“You’re a special case, Bean,” said Petra. “You never had a homeland.”
“Or a childhood, I suppose,” said Bean.
“None of us in Battle School actually had much experience of either,” said Petra.
“Which is, perhaps, why so many Battle School kids are so desperate to prove their loyalty to their birth nation.”
That made sense. “Since we have few roots, the ones we have, we cling to.” She thought of Vlad, who was so fanatically Russian, and Hot Soup—Han Tzu—so fanatically Chinese, that both of them had willingly helped Achilles when he seemed to be working for their nation’s cause.
“And no one completely trusts us,” said Bean, “because they know our real nationality is up in space. Our strongest loyalties are to our fellow soldiers.”
“Or to ourselves,” said Petra, thinking of Achilles.
“But I’ve never pretended otherwise,” said Bean. Apparently he thought she had meant him.
“You’re so proud of being completely self-centered,” said Petra. “And it isn’t even true.”
He just laughed at her and walked on.
Families and businessmen and old people and young couples in love all strolled through the park on this unusually sunny autumn afternoon, and in the concert stand a pianist played a work of Chopin, as had been going on every day for centuries. As they walked, Petra boldly reached out and took hold of Bean’s hand as if they, too, were lovers, or at least friends who liked to stay close enough to touch. To her surprise, he did not pull his hand away. Indeed, he gripped her hand in return, but if she harbored any notion that Bean was capable of romance, he instantly dispelled it. “Race you around the pond,” he said, and so they did.
But what kind of race is it, when the racers never let go of each other’s hands, and the winner pulls the loser laughing over the finish line?
No, Bean was being childish because he had no idea how to go about being manly, and so it was Petra’s job to help him figure it out. She reached out and caught his other hand and pulled his arms around her, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Mostly on the chin, because he recoiled a little, but it was a kiss nonetheless, and after a moment of consternation, Bean’s arms pulled her a little closer and his lips managed to find hers while suffering only a few minor nose collisions.
Neither of them being particularly experienced at this, it wasn’t as though Petra could say whether they kissed particularly well. The only other kiss she’d known was with Achilles, and that kiss had taken place with a gun pressed into her abdomen. All she could say with certainty was that any kiss from Bean was better than any kiss from Achilles.
“So you love me,” said Petra softly when the kiss ended.
“I’m a raging mass of hormones that I’m too young to understand,” said Bean. “You’re a female of a closely related species. According to all the best primatologists, I really have no choice.”
“That’s nice,” she said, reaching her arms around his back.
“It’s not nice at all,” said Bean. “I have no business kissing anybody.”
“I asked for it,” she said.
“I’m not having children.”
“That’s the best plan,” she said. “I’ll have them for you.”
“You know what I meant,” said Bean.
“It isn’t done by kissing, so you’re safe so far.”
He groaned impatiently and pulled away from her, paced irritably in a circle, and then came right back to her and kissed her again. “I’ve wanted to do that practically the whole time we’ve been traveling together.”
“I could tell,” she said. “From the way you never gave even the
tiniest sign that you knew I existed, except as an annoyance.”
“I’ve always had a problem with being too emotionally demonstrative.” He held her again. An elderly couple passed by. The man looked disapproving, as if he thought these foolish young people should find a more private place for their kissing and hugging. But the old woman, her white hair held severely by a head scarf, gave him a wink, as if to say, Good for you, young fellow, young girls should be kissed thoroughly and often.
In fact, he was so sure that was what she meant to say that he quoted the words to Petra.
“So you’re actually performing a public service,” said Petra.
“To the great amusement of the public,” said Bean.
A voice came from behind them. “And I assure you the public is amused.”
Petra and Bean both turned to see who it was.
A young man, but most definitely not Polish. From the look of him, he should be Burmese or perhaps Thai, certainly from somewhere around the South China Sea. He had to be younger than Petra, even taking into account the way that people from Southeast Asia seemed always to look far younger than their years. Yet he wore the suit and tie of an old-fashioned businessman.
There was something about him—something in the cockiness of his stance, the amused way that he took for granted that he had a right to stand within the circle of their companionship and tease them about something as private as a public kiss—that told Petra that he had to be from Battle School.
