"He's our son, too," said John Paul. "As much a product of our genes as Ender or Val. And we did goad him into this."

Theresa knew he was right. But it didn't help. "He didn't have to enjoy himself so much, did he?"

To: hgraff%educadmin@ifcom.gov

From: demosthenes@LastBestHopeOfEarth.pol

Subj: You know the truth

You know who decides what to write. No doubt you can even guess why. I'm not going to try to defend my essay, or how it's being used by others.

You once used the sister of Andrew Wiggin to persuade him to go back into space and win that little war you were fighting. She did her job, didn't she? Such a good girl, fulfills all her assignments.

Well I have an assignment for her. You once sent her brother to her, for comfort and company. He'll need her again, more than ever, only he can't come to her. No house by the lake this time. But there's no reason she can't go out into space to be with him. Enlist her in the I.F., pay her as a consultant, whatever it takes. But she and her brother need each other. More than either of them needs Life On Earth.

Don't second-guess her on this. Remember that she's smarter than you are, and she loves her younger brother more than you do, and besides, you're a decent man. You know this is right and good. You always try to bring about what's right and good, don't you?

Do us both a favor. Take this letter and shred it and stick it where the sun don't shine.

Your devoted and humble servant — everybody's devoted and humble servant — the humble and devoted servant of truth and noble jingoism — Demosthenes.

How does a thirteen-year-old admiral spend his days?

Not commanding a ship — that was made plain to Ender from the day he received his commission. "You have a rank commensurate with your achievements," said Admiral Chamrajnagar, "but you will have duties commensurate with your training."

What was his training? To play at virtual war on the simulator. Now there was no one left to fight, so he was trained for. nothing.

Oh, one other thing: to lead children into combat, to squeeze the last ounce of effort and concentration and talent and intelligence from them. But the children had no purpose here, and one by one, they were going home.

They each came to Ender to say good-bye. "You'll be home soon," said Hot Soup. "They've got to prepare a hero's welcome." He was heading to Tactical School, to complete the bits of work remaining before he could earn his high school diploma. "So I can get into college right away."

"Fifteen-year-olds always do great in college," said Ender.

"I have to concentrate on my studies," said Han Tzu. "Finish college, find out what I'm supposed to do with my life, and then find someone to marry and start a family."

"Get on with the cycle of life?" said Ender.

"A man without a wife and babies is a menace to civilization," said Han Tzu. "One bachelor is an irritation. Ten thousand bachelors are a war."

"I love it when you recite Chinese wisdom."

"I'm Chinese, so I get to make it up." Han Tzu grinned at him. "Ender, come see me. China's a beautiful country. More variety inside China than in the rest of the world."

"I will if I can," said Ender. He didn't have the heart to point out that China was full of human beings, and that the mix of good and bad, strong and weak, courageous and fearful was bound to be about the same as in any other country or culture or civilization. or village, or house, or heart.

"Oh, you'll be able to!" said Han Tzu. "You led the human race to victory, and everyone knows it. You can do whatever you want!"

Except go home, said Ender silently. Out loud, he answered, "You don't know my parents."

He had meant it to be in the same jocular tone that Han Tzu was using, but nothing came out right these days. Maybe there was a moroseness in him that colored all his speech without his knowing it. Or maybe it was Han Tzu who couldn't hear a joke coming from Ender's mouth; maybe he and the other kids all had too many memories of how it was near the end, when they worried that Ender might be losing his mind.

But Ender knew that he wasn't losing it. He was finding it. The deep mind, the utter soul, the heartlessly compassionate man — able to love others so deeply he can understand them, yet remain so detached that he can use that knowledge to destroy them.

"Parents," said Han Tzu joylessly. "Mine's in prison, you know. Or maybe he's out now. He set me up to cheat on my test, to make sure I got in here."

"You didn't need to cheat," said Ender. "You're the real thing."

"But my father needed to bestow it on me. It was no good if I earned it myself. It's how he made himself feel necessary. I understand that now. My plan is to be a better father than him. I am the Good Man-Parent!"

Ender laughed and then embraced him and they said good-bye. But the conversation stuck with him. He realized that Han Tzu would take his training and turn himself into the perfect father. And much of what he had learned in Battle School and here in Command School would probably serve him well. Patience, absolute self-control, learning the capabilities of those under you so you can make up for their deficits through training.

What was I trained for?

I am Tribal Man, thought Ender. The chief. They can trust me utterly to do exactly what's right for the tribe. But that trust means that I am the one who decides who lives and dies. Judge, executioner, general, god. That's what they trained me for. They did it well; I performed as trained. Now I scan the help wanted ads on the nets and can't find a single job on offer for which those are the qualifications. No tribes applying for chieftains, no villages in search of a king, no religions in search of a warrior-prophet.

Officially, Ender was never supposed to have been informed of the court martial proceedings against ex-colonel Hyrum Graff. Officially, Ender was too young and too personally involved and the juvenile psychologists declared, after several tedious psychological evaluations, that Ender was too fragile to be exposed to the consequences of his own actions.

Oh, right, now you're worried.

But that's what the trial was going to be about, wasn't it? Whether Graff and other officials — but mostly Graff — acted properly in the use they made of the children who were put in their care. It was all being taken very seriously, and from the way adult officers fell silent or looked away when Ender came into a room, Ender was reasonably sure that there had been some terrible consequence of something he had done.

He came to Mazer just before the trial began and laid out his hypotheses about what was really going on. "I think Colonel Graff is being put on trial because they're holding him responsible for things I did. But I doubt that it's because I blew up the formics' home world and destroyed an entire sentient species — they approve of that."

Mazer had nodded wisely but said nothing — his normal mode of response, left over from his days as Ender's trainer.

"So it's something else I did," said Ender. "I can think of only two things I've done that they'd put a man on trial for letting me do them. One was a fight I was in at Battle School. A bigger kid cornered me in a bathroom. He'd been bragging that he was going to beat me till I wasn't so smart anymore, and he brought his gang with him. I shamed him into fighting me alone, and then I put him down in a single move."

"Really," said Mazer.

"Bonzo Madrid. Bonito de Madrid. I think he's dead."

"Think?"

"They took me out of Battle School the next day. They never spoke of him. I assumed that meant I had really hurt him. I think he's dead. That's the kind of thing they'd hold a court martial for, isn't it? They have to account to Bonzo's parents for why their son is dead."