First meetings in the Enderverse

called.
    After the polite things were said-the sitting down, the offering of drinks-Graff got down to business quickly. “I see that you do not wish me to see the child.”
    Magda answered, quite imperiously, “His parents felt it best for him not to be present.”
    Silence for a long moment.
    “Magdalena Teczlo,” said Graff softly, “these good people may invite a friend over to sit with them today. But I’d hate to think you might be acting as their attorney.”
    If Magda answered, John Paul couldn’t hear.
    “I would like to see the boy now,” said Graff.
    Father started explaining that that would never happen, so if that’s all he wanted, he might as well give up and go home.
    Another long silence. There was no sound of Captain Graff getting up from the chair, an operation that could not be performed silently. So he must be sitting there, saying nothing-not leaving, but not trying to persuade them.
    That was a shame, because John Paul wanted to see what he would say to get them to do what he wanted. The way he silenced Magda was intriguing. John Paul wanted to see what was happening. He stepped from behind the dividing wall and watched.
    Graff was doing nothing. There was no threat on his face, no attempt to outface them. He gazed pleasantly at Mother, and then at Father, and then at Mother again, skipping right over Magda’s face. It was as if she didn’t exist-even her own body seemed to say, “Don’t notice me, I’m not really here.”
    Graff turned his head and looked right at John Paul.
    John Paul thought he might say something to get him in trouble, but Graff gazed at him only a moment and then turned back to Mother and Father. “You understand, of course,” he began.
    “No, I don’t understand,” said Father. “You aren’t going to see the boy unless we decide you’ll see him, and for that you have to meet our terms.”
    Graff looked blandly back at him. “He isn’t your breadwinner. What possible hardship can you claim?”
    “We don’t want a handout,” said Father furiously. “We aren’t looking for compensation.”
    “All I want,” said Graff, “is to converse with the boy.”
    “Not alone,” said Father.
    “With us here,” said Mother.
    “That’s fine with me,” said Graff. “But I think Magdalena is sitting in the boy’s place.”
    Magda, after a moment’s hesitation, got up and left the house. The door banged shut just a little louder than usual. Graff beckoned to John Paul.
    He came in and sat on the couch between his parents.
    Graff began to explain to him about Battle School. That he would go up into space in order to study how to be a soldier so he could help fight against the Buggers when they came back with the next invasion. “You might lead fleets into battle someday,” said Graff. “Or lead marines as they blast their way through an enemy ship.”
    “I can’t go,” said John Paul.
    “Why not?” asked Graff.
    “I’d miss my lessons,” he said. “My mother teaches us, here in this room.”
    Graff didn’t answer, just studied John Paul’s face. It made John Paul uncomfortable. The Fleet lady spoke up. “But you’ll have teachers there. In Battle School.”
    John Paul did not look at her. It was Graff he had to watch. Graff was the one with all the power today.
    Finally Graff spoke. “You think it would be unfair for you to be in Battle School while your family still struggles here.”
    John Paul had not thought of that. But now that Graff had suggested it…
    “Nine of us,” said John Paul. “It’s very hard for my mother to teach us all at once.”
    “What if the Fleet can persuade the government of Poland-”
    “Poland has no government,” said John Paul, and then he smiled up at his father, who beamed down at him.
    “The current rulers of Poland,” said Graff cheerfully enough. “What if we can persuade them to lift the sanctions on your brothers and sisters.”
    John Paul thought about this for a moment. He tried to imagine what it would be like, if they could all go to school. Easier for Mother. That would be good.
    He looked up at his father.
    Father blinked. John Paul knew that face. Father was trying to keep from showing that he was disappointed. So there was something wrong.
    Of course. There were sanctions on Father, too. Andrew had explained to him once that Father wasn’t allowed to work at his real job, which should have been teaching at a university. Instead Father had to do a clerical job all day, sitting at