A/N

Fun fact, this came from reading Children of the Fleet (which isn't a fun read, but that's another matter), and the reveal that "go save the world" was apparently a common greeting in Battle School during Ender's Game...that's conspicuously never used in the actual book, but CotF is pretty retroactive in a number of areas.

Anyway, drabbled this up.

Go Save the World

"Here you go. Now go save the world."

There was that phrase again, Petra reflected. Could have been her imagination, but were the mess hall staff using it more than usual? And by "more than usual," using it for the members of Dragon Army? And by "Dragon Army"…actually, there was nothing really metaphorical or suppositional about that. Dragon Army was Dragon Army. Not an army in the literal sense, but then, what use were armies in the literal sense these days? Keeping peace on Earth? Perhaps, but there was at least one advantage to being threatened with annihilation, and that was that the human race tended to be a bit less self-destructive while that threat existed. So, every army on Earth operated under the command of the strategos. The battles that would matter would be fought by starships. There was little point in bringing a standard gunpowder-based weapon to a fight that involved missiles, mass drivers, glazers, and other energy-based weapons.

But maybe she was thinking too much about this. She had lots of things to think about – assignments ranging from deep-space navigation to combat operations in a 3D sphere, to the battles Dragon Army had lined up, to the prospect that every student outside Dragon Army hated Dragon Army, and might resort to less than dubious means to knock them out of the race. Maybe all she had to do was sit down, and try and forget about all that for a few minutes.

Not happening.

The forgetting bit, not the sitting down bit. Sitting down with the rest of her jeesh was fine. She could sit down opposite Ender Wiggin and eat food that had been in storage for months, if not years, before being put into the bellies of growing girls and boys in a bid to keep them alive long enough to keep the human race alive long enough to find a way to ensure the buggers would stop living in a permanent manner (maybe a pipe dream, but one could hope). And-

"Hey."

She gave Ender a nudge. His head lolled off his palm, which had been holding it up. Gravity did its work, but so did instinct, so luckily his head didn't make contact with the table. His eyes flashed open, dark circles lingering under the lids. His eyes reminded her of dying suns – ones that were being swallowed up by the black hole that was sleep deprivation. Same black hole that all of Dragon Army was circling as the Battle Room games increased in frequency.

"Hmm?"

"You awake?"

"Hmm."

Petra took that as a yes. She took a bite of the food – bland, tasteless, and she couldn't even tell what animal it belonged to. Cow, maybe? She could have sworn the menu said something about beef, but she couldn't be sure. At the least, Battle School had to cater to the tastes of kids from all manner of religious and cultural backgrounds, but she'd just taken what was given to her, and went back to the table. The table at which she took another bite.

Nup. It's pork.

Well, that could piss off a few people, if they ate pork and only found out it was pork later. Maybe even more than the pigs who died for it.

Am I really going down that road?

God help her, she was. Anything from the mathematics of space-time, or the tactics of the Battle Room. Insanity had its place after all.

I suppose if the pigs knew they were giving their lives to ensure the survival of Earth's existing flora and fauna, they might not mind.

Ender had now found the table to be the next best thing as a pillow. No-one was laughing. Bean, Alai, Bonzo, none of them.

Course it could be argued that we could all just go vegan or vegetarian and save as many lives as possible.

Ender's breathing had changed. She picked up a piece of broccoli on her fork and looked at it, in all its pre-packaged, re-heated glory.

No. Some sacrifices have to be made.

She took a bite of it – apparently not only the formics wanted to kill her. As she swallowed, she took out her knife and poked Ender.

"Ender."

He murmured something – something about a giant, or someone named Peter, she couldn't tell.

"Ender."

Now it was Valentine.

"Ender!"

"Gah."

He shot up, ready for duty. Or at least as ready as a sleep deprived Battle School student could be in the circumstances.

"You awake?"

"I am now."

"Oh. Just checking."

He didn't smile. He just sat there, not eating anything. Not saying anything. Sitting there in silence, like a monolith in the vacuum of space. Waiting for someone to reach out to him, and be swatted away.

"So, the cook said something," Petra began – Ender Wiggin might be like a monolith, but she was Armenian – she knew how to chip away at the boulder long enough to survive it bearing down on you. "Told me to-"

"Go save the world." Ender yawned, looking interested in using the table as a pillow again. "They say that a lot. Standard non-com greeting."

"Yes, but…" She put her cutlery down. "You think they're saying it more now?"

"I think the teachers are doing a lot of 'more' things now. If the cooks join in, fine."

He didn't care, Petra reflected. And maybe it was just as well. Saving the world didn't rely on reflecting on being told to do so. Actually, nothing in the International Fleet did. You were born on a world where two children was the standard maximum. You did as best you could, and if you were good enough, you might stay in Ground School for a bit. You did the best you could, because it was expected of you. Then, if you really were that good, you'd be sent to Battle School. And up here, well, she reflected on today's timetable – battle with Leopard Army at 13:00, battle with Salamander Army at 13:45, battle with Rabbit Army at 14:10, in time for lessons to restart at 14:30. All by a group of students that the rest of the school hated, and the teachers either hated as well, or were expecting them to do better than their best.

She suspected the latter. Dragon Army was being pushed. So when the clock marked 12:45, the jeesh began to get up from their seats to get into their flash suits. All but Ender, who sat there. Dead to the world, dead to the universe, dead to everyone around him. Which wasn't good, considering that every army commander in history had the factor of being alive.

"Ender."

And awake.

"Come on."

He didn't say anything this time, nor grunt, nor murmur, or anything. He just stood up. Ready for another battle. There was always another battle. Always. And either he broke, or the universe would.

"Come on," Petra said. "Let's go save the world."