Disclaimer: None of the OSC characters belong to me. What I am creating here is a fanfiction- which means that it is either a) purely speculation, or b) purely made up. I am not making any money off this, so it'd also be totally pointless to sue me.
Streetwise
II. HEGEMON
\"Bean tells me you've adopted an urchin."\
\"Figures. That little bugger doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."\
\"Don't try to change the topic. Bringing in some street rat was reckless, irresponsible, and-"\
\"Oh, cut the crap. I did it, and I'd do it again if the opportunity ever arose."\
\"Huh."\
\"So why is the great Peter Wiggin, leader of the world's greatest minds, future ruler of the world, bothering to see what's going on in my boring, mundane life?"\
\"If it affects your work..."\
\"Relax. She's thirteen. Barely more than a child. How much trouble could she be?"\
* * * * *
"And how are you?" said Petra as soon as she walked in the door the next day with an armful of fresh sheets.
"This is idiotic." said Ajena, ignoring her question, "Why don't you just don't change the covers until I stop bleeding? That way you'll only have to wash one very messy sheet instead of a bunch of little ones."
"Because, dear girl, blood has to be washed out immediately with cold water, otherwise the fabric gets stained permanently. And anyway, you'll get the mattress dirty. Now get up. I can't make the bed with you on it."
Awkwardly, ignoring the headache that pounded in her mind with every movement she made, she pushed herself up, swaying a bit on her feet.
[Well, at least I can stand up without being nauseous now... Still can't move too well, though. How long am I going to be stuck here, anyway?] She reached out for the wall to balance herself, missed, and toppled over, muttering a curse in a foreign language.
"Interesting." said Petra, coming over to help her up, "Where'd you pick up the German from?"
Ajena hissed at her, ignoring her outstretched helping hand, "None of your damn business." Petra shrugged and went back to making the bed as the girl set her hands on the nearby tabletop to push herself up.
"That was harsh."
"Good. It was supposed to be."
"You don't look German."
"For chrissakes, I told you it was none of your damn business!"
"Your patient swears too much." commented Bean from the door.
"Perfect. You're here too."
"You told Peter about her." said Petra. Ajena looked at her quickly. There was a note of steel in the teenage strategist that she didn't like. Shit. Were they going to start arguing? Her headache was bad enough as it was.
Bean glanced at her, noticing the movement. [The kid knows how to pick up on body language, I'll give her that...]
"Well," said the Greek, casually, "We wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret from him, not with you running off every four hours to change her bandages."
"Hey, I told you that couldn't be helped!"
"I know." And, seeing the annoyed look on her face, he added, "C'mon, Pet. You know as well as I do that he would have figured it out sooner or later. I just sped up the process."
"Pet?" said Ajena sarcastically.
Petra raised an eyebrow, "You got a problem with that?"
The girl just smirked.
Bean shook his head, "It's not like that, kid."
"Ajena."
"Whatever."
"You know, for someone who has the highest IQ in centuries, you sure are bad at remembering one lousy name."
"That's only because I don't hold that one lousy name in high regard."
"You don't?" the edges of Ajena's lips curled up into an odd little smile, "You will. I promise you."
Petra and Bean glanced at each other, both of them opening their mouths to speak, but before they could get a word out, she was already rushing on, still talking:
"And who's that Peter you were talking about?" said Ajena, the smile gone. She had changed the expression on her face as easily as she had changed the topic, "I can't think of anyone famous that you two might know who's named..." She stopped abruptly, "Jesus.... You're talking about _Wiggin_?"
"She's smarter than we thought she was." said Bean.
"Correction." said Petra, "She's smarter than _you_ thought she was."
Ajena shook her head, "Never knew you were on first name terms with the Hegemon, Pet."
"Don't call me-"
"She's not." Another voice interrupted, this one deeper but still clear, the voice of an young man.
* * * * *
She didn't look like much, the girl standing in front of him. Pale from blood loss, braced against the wall to keep herself from falling over again, the blood-soaked bandages around her head and shoulder...
Peter Wiggin shook his head. When he and Bean had been driving on the streets on Rotterdam, he had seen the kids in the alleyways, slinking along the streets. Huge eyes staring behind sunken cheeks, stick-like arms and protruding ribs, children growing up small and stunted due to malnutrition while, a few feet away, bakeries were releasing the fragrant smell of freshly-made bread. Not starvation, but pretty damn close.
And however bad it was now, it had been much, much worse before Bean had changed the hierarchy of bullies.
This girl looked like she came from the pre-Bean streets. Spanish-looking, with prominently high cheekbones, jutting out almost harshly over the rest of her face, bony wrists and ankles, muscle-less arms and legs. She actually would have been kind of pretty, the combination of her skin and hair color being rather unique, her eyes striking, if she wasn't so _painfully_ skinny.
"Cute kid." said Peter, "What's her name?"
