"I don't think I can say this any more plainly, I'm an observer only. The moment Mazer took over Ender's training, I got relegated to the cheerleading section of the war. I have no command authority till the court martial is complete one way or the other. Everyone still has to salute me, but technically I can't even order anyone to get me a sandwich."
"A fact which is no doubt the main reason for your recent weight loss, I do sympathize, but don't pretend you have no influence. The entire reason you're here now rather than in front of the court martial is because of your expertise and experience with these children."
"You're the one who's been playing voyeur with those 'children,' I still feel it was unnecessary for me to see the vids. I feel unclean"
"That's hardly fair. You've made an art form of spying on little children. How many hidden camera's are there throughout the battle school Colonel? How many in the bathrooms alone?"
"I'm just glad my kids were usually long gone before puberty really set in."
"And you dump them on me right as the hormones hit. Trust me, I've seen enough dominance fucking to make me want to become a monk. We stop the worst of it, the gang-rapes, but we have to let a lot of it go to maintain the illusion that there are unmonitored areas. Some of those boys are never the same, and I don't want to tell you what's happened to some of the girls that make it here."
"Please don't, I already feel queasy enough. Those were my kids before they were yours. It's never easy hearing about your children like that."
"I quite agree, but that's beside the point. The point is that now two of the commanders are hopelessly compromised and should be removed before they become an object of distraction. Petra's breakdown was bad enough, but she's already pulling one of the most gifted children down with her."
"First off, she's hardly pulling him down, his response times have improved measureably since then."
"It will become a distraction…"
"And secondly, Ender can't afford to lose anyone. He already feels responsible for Petra, and that's only adding to the stress of the situation. He's already under more pressure than any person, even a genius, should be able to bear. So far he's handling it, but the cracks are already beginning to show. If…"
"Cracks?"
"Don't be obtuse Admiral, anyone who wasn't showing some signs of breakdown in his situation would be more bugger than human. Your men were the ones who noticed the philotic fluctuations during his REM cycles. Despite whatever is messing with his sleep he's still performing at ever improving levels. Even after all these battles he's still innovating, still coming up with new and effective ideas. However, if we start taking away his pillars of support he won't be able to take it. They are the reason he's enduring this. If he thinks we're playing yet another our games with him, he'll rebel."
"And what if it does become a problem? I've seen enough of these thingshere to know that more of them end badly than not. Usually it's very sudden and very violent."
"I know Dink Meeker admiral, The only ones who need to fear his violence are the buggers, and Petra's too ashamed from her recent incident to do anything in public. They've found a little comfort with eachother in this cold little hell, I see no reason to take that from them, nor them from this group."
"And if it negatively affects their performance?"
"Petra's already been effectively sidelined. I think she'll be back to nearly full effectiveness before the final battle, but Ender won't risk hurting her a second time. More's the pity, we need her, but it's no use trying to try to influence him. The state he's in, any suggestion from us could be disastrous."
"I know, I've sat in on as many of the battles as I could. I'm on edge just from watching, knowing they don't understand the severity, the impossibility of our situation.
It would be very bad if they did, that's the whole point. They can't know it's all real or they won't perform as well. The extra stress and guilt would make them hesitate. I can't believe some of the saves he's pulled."
"Dink won't be too distracted either. He never holds the most critical role like Petra did. Even if he falls completely to pieces sometime they'd probably be able to recover, but he won't fall to pieces. Some of the others will break, but not him, Ender's being too careful now."
"Alright, if that's your assessment, we'll leave it as is. We'll need to make sure she gets the proper medications, should we put it in her food, or give it to her as a shot under the guise of a booster?
Food would probably be best, she's too smart to fall for a 'booster shot' routine, though there's hardly any need in the first place. She hasn't even begun to menstruate yet.
"You're kidding! she's nearly fourteen already."
"It's the stress."
"Most of the girls here have normal functions, and even for the normal student's, our training isn't exactly a picnic."
"It's different at the Battle School. The game training rivals most Olympic regimens physically, and they don't have anything like the mental challenges we put our kids through. It's usually a release of stress when they go to Tactical school or Pre-Command. Typically they have a couple years to normalize before they ever get here. that's what triggers the pubescent change. Petra has simply traded the physical stress there for a vastly increased mental stress here. It's kept her in survival mode."
