over, then we can start laying blame later."

"So the ends justify the means?" Ranma asked.

"When you're talking about the survival of humanity, then yes, yes it does." Graff snapped the clasp of his case closed. He pointed at the conscription notice. "Don't be late. We wouldn't want to draw attention to you."

Ranma didn't escort them to the door.

=-=-=-=-

"Hi Val! I'm home!" Ender stepped in side and shrugged out of his jacket, putting his briefcase on the valise and hanging his coat on the rack. He immediately picked up the smell of something from the kitchen. With a grin, he followed the smell to the source. "What are you making?"

Valerie smiled at him as he came in the kitchen. "I'd give you a hug, but right now my hands are full." She tilted the bowl she was currently stirring with a wooden spoon so he could see. "I'm trying to make a cookie recipe."

Ender leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "You know, you could just stick to writing. You don't have to be a domestic goddess as well."

She shrugged. "I can't write all the time." She pulled the spoon out of the bowl and offered it to her younger brother to lick. "And cooking might come in handy someday."

Ender snorted. "If you say so." He attacked the spoon, doing his best to ensure no fiendishly delicious cookie dough escaped.

"So," Valerie asked as she began spooning out balls of batter onto a baking sheet, "did anything interesting happen today?'

Ender nodded.

"Oh?"

He tossed the spoon in the sink. There wasn't much more he could do to it, anyway. "I got a call from Ranma Saotome."

Valerie paused what she was doing. "Ranma Saotome?"

"Yeah. You remember him, don't you?"

She shook her head. "The name sounds familiar, but…"

"Asian guy? Old? About this tall?" Ender held up his hand to just below his chin. "Taught me martial arts at battle school and told you where to find me after Peter took over?"

Valerie's eyes widened. "That guy? How's he still alive?"

"I don't know." Ender shrugged. "I imagine he probably did the same thing we did-hired a ship and headed out at relativistic speeds for who knows how long." Ender paused. "He wants me to speak for him."

"Are you going to?"

Ender stuck his finger in the cookie dough batter and pulled out a large lump. "I'm not sure. I'm supposed to call him sometime today." He stuck the lump of dough in his mouth. "I'll listen to what he has to say, and go from there." He reached into the bowl to pick out some more, but had his hands slapped by his sister.

"Shoo. I'll never finish if you keep eating this stuff."

"All right, then." Ender said. "I'll be in the study if you need me. I've got a call to make."

=-=-=-=-=-

Jane didn't have any problems locating the number, partly because it was the only number on Earth registered to Ranma Saotome. She called the number collect while Ender prepared his note taker and readied himself for the interview.

"This is going to cost him a fortune, Ender." She said.

"I imagine that he'll feel it about as little as I would."

"Maybe." She paused. "I was poking around, trying to find out how much this guy's worth, and I got nothing. He's either incredibly good at covering his tracks, or he's flat out broke."

"I doubt the latter." Ender shrugged. "Occam's razor. Simplest explanation is he's rich and good at hiding it.

"I agree. Which really makes me wonder what he's hiding."

"He asked me to speak for him. Maybe we'll find out."

"Right," said Jane. "Connecting."

The visual screen came on. Minor details immediately jumped out at him as the tactical portion of his brain started to analyze the face of the man in the screen. It was Ranma, as hard as it was to believe. His hair was still in the distinctive ponytail Ender remembered from battle school, but rather than a touch of grey at the temples, Ranma's hair was now shock white throughout. His face was heavily lined. He looked old, but not frail.

But his eyes… Ender had seen eyes like that before. He'd had them, at one point. They were calculating and focused. Ender could tell instantly that age had not diminished Ranma's acumen; if anything, his eyes hard the clarity of wicked sharp intelligence and the wisdom of age.

This was going to be interesting.

Ender's eyes wandered from the face on the screen, taking in the details of the view. The background was completely indistinct, so there was nothing of interest there. Ranma dressed in a red shirt of a strange cut, with a high collar and buttons ties, rather than buttons, holding it closed. It also looked like it was made out of some type of material Ender hadn't seen in a long time.

"Is that silk?" He blurted out.

Ranma smirked. "Ho, Ender."

Abashed, Ender returned the greeting. "Ho, Ranma."

"And yes, it is silk." Ranma fingered the shirt. "I imagine you have a lot of questions for me. Where I found silk is just one of the many things I hope we'll talk about today."

"I look forward to it." Ender said. "How did you find me?"