* * * * *
"Why is it that everyone always talks about me as if I'm not there?" Ajena demanded. She saw surprise flicker over the man's face. Of course. He'd thought that she was younger, because of her height, so he had been expecting a younger girl's voice.
"Ajena." said Bean.
"Ajena... That's Spanish, right?"
"Yes. Means foreign."
The newcomer made a neutral little sound and walked over to sit down on a chair nearby, looking at her intently, eyes summing her up in a glance. Tall and good-looking, he was young, twenty or so, with thick, slightly messy hair, the dark strands falling near his wide eyes.
[So this is Peter Wiggin?]
[He does kind of resemble Ender....]
"How old are you, Ajena?" said Wiggin, in a remarkably civil tone.
Ajena looked at him, trying to figure out whether he was being patronizing, "As far as I know, thirteen."
"As far as you know?"
She shrugged irritably, "Don't have a birth certificate like the rest of you, all right?"
Wiggin raised an eyebrow at that, "My, my. Touchy little thing, aren't you?"
"I wouldn't know." said Ajena, "So, what brings the great Peter Wiggin, older brother of Ender Wiggin, here?" She saw his body stiffen a bit. Oh, so was his younger brother a sore topic with him? And he just called _her_ touchy...
"Petra's late for the meeting." said Peter, "And I wanted to see the little nuisance that was the reason."
"What?" said Petra, "There was a meeting?"
"Told you she'd be trouble." Bean murmured, looking at Ajena pointedly.
"Don't laugh, Bean. You're late for it too."
"What?"
Ajena tried to hide her smirk, but didn't quite succeed.
Peter sighed, "The three of us agreed last week to talk over our..."
"Yeah." said Bean, "Sorry about the lapse of memory, but I've been rather preoccupied lately...."
The thin girl's eyes saw how Petra's body tensed at those words. [Something's going on. Something to do with what Bean just said. A spoken code?]
"What do you know. The great Lima Delphiki can make mistakes too." said Ajena.
Bean glared at her, "Oh, shut up. It's all your fault, anyway."
"_My_ fault?"
"Well," said Peter, "At least one person exists in this world who can make Bean act his age."
Three head turned toward him. Bean looked ticked off but was trying not to show it. Petra was exasperated- of course. Every time he and Bean were together they ended up rubbing each other the wrong way. And the girl's... The girl's face was neutral, but her eyes were mocking.
[Mocking?]
[Strange. She has this...look on her face that's different from all the other urchins I've seen...]
"What?" said Ajena, "No smart aleck retort, Bean? I'm surprised."
"Someday, kid," said Petra, "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble."
[It already has...] Ajena thought to herself, before hitting herself mentally. It didn't matter, anyway. She wasn't on the streets anymore, and it looked like she would never be going back- Petra was talking about an orphanage earlier....
"Hey," She said, "Are you going to finish making the bed anytime soon? I'd like to lie down."
* * * * *
"So. What do you think of our resident juvenile delinquent?" said Petra, softly, so that the bug would only pick up incomprehensible whispers, as the three of them walked down the hallway outside of Ajena's room. The question was met with silence.
"Peter? I was asking you a question."
Another long moment of stillness before Peter spoke, "There's something not right about her."
"You thought so, too?" said Bean, his tone contemplative.
"Did you see the color of her eyes?" said Petra.
Peter nodded, "Light blue. On a Spanish girl. Odd."
They turned a corner. All three of them knew that this corridor was probably much more heavily bugged than the previous one, because more people walked along here, so they stopped talking about Ajena.
Petra looked at Peter, "There wasn't a meeting today, was there?"
Peter didn't return the glance, "No."
The girl nodded. They had developed codes to use when they couldn't speak freely. The words that Bean had spoken earlier-sorry, memory, and preoccupied-when used in the same sentence meant that there was something wrong.
"We do, however, have a meeting tomorrow." said Peter, "With the mayor of this city. Something about domestic affairs. He didn't really clarify."
"Ah." said Petra, "And about the request I left on your desk yesterday..."
"Granted."
She had asked for all cameras monitoring the entrance to her room to be stalled, to prevent anyone from finding out that she had a visitor. As far as all three of them knew, none of the rooms in this wing were bugged with video or audio devices, only the hallways, so at least they didn't have to worry about that.
"Pet...that package you received yesterday..." said Bean, "Do you know who it's from?" He was asking whether Ajena had volunteered any information about herself.
"No."
"Maybe you should throw it away then."
"Nah. I don't think it's going to be a problem."
"Then, in my opinion, you should have it checked. You know, just to make sure there isn't a bomb in it or something." His voice was humorous, but the meaning behind the words wasn't.
* * * * *
Ajena forced herself up, to the computer sitting on Petra's desk. The sixteen-year-old had disconnected it, probably figuring that a street rat wouldn't know how to use a laptop, anyway.