"An interesting bit of trivia, but I'll start the regimen just in case."
"As you wish."
"Please talk to Mazer about this pace. Some of these outposts might be allowed to wait till after…"
"you're preaching to the choir Admiral, but I wasn't being facetious. Mazer listens to me about as much as I ever listened to anyone else. It's strange not being the one making the decisions anymore. I sympathize a lot more with my detractors."
"Does this mean you'll be entering a guilty plea after all?"
"Of course not, I was right, and honestly I think Mazer's right too but it's harder to live with that when you're not the one in control.
"I've spent my whole life preparing for the third invasion, it's strange to think that it'll all be over within a few weeks."
"God help us. One way or another, it will."
"You're not going religious on me are you Colonel?"
"Never hurts."
"Tell that to Saladin."
"This Crusade is slightly different."
"A bit. Still, I'm almost afraid to end the Bugger menace."
"It would be fitting wouldn't it? Have Ender nearly kill himself to save the human race only to blow ourselves up immediately after?"
"I can't believe that, there are cooler heads out there, The Hegemon, Clausewitz, and that debater on the nets, what's his name, starts with an "L" no one knows who he really is...?"
"Locke, yes. I would be careful to whom I gave my trust if I were you. There's more to him than compassion, understanding, and good rhetoric."
"That's certainly ominous, but then you've always liked being creepy. Either way it's time for you to leave, I have a bureaucracy to run."
"Yes, and I have a sandwich to not order."
"I'll have one brought to you, with mayonnaise and potato chips, extra greasy."
"That's very kind of you."
Petra hesitated before leaving, pausing to glance back over her shoulder. Dink was still asleep, still recovering from yesterday's marathon battle. It was so strange looking at him like this, so strange waking up with his arm draped over her, so very very strange.
Petra thought back to that first night and wondered again just how the hell it had come about. When had their easy friendship become something more. Love? Could it be love? Petra had no idea, she had no frame of reference. In a place like the battleschool, friendship was defined by battle. Love was worse than useless. Had she denied it before? Was she in love now? Petra honestly couldn't say.
Dink had always been special, since the first time they'd met, he'd treated her as a peer, as an equal. He hadn't had to, he had a lot of reasons not too. When she'd first arrived at the battleschool she'd been the only girl in her entire launch. She'd been terrified, and it hadn't taken long for every boy with any of the bullies heart to single her out as the target of choice. Those first months had been hell. She'd never been afraid of boys before, but here everyone was smart, everyone was strong, and above all everyone wanted control, wanted to dominate. She'd always been a tomboy growing up, but when she got to the battleschool she'd soon realized she was out of her depth.
Dink had been older, but unlike the rest of the soldiers he still payed attention to a little launchies. He saw her get picked on, beat up, even pissed on by the older boys, but he didn't intervene. Instead, he came to her when she was alone, when she thought no one was around to see her cry, when she thought no one could hear her call quietly for her mom. By the time she'd noticed him he'd been right beside her, staring down at her from his lofty four foot five, his gaze cold and steady. He didn't say much, he just asked her if she was going to let them win. She hadn't been able to answer, too embarrassed that he'd caught her crying and too shocked that an older boy, a soldier had actually spoken to her. She'd never talked to anyone but the other launchies, the older boys were to be avoided, to be feared. He didn't give her any pep talk, no pandering to her self esteem, only that one question, and the calm assessment of those eyes.
The next time the older boys ganged up on her she fought like a wildcat, punching, twisting, scratching, and biting. They beat her, and badly, but no one left unscathed. She carried her new aggression into the battleroom, no one wanted to practice with a girl, so she focused on becoming a pure offensive force, practicing and practicing till she could outshoot any of the boys. In their little exercises she'd scream like a banshee, launching herself in wild Kamikaze attacks, usually taking out three or four of the boys before they could finally freeze her. It got to the point that whenever a launchie showed up with a bandage they'd joke that Petra'd gotten out of her cage again. She never made any friends among the other launchies, but the ones who'd ganged up on her were soon the butt of many jokes, picking on wild animals, ganging up on a girl, the usual. She was always alone, but sometimes, just sometimes, she'd turn around to see Dink, watching her with those calculating eyes.
