Nine weeks prior to the final battle of the Third Invasion:
Valentine added a branch and watched as the flames licked at the dry wood, crawling up its inner surface. She speared the last letter on a long twig and held it in the flames. The paper flared up at once, curling in on itself as it turned first brown, then carbon black to match the ink of the words scrawled across its surface. Some of the ash drifted upward with the smoke, into the branches above, dancing in the dappled sunlight. The rest of the letter fell past the tepee of logs to join the rest of its brethren in the glowing cherry coals below, coals that seemed to ripple as waves of oxygen were sucked in and used up. Valentine could picture the diagram in her mind, could label each molecule and step of the chemical reaction that was taking place before her eyes, could almost picture the excited electrons that were the reason for the flames. She'd memorized the periodic table of elements when she was five, a simple wood fire hadn't held any secrets from her since she'd turned six. Still, something about a fire held the mystery of the arcane, the magical, the alchemic transformation of one substance into another by means of supernatural arts. Valentine yawned her way through doctorate level classes, not because they were over her head, but because they seemed pointlessly repetitive to her fourteen year old mind, yet she'd never once felt bored looking at a fire. It was one of the few things that could occupy her thoughts completely without ever seeming dull.
It had taken almost a week for the paper and pens she'd ordered to arrive. She'd had to order them from a group of Mennonites who still clung to the old ways of doing things. Writing on paper had been a strange experience indeed. The resistance had made her fingers feel clumsy, so used she was to the frictionless writing of stylus on desk screen. It had made her consider simply burning the desk instead with all the letters in the memory, but she'd persisted, copying out each phrase, each word, first in scrawls, then in something resembling her normal flowing script as she got used to the physical process. Every letter she'd ever written to ender from the first day he'd gone to battle school. Every letter they'd never allowed him to read. Every one, she copied faithfully and accurately, remembering, as she wrote, the events she had been relating, had wanted to share with her brother, everything she'd wished he'd been able to see. It had taken months, more than nine all told, to commit every word to paper, to seal them up in envelopes with Ender's name on the front. It had only taken a few hours to burn every single one.
She watched the smoke rise through the canopy of leaves and into the cloudy sky above. She thought of ancient cultures burning sacrifices to buy the favor of various capricious deities throughout history. She found herself hoping that if there was any true magic in fire at all, that it would carry her love to her little brother, to Ender, wherever he was now, however much he'd changed. She stared back, looking into the translucent embers, seeing visions there, dancing too fast for her mind to analyze. She wondered if he'd ever forgive her, for sending him back to war, for convincing him to go back into bondage for the sake of a humanity that had never been anything but demanding and cruel to him. For allowing herself to become a tool in the hand of the enemy, a tool of both his enemies.
Valentine heard the footsteps she'd been expecting, softly approaching behind her. She breathed deeply and smelled the smoke, a tangy, sharp, clean scent. The soft tread moved closer, coming along the little, worn animal trail she'd used hours before. She listened without turning as the footsteps entered her little clearing and stopped twenty feet behind her back.
"We've been so busy I'd lost track of the date." Said Ender's enemy. "It wasn't till I noticed you gone that I remembered. How old is he now, eleven?"
Valentine nodded slightly, not rising from her crouch as she continued to watch the flames.
Peter came up beside her and flopped on the grass, facing the fire while propped on and elbow. He looked from the flames to her face, then back again and said, "I wonder how many spiders and insects were in those logs when you set them on fire."
Valentine sighed slightly, not shifting her attention, not interrupting whatever malicious thing Peter was about to say.
"Must have been pretty ghastly for them, their whole home, whole world going up in flames around them, seeing the fire block each escape in turn, hiding in their tunnels as the heat either cooked them alive so their carapaces burst as their blood flashed into steam or the flames sucked the oxygen right out of their little bug lungs." He looked at her and smiled, "And you don't feel a thing." He looked back at the flames, smiling. "Cruelty to animals is one of the marks of a deranged mind Val, you really should try to control those nasty impulses of yours. People might think you're crazy or something."
Valentine blinked sleepily, her eyes still facing the fire. She knew she gave no outward sign of distress, but the magic had been broken just the same. She couldn't rid herself of Peter's gruesome mental image. It bothered her that she couldn't just let the words roll away, frustrated that her mind couldn't find a simple way around Peter's logic. She knew that starting a controlled fire was completely different from intentionally crucifying squirrels on the ground with wooden pegs and dissecting them while they were still alive, still desperately fighting to escape their doom. She knew there was a fundamental difference, but her mind couldn't find the nice logical boundary that would allow her to simply ignore Peter's allegations. She couldn't, because just like every time before, he'd found her deepest fear, that she was just like him, that she was just like Peter, and only thought she was different, only thought she was kind and decent and human...