[Then again, I have many hidden talents.] The girl grinned, plugging the power cord in and hitting the on button, waiting for it to boot up. A screen flashed up, asking for the password.
Ajena raised an eyebrow. No wonder Petra had left the comp there. She had placed security measures on it. The urchin thought for a second. Password.... A combination of random letters and numbers was recommended, true, everyone knew that, but most people didn't do that. They chose a password that was somehow related to themselves, instead. And if Petra was one of those people... How hard could it be?
Bean or Ender couldn't have worked. The password had to be at least six characters...
'Andrew' was the first thing she thought to type in. After all, it was Ender's true name...
A soft beep, then, "Wrong password entered. Please enter another."
She typed in 'Wiggin'
"Wrong password entered. Please enter another."
'Arkanian'
Petra's last name. Beep. Wrong.
'Delphiki'
Wrong.
Ajena shook her head and was immediately rewarded with excruciating agony. She rubbed her temples for a few moments, ordering herself to think. [C'mon. How hard could it be...]
[Right?]
* * * * *
When Petra came back to her room six hours later, it was close to midnight. Ajena was in bed, and, judging by the even breathing, asleep. She smiled and shut the door as quietly as she could, locking it behind her. The click of the deadbolt snapping in place made the girl stir a little. Petra glanced at her.
[Such a light sleeper...]
She sighed and got two blankets out of the closet. She was going to have to sleep on the floor again.
* * * * *
As soon as Petra was gone the next day, to a short meeting, she'd said, Ajena was back in front of the computer, trying to figure out the password. She'd used up most of her better ideas yesterday, at least, the ones that had to do with people.
Maybe the password would have something to do with Battle School....
Games... No, dammit, that was five characters.
'Battle'
'Competition'
'Armies'
Beep. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
What was the name of Petra's army again?
'Phoenix'
Nope.
Ender's army, Bean's army, Bonito de Madrid's army all turned up a blank. After a few minutes of experimenting, she found that none of the armies belonging to Ender's jeesh worked. Ajena hissed. She was getting pretty tired of that damn beep.
* * * * *
"Mayor Rietveld." said Peter, shaking the middle-aged, slightly balding man's hand, "Pleasure to meet you."
Drewes Rietveld smiled and spoke in accented I.F. Common, the mutually agreed-upon language, "Oh no. The pleasure's all mine. It's not every day a Hegemon and his Stratego comes here."
Beside Peter, Bean put on the nicest smile he could manage. [The Hegemon and _his_ Stratego. Hah!]
"Mr. Delphiki, I'd presume?" said Rietveld to Bean, shaking his hand as well, "You've gained a lot of popularity in Rotterdam. And Ms. Arkanian... Yes, it's a honor to meet you at last."
Bean sighed to himself mentally, making sure that his impatience didn't show on his face. It looked like Rietveld wouldn't be getting to the point anytime soon.
* * * * *
Ajena closed her eyes and tried to think, mentally going over what she remembered of Petra Arkanian. Born in 2062, she had lived in Armenia until she was six, when she had been taken away to Battle School. Met up with Ender when she was eight, becoming one of his friends. Helped Ender in Salamander Army, lost to Ender in Phoenix Army, followed Ender to Eros, where Ender's jeesh- Battle School slang for close group of friends- defeated the buggers. After that, she returned to Armenia at fourteen, a war hero, labeled as one of the greatest Armenians in history, and was kidnapped two years ago-
Kidnapped.
By some Battle School flunkie named....
* * * * *
After a long windup, finally, Rietveld went down to business, "The reason I invited you here and Holland asked you to visit us..." the mayor sighed inaudibly as he sat down, "It's rather hard to explain, actually...."
* * * * *
'Achilles'
A chime. 'Access granted.' the computer screen read, 'Please wait.' The screen flickered and disappeared for a few minutes, to reappear in a navy background with white icons.
Ajena grinned.
* * * * *
"We've always had a problem with urchins, ever since the first Formic invasion," said Rietveld, "Then, about seven years ago, they suddenly became civilized. They stopped fighting amongst themselves, stopped killing each other for food, and, miracles of miracles, the older children, the bullies, the ones who used to hurt three-year-olds who looked the wrong way at them, began to actually _take care_ of the smaller, younger urchins..."
* * * * *
Ajena glanced at the clock. Petra had said that the meeting was scheduled to be only an hour long, but would probably take up more time than that since 'the honorable mayor was notorious for long windups'. So she had, at most, two hours to work on the computer.
[Better get started...]
* * * * *
"...But between the last two to three years, something's...changed."
"Changed?" said Bean.
Rietveld nodded, walking over to a projector hooked up to the only computer in the room, "To the best of our knowledge, since the 'redemption' of the urchins, urchin deaths before the age of eleven..." He brought up a screen showing a bar graph, "Have dropped from sixty-three point seven percent to eleven point oh, since the two of the three primary causes of death- starvation and murder by the bullies- were eliminated."
