So Valentine gave her the only thing she could think of that she might want. A promise. "I'll stick with him," said Valentine, "as long as he needs me."
"We would expect nothing less of you, dear," said Mother. She squeezed Valentine's hand and let go. Apparently that was what she had wanted.
"It's a kind and loving thing," said Father. "It's always been your nature. And Ender was always your darling baby brother."
Valentine winced at the old phrase from childhood. Darling baby brother. Ick. "I'll make sure to call him that."
"Do," said Mother. "Ender likes to be reminded of good things."
Did Mother really imagine that anything she knew about Ender at age six would still apply to him now, at age thirteen?
As if she had read Valentine's mind, Mother answered her. "People don't change, Val. Not their fundamental character. Whatever you're going to be as an adult is already visible to som
eone who really knows you from your birth onward."
Valentine laughed. "So...why did you let Peter live?"
They laughed, but uncomfortably. "Val," said Father, "we don't expect you to understand this, but some of the things that make Peter...difficult...are the very things that might also make him great someday."
"What about me?" asked Valentine. "As long as you're telling fortunes."
"Oh, Val," said Father. "All you have to do is live your life, and everyone around you will be happier."
"No greatness, then."
"Val," said Mother, "goodness trumps greatness any day."
"Not in the history books," said Valentine.
"Then the wrong people are writing history, aren't they?" said Father.
CHAPTER 4
To: qmorgan%[email protected]/fleetcom
From: chamrajnagar%[email protected]/centcom
{self-shred protocol}
Subj: In or out?
My dear Quince, I'm quite aware of the difference between combat command and flying a colony ship for a few dozen lightyears. If you feel your usefulness in space is over, then by all means, retire with full benefits. But if you stay in, and remain in near space, I can't promise you promotion within the I.F.
We suddenly find ourselves afflicted with peace, you see. Always a disaster for those whose careers have not reached their natural apex.
The colony ship I have offered you is not, contrary to your too-often-stated opinion (try discretion now and then, Quince, and see if it might not work better), a way to send you to oblivion. Retirement is oblivion, my friend. A forty-or fifty-year voyage means that you will outlive all of us who remain behind. All your friends will be dead. But you'll be alive to make new friends. And you'll be in command of a ship. A nice, big, fast one.
This is what the whole fleet faces. We have heroes out there who fought this war that The Boy is credited with winning. Have we forgotten them? ALL our most significant missions will involve decades of flight. Yet we must send our best officers to command them. So at any given moment, most of our best officers will be strangers to everyone at CentCom because they've been in flight for half a lifetime.
Eventually, ALL the central staff will be star voyagers. They will look down their noses at anyone who has NOT taken decades-long flights between stars. They will have cut themselves loose from Earth's timeline. They will know each other by their logs, transmitted by ansible.
What I'm offering you is the only possible source of career-making voyages: colony ships.
And not only a colony ship, but one whose governor is a thirteen-year-old boy. Are you seriously going to tell me that you don't understand that you are not his "nanny," you are being entrusted with the highly responsible position of making sure that The Boy stays as far from Earth as possible, while also making sure that he is a complete success in his new assignment so that later generations cannot judge that he was not treated well.
Naturally, I did not send you this letter, and you did not read it. Nothing in this is to be construed as a secret order. It is merely my personal observation about the opportunity that you have been offered by a polemarch who believes in your potential to be one of the great admirals of the I.F.
Are you in? Or out? I need to draw up the papers one way or the other within the week.