if they trusted you, what do you think you’d be doing right now?”
Vlad laughed. “Leading the armies of Mother Russia, as Alai and Hot Soup and Virlomi and so many others are already doing. So many Alexanders.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that comparison,” said Peter. “But I see it another way. I see it as being the arms race that led up to World War I.”
Vlad thought for a moment. “And we Battle School brats are the arms race. If one nation has it, then another must have more. Yes, that’s what Achilles’s little venture in kidnapping was about.”
“My point is: Having a Battle School graduate—particularly one of Ender’s Jeesh—makes war more, not less, probable.”
“I don’t think so,” said Vlad. “Yes, Hot Soup and Alai are in the thick of things, but Virlomi wasn’t in the Jeesh. And the rest of the Jeesh—Bean and Petra are with you, struggling for world peace, yes? Like beauty pageant contestants? Dink is in a joint Anglo-American project which means he has had his balls cut off, militarily speaking. Shen is marking time in some ceremonial position in Tokyo. Dumper is a monk, I think, or whatever they call them. A shaman. In the Andes somewhere. Crazy Tom is at Sandhurst confined to a classroom. Carn Carby is in Australia where they may or may not have a military but nobody cares. And Fly Molo…well, he’s a busy boy in the Philippines. But not their president or even an important general.”
“That squares with my tally, though I think Carn would argue with you about the value of the Australian military.”
Vlad waved the objection aside. “My point is, most nations that have this ‘treasured national resource’ are far more concerned to keep us under observation and away from power than to actually use us to make war.”
Peter smiled. “Yes. Either they have you up to your elbows in blood, or they have you locked in a box. Anybody happily married?”
“We’re none of us even twenty-five yet. Well, maybe Dink. He always lied about his age. Most of us are in our teens or barely out of them.”
“They’re afraid of you. All the more so now, because the nations that actually used their Jeesh members in war are now governed by them.”
“If you can call ‘worldwide Islam’ a nation. I, personally, call it a riot with scripture.”
“Just don’t say that in Baghdad or Tehran,” said Peter.
“As if I could ever go to those places.”
“Vlad,” said Peter. “How would you like to be free of all this beauty?”
Vlad hooted with laughter. “So you’re here representing Graff ?”
Peter was taken aback. “Graff came to you?”
“Be head of a colony. Get away from it all. All-expenses-paid vacation…that takes the rest of your life!”
“Not a vacation,” said Peter. “Very hard work. But at least you have a life.”
“So Peter the Hegemon wants Ender’s Jeesh offplanet. Forever.”
“Do you want my job?” said Peter. “I’ll resign it today if I thought it would go to you. You or any member of Ender’s Jeesh. You want it? Think you can hold it? Then it’s yours. I only have it because I wrote the Locke essays and stopped a war. But what have I done lately? Vlad, I don’t see you as a rival. How could I? What freedom do you have to oppose me?”
Vlad shrugged. “All right, so your motives are pure.”
“My motives are realistic,” said Peter. “Russia is not using you right now, but they haven’t killed you or locked you up. If they ever decide that war is desirable or necessary or unavoidable, how long before you get promoted and put into the thick of things? Especially if the war goes badly for a while. You are their nuclear arsenal.”
“Not really,” said Vlad. “Since my brain is supposed to be the pay-load of this particular missile, and my brain was defective enough to seem to trust Achilles, then I must not be as good as the other Jeesh members.”
“In a war against Han Tzu, how long before you commanded an army? Or at least
Vlad laughed. “Leading the armies of Mother Russia, as Alai and Hot Soup and Virlomi and so many others are already doing. So many Alexanders.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that comparison,” said Peter. “But I see it another way. I see it as being the arms race that led up to World War I.”
Vlad thought for a moment. “And we Battle School brats are the arms race. If one nation has it, then another must have more. Yes, that’s what Achilles’s little venture in kidnapping was about.”
“My point is: Having a Battle School graduate—particularly one of Ender’s Jeesh—makes war more, not less, probable.”
“I don’t think so,” said Vlad. “Yes, Hot Soup and Alai are in the thick of things, but Virlomi wasn’t in the Jeesh. And the rest of the Jeesh—Bean and Petra are with you, struggling for world peace, yes? Like beauty pageant contestants? Dink is in a joint Anglo-American project which means he has had his balls cut off, militarily speaking. Shen is marking time in some ceremonial position in Tokyo. Dumper is a monk, I think, or whatever they call them. A shaman. In the Andes somewhere. Crazy Tom is at Sandhurst confined to a classroom. Carn Carby is in Australia where they may or may not have a military but nobody cares. And Fly Molo…well, he’s a busy boy in the Philippines. But not their president or even an important general.”
“That squares with my tally, though I think Carn would argue with you about the value of the Australian military.”
Vlad waved the objection aside. “My point is, most nations that have this ‘treasured national resource’ are far more concerned to keep us under observation and away from power than to actually use us to make war.”
Peter smiled. “Yes. Either they have you up to your elbows in blood, or they have you locked in a box. Anybody happily married?”
“We’re none of us even twenty-five yet. Well, maybe Dink. He always lied about his age. Most of us are in our teens or barely out of them.”
“They’re afraid of you. All the more so now, because the nations that actually used their Jeesh members in war are now governed by them.”
“If you can call ‘worldwide Islam’ a nation. I, personally, call it a riot with scripture.”
“Just don’t say that in Baghdad or Tehran,” said Peter.
“As if I could ever go to those places.”
“Vlad,” said Peter. “How would you like to be free of all this beauty?”
Vlad hooted with laughter. “So you’re here representing Graff ?”
Peter was taken aback. “Graff came to you?”
“Be head of a colony. Get away from it all. All-expenses-paid vacation…that takes the rest of your life!”
“Not a vacation,” said Peter. “Very hard work. But at least you have a life.”
“So Peter the Hegemon wants Ender’s Jeesh offplanet. Forever.”
“Do you want my job?” said Peter. “I’ll resign it today if I thought it would go to you. You or any member of Ender’s Jeesh. You want it? Think you can hold it? Then it’s yours. I only have it because I wrote the Locke essays and stopped a war. But what have I done lately? Vlad, I don’t see you as a rival. How could I? What freedom do you have to oppose me?”
Vlad shrugged. “All right, so your motives are pure.”
“My motives are realistic,” said Peter. “Russia is not using you right now, but they haven’t killed you or locked you up. If they ever decide that war is desirable or necessary or unavoidable, how long before you get promoted and put into the thick of things? Especially if the war goes badly for a while. You are their nuclear arsenal.”
“Not really,” said Vlad. “Since my brain is supposed to be the pay-load of this particular missile, and my brain was defective enough to seem to trust Achilles, then I must not be as good as the other Jeesh members.”
“In a war against Han Tzu, how long before you commanded an army? Or at least
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