"'To the best of 'your' knowledge', sir?" said Petra.
"This information could be inaccurate," admitted Rietveld, "I mean, no one has really pays attention to the children on the streets before. I've had analysts go over this data. The error ratio is roughly nine percent, but I believe that's close enough for our purposes here."
"Thank you." said Petra, "Please continue."
"Now, this is the information we've received for the last four years." Said Rietveld, "What we have here is slightly more precise, with an error ratio of seven point two percent."
* * * * *
She accessed Petra's E-mail system and opened up the first large piece of mail she could find, a report innocuously labeled 'Anton'. It opened up a long report, at least twenty-five pages. The street girl pursed her lips, wondering whether she should come back to this later. She could read, but not that quickly, and her I.F. Common vocabulary wasn't that extensive....
Then, she read the first paragraph.
"Mein Gott..." she breathed.
* * * * *
"As you can see. The death ratio has risen once again, to twenty-six point four percent. So, one out of four urchins are dying before their eleventh birthday." said Rietveld, walking back to sit down, "Not as bad as it was ten years ago, but troubling, nonetheless."
"But the thing that worries us the most is the reports we get from the volunteer workers." the mayor continued, "They talk about how the 'fathers' seem to be beginning to ostracize certain children, kicking them out..." He trailed off, "Do you require an explanation of the hierarchy between the street's orphans? I apologize. I tend to forget that not everyone has been to Rotterdam...."
Peter glanced at the other two before replying, "No need to apologize, sir. Mr. Delphiki, here, has paid a visit to this city on a vacation previously. He's already clarified things for us."
"Ah. All right then. As I was saying, the 'fathers' tend to kick certain urchins out of their families, for seemingly no reason at all. As soon as the unfortunate child has been 'exiled', no other families will take them in, and other children bar them from the soup kitchens, leaving them to die of starvation. I've asked a few volunteers to keep track of which children seem to be the ones being ignored, but they can't figure out a pattern either.
"I've filed several complaints with Amsterdam, and, to tell the truth, they've sent a few officials over, but so far, no one's been able to help. So, when I heard that you, Hegemon Wiggin, were visiting Holland, and when I remembered your reputation for solving conflicts between countries that were supposedly unsolvable, I immediately extended an invitation for you to visit Rotterdam, which you graciously accepted."
Peter smiled inwardly, remembering how Rietveld, and Bean, had spent the better part of their stay in Amsterdam trying to convince him to come here.
"Mayor Rietveld," said Petra, leaning forward, "Surely you realize that Hegemon Wiggin has almost no experience whatsoever in domestic affairs?"
"Yes, I do," said Rietveld, "But surely someone with his skill, or your training, or Stratego Delphiki's brilliance could figure out _something_. I've already done everything I could think of. If this goes on, I'm going to be forced to resort to send police to keep the urchins in order."
Bean winced, remembering how the cops used to terrorize even the youngest of the urchins, swinging magnetic whips that left behind painful red welts or bleeding lines that would eventually scar.
"Mayor Rietveld," said Bean, "Why don't you bring in one of those ostracized children to question?"
"We've tried that once," said Rietveld, "With disastrous results. The social worker who brought a young boy home with her was killed the following day, along with the urchin. Since then, no one has dared to try." He shrugged, "You can't expect volunteers to risk their lives over a few juvenile delinquents. And the one time I got police to go onto the streets to take an urchin, the courts nearly got involved. It was very messy. I wouldn't like to do that again."
"Any leads on the murder?"
"The police concluded that robbers did it, but still..."
"You don't believe that robbers did it." said Peter.
"Frankly, no, I don't."
Peter thought for a few seconds, then nodded, "Sir, I can't promise you anything. Like my associate has mentioned already, I have close to no experience with this sort of thing."
"I understand that."
"But..." said Peter, "I promise you I'll do my best to help."
Rietveld let out a long sigh of relief and smiled, clapping his hands together, "Well then, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we get started?"
* * * * *
It took her two hours, with the aid of a dictionary, to doggedly work her way through most of the 'report'. Ajena grinned to herself. Twenty-six pages of the most complete dossier of Bean's life she had ever seen...and counting. The girl whistled as she scrolled down to the last page. Who knew that the brilliant Julian Delphiki had come off the streets as well...? She frowned and squinted at the screen, rereading the last few paragraphs. What the hell?
Volescu... Anton's key?
Author's note: All right. I realize that Petra would probably never use a name for her password, but hey, even Bean and Ender did that in the books, and when you think about it, she didn't really _need_ a password because it was her personal computer, kept in a room where alarms would sound with illegal entry. Also, Petra thought that Ajena is nothing more than a street urchin, and street urchins don't know how to use computers, so she probably didn't think that Ajena would mess with her comp.
Sorry about the long explanation. Please review!
