"Father says that if you get absurd results, you're not a scientist, you're a philosopher."

"But my results are not absurd."

"You do exist. I can see you and hear you."

"Genetically speaking, Po, I do not exist. I am off the web of life."

"So you choose to measure by the only standard that allows your life to be meaningless?"

Sel laughed. "You are your mother's son."

"Not father's?"

"Both, of course. But it's your mother who won't put up with any bullshit."

"Speaking of which, I can hardly wait to see a bull."

Now that the ship was rapidly decelerating as they approached Shakespeare, the crew were far busier than usual. The first order of business would be docking with the transport ship that had brought the war fleet here to this world forty years before. Without supplies for a return journey, the ship was left as a huge satellite in geosynchronous orbit directly over the colony site. Solar power was enough to keep its computers and communications running for these past decades.

The original crew, colonists now, had used their fighters as landing vehicles; their supplies and equipment for the first years of the colony had been designed to fit in or on the fighters. And all of them were equipped with ansibles. But the fighters were land-once vehicles, and had no ability to leave the surface of the planet.

Admiral Morgan's crew would service and refit the transport. They had brought new communications and weather satellites with them, which they would place in geosync at intervals all the way around the planet. Then the old transport would be given a captain and crew, and would voyage, not back to Eros, but on to another colony.

Despite all this business, Ender had no illusion that Admiral Morgan himself was at all distracted from watching over Ender's activities. The man was a planner, a plotter, and while a "man of peace" like him might seem to plod along, never doing much, he was always poised to strike.

So as they approached the key moment — the arrival on Shakespeare — Ender had to give Morgan no reason at all for suspecting that Ender was plotting anything. Morgan expected Ender to be a bright, eager boy of fifteen, and those expectations had to be fulfilled; yet Morgan was also wary of Ender's unassailable claim to the governorship. He had to be confident that Ender was content to let him be the power behind the throne.

That's why Ender went to Morgan for permission to use the ansible to communicate with the Shakespeare xenobiologists. "You know I've been studying the formics' biological systems, and now I can communicate with them in real time. I have a lot of questions."

"I don't want you bothering them," said Morgan. "There's too much to do already, working out the landing."

Ender knew that there was nothing whatsoever for the landside colony to do except stand out of the way. Morgan would land and then decide what supplies to requisition for the return trip. Whether Morgan was on it or not, the ship would return to Earth.

"Sir, the XBs need to know what grazing species we have so they can prepare to adapt them to use the alien proteins. It's a massive project, and until we have a new generation of adapted animals, there'll be no meat. You have no idea how eager they are. And I'm fully up to speed, since I worked on the manifest when we left Eros."

"I've already sent them the manifest."

Actually, Ender had sent the manifest before the ship departed. But why quibble? "The list says things like 'cows' and 'pigs. They need way more information than that. I have it; I can send it; and nobody's using the ansible, sir. This is really important." Ender almost said "really really really" but decided that would be too over-the-top boyish and Morgan might suspect something.

Morgan sighed. "This is why children should not be given adult assignments. You don't respect priorities the way adults do. But. as long as you drop whatever you're doing whenever the crew needs to use the ansible, go ahead. Now, if you don't mind, I have real work to do."

Ender knew that Morgan's «real» work had more to do with preparing to have a shipboard wedding than anything to do with the landing. Dora-bella Toscano had him so frantic with lust — no, it was affection, the deep bonds of permanent companionship — that he had agreed that she would arrive on Shakespeare as the admiral's wife, not just as an ordinary colonist.

And that was fine with Ender. He would not interfere with that in any way.

Ender went to the ansible room to send his messages directly. If he had linked from his desk, the message would certainly have been intercepted and stored, to be puzzled over at leisure. Ender toyed with the idea of switching off the observation system so that nothing he said to Sel Menach could be overheard, but decided against it. Though the security was I.F. standard, which meant that a significant number of kids in Battle School had been able to tweak it or hack it or, like Ender, get inside it and spoof it completely, he still couldn't risk having Morgan ask to see the vid of Ender in the ansible room and have the report come back that there was no vid for that timeframe.

Apart from that, he had only one short message to send to Graff, asking for a bit of help with his present situation, and then he could have a few moments of blissful privacy before doing the work he had told Morgan he was coming here to do.

He did what he always did when he had a chance to be completely alone. He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes, hoping for a few moments of sleep to refresh his mind.

He awoke because somebody was gently rubbing his shoulders. "You poor thing," said Alessandra. "Fell asleep in the middle of your work."

Ender sat up, as she kept kneading the muscles of his shoulders and back and neck. They really were tight, and what she was doing felt good. If she had asked him, he would have refused — he didn't want physical contact between them — and if she had come upon him when he was awake and simply started doing it, he would have recoiled because he hated it when anyone thought they had the right to touch him without his consent.

But waking up to it, it felt too good to stop. "I'm not doing much," he said. "Busywork, mostly. Let the adults do the hard stuff. I've put in my time." By now, he lied to Alessandra by reflex.

"You don't fool me," she said. "I'm not as dumb as you think."

"I don't think you're dumb," said Ender. And he didn't. She wasn't Battle School material, but she wasn't stupid, either.

"I know you don't like it that Mother and Admiral Morgan are getting married."

Why would I care about that? "No, it's fine," said Ender. "I suppose you take love where you find it, and your mother's still young. And beautiful."

"She is, isn't she," said Alessandra. "I hope my body turns out like hers. The women in my father's family were all scrawny. No curves."

Ender knew at once what she was there for. Talking about «curves» while she massaged him was too obvious to miss. But he wanted to see where this was heading, and why. More specifically, why now.

"Scrawny or curvy, everybody's attractive under the right circumstances."

"What are those circumstances for you, Ender? When will anyone be attractive to you?"

He knew what was expected. "You're attractive, Alessandra. But you're too young."

"I'm the same age as you."

"I'm too young, too," said Ender. They had had this discussion before — but in the abstract. As they congratulated each other on being such good friends without any kind of sexual interest in each other. Clearly, there had been a change of program.

"I don't know," said Alessandra. "Back on Earth, people married later and later. And had sex earlier and earlier. It was wrong to divide them, I know, but who can say which direction was wrong? Maybe the biology of our bodies is wiser than all the reasons for waiting to marry. Maybe our bodies want to raise children when we're still young enough to keep up with them."