Disclaimer: Orson Scott Card owns it all, folks.
Righto - here's my second fanfic ever. I tried not to butcher it, but it's quite possible I did anyway. Feel free to tell me if you think so. ^^ This is a fic about a girl attending Battle School before Ender Wiggin. There are mentions, in Ender's Game, about kids they thought would defeat the buggers and failed. And here's my take one one. Read on, if you dare.
FORESHADOW
"So, Graff, tell me about this new genius you've selected for our fine establishment."
"Fine establishment, sir?"
"I had hoped the sarcasm would not be lost on you."
"Respectfully, sir, I seem to remember you telling me that I could take the matter of launchies into my own hands."
"Respectfully, Graff, I seem to remember telling you not to send Bonzo Madrid up."
"A whim, sir, nothing more."
"I call it deliberately disobeying an order. But enough of this, Graff. Tell me about your newest victim."
"I think she may be the one to save us all."
"May be?"
"Never can be sure, in times like these."
"In times like these, you'd better be sure. Any faults?"
"I'm willing to take chances. I have to be willing. Taking chances is my job."
"Stop defending your ego and answer my question."
"She's arrogant, but we all are. She also has an uncanny appreciation for life. That's it. We haven't picked up any more. She's a clean-cut genius."
"I thought you told me we needed geniuses with the instinct to kill, Graff. This is a rather untimely contradiction."
"She'll kill, if need be. She just doesn't have the soul of a jackal."
"Fine. You and your ego win. Send her up, but don't expect a medal. Dismissed."
"How about a raise?"
"Dismissed means that I want you to go. Good-bye, Graff. I'll expect a shuttle in three days to arrive at the school. With the McMurry girl in it."
***
Sinead was on the nets when the doorbell rang, looking at a news site. She sat up at the noise, but didn't bother to answer it. Mother would do that. She always did.
"Yes? What do you want?" Sinead logged off quietly and stood. Her mother's voice sounded agitated, nervous.
An aloof, commanding voice answered. "I am Corporal Green, with the IF."
"You're taking her, aren't you?"
"Where is Sinead?"
Sinead ducked her head under her mother's arm. "Here."
The man standing in the doorway was middle-aged and fit, with blue eyes and blond hair. He was almost generically German, tall and muscular. "I am Corpor -"
"I heard," Sinead interrupted. They had selected her for Battle School, obviously. All that monitoring, and they treated her as though she was deaf? She ran her fingers through her red hair in a gesture of impatience.
"Won't you stay for dinner?" her mother asked, always the kind hostess. Sinead hated her right at that moment. Your daughter is leaving you, Cassie McMurry. And all you think of is manners? Because Sinead was certainly leaving, whenever the IF needed her to go. The family had accepted that when the monitor was placed on her neck.
"No, ma'am. The shuttle leaves in twenty-four hours. Sinead and I will not eat until we arrive at battle school. It's policy. And sanitation service, at the same time." He grinned, but Sinead figured the joke was all too true. "And we will leave now."
So much for long term notice. Green took one of her small hands and simply walked away with Sinead in tow. Her mother clung to the doorway behind her, too shocked to speak.
"Why did you do that?" the little girl asked, as soon as they were out of ear-reach. She tugged her hand out of his huge one.
"Because it will be easier for you if you don't say goodbye to your brothers and parents."
"Ah," she said sarcastically. "It's nice to know you people are aware of what I feel."
Green smiled. It was not a friendly smile. "We practically are." He touched the monitor, sending a small electric shock through her spine. "Just a reminder." She only smiled in return. And her grin was not particularly friendly, either.
"I thought you people chose me because I'm a genius."
"Yes. Obviously not for modesty."
She sighed. "My point is, any fool would behave differently than normal if they knew there was someone watching him, evaluating his every move."
The corporal thought about this for a minute. "Yes, but you've had the monitor for three years."
"So? You think I'd forget that there are battle school officers judging me at every moment, deciding whether I have the qualities needed to attend? Knowledge of strategy, leadership, quick thinking." She looked up at him. It was a long way to look up for a six-year old. "So I exaggerated those qualities, made sure you all saw them."
"I suppose I see what you mean," the Corporal answered, reluctant to admitting his wrong. But even as he got where she was coming from, Sinead questioned herself. Constant acting affected the true person, she knew. It was like that phrase about masks - the longer you wear one, the more it becomes a part of you. It was possible, even likely, that without the monitor Sinead would continue to act as she had, without even thinking about it. The thought disturbed her, but she was distracted by a grunt for the Corporal. A large Cadillac was parked in front of them, and Green was motioning for her to get in.
"My ticket to battle school?" she asked as she swung a small leg onto the black upholstered seat.