But Bean knew more about him than that. “Ambul,” he said.
Ambul saluted in that half-sloppy, half-exaggerated style of a Battle School brat, and answered, “Sir.”
“I gave you an assignment once,” said Bean. “To take a certain launchie and help him figure out how to use his flash suit.”
“Which I carried out perfectly,” said Ambul. “He was so funny the first time I froze him in the battle room, I had to laugh.”
“I can’t believe he hasn’t killed you by now,” said Bean.
“My uselessness to the Thai government saved me.”
“My fault, I fear,” said Bean.
“Saved my life, I think,” said Ambul.
“Hi, I’m Petra,” said Petra irritably.
Ambul laughed and shook her hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Ambul. I know who you are, and I assumed Bean would have told you who I was.”
“I didn’t think you were coming,” said Bean.
“I don’t answer emails,” said Ambul. “Except by showing up and seeing if the email was really from the person it’s supposed to be from.”
“Oh,” said Petra, putting things together. “You must be the soldier in Bean’s army who was assigned to show Achilles around.”
“Only he didn’t have the foresight to push Achilles out an airlock without a suit,” said Bean. “Which I think shows a shameful lack of initiative on his part.”
“Bean notified me as soon as he found out Achilles was on the loose. He figured there was no chance I wasn’t on Achilles’s hit list. Saved my life.”
“So Achilles made a try?” asked Bean.
They were away from the path now, out in the open, standing on the broad lawn stretching away from the lake where the pianist played. Only the faintest sound of the amplified Chopin reached them here.
“Let’s just say that I’ve had to keep moving,” said Ambul.
“Is that why you weren’t in Thailand when the Chinese invaded?” asked Petra.
“No,” said Ambul. “No, I left Thailand almost as soon as I came home. You see, I was not like most Battle School graduates. I was in the worst army in the history of the battle room.”
“My army,” said Bean.
“Oh, come on,” said Petra. “You only played, what, five games?”
“We never won a single one,” said Bean. “I was working on train
ing my men and experimenting with combat techniques and—oh, yes, staying alive with Achilles in Battle School with us.”
“So they discontinued Battle School, Bean got promoted to Ender’s jeesh, and his soldiers got sent back to Earth with the only perfect no-win record in the history of Battle School. All the other Thais from Battle School were given important places in the military establishment. But, oddly enough, they just couldn’t find a thing for me to do except go to public school.”
“But that’s simply stupid,” said Petra. “What were they thinking?”
“It kept me nice and obscure,” said Ambul. “It gave my family the freedom to travel out of the country and take me with them—there are advantages to not being perceived as a valuable national resource.”
“So you weren’t in Thailand when it fell.”
“Studying in London,” said Ambul. “Which made it almost convenient to hop over the North Sea and zip over to Warsaw for a clandestine meeting.”
“Sorry,” said Bean. “I offered to pay your way.”
“The letter might not have been from you,” said Ambul. “And whoever sent it, if I let them buy my tickets, they’d know which planes I was on.”
“He sounds as paranoid as we are,” said Petra.
“Same enemy,” said Ambul. “So, Bean,
sir
, you sent for me, and here I am. Need a witness for your wedding? Or an adult to sign permission forms for you?”
“What I need,” said Bean, “is a secure base of operations, independent of any nation or bloc or alliance.”
“I suggest you find a nice asteroid somewhere,” said Ambul. “The world is pretty well divvied up these days.”
“I need people I can trust absolutely,” said Bean. “Because at any time we may find ourselves fighting against the Hegemony.”
Ambul looked at him in surprise. “I thought you were commander of Peter Wiggin’s little army.”
“I was. Now I don’t even command a decent hand of pinochle,” said Bean.
“He does have a first-rate executive officer,” said Petra. “Me.”
“Ah,” said Ambul. “Now I understand why you called on me. You two officers need somebody who’ll salute you.”
Bean sighed. “I’d appoint you king of Caledonia if I could, but the only position I can actually offer anybody is friend. And I’m a dangerous friend to have, these days.”
“So the rumors are true,” said Ambul. Petra figured it was about time he put together the information he was gleaning from this conversation. “Achilles is with the Hegemony.”
