Disclaimer: I don't own Ender's Game or any part of the series. That belongs to Orson Scott Card so don't sue me.

Author's Notes: Got the idea after I read the book and realized that Card never explained why or how Valintine decided to go into space. And since the situation had "Peter" written all over it this seemed like the most plausible way it would have gone down.

Warnings: Valintine finally get her chance to vent at Peter. Forgive me for stating the obvious but he so had it coming.

Exodus

Peter stared at his desk with contempt, nursing a stale cup of coffee.

"It makes no sense how a brazen lunatic like Demosthenes could get an invitation to a President's council." Here his smile turned cruel, "Then again that council is run by an imbecile."

Peter took another pull from his coffee before discarding the stuff and stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. A look around his room didn't give much insight to his character. Four cream colored walls, a twin sized bed, a seldom-used oak desk with a matching chair and bedside coffee table made do for furnishings, and he didn't have much in way of decorations either.

Most boys his age would have posters of a favorite band or sports team. Peter had only a shelf of books on several topics such as political theory and history and a family photo sitting in a dusty frame. That and the maps, there were three of them and they took up most of the space on his walls. One of Europe, the Americas, and the largest was of the entire world. On the maps there were pins in a multitude of colors that only make sense to Peter; perhaps Valentine would have understood not that she ever came in here.

And that was all Peter had in his room, his clothes stowed away neatly in his closet were just as illuminating. Several well made name brand pairs of dark wash jeans, and polo shirts in varying shades of dark blues, greens, and neutral colors made up the bulk of his wardrobe. Let his peers wear the latest styles and categorize themselves, Peter had nothing to prove and dressed well enough to draw respect without acting overtly superior. Besides Peter knew he was attractive enough that what he wore didn't exactly matter. As if he cared what a gaggle of suburban teenagers and middleclass teachers thought of him.

Peter left off his musing and stared back at the screen where Demosthenes' latest article was displayed in a neat block of text. Demosthenes, Peter saw, had the possibility of becoming a problem. He had understood that by going to Valentine with his proposition that she take up the Demosthenes pseudonym he was opening a window for disaster, a very small window but an opening nonetheless. There had been only two plausible problems he had seen in the beginning. She could have turned on him or she could have gathered large enough a following to push Locke into obscurity.

Valentine as Demosthenes had as much a following that he could have expected, however, Peter was back to his main problem. Valentine knew Peter well enough to manipulate his thoughts at times and emulate Locke. What was worse is that as Demosthenes she had recently received access to the IF archives including the stored vids from their brothers monitor. Here came the tricky part of trying to out maneuver his sister, who he recognized as virtually his equal, like she had said all those years ago he wasn't the smartest just the biggest.

Peter pulled up a copy of an old essay where she offered a solution to the over population of the planet.

"A mass exodus of the Thirds and all the other social rejects of this world," Peter glanced up at his maps and recited a few of the key lines. "All of the world's surplus population sent off into the galaxies so that never again can humanity be threatened by annihilation. The Americas were the land of opportunities of our forefathers, the Statue of Liberty their beacon. 'Give me your tired, your poor,' She said. 'Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.' This world is full let our masses go off in search of the next grand adventure."

The last line is what left a bitter taste in his mouth, "The greatest title a child could have is Third."

The look of contempt came back. After all these years she still loved Andrew, or at least the memory of the five year old that had left almost five years ago. Peter doubted she would even clearly remember what Andrew looked liked if the IF hadn't interfered; Peter certainly hadn't anticipated that she would be able to meet with him again. And now her mothering instincts had most likely intensified. But perhaps he could use her love to his advantage. She would never let Peter have power over Ender again after all she had been hoarding all of that blackmail for a reason. Let Valentine think she was winning and let her run off in search of El Dorado. But Valentine wouldn't want to leave Earth like that, as an exile, as someone unwanted. Especially if she knew that it played right into Peters plans.

The only way for Peter to win was for Valentine to disappear off into space, separated by time and light-years. Even she wouldn't be able to meddle if she was halfway across the galaxy. Not to mention that she would lose time as she traveled. Let her have Ender, he was an uncontrollable variable. It wouldn't do to have a war veteran on Earth with Valentine as an advisor. Better to send him off into space as well where he could become an icon, a confrontational but never the less potent symbol of power directly linked to Peter. Even if they did return they would still be children while Peter had time to grow and garner enough power that they would be inconsequential and under his power. Not even the impeccable Wiggin children would be able to incite a rebellion if they had jerked the rug out from underneath themselves.

Now how could Peter influence Valentine with enough subtly that she wouldn't realize, at least until it was too late.