Ranma smiled. "Does this mean you'll Speak for me?"

Ender shook his head. "I'm still not sure. Why do you want me to do it? I'm sure there are many Speakers for the Dead on Earth."

"They are but pale imitations of a true Speaker," Ranma said. "I need you to speak for me for the same reason you spoke for the Hive Queen. I can not tell my own story – people will be too disbelieving to listen." Ranma paused. "You have a gift. It is more than just empathy. You have the ability to comprehend someone completely, distill the vital elements, and you can make other people understand, to accept."

Ender smiled bitterly. "Unfortunately, I usually understand someone best right before I destroy them."

"Nevertheless, you do understand your… counterparts." Ranma said. "This is why I wish you to speak for me."

"It is your right to request Speaker to mark your death." Ender said. "Realize that I'll try to describe you life as you tried to live it. This speech will not be an apology, but rather a way to understand who you were as a person, including your flaws."

Ranma nodded. "That is what I seek."

"Then can I record our conversation?"

Ranma smiled. "Yes." And Ranma began to talk. And Ender listened.

=-=-=-=-=-=-

"So the operation was successful?"

"Yes, General. He'll be boarding the shuttle to go to Battle School along with the new launch group. He was less than pleased about it, of course."

"Yeah, I imagine so. So, what were your impressions, Colonel?"

"Ranma's a tough bastard. I've been around soldiers all my life. This guy goes beyond that. He's a warrior, through and through."

"I've read the transcript of the interview. He offered you tea. That doesn't sound too threatening to me."

"With all due respect, sir, you can be polite regardless of how deadly you might be."

"When will the lessons start?"

"Immediately upon arrival. The computer's arranged for Ender's first self-defense class to be with Ranma after he lands."

"Does Ranma know who he'll be training?"

"Not yet. I didn't give him any information about that."

"What did the computer say?"

"Not much. It did give a tailored training schedule to push him to fatigue levels in keeping with the timetable. And it noted that Ender keeps dying at the End of the World. We still don't know what to make of it."

"We're going to break this kid. When it happens, your ass is going down first."

"Of course. But at least I'll have the comfort of knowing you'll be going down with me. If this all works out, we'll get metals for messing with the poor kid's mind."

"Fantastic. I just love the military."

"We do what we must."

"Agreed. But does it always have to be so goddamned distasteful?"

"You could always retire, sir."

"And be a civilian? Fat chance."

"Do you believe Ranma will have Ender ready when the Bonzo or someone else tries again?"

"I think he will. I've explained that there is to be absolutely no coddling."

"Then I can adjust Ender's schedule to increase the pace of battles?"

"Sure. Give him hell."

=-=-=-=-=-

Ender arrived at the gym room thirty-five minutes early. The gym was empty, the equipment neatly stacked to one side with a rope hanging from one of the rafters. Not having much else to do and not knowing what to expect, Ender pulled the trampoline away from the wall and began to warm up with a few simple exercises. From there, he started a circuit of the gym equipment, moving to the pommel horse and finishing with some stretches. Bent over at the waist, Ender was touching his toes as he allowed his mind to replay the incident with Bonzo and to think about his new commander in Rat.

Hopefully, by the time he was done here, nobody would be able to hit him again.

When he straightened, he let out a small gasp as he noticed the older man standing in front of him. He'd never even heard him come in. He was Asian and much older and shorter than the rest of the instructors at the school, but still substantially taller than Ender.

"You," he said, "are Andrew Wiggen?"

"Yes sir." Ender nodded. "Everyone calls me Ender."

"You are my student." The older man bowed. His standard was strangely accented, but Ender couldn't place it. "I am Ranma Saotome. You will call me Sensei."

"Yes sir."

Ranma stood and placed his hands behind his back. "I watched you exercise. Tell me why you thought it necessary."

Because I can't afford to waste time if I want to be strong enough to stop the Bonzo's, thought Ender. Because I'm still smaller than everyone. Because people hate me.

"Because the benefits of exercise outweighed the benefits of standing around waiting, sir," replied Ender.

"But that is not the whole reason." Ranma didn't move from his relaxed posture with his hands behind his back. However, his eyes seemed more focused as he asked, "Why do you seek to learn self defense?"

Ender swallowed. "Because people hate me for being better than them."

"Is there anything wrong with being better than your fellow soldiers?"

Ender shook his head. "No sir. I need to be the best, though. The bigger kids will try and take it out on me in the corridors, where they can hurt me."