“Peter hoisted him out of China, on his way to prison camp,” said Bean.
“Got to give the Chinese credit, they’re no eemos, they knew when to get rid of him.”
“Not really,” said Petra. “They were only sending him into internal exile, and in a low-security caravan at that. Practically invited rescue.”
“And you wouldn’t do it?” asked Ambul. “That’s how you got fired?”
“No,” said Bean. “Wiggin pulled me off the mission at the last minute. Gave sealed orders to Suriyawong and didn’t tell me what they were till he had already left. Whereupon I resigned and went into hiding.”
“Taking your girltoy with you,” said Ambul.
“Actually, Peter sent me along to keep him under very close surveillance,” said Petra.
“You seem to be the right person for the job,” said Ambul.
“She’s not that good,” said Bean. “I’ve come close to noticing her several times.”
“So,” said Ambul. “Suri went ahead and hoisted Achilles out of China.”
“Of all the missions to execute flawlessly,” said Bean, “Suri had to pick that one.”
“I, on the other hand,” said Ambul, “was never one to obey an order if I thought it was stupid.”
“That’s why I want you to join my completely hopeless operation,” said Bean. “If you get killed, I’ll know it’s your own fault, and not because you were obeying my orders.”
“I’ll need fedda,” said Ambul. “My family isn’t rich. And technically I’m still a kid. Speaking of which, how the hell did you get so much taller than me?”
“Steroids,” said Bean.
“And I stretch him on a rack every night,” said Petra.
“For his own good, I’m sure,” said Ambul.
“My mother told me,” said Petra, “that Bean is the kind of boy who has to grow on you.”
Bean playfully covered her mouth. “Pay no attention to the girl, she’s besotted with love.”
“You two should get married,” said Ambul.
“When I turn thirty,” said Bean.
Which, Petra knew, meant never.
They had already been out in the open longer than Bean had ever allowed since they’d gone into hiding. As Bean started telling Ambul what he wanted him to do, they began to walk toward the nearest exit from the park.
It was a simple enough assignment—go to Damascus, the headquarters of the Muslim League, and get a meeting with Alai, one of Ender’s closest friends and a member of Ender’s jeesh.
“Oh,” said Ambul. “I thought you wanted me to do something
possible
.”
“I can’t get any email to him,” said Bean.
“Because as far as I know he’s been completely incommunicado ever since the Russians released him, that time when Achilles kidnapped everybody,” said Ambul.
Bean seemed surprised. “You know this because…”
“Since my parents took me into hiding,” said Ambul, “I’ve been tapping every connection I could get, trying to get information about what was happening. I’m good at networking, aboon. Making and keeping friends. I would have been a good commander, if they hadn’t canceled Battle School out from under me.”
“So you already know Alai?” said Petra. “Toguro.”
“But like I said,” Ambul repeated, “he’s
completely
incommunicado.”
“Ambul, I need his help,” said Bean. “I need the shelter of the Muslim League. It’s one of the few places on Earth that isn’t susceptible to either Chinese pressure or Hegemony wheedling.”
“É,” said Ambul, “and they achieve that by not letting
any
non-Muslims within the circle.”
“I don’t want to be in the circle. I don’t want to know their secrets.”
“Yes you do,” said Ambul. “Because if you aren’t, if you don’t have their complete trust, you’ll have no power to do anything at all within their borders. Non-Muslims are officially completely free, but in practical terms, they can’t do anything but shop and play tourist.”
“Then I’ll convert,” said Bean.
“Don’t even joke about it,” said Ambul. “They take their religion very seriously, and to speak of converting as a joke—”
“Ambul, we know that,” said Petra. “I’m a friend of Alai’s, too, but you notice Bean didn’t send me.”
Ambul laughed. “You can’t mean that the Muslims would lose respect for Alai if he let a woman influence him! The full equality of the sexes is one of the six points that ended the Third Great Jihad.”
“You mean the Fifth World War?” asked Bean.
“The War for Universal Liberty,” said Petra. “That’s what they called it in Armenian schools.”
“That’s because Armenia is bigoted against Muslims,” said Ambul.