"Perhaps," he murmured, "An avid but previously unheard of follower should write a piece on intergalactic colonization with Demosthenes at the helm." Peter worked until the wee hours of the night until he was lying in an exhausted heap on his bed. Leaning over he deposited his desk on the coffee table where the clock sat flashing 4:35 AM. He fell back onto his bed and sighed, not bad for a nights work.

"And tomorrow, Locke will publish an essay demanding that one Andrew "Ender" Wiggin stays on Eros due to how delicate the power balance is." Peter smiled.

When he woke the following day, stiff and groggy, he didn't remember a single thing about his dreams, but if he could the images certainly would have haunted him. That night he had dreamt of the quarantine rooms on Ellis Island and all the faces were his own.

†

Since Peter woke late the next morning he was the only one still at home, his parents were out somewhere, and Valentine had left a note saying she was at the library. He appreciated the silence as he sat at the kitchen table having his breakfast. His desk was on the table next to his cereal and he read over his emails.

The front door slamming was all the warning he had before Valentine was in his face screeching like a banshee not to mention hitting him quite profusely. "What the hell does Locke think he's doing!"

Peter tried as best he could block her punches while trying to think exactly what it was he did. His article as Locke wasn't schedule to go on the nets for yet another four hours.

Even while he was trying to think of what he did most of his thoughts were focused on the fact that his normally quiet sister seemed intent on using him as a punching bag. Never before had he been reminded like this that Valentine was his sister, and now thanks to puberty they were pretty evenly matched in size.

"Valentine! Would you mind not hitting me?" He shouted trying to catch her hands.

"Yes I do mind, you Judas! There is no way for you to fix what your little power hungry games have done! And would you care to explain why I have gotten over twenty emails in the past hour demanding that I post the information of my intergalactic colonization campaign? Or why I got a pre-published copy of Locke's article saying that our brother should be forbidden form ever stepping for on Earth. You foul backstabbing self-centered infidel; at least Brutus felt guilty! And then there is Peter Wiggin the manipulative boy that banished his brother and sister to the depths of space because he was intimidated at the thought of someone capable of understanding him. When things don't go the way that the great Peter plans he has to destroy everything in his path to prove his power."

Peter watched his sister wear herself out pouring out all her anger into her words, slowly she had stopped hitting him and just stood towering over him, ranting her heart out. Once she had finished Peter wasn't sure how long he sat there looking up at her.

"Are you quite finished yet? Or perhaps you would like to role-play as me for a little while longer?" He cocked an eyebrow and tried to ignore the slight discomfort it caused

"Oh no I'm not finished with you, but I am done with the hitting. If I do say so myself, you look quite dashing with a black eye." She sat down in the chair across from his and pulled the cereal box towards her. "This stuff is nothing but chemicals and coloring."

"Maybe they'll help me live forever."

"That or pickle your intestines."

"Now is that you or Demosthenes talking?" He took another spoonful of cereal.

"Both at this point, we both know you chose to give me your personality as a pseudonym to control me in the beginning, but his voice grows on you. Now I think sometimes he's just a part of me." She poured herself a bowl of cereal and began to eat primly.

"So you've absorbed my ego and in return a bit of your empathy has rubbed off on me, how beneficial for the both of us."

"Beneficial for you, you mean. Not that my empathy has really rubbed off on you per-say but you have had a great deal of practice since we started our games. You already have all the pieces Peter, so why bother play at all?"

"I needed a diversion until I was ready for the real world." He read over a new email. "I take it that Graff sent you the preliminary article."

"Naturally, being the paranoid Demosthenes, not to mention a net writer that is genetically linked to Ender has some jurisdiction." She propped her hand up on the desk and gazed at him, her smile similar to his own.

†

"I think its time we had a talk."

"No I can change really."

"Don't be stupid I'm talking about the Wiggin children."

"Oh, what exactly have the prodigies done this time?"

"The boy is banishing his sister."

"Can he even do that?"

"At this point I think they were so far in deep that there could only be one Wiggin left on Earth."

A/N: So what did you guys think? I tried to stay as canon as possible for this story. But Valentine going psycho like that was just a little twist I couldn't resist. I hope most of you noticed I made Peter into a completely pompous bastard, but likeable I hope.

Peter: I can't believe you had her hit me, and why am I a bastard?

Valentine: You tried to ship me off into space without my knowledge and made Ender look like a monster! that and your ego can barely fit through the door.

Peter: But you still went didn't you?

Valentine: Just remember that when your old and dying while me and Ender are barely 30.

Ender: Why didn't I get a line?

Me: Because the whole book was about you and your brother and sister got only a chapter. That and Peter really needed to get yelled at.

Ender: That makes sense.

For those of you that read my Vampire Knight Story I'm sorry I haven't updated that in…years but it was hard for me to write. I had been basing a lot of the stories emotion on my own personal relationships and I find it difficult to continue.

Now go review!

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