Next chapter: A challenge, a bribe, and a confession.
Quote: "Why didn't you tell me?"
Streetwise
II. HEGEMON
\"Bean tells me you've adopted an urchin."\
\"Figures. That little bugger doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."\
\"Don't try to change the topic. Bringing in some street rat was reckless, irresponsible, and-"\
\"Oh, cut the crap. I did it, and I'd do it again if the opportunity ever arose."\
\"Huh."\
\"So why is the great Peter Wiggin, leader of the world's greatest minds, future ruler of the world, bothering to see what's going on in my boring, mundane life?"\
\"If it affects your work..."\
\"Relax. She's thirteen. Barely more than a child. How much trouble could she be?"\
* * * * *
"And how are you?" said Petra as soon as she walked in the door the next day with an armful of fresh sheets.
"This is idiotic." said Ajena, ignoring her question, "Why don't you just don't change the covers until I stop bleeding? That way you'll only have to wash one very messy sheet instead of a bunch of little ones."
"Because, dear girl, blood has to be washed out immediately with cold water, otherwise the fabric gets stained permanently. And anyway, you'll get the mattress dirty. Now get up. I can't make the bed with you on it."
Awkwardly, ignoring the headache that pounded in her mind with every movement she made, she pushed herself up, swaying a bit on her feet.
[Well, at least I can stand up without being nauseous now... Still can't move too well, though. How long am I going to be stuck here, anyway?] She reached out for the wall to balance herself, missed, and toppled over, muttering a curse in a foreign language.
"Interesting." said Petra, coming over to help her up, "Where'd you pick up the German from?"
Ajena hissed at her, ignoring her outstretched helping hand, "None of your damn business." Petra shrugged and went back to making the bed as the girl set her hands on the nearby tabletop to push herself up.
"That was harsh."
"Good. It was supposed to be."
"You don't look German."
"For chrissakes, I told you it was none of your damn business!"
"Your patient swears too much." commented Bean from the door.
"Perfect. You're here too."
"You told Peter about her." said Petra. Ajena looked at her quickly. There was a note of steel in the teenage strategist that she didn't like. Shit. Were they going to start arguing? Her headache was bad enough as it was.
Bean glanced at her, noticing the movement. [The kid knows how to pick up on body language, I'll give her that...]
"Well," said the Greek, casually, "We wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret from him, not with you running off every four hours to change her bandages."
"Hey, I told you that couldn't be helped!"
"I know." And, seeing the annoyed look on her face, he added, "C'mon, Pet. You know as well as I do that he would have figured it out sooner or later. I just sped up the process."
"Pet?" said Ajena sarcastically.
Petra raised an eyebrow, "You got a problem with that?"
The girl just smirked.
Bean shook his head, "It's not like that, kid."
"Ajena."
"Whatever."
"You know, for someone who has the highest IQ in centuries, you sure are bad at remembering one lousy name."
"That's only because I don't hold that one lousy name in high regard."
"You don't?" the edges of Ajena's lips curled up into an odd little smile, "You will. I promise you."
Petra and Bean glanced at each other, both of them opening their mouths to speak, but before they could get a word out, she was already rushing on, still talking:
"And who's that Peter you were talking about?" said Ajena, the smile gone. She had changed the expression on her face as easily as she had changed the topic, "I can't think of anyone famous that you two might know who's named..." She stopped abruptly, "Jesus.... You're talking about _Wiggin_?"
"She's smarter than we thought she was." said Bean.
"Correction." said Petra, "She's smarter than _you_ thought she was."
Ajena shook her head, "Never knew you were on first name terms with the Hegemon, Pet."
"Don't call me-"
"She's not." Another voice interrupted, this one deeper but still clear, the voice of an young man.
* * * * *
She didn't look like much, the girl standing in front of him. Pale from blood loss, braced against the wall to keep herself from falling over again, the blood-soaked bandages around her head and shoulder...
Peter Wiggin shook his head. When he and Bean had been driving on the streets on Rotterdam, he had seen the kids in the alleyways, slinking along the streets. Huge eyes staring behind sunken cheeks, stick-like arms and protruding ribs, children growing up small and stunted due to malnutrition while, a few feet away, bakeries were releasing the fragrant smell of freshly-made bread. Not starvation, but pretty damn close.
And however bad it was now, it had been much, much worse before Bean had changed the hierarchy of bullies.
This girl looked like she came from the pre-Bean streets. Spanish-looking, with prominently high cheekbones, jutting out almost harshly over the rest of her face, bony wrists and ankles, muscle-less arms and legs. She actually would have been kind of pretty, the combination of her skin and hair color being rather unique, her eyes striking, if she wasn't so _painfully_ skinny.
"Cute kid." said Peter, "What's her name?"