Ranma observed him briefly before stepping away. "Why do you seek to be a soldier?"

I didn't have a choice, thought Ender. It was this, or wait until the buggers came and killed Valentine.

Ender paused. "I didn't want this."

"Why strive to be the best, if you don't want to fight?" Ranma's gaze narrowed.

"Because I can't afford to lose."

"That is nonsense. You are more intelligent than that. Sometimes a battle must be lost so the war can be won. Why can't you afford to lose, Ender?"

Ender wasn't sure what made him say it, but the words were out of his mouth before he could take them back. "Because I need to win. That's the only way I can beat the teachers."

Ranma smiled. "So you believe your teachers to be your opponents?"

Ender didn't say anything. Ender was watching his new teacher carefully, trying to figure out why he was asking so many questions. He was I.F. staff, given his uniform and posture, but unlike the rest of the teachers he had met so far, he seemed… Ender gave the equivalent of a mental shrug. This guy was different. That much was clear. But he was unable to articulate why as of yet.

"This is the last time we will be allowed to have a conversation." Ender saw Ranma's eyes flicker towards a corner of the room. Ender gave a brief nod indicating he understood the message. They are watching.

"From this point forward, you will call me Sensei." Ranma said. "Prepare yourself, Ender Wiggin. This will not be easy or painless, but the path to victory seldom is. We will work on your ability to fall."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Ender found himself flying through the air. He landed on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Ender's eyes watered as he struggled to both catch his breath and stand up at the same time. He limbs refused to obey him properly. He felt a rush of wind, and suddenly he was tumbling forward again, the floor rushing to meet him. He twisted as fast as he could to avoid smacking the floor with his face. With a grunt he landed on his shoulder and rolled.

"Better."

Ender was suddenly yanked of his feet by his heels. Ranma held him upside down at arms length, peering at Ender with intensity. He whispered softly, making sure the sound of his voice didn't carry beyond Ender's ears. "You will learn. I will not be gentle. Remember that pain is temporary. The faster you learn, the more temporary it is."

Ranma released his ankles, and once more the floor rushed to meet him. Again, Ender tucked his head and rolled, allowing the curve of his spine to deflect and absorb most of the force and at the same time using the momentum to put some distance between himself and his teacher.

"Good." Ranma said. "Why was I able to hurt you just now?" he asked.

"Because you took me by surprise, and I don't know enough to stop you."

"Correct." Ranma folded his hands behind his back. "Now, this is how you avoid it in the future…"

=-=-=-=-

And so the lessons continued. There were very few questions after the first day. The lessons would begin on time, and for the duration of the lesson Ranma would give Ender a basic skill to work on, and then ruthlessly pick apart Ender's defenses. There were no set katas to repeat or drills, but he learned.

When Ender asked about it, Ranma simply said, "I can show you forms to memorize, or I can show you how to fight."

Ranma wasn't gentle.

The lessons continued daily until Ender was given command of his own army. Ranma had been true to his word. He never asked Ender any personal information, nor did he offer any assistance with anything. Ender learned was that memorizing patterns didn't work. Being able to see, and react correctly almost out of reflex came only from practice. It was nice to make it out uninjured, but it was more important to win, by any means necessary, than to survive.

His lessons began to affect his performance in the Battleroom. The lessons Ranma drilled into him began to spill over into the sessions, making his tactics more flexible. He already knew that formations were a waste of time, but now he was putting together how to fight.

Anything goes.

He also learned a few other things. He learned that a good teacher doesn't have to make stupid threats. He learned that you could be pushed harder than you thought possible if you had a goal that was obtainable, and worthwhile. It was easier to sacrifice for something if you could see the value of that sacrifice.

Only afterwards was Ender able to pin down what had been different about his teacher. It was almost shocking to realize, but Ender had respected him.

It would be a long time before he found another mind he could respect and admire. When he did, he ended up destroying it.

=-=-=-=

"That fucker threatens to undermine everything we're trying to accomplish with Ender."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes."

"Take a look at the computer projections. Ranma's done nothing to break Ender's isolation. The only thing Ranma managed to do is give Ender earth gravity combat skills that are well above his classmates equivalents. Even with his insubordination, he is a damned fine teacher. What's more, he managed to impress Ender. That's a hell of a feat."

"So how's that going to affect him? We need him capable of beating the buggers, not idolizing a white-haired Japanese guy."

