A/N: This chapter has been revised - I changed names after I loaded it up the first time. So now, this time, all the names should make sense with who everybody else is. I'm not sure about this new set up (been a while since I've loaded anything new here) - spacing for paragraphs seems to be a little odd.

Chapter One

A full millennium has gone by since the attack on the Buggers world. The time where countries were one against the Buggers has passed and they are now on the verge of another world war, one that will undoubtedly spread towards the newly populated planets in the Gamma Quadrant. It seems inevitable to avoid the catastrophe, but things change when another threat to humanity arises. Another alien species, one very much like the humans, one exceedingly strong and vicious, one that is determined to destroy all humanity.
With the early heads up of the upcoming attack, things go high speed. Countries are suddenly forming new alliances in order to create a new Interplanetary Battle School. Only this time, they have the time, for although the Corvedics are space-wise, they are new to the reaches of space.

"We are pleased to announce that the IBS will be up and running within the week. It is most likely that we will be recruiting for the school as soon as we get the go ahead." Marcus Render added with a laugh, "Which could be any time, knowing the board."
It was a good day, and for skeptics, they thought that the battle school was the lesser of two evils. Sunshine poured down onto the podium where the board representing the Space Program was seated. A large crowd of over one hundred thousand had come none, apparently for shutting down the school.
A portly man came over to shake Mr. Arben's hand, and he spoke "Well done Marcus. Our future does not look so glum now. With the mastermind captains that will be trained, the Corv's haven't a chance." His voice boomed out over the heads of the spectators.
Marcus sighed and a slight frown marred his handsome features. Holding his hand over the tiny microphone built into his suit, he said softly, "Don't speak of the future, if you don't know it. By the time the Corv's reach us, it will be long in the future, we'll all be dead. The time for their expected appearance is at least one hundred years. We may be able to jump to them, but why bother when our space fleets haven't been manned in a war for decades. We need the time to prepare, just as they need the time to come."
Then, removing his hand, he once again smiled brightly and rose his arms high in the air. "IBS; making our future a possible one."
Cheers greeted this and Marcus took his leave, stepping off the stage and into the elevator that would bring him down underground where his private vehicle would take him to shuttle launch pad immediately. He sat down on the leathered seats and sighed, as long as the station was fully functional, humanity's future would be fine. For it was only there in the battle school that legends were made. A slight smile curled on his lips. Legends like Ender.

Howard snorted loudly and flipped the vision screen off, inking the screen a black, the live program of the IBS ceremony gone. 'Yeah right,' he thought, 'what could the battle school do? Ender was a fluke.'
But who cared. This whole idea of the Corvedics coming to invade the human adapted planets was a whole joke. He rolled off the couch and groaned. Grabbing his roiling belly he crawled to the garbage disposal unit and relieved himself of the contents of his stomach.
The entire bottle of scotch had seemingly disappeared and he gazed blearily around the room looking for it. Wiping the excess of vomit from his chin on his sleeve he hefted himself up and staggered to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cupboards and shelves until he found another bottle of liquor; his best friend these days. Scotch never told him he needed to get another job. Scotch never told him to go get groceries. Scotch never...

Hunter took one step into the rancid room and nearly collapsed as the aroma of stale air and vomit hit him. He stared into the gloomy area and grimaced, dad would be a mess – again. Tiptoeing through the house, he quietly began cleaning up. He found his dad passed out on the kitchen floor, another bottle cradled in his lap, not even opened.
He felt like kicking dad in the guts, show him what real pain was. Not the pains from being drunk. Not the pains of a hangover. No, the pains of being beaten up constantly. Corey's legs and arms were black and blue, but he never showed anyone his pains. He always licked at them in a dark corner where no one could see him.
Howard groaned and Hunter crouched down to stare at his father's face. Unshaven, balding and gaining weight. Hunter knew that his father was once a respected fighter, but then something happened – he was kicked out for apparently no reason, but Hunter suspected it was either for violence or for his bad drinking habits.
Pushing his father into a sitting position, Hunter gently slapped his father to consciousness. "Come on dad. Time to get to bed."
Howard chuckled groggily and blinked blurry eyes. "Ah, Corey. I hearrrrrd...zaa crazzzziest thing..."
"Come on dad, it can wait."
"IBSssss..."
"Come on dad!"
Howard somehow managed, with a great deal of assistance from Corey, to get to his bedroom. Then for the next few hours, Hunter settled into the familiar routine of cleaning house. After that, he'd get to homework. It never changed.
At least not that day.