* * * * *
"Why is it that everyone always talks about me as if I'm not there?" Ajena demanded. She saw surprise flicker over the man's face. Of course. He'd thought that she was younger, because of her height, so he had been expecting a younger girl's voice.
"Ajena." said Bean.
"Ajena... That's Spanish, right?"
"Yes. Means foreign."
The newcomer made a neutral little sound and walked over to sit down on a chair nearby, looking at her intently, eyes summing her up in a glance. Tall and good-looking, he was young, twenty or so, with thick, slightly messy hair, the dark strands falling near his wide eyes.
[So this is Peter Wiggin?]
[He does kind of resemble Ender....]
"How old are you, Ajena?" said Wiggin, in a remarkably civil tone.
Ajena looked at him, trying to figure out whether he was being patronizing, "As far as I know, thirteen."
"As far as you know?"
She shrugged irritably, "Don't have a birth certificate like the rest of you, all right?"
Wiggin raised an eyebrow at that, "My, my. Touchy little thing, aren't you?"
"I wouldn't know." said Ajena, "So, what brings the great Peter Wiggin, older brother of Ender Wiggin, here?" She saw his body stiffen a bit. Oh, so was his younger brother a sore topic with him? And he just called _her_ touchy...
"Petra's late for the meeting." said Peter, "And I wanted to see the little nuisance that was the reason."
"What?" said Petra, "There was a meeting?"
"Told you she'd be trouble." Bean murmured, looking at Ajena pointedly.
"Don't laugh, Bean. You're late for it too."
"What?"
Ajena tried to hide her smirk, but didn't quite succeed.
Peter sighed, "The three of us agreed last week to talk over our..."
"Yeah." said Bean, "Sorry about the lapse of memory, but I've been rather preoccupied lately...."
The thin girl's eyes saw how Petra's body tensed at those words. [Something's going on. Something to do with what Bean just said. A spoken code?]
"What do you know. The great Lima Delphiki can make mistakes too." said Ajena.
Bean glared at her, "Oh, shut up. It's all your fault, anyway."
"_My_ fault?"
"Well," said Peter, "At least one person exists in this world who can make Bean act his age."
Three head turned toward him. Bean looked ticked off but was trying not to show it. Petra was exasperated- of course. Every time he and Bean were together they ended up rubbing each other the wrong way. And the girl's... The girl's face was neutral, but her eyes were mocking.
[Mocking?]
[Strange. She has this...look on her face that's different from all the other urchins I've seen...]
"What?" said Ajena, "No smart aleck retort, Bean? I'm surprised."
"Someday, kid," said Petra, "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble."
[It already has...] Ajena thought to herself, before hitting herself mentally. It didn't matter, anyway. She wasn't on the streets anymore, and it looked like she would never be going back- Petra was talking about an orphanage earlier....
"Hey," She said, "Are you going to finish making the bed anytime soon? I'd like to lie down."
* * * * *
"So. What do you think of our resident juvenile delinquent?" said Petra, softly, so that the bug would only pick up incomprehensible whispers, as the three of them walked down the hallway outside of Ajena's room. The question was met with silence.
"Peter? I was asking you a question."
Another long moment of stillness before Peter spoke, "There's something not right about her."
"You thought so, too?" said Bean, his tone contemplative.
"Did you see the color of her eyes?" said Petra.
Peter nodded, "Light blue. On a Spanish girl. Odd."
They turned a corner. All three of them knew that this corridor was probably much more heavily bugged than the previous one, because more people walked along here, so they stopped talking about Ajena.
Petra looked at Peter, "There wasn't a meeting today, was there?"
Peter didn't return the glance, "No."
The girl nodded. They had developed codes to use when they couldn't speak freely. The words that Bean had spoken earlier-sorry, memory, and preoccupied-when used in the same sentence meant that there was something wrong.
"We do, however, have a meeting tomorrow." said Peter, "With the mayor of this city. Something about domestic affairs. He didn't really clarify."
"Ah." said Petra, "And about the request I left on your desk yesterday..."
"Granted."
She had asked for all cameras monitoring the entrance to her room to be stalled, to prevent anyone from finding out that she had a visitor. As far as all three of them knew, none of the rooms in this wing were bugged with video or audio devices, only the hallways, so at least they didn't have to worry about that.
"Pet...that package you received yesterday..." said Bean, "Do you know who it's from?" He was asking whether Ajena had volunteered any information about herself.
"No."
"Maybe you should throw it away then."
"Nah. I don't think it's going to be a problem."
"Then, in my opinion, you should have it checked. You know, just to make sure there isn't a bomb in it or something." His voice was humorous, but the meaning behind the words wasn't.
* * * * *
Ajena forced herself up, to the computer sitting on Petra's desk. The sixteen-year-old had disconnected it, probably figuring that a street rat wouldn't know how to use a laptop, anyway.
[Then again, I have many hidden talents.] The girl grinned, plugging the power cord in and hitting the on button, waiting for it to boot up. A screen flashed up, asking for the password.