"I don't think he will. But what did happen is Ender's seen something he might not have otherwise. He's seen a lot of bad examples of leadership, but never any good ones. Have you seen the way Ender's been leading his army? Ranma's influence is all over him. He did us a bigger favor with Ender than we know."

"How's that?"

"Have you seen the leader boards?"

"Of course. Who hasn't?"

"Nobody puts their army through as much training as Ender has. Ranma's managed to motivate Ender. Not even the computer's been able to do that."

"So what next?"

"Ranma's done his job. We send him home."

"What about his files? Do you really want to destroy them?"
"Yes. He can even witness the destruction. We'll send him home on the next shuttle that comes up."

"And then?"

"And then he quietly disappears. Let's move to battleroom scenarios I had you rig for Ender's training program."

"Already?"
"Fleet's arriving soon."

"Do you think Ender will ever forgive us?"

"Do you think you'll ever forgive yourself?"

=-=-=-=

Ender took a brief sabbatical from the university to devote his time to talking with Ranma. After nearly three weeks of steady conversation, Ender felt that he was finally beginning to understand the how he would speak for Ranma.

"So, can I see the transformation, finally?"

Ranma smiled and reached off screen for a glass of water. He dumped it over his head without ceremony.

Ender stared at the view screen, his mind processing the information. Even though he was prepared for it, it was still shocking to watch his former teacher change sex with the application of water.

"Jane? Can you verify the shift?"

"Already done. Ranma's… he's a she."

Ender just shook his head. It was just too fantastic, but yet… "And the other transformation?" he asked Ranma.

Ranma shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. I will only do that one when you are finished. The next time I change will be the final time. You've seen my curse. It is real. Take it on faith that my other… form is just as real as this one."

Ender nodded. "Okay. How long do you think you have?"

"A week, maybe less." Ranma said.

=-=-=-

The final week passed in a rush. Jane recorded every word, of course, but it was more important to work while Ranma was still capable. His old teacher had to stop frequent to take breaks. At first, it was only a few seconds, perhaps to get a sip of water or clear his throat. But as the end of the week drew nearer, the pauses became longer. The fatigue was apparent, even across the ansible. Finally, Ranma ended the interview. He grew silent as his gaze lost its focus. He smiled into the view screen.

"It's time."

Both Jane Ender watched the transformation in silence. Ranma had prepared them for what would happen, but neither of them believed it even though they watched as Ramna transformed into a creature out of an ancient Earth legend. The cameras pan up, following Ranma's draconian form as he ascended into the heavens. It was over very quickly; the whole thing lasted no more than a few seconds.

He heard Jane whispering in his ear that Ranma's signature had disappeared. There was nothing left but the shell of an empty apartment, the roof blown off by the violence of dragon's passing. Just like when he destroyed the buggers.

He felt the touch of the Hive Queen lingering lightly in his mind.

Be not sad. There was no destruction in this. You will find a place for us yet, and we will live again.

Are you not sad? He could have been a friend. An ally.

No. He is as much beyond us as we are beyond you. He has earned his peace; we would not deprive him of it for the sake of friendship.

He was left to ponder her statement as the Hive Queen retreated from his mind.

He set to writing the very next day.

=-=-=-

A long time ago, a country once called Japan, there was a boy who was very diligent at school and had made fine progress in his studies.

The boy's father had promised that if he worked hard and studied the ancient history of Japan, he would give him a book of wonderful Chinese stories. The boy did so and his father kept his promise. One day on his father presented him with sixteen silk-bound, well illustrated volumes complete with wood block prints on the finest, silky mulberry paper. The boy was so delighted with the wonderful stories of heroes and warriors, travelers and sailors, that he read far into the night, with the lamp inside of his mosquito curtain; finally he fell asleep, still undressed, but with his head full of all sorts of Chinese wonders.

The boy dreamed he was far away in China, walking along the banks of the great Yellow River. Everything was very strange. The people talked an entirely different language from his own; had on different clothes; even the boats were of a strange form.

It was springtime, and the buds were just bursting into flower. The river was full of fish, especially of carp, ascending to the great rapids. Here the current ran at a prodigious rate of swiftness, and the waters rippled and boiled and roared with frightful noise. Yet, many of the fish were swimming up the stream as if their lives depended on it. They leaped and floundered about, only to be tossed back and left exhausted in the river, where they panted and gasped for breath in the eddies. Some were so bruised against the rocks that, after a few spasms, they died, and white and stiff, were swept down the stream. Still the shoal leaped and strained every fin, until their scales flashed in the sun like a host of armored warriors in battle. The boy enjoying it as if it were a real conflict of wave and fishes, clapped his hands with delight.

