Shadow of the Hegemon, the - Book 2 (Ender)

yourself out of your wrath long before we had this conversation."
    "I know," said Bean. "But you don't want to hear it."
    "Because it will hurt my feelings? Let me make a stab at it, then. You're angry because every word from my mouth, every gesture, every expression on my face reminds you of Ender Wiggin. Only I'm not Ender, I'll never be Ender, you think Ender should be doing what I'm doing, and you hate me for being the one who made sure Ender got sent away."
    "It's irrational," said Bean. "I know that. I know that by sending him away you saved his life. The people who helped Achilles try to kill me would have worked day and night to kill Ender without any prompting from Achilles at all. They would have feared him far more than they feared you or me. I know that. But you look and talk so much like him. And I keep thinking, if Ender had been here, he wouldn't have botched things the way I did."
    "The way I read it, it's the other way around. If you hadn't been there with Ender, he would have botched it at the end. No, don't argue, it doesn't matter. What does matter is, the world's the way it is right now, and we're in a position where, if we move carefully, if we think through and plan everything just right, we can fix this. We can make it better. No regrets. No wishing we could undo the past. We just look to the future and work our zhupas off."
    "I'll look to the future," said Bean, "and I'll help you all I can. But I'll regret whatever I want to regret."
    "Fair enough," said Peter. "Now that we've agreed on that, I think you should know. I've decided to revive the office of Strategos."
    Bean gave one hoot of derision. "You're putting that title on the commander of a force of two hundred soldiers, a couple of planes, a couple of boats, and an overheated company of strategic planners?"
    "Hey, if I can be called Hegemon, you can take on a title like that."
    "I notice you didn't want any vids of me getting that tide."
    "No, I didn't," said Peter. "I don't want people to hear the news while looking at vids of a kid. I want them to learn of your appointment as Strategos while seeing stock footage of the victory over the Formics and hearing voice-overs about your rescue of the Indian Battle Schoolers."
    "Well, fine," said Bean. "I accept. Do I get a fancy uniform?"
    "No," said Peter. "At the rate you're growing lately, we'd have to pay for new ones too often, and you'd bankrupt us."
    A thoughtful expression passed across Bean's face.
    "What," said Peter, "did I offend again?"
    "No," said Bean. "I was just wondering what your parents said, when you declared yourself to be Locke."
    Peter laughed. "Oh, they pretended that they'd known it all along. Parents."
    At Bean's suggestion, Peter located the headquarters of the Hegemony in a compound just outside the city of Ribeirao Preto in the state of Sao Paulo. There they would have excellent air connections anywhere in the world, while being surrounded by small towns and agricultural land. They'd be far from any government body. It was a pleasant place to live as they planned and trained to achieve the modest goal of freeing the captive nations while holding the line against any new aggressions.
    The Delphiki family came out of hiding and joined Bean in the safety of the Hegemony compound. Greece was part of the Warsaw Pact now, and there was no going home for them. Peter's parents also came, because they understood that they would become targets for anyone wanting to get to Peter. He gave them both jobs in the Hegemony, and if they minded the disruption of their lives, they never gave a sign of it.
    The Arkanians left their homeland, too, and came gladly to live in a place where their children would not be stolen from them. Suriyawong's parents had made it out of Thailand, and they moved the family fortune and the family business to Ribeirao Preto. Other Thai and Indian families with ties to Bean's army or the Battle School graduates came as well, and soon there were thriving neighborhoods where
    Portuguese was rarely heard.
    As for Achilles, month after month they heard nothing about him.
    Presumably he got back to Beijing. Presumably, he was worming his way into power one way or another. But they allowed themselves, as the silence about him continued, to hope that perhaps the Chinese, having made use of him, now knew him well enough to keep him away from the reins of power.
    On a cloudy winter afternoon in June, Petra walked through the cemetery in the town of Araraquara,