Ajena raised an eyebrow. No wonder Petra had left the comp there. She had placed security measures on it. The urchin thought for a second. Password.... A combination of random letters and numbers was recommended, true, everyone knew that, but most people didn't do that. They chose a password that was somehow related to themselves, instead. And if Petra was one of those people... How hard could it be?
Bean or Ender couldn't have worked. The password had to be at least six characters...
'Andrew' was the first thing she thought to type in. After all, it was Ender's true name...
A soft beep, then, "Wrong password entered. Please enter another."
She typed in 'Wiggin'
"Wrong password entered. Please enter another."
'Arkanian'
Petra's last name. Beep. Wrong.
'Delphiki'
Wrong.
Ajena shook her head and was immediately rewarded with excruciating agony. She rubbed her temples for a few moments, ordering herself to think. [C'mon. How hard could it be...]
[Right?]
* * * * *
When Petra came back to her room six hours later, it was close to midnight. Ajena was in bed, and, judging by the even breathing, asleep. She smiled and shut the door as quietly as she could, locking it behind her. The click of the deadbolt snapping in place made the girl stir a little. Petra glanced at her.
[Such a light sleeper...]
She sighed and got two blankets out of the closet. She was going to have to sleep on the floor again.
* * * * *
As soon as Petra was gone the next day, to a short meeting, she'd said, Ajena was back in front of the computer, trying to figure out the password. She'd used up most of her better ideas yesterday, at least, the ones that had to do with people.
Maybe the password would have something to do with Battle School....
Games... No, dammit, that was five characters.
'Battle'
'Competition'
'Armies'
Beep. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
What was the name of Petra's army again?
'Phoenix'
Nope.
Ender's army, Bean's army, Bonito de Madrid's army all turned up a blank. After a few minutes of experimenting, she found that none of the armies belonging to Ender's jeesh worked. Ajena hissed. She was getting pretty tired of that damn beep.
* * * * *
"Mayor Rietveld." said Peter, shaking the middle-aged, slightly balding man's hand, "Pleasure to meet you."
Drewes Rietveld smiled and spoke in accented I.F. Common, the mutually agreed-upon language, "Oh no. The pleasure's all mine. It's not every day a Hegemon and his Stratego comes here."
Beside Peter, Bean put on the nicest smile he could manage. [The Hegemon and _his_ Stratego. Hah!]
"Mr. Delphiki, I'd presume?" said Rietveld to Bean, shaking his hand as well, "You've gained a lot of popularity in Rotterdam. And Ms. Arkanian... Yes, it's a honor to meet you at last."
Bean sighed to himself mentally, making sure that his impatience didn't show on his face. It looked like Rietveld wouldn't be getting to the point anytime soon.
* * * * *
Ajena closed her eyes and tried to think, mentally going over what she remembered of Petra Arkanian. Born in 2062, she had lived in Armenia until she was six, when she had been taken away to Battle School. Met up with Ender when she was eight, becoming one of his friends. Helped Ender in Salamander Army, lost to Ender in Phoenix Army, followed Ender to Eros, where Ender's jeesh- Battle School slang for close group of friends- defeated the buggers. After that, she returned to Armenia at fourteen, a war hero, labeled as one of the greatest Armenians in history, and was kidnapped two years ago-
Kidnapped.
By some Battle School flunkie named....
* * * * *
After a long windup, finally, Rietveld went down to business, "The reason I invited you here and Holland asked you to visit us..." the mayor sighed inaudibly as he sat down, "It's rather hard to explain, actually...."
* * * * *
'Achilles'
A chime. 'Access granted.' the computer screen read, 'Please wait.' The screen flickered and disappeared for a few minutes, to reappear in a navy background with white icons.
Ajena grinned.
* * * * *
"We've always had a problem with urchins, ever since the first Formic invasion," said Rietveld, "Then, about seven years ago, they suddenly became civilized. They stopped fighting amongst themselves, stopped killing each other for food, and, miracles of miracles, the older children, the bullies, the ones who used to hurt three-year-olds who looked the wrong way at them, began to actually _take care_ of the smaller, younger urchins..."
* * * * *
Ajena glanced at the clock. Petra had said that the meeting was scheduled to be only an hour long, but would probably take up more time than that since 'the honorable mayor was notorious for long windups'. So she had, at most, two hours to work on the computer.
[Better get started...]
* * * * *
"...But between the last two to three years, something's...changed."
"Changed?" said Bean.
Rietveld nodded, walking over to a projector hooked up to the only computer in the room, "To the best of our knowledge, since the 'redemption' of the urchins, urchin deaths before the age of eleven..." He brought up a screen showing a bar graph, "Have dropped from sixty-three point seven percent to eleven point oh, since the two of the three primary causes of death- starvation and murder by the bullies- were eliminated."