"What is the name of this part of the river?" he asked of an old white-bearded sage standing by and looking on.

"We call it Dragons' Gate," said the sage.

"Will you please write the characters for it," said the boy producing his ink-case and brush-pen, with a roll of soft mulberry paper.

The sage wrote the two Chinese characters, meaning "The Gate of the Dragons," and turned away to watch a carp that seemed almost up into smooth water.

"Oh! I see," said the boy to himself. "There must be some meaning in this fish-climbing."

He went upstream to where the banks trended upward into high bluffs, crowned by towering fir., Through the top branches, fleecy white clouds sailed slowly along, so near the sky did the tree-tops seem. Down under the cliffs the river ran perfectly smooth, almost like a mirror, out to the opposite shore. Far back, along the current, he could still see the rapids shelving down. It was crowded at the bottom with leaping fish, whose numbers gradually thinned out toward the centre; while near the top, close to the edge of level water, one solitary fish, of powerful fin and tail, breasted the steep stream. Now a leap forward, then a slide backward, sometimes further to the rear than the next leap made up for, then steady progress, then a slip, but every moment nearer, until, clearing foam and ripple and spray at one bound, it passed the edge and swam happily in smooth water.

It was inside the Dragons' Gate!

One of the fleecy white clouds suddenly left the host in the deep blue above, dipped down from the sky, and swirling round and round as if it were a water spout, scratched and frayed the edge of the water like a fisher's troll. The carp saw and darted toward it. In a moment the fish was transformed into a white Dragon, and, rising into the cloud, floated off toward heaven. A streak or two of red fire, a gleam of terrible eyes, and the flash of white scales were all that the bewildered lad saw. Then he awoke.

"How strange that a poor little carp, a common fish that lives in the river, should become a great white Dragon, and soar up into the sky, to live there!" he mused the next day, as he told his mother of his dream.

"Yes," said she; "and what a lesson for you. See how the carp persevered, leaping over all difficulties, never giving up till it became a Dragon. I hope my son will surmount all obstacles, and rise to a position of honor and glory."

So on the third day of the third month, at the Feast of Flags, the boy hoisted a great fish, made of paper, fifteen feet long and hollow like a bag. It was yellow, with black scales and streaks of gold, and red gills and mouth, in which two strong strings were fastened. It was lifted by a rope to the top of a high bamboo pole on the roof of the house. There the breeze caught it, and swelled it out round and full of air. The wind made the fins work, the tail flap, and the head tug, until it looked just like a carp trying to swim the rapids of the Yellow River—the symbol of ambition and perseverance to every one who beheld it.

My name is Ranma Saotome. I have seen petty squabbles and devastating wars. I have loved and lost, experienced tragedy and heart bursting happiness. I am the last of my kind; perhaps I was the only one of my kind to ever exist. No more will ever come, for, even though I can have children, no one believes or even remembers that it is possible to become as I have. For you see, I have persevered. I have lived.

I have become a dragon.

This is my story. I tell it not to document my exploits, but to state that I have seen the worst of humanity, and it has given me hope. For, as long as one decent person remains, and remains willing to fight for a cause that is just, the inherent decency of man shall prevail...

=-=-=-

The text was surprisingly short. When Valentine read it, she wept. Jane released the story simultaneously on several different worlds under the name, Speaker for the Dead. The reception was mixed. Recognition and acclaim was almost universal for the prose. However, in some places, it was received as a masterful work of fiction. In others, as a hoax, or a creative writing assignment. Yet, in a few places, it was received as truth. Ender didn't live to see it become accepted as gospel.

And yet it was. Strangely enough, it was the rebirth of the Buggers gave credence to the story. The books became regarded as "the trilogy." The Hive Queen and the Hegemon were gospel about the Bugger Wars and its immediate aftermath. The third book, "The Dragon," became the history of the human colonization of space. Scholarly debate raged about the origins of the author and how many lives the book about the Dragon chronicled.

But one thing was never debated. The phrase, "to be as the Dragon," was reserved only for the most deserving, selfless, and humane. To be called a dragon was the highest forms of praise one could receive.

=-=-=-

END.

Fairy tale adapted from William E Griffis "Tales of Old Japan."