Who cares? I don't want to be a hero.
That's Wiggin's gig.
Nikolai, the boy across from him. Bright enough to make some guesses Bean hadn't made first. Confident enough not to get angry when he caught Bean intruding on him. Bean was so hopeful when he came at last to Nikolai's file.
The teacher evaluation was negative. "A place-holder." Cruel--but was it true?
Bean realized: I have been putting too much trust in the teachers' evaluations. Do I have any real evidence that they're right? Or do I believe in their evaluations because I am rated so highly? Have I let them flatter me into complacency?
What if all their evaluations were hopelessly wrong?
I had no teacher files on the streets of Rotterdam. I actually knew the children. Poke--I made my own judgment of her, and I was almost right, just a few surprises here and there. Sergeant--no surprises at all. Achilles--yes, I knew him.
So why have I stayed apart from the other students? Because they isolated me at first, and because I decided that the teachers had the power. But now I see that I was only partly right. The teachers have the power here and now, but someday I will not be in Battle School, and what does it matter then what the teachers think of me? I can learn all the military theory and history that I want, and it will do me no good if they never entrust me with command. And I will never be placed in charge of an army or a fleet unless they have reason to believe that other men would follow me.
Not men today, but boys, most of them, a few girls. Not men, but they will be men. How do they choose their leaders? How do I make them follow one who is so small, so resented?
What did Wiggin do?
Bean asked Nikolai which of the kids in their launch group practiced with Wiggin.
"Only a few. And they on the fringes, neh? Suckups and brags."
"But who are they?"
"You trying to get in with Wiggin?"
"Just want to find out about him."
"What you want to know?"
The questions bothered Bean. He didn't like talking so much about what he was doing. But he didn't sense any malice in Nikolai. He just wanted to know.
"History. He the best, neh? How he get that way?" Bean wondered if he sounded quite natural with the soldier slang. He hadn't used it that much. The music of it, he still wasn't quite there.
"You find out, you tell me." He rolled his eyes in self-derision.
"I'll tell you," said Bean.
"I got a chance to be best like Ender?" Nikolai laughed. "You got a chance, the way you learn."
"Wiggin's snot ain't honey," said Bean.
"What does that mean?"
"He human like anybody. I find out, I tell you, OK?"
Bean wondered why Nikolai already despaired about his own chances of being one of the best. Could it be that the teachers' negative evaluation was right after all? Or had they unconsciously let him see their disdain for him, and he believed them?
From the boys Nikolai had pointed out--the brags and suckups, which wasn't an inaccurate evaluation as far as it went--Bean learned what he wanted to know. The names of Wiggin's closest friends.
Shen. Alai. Petra--her again! But Shen the longest.
Bean found him in the library during study time. The only reason to go there was for the vids--all the books could be read from the desks. Shen wasn't watching vids, though. He had his desk with him, and he was playing the fantasy game.
Bean sat down beside him to watch. A lion-headed man in chain mail stood before a giant, who seemed to be offering him a choice of drinks--the sound was shaped so that Bean couldn't hear it from beside the desk, though Shen seemed to be responding; he typed in a few words. His lion-man figure drank one of the substances and promptly died.
Shen muttered something and shoved the desk away.