Enders In Exile

adolescent in his father's and mother's house. He was already an
adolescent now—in years and hormones—and an adult
in the responsibilities he'd borne.
    If school feels empty
to
me
, how will it feel to Ender?
    Even as she finished
writing her essay on Russia's nukes and the cost of defeat, she was
mentally structuring another essay. The one explaining why Ender Wiggin
should not be brought back to Earth because he'd be the target of every
crank and spy and paparazzo and assassin and a normal life would be
impossible.
    She didn't write it,
though. Because she knew there was a huge problem: Peter would hate it.
    Because Peter already
had his plans. His online persona, Locke, had already started laying
the groundwork for Ender's homecoming. It was clear to Valentine that
when Ender returned, Peter intended to come out of the closet as the
real author of the Locke essays—and therefore the person who
came up with the terms of the truce that was still holding between the
Warsaw Pact and the I.F. Peter meant to piggyback on Ender's fame.
Ender saved the human race from the formics, and his big brother Peter
saved the world from civil war in the aftermath of Ender's victory.
Double heroes!
    Ender would hate the
notoriety. Peter was so hungry for it that he intended to steal as much
of Ender's as he could get.
    Oh, he'd never admit
that, thought Valentine. Peter will have all kinds of reasons why it's
for Ender's own good. Probably the very reasons I've thought of.
    And since that's the
case, am I doing just what Peter does? Have I come up with all these
reasons for Ender not to come home, solely because in my heart I don't
want him here?
    At that thought, such a
wave of emotion swept over her that she found herself weeping at her
homework table. She wanted him home. And even though she understood
that he couldn't really come home—Colonel Graff was
right—she still yearned for the little brother who was stolen
from her. All these years with the brother I hate, and now, for the
sake of the brother I love, I'll work to keep him from . . .
    From me? No, I don't
have to keep him from
me
. I hate school, I hate
my life here, I hate hate hate being under Peter's thumb. Why should I
stay? Why shouldn't I go out into space with Ender? At least for a
while. I'm the one he's closest to. I'm the only one he's
seen
in the past seven years. If he can't come home, one
bit of home—me—can come to him!
    It was all a matter of
persuading Peter that it wasn't in his best interest to have Ender come
back to Earth—without letting Peter
know
that she was trying to manipulate him.
    It just made her tired,
because Peter wasn't easy to manipulate. He saw through everything. So
she had to be quite forthright and honest about what she was
doing—but do it with such subtle overtones of humility and
earnestness and dispassion and
whatever
that
Peter could get past his own condescension toward everything she said
and decide that he had thought that way all along and . . .
    And is my real motive
that I want to get off planet myself? Is this about Ender or about me
getting free?
    Both. It can be both.
And I'll tell Ender the truth about that—I won't be giving up
anything
to be with him. I'd rather be with him in
space and never see Earth again than stay here, with or without him.
Without him: an aching void. With him: the pain of watching him lead a
miserable, frustrated life.
    Val began to write a
letter to Colonel Graff. Mother had been careless enough to include
Graff's address. That was almost a security breach. Mother was so naive
sometimes. If she were an I.F. officer, she would have been cashiered
long ago.

    * * * * *
    At dinner that night,
Mother couldn't stop talking about Ender's homecoming. Peter listened
with only half his attention, because of course Mother couldn't see
past her personal sentimentality about her "lost little boy coming back
to the nest" whereas Peter understood that Ender's return would be
horribly complicated. So much to prepare for—and not just the
stupid bedroom. Ender could have Peter's own bed, for all he
cared—what mattered was that for a brief window of time,
Ender would be the center of the world's attention, and
that
was when Locke would emerge from the cloak of anonymity and put an end
to the speculation about the identity of the "great benefactor of
humanity who, because of his modesty in remaining anonymous, cannot
receive the Nobel prize that he so richly deserves
for having led us to the end