"'To the best of 'your' knowledge', sir?" said Petra.
"This information could be inaccurate," admitted Rietveld, "I mean, no one has really pays attention to the children on the streets before. I've had analysts go over this data. The error ratio is roughly nine percent, but I believe that's close enough for our purposes here."
"Thank you." said Petra, "Please continue."
"Now, this is the information we've received for the last four years." Said Rietveld, "What we have here is slightly more precise, with an error ratio of seven point two percent."
* * * * *
She accessed Petra's E-mail system and opened up the first large piece of mail she could find, a report innocuously labeled 'Anton'. It opened up a long report, at least twenty-five pages. The street girl pursed her lips, wondering whether she should come back to this later. She could read, but not that quickly, and her I.F. Common vocabulary wasn't that extensive....
Then, she read the first paragraph.
"Mein Gott..." she breathed.
* * * * *
"As you can see. The death ratio has risen once again, to twenty-six point four percent. So, one out of four urchins are dying before their eleventh birthday." said Rietveld, walking back to sit down, "Not as bad as it was ten years ago, but troubling, nonetheless."
"But the thing that worries us the most is the reports we get from the volunteer workers." the mayor continued, "They talk about how the 'fathers' seem to be beginning to ostracize certain children, kicking them out..." He trailed off, "Do you require an explanation of the hierarchy between the street's orphans? I apologize. I tend to forget that not everyone has been to Rotterdam...."
Peter glanced at the other two before replying, "No need to apologize, sir. Mr. Delphiki, here, has paid a visit to this city on a vacation previously. He's already clarified things for us."
"Ah. All right then. As I was saying, the 'fathers' tend to kick certain urchins out of their families, for seemingly no reason at all. As soon as the unfortunate child has been 'exiled', no other families will take them in, and other children bar them from the soup kitchens, leaving them to die of starvation. I've asked a few volunteers to keep track of which children seem to be the ones being ignored, but they can't figure out a pattern either.
"I've filed several complaints with Amsterdam, and, to tell the truth, they've sent a few officials over, but so far, no one's been able to help. So, when I heard that you, Hegemon Wiggin, were visiting Holland, and when I remembered your reputation for solving conflicts between countries that were supposedly unsolvable, I immediately extended an invitation for you to visit Rotterdam, which you graciously accepted."
Peter smiled inwardly, remembering how Rietveld, and Bean, had spent the better part of their stay in Amsterdam trying to convince him to come here.
"Mayor Rietveld," said Petra, leaning forward, "Surely you realize that Hegemon Wiggin has almost no experience whatsoever in domestic affairs?"
"Yes, I do," said Rietveld, "But surely someone with his skill, or your training, or Stratego Delphiki's brilliance could figure out _something_. I've already done everything I could think of. If this goes on, I'm going to be forced to resort to send police to keep the urchins in order."
Bean winced, remembering how the cops used to terrorize even the youngest of the urchins, swinging magnetic whips that left behind painful red welts or bleeding lines that would eventually scar.
"Mayor Rietveld," said Bean, "Why don't you bring in one of those ostracized children to question?"
"We've tried that once," said Rietveld, "With disastrous results. The social worker who brought a young boy home with her was killed the following day, along with the urchin. Since then, no one has dared to try." He shrugged, "You can't expect volunteers to risk their lives over a few juvenile delinquents. And the one time I got police to go onto the streets to take an urchin, the courts nearly got involved. It was very messy. I wouldn't like to do that again."
"Any leads on the murder?"
"The police concluded that robbers did it, but still..."
"You don't believe that robbers did it." said Peter.
"Frankly, no, I don't."
Peter thought for a few seconds, then nodded, "Sir, I can't promise you anything. Like my associate has mentioned already, I have close to no experience with this sort of thing."
"I understand that."
"But..." said Peter, "I promise you I'll do my best to help."
Rietveld let out a long sigh of relief and smiled, clapping his hands together, "Well then, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we get started?"
* * * * *
It took her two hours, with the aid of a dictionary, to doggedly work her way through most of the 'report'. Ajena grinned to herself. Twenty-six pages of the most complete dossier of Bean's life she had ever seen...and counting. The girl whistled as she scrolled down to the last page. Who knew that the brilliant Julian Delphiki had come off the streets as well...? She frowned and squinted at the screen, rereading the last few paragraphs. What the hell?
Volescu... Anton's key?
Author's note: All right. I realize that Petra would probably never use a name for her password, but hey, even Bean and Ender did that in the books, and when you think about it, she didn't really _need_ a password because it was her personal computer, kept in a room where alarms would sound with illegal entry. Also, Petra thought that Ajena is nothing more than a street urchin, and street urchins don't know how to use computers, so she probably didn't think that Ajena would mess with her comp.
Sorry about the long explanation. Please review!
Next chapter: A challenge, a bribe, and a confession.
Quote: "Why didn't you tell me?"