The thought took less than a second to come and go from her mind, and she spoke without any hint of her mental turmoil showing in either face or voice, "Congratulations big brother." She'd known he would be showing up sometime today to glory in his latest accomplishment. Locke had been requested to lend his name and influence to the renewal of the International Cooperation Act. The request had been made publicly in a full recorded session of the council by the Hegemon himself and was a confirmation that they recognized Locke's leading role as the face of the moderate intelligentsia throughout the world. It was the first time Peter's Locke had been publicly chosen over Valentine's Demosthenes, the day that the world recognized an anonymous writer on the nets as a leader of the movement for peace and cooperation. Peter couldn't have been more self satisfied if he were a cat.
Peter shrugged off her congratulations, knowing full well his facade of nonchalance didn't fool her in the slightest, but doing it anyway simply for form's sake. Petra knew that in the coming week's he'd be picking her brain endlessly as they worked together to adjust the course of nations to their will, but for today at least he seemed content to simply revel in what they'd accomplished so far.
"We'll need to start exploring for habitable systems right away."
Or perhaps not. Valentine wearily focused her attention on Peter's chosen topic. She fell into her comfortable role and offered up the obvious objection she knew he was waiting for. "And how do you plan to do this when the I.F. is requisitioning all international resources that could possibly be used to build ships as they continue to build the defense fleet?"
Peter grinned and Valentine knew he'd been hoping she'd use that exact phrasing. "Why there is no defense fleet little sister." he said, the smile spreading even wider as he took in her reaction.
Valentine had been expecting a surprise, but Peter's words nearly took her breath away. If anyone else had said something like that she would have thought it was pitiful attempt at a joke or that they had been reading her own Demosthenes columns a bit too literally, but with Peter she knew better. Peter was watching with glee as Valentine was unable to keep the totality of the shock and horror she was feeling from showing on her face. He laughed and said "Oh Val, don't fret so, it's unseemly."
"You've found something?" Val said, somehow keeping the excitement out of her voice, cursing herself for her momentary lapse.
"Well, technically it found me, Locke that is, of course. I now have a new friend on the council, and he's been most informative. He's positive that he can use me to secure his seat in the next election, and he's been letting all sorts of interesting fruit fall in my path. I haven't even had to ask him for it, he's just giving it away without securing any kind of promise of help from me, the idiotic, incompetent, wonderful fool!" Peter barked out the last word in a triumphant shout that startled a pair of nearby doves who flew away, crying their soft, high cry with each downbeat of their wings.
"And he just told you there was no fleet?"
"Of course there's a fleet Val, we see pictures of it every day from the space telescopes, it's just that there's not a defense fleet. We don't have a single completed warship within twenty light years of our solar system." Peter laughed.
Valentine had recovered herself. Peter was many things, but above all he was self interested. He wouldn't be this gleeful if he thought he was in danger of an imminent attack. With that, and what he'd just told her, it took Valentine only a second to figure it out and say, "There is no third invasion, we're going to them, and we're don't think they'll be coming back, at least not in the next few decades." She said the words numbly, cold logic reigning as the rest of her mind reeled, restructuring her worldview, piecing together the vast jigsaw of implications this news gave her. She could see why Peter was punch drunk, this was news indeed. She looked at Peter's grinning face and said, "He just told you?"
"Oh no, he doesn't have a clue about the fleet, he still thinks they're gathered in the comet shield, ready to rise up and do battle! Still, he knew more than he understood, and I was able to put two and two together. I looked around, and the I.F. hasn't been building warships for decades. They're constructing colony ships. Giant self-sustaining transports to carry tens of thousands of people across the stars to entirely new worlds. That's the fleet that shows up on the scopes. They just hide in the center of the Ecstatic Shield, and we think they're warships. Still, he started me along the bread crumb trail. He told me about the Ansible. Fascinating device really, it makes communication and information transfer instantaneous regardless of distance. He also told me a few more things regarding the advances in gravity manipulation and the new weapons they were putting on the ships, interesting stuff let me tell you. With that and some other things he let drop I was able to figure out that the I.F. built and sent the last warship before either of us were born little sister. Most of them in fact were sent before Mom or Dad were born. Still, those colony ships are more than just decoys. They're planning for the possibility that we might lose the war, but they're afraid. They know that if they just come out and tell us what they've been doing the populace will go nuts, tear itself apart and the I.F. with it. The I.F. knows that if we lose this war the Buggers will be coming after us with everything they've got, and we have nothing left to fight them, but if they tell the world that they've been lying to stay in power for the past few decades it'll only backfire and cause chaos, dooming us all. It's a nice little Catch 22 they've backed themselves into."
"And Locke will become the beacon to light the way." Valentine was still reeling from the overload of information, but she could see what Peter was driving at.