She toned down the hysterics after she got assigned to an army. She was usually given the scut work, assignments that no one really wanted, assignments that got you frozen stupidly. She did them, and approached them as challenges. She was always at the worst angles, so she worked on her marksmanship till she could keep the beam focused on a two centimeter moving ball for a full second from across the battleroom.
Petra had liked being a soldier. She was still treated as second rate because she didn't have testicles, but nobody tried to make her drink their piss anymore. She got crappy assignments, but she did them well and was even receiving grudging approval from her toon and army commanders. She had fast become the most lethal gunhand in the army, and was bucking to be the most accurate soldier in the school. Also, she never had to eat alone anymore. As soon as she'd been promoted, Dink had made a point sit across from her. He didn't say much to her that first meal, nothing more than was barely acceptable politeness amongst the super competitive boys, but it was more than anyone else had ever said to her at meals. The other soldiers, seeing one of the all time best soldiers and toon leaders sitting with Petra, started treating her as they would any other soldier. They were all still rivals, but the jokes about her privates had the tone of humor, not malice.
As months, and then years passed, Dink and Petra spent more and more of their free time together. They were both isolated by their temperaments, but in the other they'd each found a kindred spirit. In a school where most relationships were defined as teammate or enemy, they both finally found what it was like to have a friend. Their conversations usually consisted of Petra insulting people, including Dink, while Dink listened with that little half smile of his, a knowing look on his face. Or they would debate the merits and weaknesses of various strategies, commanders, formations, etc. He had been her mentor, teaching her many of his secrets, including the most important one, that the Teachers were the true enemy, not the other students.
When she first met Ender, she found herself hoping that he might become her friend in the same way she had become Dink's. When the tiny boy had joined her army, Petra saw him facing the same derision and scorn she had. She had reached out to him, showed him the ropes, given him the respect Dink had given her. She would never have admitted it, even to Dink, but at the time she'd been hoping she might have found a new friend in the clever little boy who'd been promoted so early.
Of course wherever Ender was concerned, nothing ever worked out as planned, unless it was his plan. Ender had blossomed almost immediately, quickly surpassing her ability to teach. Still, she had seen that his intelligence could eventually get him killed by earning him the envy of the other soldiers, and especially Bonzo, so she'd talked to Dink, explained the kid's potential, showed her friend the practice sessions he held with the launchies, and asked him to get Ender transferred. Neither of them could believe, this little kid, not even really old enough to be a soldier, was showing both of them ways to fight that no one had ever thought of before. They, before anyone else, had realized this little child would someday be the best of them all. Petra and Dink had always felt the calm assurance of knowing they were the best, that on any given day they could take on any other soldier in the school in any task, and most likely win, but to Ender, they were just stepping stones. It had made them angry, but mostly it had simply left them in awe.
Neither of them had been surprised when they were chosen as part of the elite group taken to Command School only a few months after Ender. They were working harder than ever, but they were also spending more time together within the group. Although the Jeesh certainly was now closer than any army to which any of them had ever belonged, at first it had been awkward. Most of the Jeesh had belonged to Ender's former Dragon Army. They were all the best kinds of soldiers and people, but they had a shared experience of which people like Shen, Alai, Dink, and Petra could never truly be a part. Perhaps it might have been then, in those days where she had spent almost every free moment with Dink. Perhaps she had fallen in love with him then... if this was love...
As the training intensified, as they all lost sleep, as they all felt the pressure building close to the limits of their endurance, Dink had been there. Perhaps it was then, watching him try to take care of her even as she mocked him mercilessly for being a nursemaid. Perhaps that was when... If...
All she really knew for sure was that in that moment, when he'd helped her, sobbing, into bed after her complete and utter failure, in that moment of dispair as she realized she'd never be trusted with a real force, that she'd finally confirmed everyone's suspicions, that she'd finally confirmed that she, among all the overstressed, sleep deprived geniuses, she had broken first. All her bravado, all her confidence, all her years of enduring, of striving, of trying to prove that she wasn't just as good as the rest, but that she was better, all of it had been for absolutely nothing. She had known she was finished.
