Ender thought it was a technology that humans had come up with on their own. But it was clearly based on formic technology. You just take away the controls that shape the field, and you've got a field that chews up everything in its path and spits it out as raw atoms. A field that sustains itself on the energy it generates by playing with the strong nuclear force. A planet-eater.

The formics had to recognize it when Ender used it the first time. It wasn't mysterious to them—they'd recognize it immediately as a raw, uncontrolled weaponization of the principle that powered every formic starship.

Between the time of that battle and the final one, the formics surely had the time to do the same thing—to weaponize the strong force field generator and use it against the humans before they came in range.

They absolutely knew what the weapon was. They could have made their own whenever they wanted. But they didn't do it. They just sat there waiting for Ender.

They gave us the stardrive we used to get to them, and the weapon we used to kill them. They gave us everything.

We humans are supposed to be so clever. So inventive. Yet this was completely beyond our reach. We make desks with clever holodisplays that we can play really fun games on. Plus send each other letters over vast distances. But compared to them, we didn't even know how to kill properly. While they knew how—but chose not to use the technology that way.

"Well, this part of the tour usually bores people," said the captain.

"No, I wasn't bored. Truly. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Stuff that's too classified to talk about using any method but telepathy," said Ender. Which was true—the existence of the M.D. Device was only on a need-to-know basis, and the secret had been well kept. Even the men who deployed and used the weapons didn't understand what they were and what they could do. The soldiers who had seen the Little Doctor consume a planet were dead, lost in the same vast chain reaction. The soldiers who had seen it used in one of the early battles just thought of it as an incredibly big bomb. Only the top brass understood it—and Ender, because Mazer Rackham had insisted that he had to be told what the weapons he carried actually were and how they worked. As Mazer told him later, "I told Graff, You don't give a man a bag of tools and not tell him what they are and what they do and how they might go wrong."

Graff again. Graff who decided Mazer was right and allowed them to tell Ender what it was and how it worked.

My slaughter of the formics—it's all here in the egg.

"You've gone off again," said the captain.

"Thinking about what a miracle starflight is. Whatever else we might think of the buggers, they did give us our road to the stars."

"I know," said the captain. "I've thought of that before. If they had just bypassed our system instead of coming in and trying to wipe Earth clean, we'd never have known they existed. And at our level of technology, we probably wouldn't have gotten out into the stars until so much later that we'd have found every nearby planet completely occupied by formics."

"Captain, this was a most excellent and productive tour."

"I know. How else would you have learned how to find the head on every deck?"

Ender laughed at the joke. Partly because it was true. He'd need to find a bathroom several times a day through the whole voyage.

"I assume you're staying awake for the flight," said the captain.

"Wouldn't want to miss any of the scenery."

"Oh, there's no scenery, because at lightspeed you—oh, a joke. Sorry, sir."

"Got to work on my sense of humor, when my jokes make other people apologize to me."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but you don't talk like a kid."

"Do I talk like an admiral?" asked Ender.

"Since you are an admiral, however you talk is like an admiral, sir," said the captain.

"Very cleverly sidestepped, sir. Tell me, are you coming on the voyage with me?"

"I have a family on Earth, sir, and my wife doesn't want to join a colony on another world. No pioneer spirit, I'm afraid."

"You have a life. A good reason for staying home."

"But you're going," said the captain.

"Have to see the formic homeland," said Ender. "Or the next best thing, considering that their home planet doesn't exist anymore."

"Which I'm damned happy about, sir," said the captain. "If you hadn't whupped them for good and all, sir, we'd be looking over our shoulder through the next ten thousand years of human history."

There was a stab of insight there. Ender caught it and then it immediately slipped away. Something about the way the hive queens thought. Their purpose in letting Ender kill them.

Well, if it's true, then I'll think of it again.

Ender hoped that optimistic thought was right.

When all of Ender's tours and training sessions were finished, he finally got an interview with the Minister of Colonization.

"Please don't call me Colonel," said Graff.

"I can't call you MinCol."