He smiled and said "You've already started laying the foundation little sister, with your article about repealing the population limitation laws and sending the Thirds and Fourths and Fifths to the stars. This will become the issue that brings Locke and Demosthenes together, using Demosthenes' sway over the populace to endorse Locke's proposal. They'll overcome their differences and Demosthenes will insist that Locke reveal himself to lead Humanity to the stars. They'll call for the I.F. to stop constructing warships and build the ships that will spread Humanity too far to ever fear extinction again. The I.F. will grab at their chance, helping Locke gain the Hegemony where he'll construct starships at an unprecedented rate and phenomenally low cost. I'll have the Hegemony within three years, four at the most, and we'll begin our exodus of the planet. By the time Ender's old enough to assume control of the fleet and the war, which he'll be conducting via remote because of the ansible, we'll have scouting ships on the way to every nearby system with planets. If Ender loses and the Bugger's send a real third invasion, we'll have already spread to dozens of worlds by the time they arrive."
"And you'll be the undisputed Ruler of mankind, with the power of the I.F. At your beck and call."
"It's hilarious! While Ender, the golden boy, the perfect Third, the chosen one is off trying to systematically exterminate an entire race of sentient beings, much like your little bonfire as it happens, I'll be making the entire exercise unnecessary. They rejected me because I was too twisted to lead a fleet of killers, yet I'll be the one who ends up saving mankind from destroying itself!" He locked gazes with Valentine then, eyes fever bright with excitement and anticipation and said "They've made Ender a killer, but I'm turning my worst predilections to work for the sake of the entire human race. I'm going to become a savior, and it's going to be all your fault Val."
And then he laughed. He laughed with genuine, unfeigned, undisguised mirth, and as he laughed, the fire died.
Meanwhile, back at the Halls of Justice... I mean, up at the Command School on Eros... yeah... that's what I meant... anyway:
"Petra?… Petra! Are you alright?"
The words seemed strange, the voice was out of place, not the one she had expected. Petra tried to remember who she'd been talking to, but couldn't. All she knew was that the voice was wrong.
"Petra! Oh God, please be alright, Petra please wake up, please. Open your eyes Petra, look at me. Please God, please. Wake up Petra…" Whoever was talking to her had grabbed her and was shaking her forcefully. No, this voice definitely didn't belong to the person she'd just been talking to. Who had that been anyway? Mother? No, mother was gone, she hadn't seen mother since she was six. Who was it then?
...The memory was gone, Petra knew she had to deal with the present. So who was this now? It was on the tip of her tongue, she knew that voice. Why were they so worried?
She was so tired, but the hands wouldn't stop shaking her, and they were gripping her arms uncomfortably. Didn't they know she needed to sleep? She forced her eyes apart slightly, it felt like she was trying to lift weighted shutters, they were almost impossible to keep open. It began to make her angry that her body wouldn't obey her. She forced the offending eyelids up, but now her eyes refused to focus. Close in front of her she could just barely make out a face.
"Dink?" Petra said before she even realized she'd recognized him. She had to think about things three or four times before she could really understand them. Dink looked worried, but he smiled when he saw her eyes open. He had a nice smile…
"Thank God Petra, you had me worried…" Dink started. He probably said more but Petra couldn't hear him, or in any case she couldn't understand him if she did hear him. She was trying to figure out where she was. She was in a chair, too upright to be comfortable. She moved her hand clumsily. It touched something, a smooth spherical something that rolled in place as her hand bumped across it… She knew what that was, she searched for the memory that would identify that ball. The stray thought swam under the surface of her brain like a fish in murky water. It was… it was…
Petra bolted up as realization struck her like a slap. She couldn't breathe with the force of it. She'd finally gotten her brain fully functional, but now she wished it would stop altogether. She was in the simulator, in the command chair, she had been positioning her fighters, baiting the bugger ships, drawing their attention away from Bean's strike force, forcing them to maintain their position while the other commanders maneuvered… When had she fallen asleep? Her fingers flew to their positions on the controls, the controls she'd used so often in the past months that they felt like a natural extension of her own body… Nothing happened. The ships wouldn't respond to her frantic commands, she wasn't even able to change her perspective to look one way or another. Still, what she could see told the story plainly enough.
The battle was still going. She'd fallen asleep in the middle of a battle, a battle where she'd been the axle from which Ender's entire plan had spun. She'd fallen asleep, and now only two of her fighters remained. She could see they were being commanded brilliantly by someone else, but right now all that brilliance was required to avoid the buggers who'd rushed in with ruthless swiftness to capitalize on her mistake, her weakness, her failure.