Dink hadn't said a word as he helped her into bed. When he'd turned to leave her, she'd grabbed at his sleeve. She didn't know why she held him exactly, all she knew was that if he left, if he walked out that door, she wouldn't be able to take it. She just hadn't wanted to be alone.
The rest of the night was a blur, she could barely remember any of it. Her brain hadn't been in control. She had been half dead from sleep deprivation anyway, but traces of it remained. The feel of her hands running through Dink's hair, the smell of his skin, the sound of a voice, she wasn't sure who's; those things she remembered... that and the certain knowledge that she was done, that this time she'd be shipped planetside for sure.
A day had passed, Dink had returned, but the expected call to leave never came. Another day, another night with Dink, still no command to report to a shuttle. Third day, orders came through, but not to leave. She was returned to service. It had been a retardedly simple role, one she would have been scandalized to receive before, now she performed the moronically easy task and returned to her room, to Dink, to safety.
And life had gone on...
Petra commanded her ships mechanically, performing the mop-up operation by rote as the battle played over and over through her mind. It had been grisly, a horribly costly Pyrrhic victory but there had never really been any great doubt about what the final outcome would be. The Bugger's had seemed to know this, and had maneuvered not to achieve victory, but to force the battle drag out as long as possible.
Ender had decided to have Bean and Alai rest today. Since her breakdown, he'd taken care to make sure none of the commanders fought too often, made sure they stayed fresh. Although Petra had participated, Ender had given her what was effectively a side role in the battle, no hard decisions to make, simply harass the flanks and wait in reserve in case something went wrong.
In the absence of Alai and Bean, it had fallen to Hot Soup to command the pivotal force of the battle. He'd done it well, and executed Ender's plan to the letter, but from her vantage point, Petra had seen no fewer than three openings when the Buggers had made small mistakes, opening themselves up to counterattack, openings that Alai or Bean or Dink would have seen and used to finish the battle sooner, finish with fewer casualties. Petra wondered if she would have been able to take advantage of those opportunities had she been in Hot Soup's place. She couldn't say, and because she didn't know her own capabilities, she knew the only role she was fit to play were the placeholder positions, operations the computer might have been able to handle. Being uncertain would lead to hesitation, and in battle any hesitation meant disaster.
When the last bugger ship was destroyed the giant holographic display powered down and went dark, and Petra leaned back and closed her eyes. She hadn't been able to believe it when she'd gone a day, then two days, then a week without being sent away, or at least separated from the rest of the Jeesh. She'd been even more astounded when she'd received the call to report for battle. A couple weeks before she would have been insulted by the simplistic orders and unimportant role she was given, but at the time, Petra had still been terrified to assume command of any force at all.
She'd finished that first battle, performing her unimportant role adequately, and the next day had been called back. She didn't fight in every battle anymore, and Ender went out of his way to praise her mediocre accomplishments after battles or during the few practices they held anymore, but Petra knew she never did anything noteworthy anymore.
These days, practically all the time she wasn't actively in practice or in battle she was with Dink. None of the others said anything but they couldn't help but know. Crazy Tom had even tried to make a joke about it when he had thought Petra couldn't hear. He'd told Dink it wasn't fair of him to hog the only pussy on the whole goddamned rock. Dink hadn't said anything, just looked at him with that calm, intense stare that communicated more than any words could. It was little Bean who'd responded, by punching Tom in the face, hard. Bean was too small to inflict any real damage, but Crazy Tom had staggered back, then in a most uncharacteristic moment he'd actually apologized to Dink. Petra had feigned concern and asked what the punch was about. Tom had been about to respond, but Bean had interrupted saying Tom had made a crack about his height. Petra had pretended to be fooled and scolded Bean, telling him he was taking the Napoleon complex a bit far. After that, the matter was never discussed.
Petra made her way down the corridor and met up with the others as they came out of their respective simulator rooms. There weren't a whole lot of smiles or cheering today. Everyone knew that had been an ugly win. They all felt down about the performance, but there wasn't much any of them could have done about it. It was just getting harder, all the time, and now every soldier who broke down meant the rest of the soldiers had to take up their load as well as their own. They all knew. None of them could take much more of this.
