Once he was home from school, Valentine immediately rushed over, holding out a paint-splattered paper and looking immensely pleased with herself.
"Peter! Peter, wook!" Valentine had a babyish lisp; it was one of her weak points, and Peter knew. He teased her mercilessly.
"I don't care about your stupid picture, Val. Go away."
His sister halted, looking disappointed. "But, Peter-"
Peter could tell she idolized him, and normally he would use that in a person, but he hated his sister, for her sweetness, for the attention she took, for her nauseating dimples and sickening giggles. Everyone always called her an angel, and when they found out how precocious she was, fell to pieces cooing and admiring. She, of course, preened under the attention. Peter hated that smug look on her face; it made him want to punch her.
"Peter, I drew-"
"I. Don't. Care. Leave me alone!" He stomped up to his room. Val always put him in a bad mood. As he left, he heard a soft voice.
"But I drew you, Peter."
He shook of the corner of him that felt guilty. She was a pain, he reminded himself. Peter hoped that this jumble of mixed emotions was only a little kid, because it was making him confused. This is why making connections to the people around you is bad. They mess you up, hold you back. If I felt sorry for Val, then I wouldn't be plotting how to use her to convince Mom and Dad to get me student's access to the nets, he thought. His parents thought that four was too young for student's access; he was restricted, for the moment, to child's access, which was excessively limited for his ambitions. The only reason he hadn't bypassed this was that he had so little time on his desk that he hadn't been able to explore it. His teacher believed in 'real-world interactions', which was, as far as Peter was concerned, complete bugger sod. The net was where real power could be acquired, regardless of age. Therefore, that was where the driven boy set his sights.
'Val will be my ticket. I'm just not sure if I should get her to ask for me, or make a bargain with my parents about her. They might be suspicious about the former, but they might not agree to the latter…better chance the suspicions. I don't think they'll be smart enough to know I'm using her anyways, if I plan this right. How can I get Valentine to ask? Bribe? Blackmail? Sweet-talk? I'm leaning toward bribe, and blackmail if she refuses. I just have to remember not to do anything too bad, because of the monitor. Maybe Val will be actually useful for once! When I first get on the nets, I have to study how others write, what kind of writing affects the world…'
Valentine looked up warily as Peter approached. She did idolize him, but she still knew of his dangers. And when he wore that too sweet, happy-intense smiling look on his face, he was dangerous. As he wore now.
"Hello, sister dear."
"What do you want?"
He refused to drop the façade. "Nothing, really, just came to see how you're doing. Sorry about earlier, I was in a bad mood." She waited, staring at him. "And I was wondering if you would like me to help you get rid of your lisp."
"Really?" She sensed a suspicious motive, but decided to trust him for now.
"Yep. But I need something from you."
"Is it bad?" Valentine knew Peter was not the angel he pretended to be.
"No, I just need you to get a student's access to the nets for me. Mom and Dad are just a little reluctant, and I want you to convince them for me." He smiled, and winked. "Come on, sis. Do me a favor."
Valentine was about to say yes, what's the harm, when she remembered earlier. The painting, and Peter's superior, annoyed look on his face as he pushed past her. He ignored her, just brushed her off. She didn't want to make it easy for him.
"I don't know," she stalled, "Mommy and Daddy might not want me to. You can't make me."
Without warning, Peter changed from sweet, companionable, to angry and towering. His face twisted in resentment, fury. "You will do as I say! I can make you, I can! You-you always ruin it for me, you owe me this!"
Frightened, Valentine drew back away from his outburst. Emboldened by her alarm, Peter drew close, allowing no escape. "If you don't, than I'll- I'll-" Peter thought, searching his brain for the proper threat. Finally, he hit upon it. The thing all mortals are afraid of. "I'll kill you." Valentine relaxed slightly.
"You wouldn't, you're bwuffing" she decided, more relieved. Peter could feel his control of the situation slipping away. Frantic, he knew he had to do something drastic, quick. In a swift motion, he pushed her over, then placed one knee on her back, pinning her there. He caught her arms and pulled back, enough to make her cry out in pain.
"Thtop it, Peter, Thtop it!"
"No one can hear you," he whispered in her ear. He discovered with detached surprise that he liked this power. He liked knowing she feared him. He thrust down harder, pushing on her windpipe, constricting her breathing. This is good. This is power. Fear is a tool, and I will use it. I must never let myself get into a situation where I fear; I must make others fear me. "Well? I'm waiting. Will you get that nets access for me or not?"
"Yes! Just stop, please, it hurts!" Well, I guess I rid her of her lisp. Peter loosened his grip slowly, but didn't let go.
"Don't you dare tell your precious Mommy or Daddy about this, or you'll regret it. I can make it hurt a lot worse," he threatened. She nodded, trembling, and Peter let her go. She sat up, rubbing her shoulders, tears in her eyes, her lip trembling.
"I hate you, Peter," she whispered, and then ran off. Peter smiled triumphantly, but didn't understand why he felt like crying.
"Merphy? I need a favor."
"Nothing illegal, sir, it's against my contract."
"Funny. I need you to put these monitor recordings on General Rotesan's desk in his office. With an urgent tag."
"You know where it is-"
"Yeah, well…the General and I didn't exactly hit it off. I have a feeling he won't listen to me. And this is important."
"May I ask, sir, what it is?"
"I don't see why not. It's about Peter Wiggin. Why I think he's not a possible candidate for the battle school. No, not just why I think, it's why he isn't."
"How do you figure that, sir?
"These recordings are from the last few days; Peter shows extreme signs of a power-hungry sadist who'll do anything for power. He has charisma, but not true leadership ability. Strategy, but not that borderline-crazy inventiveness we need. He just isn't right for the job."
"Too bad. He's been our best hope in a while, and I've heard the sister hasn't got the killer instinct we need. We were sure he'd be perfect."
"Well, as it happens, I just may have a solution for that…"