"Officially, a Hegemony minister is addressed as 'Your Excellency.' "

"With a straight face?"

"Sometimes," said Graff. "But we're colleagues, Ender. I call you by your first name. You can call me by mine."

"Never in my life," said Ender. "You're Colonel Graff to me, and that will never change."

"Doesn't matter," said Graff. "I'll be dead before you get to your destination."

"Hardly seems fair. Come with us."

"I have to be here to get my own work done."

"My work is done."

"I don't know about that," said Graff. "The work we had for you is done. But you don't even know yet what your own work is going to be."

"I know it won't be governing a colony, sir."

"And yet you accepted the job."

Ender shook his head. "I accepted the title. When I get to the colony, then we'll see just how much of a governor I'll be. The Constitution you came up with is good, but the real constitution is always the same: The leader only has as much power as his followers give him."

"And yet you're going to make the voyage awake instead of in stasis."

"It's only a couple of years," said Ender. "And it'll make me fifteen when we arrive. I'm hoping I'll get taller."

"I hope you're bringing a lot of books to read."

"They stocked a few thousand titles for me in the ship's library," said Ender. "But what matters to me is that you use the ansible to give us all the information about the formics that comes out while we're in flight."

"Of course," said Graff. "That will be sent to all the ships."

Ender smiled slightly.

"All right, yes, of course I'll send them directly to you as well. What, are you suspecting that the ship's captain will try to control your access to information?"

"If you were in his place, wouldn't you do the same?"

"Ender, I would never let myself get in the position of trying to control you against your will."

"You just spent the last six years doing that."

"And got court-martialed for it, you'll notice."

"And your punishment was to get the job you've wanted all along. Let me see. Minister of Colonization doesn't go to Earth to be under the thumb of the Hegemon. He stays in space, nicely ensconced with the International Fleet. So even if they change hegemons, it won't involve you. And if they fire you—"

"They won't," said Graff.

"You're so sure of that."

"It's not a prediction, it's an intention."

"You, sir, are a piece of work," said Ender.

"Oh, speaking of pieces of work," said Graff, "did you hear that Demosthenes has retired?"

"The guy on the nets?" asked Ender.

"I don't mean the Greek author of the Philippics."

"I don't actually care," said Ender. "It's just the nets."

"The nets, and this rabble-rouser's screeds in particular, are where the battle was played out and you lost," said Graff.

"Who says I lost?" asked Ender.

"Touché," said Graff. "My point is that the person behind the online identity is actually younger than most people imagined. So the retirement isn't about age, it's about leaving home. Leaving Earth."

"Demosthenes is becoming a colonist?"

"Isn't that an odd choice," said Graff, sounding as if it weren't odd to him at all.

"Please don't tell me he's coming on my ship."

"Technically, it's Admiral Quincy Morgan's ship. You don't take over till you set foot on the ground in your colony. That's the law."

"Dodging the question as usual."

"Yes, you'll have Demosthenes on your ship. But of course no one will be using that name."

"You've been avoiding the use of the masculine pronoun—of any pronoun," said Ender. "So Demosthenes is a woman."

"And she's eager to see you."

Ender sagged in his chair. "Oh, sir, please."

"Not your normal hero-worshiper, Ender. And since she's also going to be awake through your whole voyage, I think you'll want to be prepared by seeing her in advance."

"When is she coming?"

"She's here."

"On Eros?"

"In my cozy little antechamber," said Graff.

"You're going to make me meet her now? Colonel Graff, I don't like anything she wrote. Or the result."

"Give her credit. She was warning the world about the Warsaw Pact's attempt to take over the fleet long before anybody else took the threat seriously."

"She was also crowing about how America could conquer the world once it had me."

"You can ask her about that."

"I have no such intention."

"Let me tell you one pure and simple truth. In everything she wrote about you, Ender, her only concern was to protect you from the terrible things people would have done to exploit you or destroy you if you ever set foot on Earth."

"I could have dealt with it."

"We'll never know, will we?"