Two weeks later

"You did what dad?"
Howard, at his soberest in months, looked into his son's shocked eyes. "I've signed ye up for the IBS program. It's a free education son."
"But dad, how could you?" Hunter couldn't understand, didn't want to understand. "I'm too old dad. I'm nearly eight. You heard the announcements. The younger the better."
Howard laughed loudly and slapped Hunter on the back, nearly sending the boy flying. "That's 'cause they don't know me son. You're a smart boy, quick, athletic."
A burst of pride sparked to life in Corey, his dad had actually noticed the report card he'd left on the table. Not only that, but he'd obviously taken note that his son was doing extremely well on the teams he played for.
"Well?" Howard hedged.
"I don't want to go. You'll be all alone."
Anger flared in Howard's eyes and Hunter felt himself shrinking back slightly, "What?! It took some bribes to get ye on that bloody list, ye know! I know you're too old, but bloody hell. You're my son. And you will have a military part in history. My family has been part of the military for five generations. You're next."
"No. You can't live on your own."
Before Hunter could react, Howard's fist came flying down, crunching painfully into his face. "You think I'm so drunk I can't even take care of myself?" Another fist landed heavily, "You just a little girl. A bitch just like your mother. Using me as an excuse. Grow up GIRL!"
Not once did he flinch as each punch thudded into his body; his mind became clearer and clearer. A clarity he'd never experienced came over him and suddenly Hunter knew he had to go. He saw his father as he truly was. A lazy bastard who had nothing better to do than suck the money up through his drinks. Draining the accounts of any assets they had. He'd go, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. If he ever wanted to get away from his father, that's exactly what he'd have to do.
Through the blood and pain, his voice came through clear and loud, "I'll go." Then as if nothing had happened, he walked away. Leaving the house a mess of bruised and bloodied flesh, but feeling as refreshed he'd felt in a long time. He was leaving. Leaving for the Battle School.

Hunter stood in line before the multitude of cameras set up at the launch site. He was the ninth in line, third row. He'd calculated his position without a thought - it was instinct to always know where he was. His eyes flicked over to where his father stood with other kids families. His face was clear of any sign of alcohol and his face beamed. He was proud of his son. But not for the right reasons; he was proud that Hunter was going to continue the military line in the family, he was proud that his son was going to go to the Battle School, he was proud of what his son could be, not who he was.

Eyes shifting back to the man on the podium, he concentrated on what the man was saying. "I am pleased to present to you, our possible future captains, pilots, commanders. These brilliant minds will be put to the test - it will be hard, it will be brutal, but in the end, they will be heroes if they can make it through it all. They'll be invincible." Mounting cheers grew louder and louder as he continued his speech.

Hunter on the other hand, snorted with disbelief. They'll be different all right, they wouldn't be the same when they came back. Look at all the kids who came back from the original Battle School. None of them ever were the same. Especially Ender, he never even came back. Hunter decided then and there, that he'd do well, but not his best. He'd do well enough to stay up there, away from his father, but not so good that everyone would want him.

The other kids around him were younger. At their young ages, it wouldn't seem much. But to the keepers of the IBS, down to the number of days alive would count. The younger the better - that's all there was to it. Despite his compact size, Hunter still stood a good four inches over most of the others. He stood out and he despised that, it made eyes turn to him - the taller one - and the last thing he wanted right now was attention.

Again, shifting his attention momentarily back to the speaker, Hunter began gauging exactly how many boys and girls were present here at this shuttle launch pad. In rows of twenty and going at least fifty back, he quickly came back with an answer. One thousand. All this was instantaneous, not even his teachers were aware of how brilliant he was. He never went beyond what he was supposed to. He was the perfect student, but they would never realize that he was beyond perfect.

All throughout the addressing, Hunter was constantly aware of the drift of the speech. And so when the time came for the children ready to enter the shuttles shouted back their rehearsed lines, he did so without noticing. And when his time came to enter one of the fifty shuttle pods that would take his row to the ship orbiting above, he did so automatically. His thoughts were elsewhere. Plotting his future and what it held for him without his father in it. He would not look back at his father. But one thing did shatter his thoughts, something that never happened. Despite everything his father had done to him and put him through, his father was still the only person he'd ever known. He looked over his shoulder.