Still, when Chen came running out of his room naked, screaming and covered with soap while Bean came flopping madly after him wearing a bugger suit a good three sizes too large for his tiny, still childlike, body, they all burst out laughing... and kept on laughing... and couldn't stop laughing. Petra could have kissed Bean and Chen both at that moment. They were as tired and irritable as the rest of the Jeesh, but they went to all that effort preparing that stupid, over-sized, patchwork bugger suit to remind them that everything was still a game. A deadly serious game of course, preparation for what might possibly be mankind's final war, but a game nonetheless. The only thing that had been lost back there had been billions of trillions of ones and zeros in a computer program. Petra felt herself smile, and realized it was the first unforced smile she'd had since before the battle where she'd fallen asleep.
The laughter didn't seem to want to stop, coming and going in fits and starts, first one boy, then another, then several at once. Soon they were all laughing again, hysterically this time, for absolutely no other reason except they were laughing at the way everyone else laughed. It didn't make sense, and that made it all the funnier. Two dozen of the smartest children on the face of the globe, and they were all cracking up over absolutely nothing. The illogic was deliciously funny. For just a moment, they were able to forget that the Fate of humankind itself rested on their tiny shoulders.
Neski showed no outward display of emotion, but inwardly he desperately wanted to hit something. It was one of the immutable laws of nature, gravity pulls things down, all living creatures eventually die, and Russian Politicians never EVER learn from history. Here they had the two most brilliant minds they'd managed to hide from the IF's prying eyes, who had spent their entire lives studying the strategy, tactics, history, and sociology of land war, who had mastered every test the lesser minds in the bureaucracy could think to throw at them, who had been proven well over 85 accurate in their political predictions over the last four years and seven months with that 15 mostly the result of the higher ups demanding an answer months before a prediction could even remotely be useful or accurate, and who were now saying that the Russians should wait to strike for at least a month after the Bugger war was over, and what do the Politician's do with the assessment? Ignore it completely.
It was frustrating enough that the commanders were ignoring Anna and Sofia's predictions entirely, Neski had even heard one of the Admirals calling the document "children's scribblings," but the fact was you didn't even need to have the twin's frightening intellects to see the blatantly obvious wisdom of their recommendation! The Politburo had been too obvious with their troop movements, and the supposedly secret plan was no secret at all. The Americans were screaming about it, insisting the government prepare to assist the Euro-Arabian coalition in repelling the impending invasion. The Chinese had even moved the majority of their southern defense force up to the northern border, indicating that they'd reached some form of quiet agreement with India in the interim. The Russians still held the strategic advantage technically, but it was far less than the initial plan had called for, and that advantage would shrink even further as soon as India and the other neutral nations joined the fray. Despite their preparations, Russia simply couldn't expect to go up against a world united against them and win.
As if this wasn't enough, rebellions had broken out in both Georgia and Turkey. Right now they were only minor inconveniences, but once the armies were engaged, those fires could easily flare out of control, destroying Russia's fighting potential from within. Not to mention the dozens of other revolutionaries and warlords within the Second Warsaw Pact just waiting for their opportunity to carve a piece out of the Motherland's breast. Only a complete fool would continue to bull forward with the plan at this stage, which of course was exactly what the High Command had decided to do. Not only that, but they had decided to keep the twins out of the official command structure. Of course, why else would you spend a vast fortune crafting the two most finely honed military commanders on the planet except to keep them where they couldn't see, and only authorize them to make suggestions which would either be butchered both by a lack of intelligence and by the commander's incompetence, or ignored entirely.
Neski allowed his fists to clench at his side, controlling his breathing until the fit passed. The decision was made, there was nothing he could do about it. Still, there was work to be done. Once the High Command had done a thorough job of losing the war, then they finally might just call the twins to the fore, so they could have someone on whom to place all the blame for the defeat. When he was sure he was completely in control once more, he took a deep breath and entered the room.