Green nodded. "Your ticket to insanity." He closed the door.
Righto - here's my second fanfic ever. I tried not to butcher it, but it's quite possible I did anyway. Feel free to tell me if you think so. ^^ This is a fic about a girl attending Battle School before Ender Wiggin. There are mentions, in Ender's Game, about kids they thought would defeat the buggers and failed. And here's my take one one. Read on, if you dare.
FORESHADOW
"So, Graff, tell me about this new genius you've selected for our fine establishment."
"Fine establishment, sir?"
"I had hoped the sarcasm would not be lost on you."
"Respectfully, sir, I seem to remember you telling me that I could take the matter of launchies into my own hands."
"Respectfully, Graff, I seem to remember telling you not to send Bonzo Madrid up."
"A whim, sir, nothing more."
"I call it deliberately disobeying an order. But enough of this, Graff. Tell me about your newest victim."
"I think she may be the one to save us all."
"May be?"
"Never can be sure, in times like these."
"In times like these, you'd better be sure. Any faults?"
"I'm willing to take chances. I have to be willing. Taking chances is my job."
"Stop defending your ego and answer my question."
"She's arrogant, but we all are. She also has an uncanny appreciation for life. That's it. We haven't picked up any more. She's a clean-cut genius."
"I thought you told me we needed geniuses with the instinct to kill, Graff. This is a rather untimely contradiction."
"She'll kill, if need be. She just doesn't have the soul of a jackal."
"Fine. You and your ego win. Send her up, but don't expect a medal. Dismissed."
"How about a raise?"
"Dismissed means that I want you to go. Good-bye, Graff. I'll expect a shuttle in three days to arrive at the school. With the McMurry girl in it."
***
Sinead was on the nets when the doorbell rang, looking at a news site. She sat up at the noise, but didn't bother to answer it. Mother would do that. She always did.
"Yes? What do you want?" Sinead logged off quietly and stood. Her mother's voice sounded agitated, nervous.
An aloof, commanding voice answered. "I am Corporal Green, with the IF."
"You're taking her, aren't you?"
"Where is Sinead?"
Sinead ducked her head under her mother's arm. "Here."
The man standing in the doorway was middle-aged and fit, with blue eyes and blond hair. He was almost generically German, tall and muscular. "I am Corpor -"
"I heard," Sinead interrupted. They had selected her for Battle School, obviously. All that monitoring, and they treated her as though she was deaf? She ran her fingers through her red hair in a gesture of impatience.
"Won't you stay for dinner?" her mother asked, always the kind hostess. Sinead hated her right at that moment. Your daughter is leaving you, Cassie McMurry. And all you think of is manners? Because Sinead was certainly leaving, whenever the IF needed her to go. The family had accepted that when the monitor was placed on her neck.
"No, ma'am. The shuttle leaves in twenty-four hours. Sinead and I will not eat until we arrive at battle school. It's policy. And sanitation service, at the same time." He grinned, but Sinead figured the joke was all too true. "And we will leave now."
So much for long term notice. Green took one of her small hands and simply walked away with Sinead in tow. Her mother clung to the doorway behind her, too shocked to speak.
"Why did you do that?" the little girl asked, as soon as they were out of ear-reach. She tugged her hand out of his huge one.
"Because it will be easier for you if you don't say goodbye to your brothers and parents."
"Ah," she said sarcastically. "It's nice to know you people are aware of what I feel."
Green smiled. It was not a friendly smile. "We practically are." He touched the monitor, sending a small electric shock through her spine. "Just a reminder." She only smiled in return. And her grin was not particularly friendly, either.
"I thought you people chose me because I'm a genius."
"Yes. Obviously not for modesty."
She sighed. "My point is, any fool would behave differently than normal if they knew there was someone watching him, evaluating his every move."
The corporal thought about this for a minute. "Yes, but you've had the monitor for three years."
"So? You think I'd forget that there are battle school officers judging me at every moment, deciding whether I have the qualities needed to attend? Knowledge of strategy, leadership, quick thinking." She looked up at him. It was a long way to look up for a six-year old. "So I exaggerated those qualities, made sure you all saw them."
"I suppose I see what you mean," the Corporal answered, reluctant to admitting his wrong. But even as he got where she was coming from, Sinead questioned herself. Constant acting affected the true person, she knew. It was like that phrase about masks - the longer you wear one, the more it becomes a part of you. It was possible, even likely, that without the monitor Sinead would continue to act as she had, without even thinking about it. The thought disturbed her, but she was distracted by a grunt for the Corporal. A large Cadillac was parked in front of them, and Green was motioning for her to get in.
"My ticket to battle school?" she asked as she swung a small leg onto the black upholstered seat.
Green nodded. "Your ticket to insanity." He closed the door.