Petra's stomach contracted, Dink had the waste bin ready. There wasn't much to catch, Petra hadn't had much of an appetite lately and she'd barely eaten anything the past two meals. Still, even after everything was gone her body convulsed with dry heaves, twice, three times, and then one final spasm. When she stilled Dink tried to wipe her face with a cloth, but she didn't let him. She ignored the snot and bile on her face. She lifted her head to talk to Ender, to tell him she was sorry, to make him understand, but the indicator light remained dim. She was cut off. Of course, Ender still had a battle to fight, a battle that he had no hope of winning now. She had been the hinge pin of the entire strategy. She knew it as well as anyone, better than anyone except perhaps Ender and Alai. Her weakness had cost Ender the battle, and now he'd have to go on to fight the buggers alone, without her beside him. She wanted to throw up again, but she couldn't.
Dink spoke softly into a communicator and a moment later her consol lit up once more. She only had observational control, but she flipped from perspective to perspective. She saw that Crazy Tom had taken control of her survivors. He was weaving desperately amongst the enemy ships, somehow avoiding the full onslaught of the enemy. No, he wasn't just avoiding them, it was something more, something difficult to tell, for the most part Tom was flying for his life, but he kept making subtle movements, zigging when Petra expected him to zag.
The display blurred suddenly. Angrily Petra swiped away her tears that obscured her vision, desperate to see the display. She stared fascinated, and then she saw it. She thought that Crazy Tom could see it too, but it was hard to tell. Still, the fact remained that it was happening. The Buggers were doing the impossible, they were making a mistake. Her failure had been so complete and so rare that the buggers hadn't know what to do at first. They had hesitated too long, fearing a trap, and once they'd realized no trap was possible they'd charged too eagerly, flying in too fast to finish off Petra's two remaining ships, forgetting for once to keep their all important spacing. They were converging! And Crazy Tom was keeping them so busy trying to bring down the two remaining fighters that they still hadn't realized their own error.
Petra's fingers made minuscule movements, so quickly they seemed not to move at all. She flipped from perspective to perspective, watching Bean's small strike force splitting in two and sending half his fighters flying into the breach she'd left somehow managing two separate teams at the same time, each keeping a much larger bugger force busy, accomplishing much the same thingas Crazy Tom. She flipped again and saw Alai bringing in the big carriers, their little doctors shifting from target to target as the big ships bulled into the enemy fleet. The Bugger fighters tore into the big battleships, scoring more and more hits but Alai was able to push the lines back, pressing the buggers closer together. She flipped again just in time to watch Fly Molo slash in with his squadron, hitting the buggers simultaneously in three spots. At first it looked like three normal explosions, three small bugger ships flashing bright as their molecules came unglued, separating into their component elements. Petra knew though. The three fields had converged, invisibly, and accelerated, like a giant balloon expanding at .8 times the speed of light. Dozens, hundreds of ships were caught in almost the same instant. The invisible field caught more and more bugger ships, turning them into yet more blinding flashes of white as the field fed on the mass, growing stronger and stronger with each new ship it enveloped.
by the time the field died down, nearly three quarters of the bugger ships had turned to big flying chunks of space mud as the field faded and individual atoms began finding new molecular bonds. The fleet had become a ragged asteroid field and some of the bugger ships who'd avoided the field were caught in it, exploding as they impacted with what had once been their allies. Immediately Shen and Crazy Tom both turned back and plunged their fighters into the remaining enemy fleets. The buggers went from having the overwhelming tactical advantage to a crippling disadvantage with one blast.
The remaining buggers fought intelligently, responding instantaneously to their new situation without any signs of dismay or dispair. Crazy Tom's and Shen's squadrons were both trapped and destroyed, but not till they'd ripped the insides of the bugger formations to shreds. Fly Molo's group, who were still almost completely intact, surrounded and finished off every last bugger ship.
Petra was sobbing when she saw her communication lights blink back to life. She grabbed for the microphone, babbling, "Tell Ender I'm sorry, I was just so tired. I couldn't think, tell him I'm sorry…" She kept on babbling. She couldn't shut up, and to make it worse she was sobbing. Everything in her fought to hold back the tears, she knew she should stop talking, but it was as if she didn't have any control over herself. Finally Dink came to her, knelt in front of her, removed her headset, and gently wiped away her dripping tears and snot with a damp cloth. Petra kept talking. She knew it was a reaction to the adrenaline, but she couldn't shut up. "What if that had been the real thing Dink? What if those had been real ships? Real buggers? What if I'd fallen asleep and men had died? What if…
Dink put his hand over her mouth, gently. He didn't say anything. He helped her stand, then he pulled her close. It was too much. Petra sobbed like a baby. She hated her tears but she couldn't stop them. She sobbed like the little girl she'd always had to pretended she wasn't. It was as if all the tears she'd hoarded up over all those years in the battle school had been hiding behind her eyes and now they were determined to see the light of day. She sobbed, and choked, crying her exhaustion and frustration and fear and embarrassment into Dink's formerly immaculate uniform.
Author's Note: Wow, both the prologue and now the first chapter ended with girls crying. I think I'm probably just a bad person at heart. Anyway, let me know what you think.