In less than a second he was nearly knocked over by Anna's flying form. As Neski fought to retain his balance, he again wondered what he should call this maneuver that was to a hug as a meteor strike was to Newton's falling apple. Her arms and legs were both locked around his torso while her own body was pressed firmly into his left side as she squeezed with all her, quite considerable, might. Her weight was still inconsequential, but she made up for that with velocity and vigor. As Neski finally found his center, she dropped away and danced off and Neski caught his first glimpse of the day's ensemble. She was wearing a pink headband, an overlarge sweatshirt with an overly loose neck that looked like it had been both cut and stretched to achieve the effect, a skin tight black lycra body suit that rose high on the hips with cream colored hose beneath that ran into thick socks bunched artfully to the middle of the calf and coming back down to cover the back of the dancing shoes on the feet.
"We just watched Flashdance, and she's been working on that outfit ever since." came Sofia's voice to Neski's left. She was dressed simply and practically in athletic pants and a long sleeve tee shirt that didn't quite fully hide the scars on her wrists and hands near the cuff. She looked over at Anna who was now running artfully in place, hands over her head, back arched, knees high, toes pointing gracefully with each quick stride. Her expression half seemed exasperated, and half seemed to be considering running over to join in. "They're going ahead with the attack aren't they?" she said, never taking her eyes from her sister, who was now performing hip thrusts from a chair. Neski just nodded, also watching Anna dance, trying to remember the last time he ever felt that purely, and unadulteratedly happy, and failing.
Anna turned to him and gently pushed a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "It was nothing more than we expected, don't look so gloomy." She said with a strange little smile on her face. "When they call us, we'll be ready."
At this, Anna, who was too far away to have heard even a word of the quiet conversation yelled out, "If they ever call us that is. I still think they'll go down in flames before letting a couple of barely teenage girls boss them around."
Sofia just smiled and shrugged while Anna kept on dancing. Neski knew they spoke aloud only for his sake. For years now they'd had full control over their philotic link, full connection regardless of distance or physical obstacles. Like Siamese twins of the mind, they were always together, reaching into the other's thoughts as naturally as their own. Their communication was blindingly fast, and far more complete than any spoken words could ever be. Neski sometimes wished he'd had the same connection with his own ex-wife. He half thought that if she'd been able to see just how much he'd really loved her she might have stayed, and sometimes he thought that knowing exactly what he was thinking at all times would have driven her away all the sooner. Still, it had driven the girls together, not apart, and for that Neski was infinitely grateful, for they could very well be the last remaining hope for his country's success.
Each girl had been brilliant alone, together they caught each other's flawed logic, sharpened each other's wit and reflexes, and shared all knowledge so one girl learned anything, it was instantly available to the other. Together they'd learned Eighteen languages, though all official communication was of course conducted in Standard, they'd learned enough practical science and engineering to construct their own Ecstatic Shield, a miniature of the one that surrounded the facility, which in itself was a miniature of the giant dome of energy that stretched into the stratosphere ready to activate at a moment's notice and ward off any ICBM's or gravitational impact weapons from the old weapons satellites still in orbit from the days when wars were fought from space and entire cities were wiped off the face of the earth in a matter of seconds. They had read more than seven thousand books together, ranging from every tretise on military strategy and tactics dating from the time of the Greeks, to Harry Potter and Vampire Novels. The sheer volume of knowledge that could be stored by two minds working in tandem was vastly greater than the sum of what they could have learned separately.
Neski broke from his reverie and looked toward the Simulator. Anna immediately groaned. Sofia laughed and made her way to her chair while Anna stalled only long enough to stand to attention and raise her hand straight out in front of her in the classic Nazi salute "Yes heir Neski!" she said woodenly, then goose stepped all the way to her seat. They spent the next five hours plotting out new strategies and tactics for the troops at the borders, and other methods of manipulating the global political will to keep the world from fully uniting after the stupid, predictable blitzkrieg. Neski meanwhile spent those hours compiling each new warplan in the official recommendation format so that they each could be officially ignored with all the right bureaucratic stamps and seals in place.
When they were done, he allowed himself to be talked into watching Flashdance. Anna translated since he wasn't fully fluent in the English from which standard basic had been sprung so many years before. Still, despite his usual dislike of old movies and the knowledge of the impending disastrous invasion plans, he ended up having a wonderful time. He left them asleep, nestled together, Anna's head on Sofia's breast, perfectly content in the knowledge that the other was happy. As he left, Neski found himself tending to envy the two more than pity them. It had to be good, to know, to really know that someone loved you more than life itself.