"What about prematurity in the babies?"
"That supposes that the doctors are aware that the babies are premature," said Ferreira. "Low birth weight is what we went for. We eliminated any babies that were higher than the low end of normal. Most of them will be premature. But not all."
"And all of this," said Petra, "depends on all the babies being on the same clock."
"It's all we can go on," said Peter. "If it turns out that Anton's Key doesn't make them all trigger delivery after about the same gestation time...well, it's no more of a problem than the fact that we don't know when the other embryos were implanted."
"Some of the embryos might have been implanted much more recently," said Ferreira. "So we're going to keep adding women to the database as they give birth to low-birthweight children and turn out to have moved at about the time Volescu was arrested. You realize how many variables there are that we don't know? How many of the embryos have Anton's Key. When they were implanted. If they were all implanted. If Volescu even had a deadman switch."
"I thought you said he did."
"He did," said Ferreira. "We just don't know what the switch was about. Maybe it was for release of the virus. Maybe for the mothers to move. Maybe both. Maybe neither."
"A lot of things we don't know," said Bean. "Remarkable how little we got from Volescu's computer."
"He's a careful man," said Ferreira. "He knew perfectly well that he'd be caught someday, and his computer seized. We learned more than he could have imagined--but less than we had hoped."
"Just keep looking," said Petra. "Meanwhile, I have a baby-shaped suction cup to go attach to one of the tenderest parts of my body. Promise me that he won't develop teeth early."
"I don't know," said Bean. "I can't remember not having them."
"Thanks for the encouragement," said Petra.
Bean got up in the night, as usual, to get little Ender so Petra could nurse him. Tiny as he was, he had a pair of lungs on him. Nothing small about his voice.
And, as usual, once the baby started suckling, Bean watched until Petra rolled over to feed the baby on the other side. Then he slept.
Until he awoke again. Usually he didn't, so for all he knew it was like this every time. Because Petra was still nursing the baby, but she was also crying.
"Baby, what's wrong?" said Bean, touching her shoulder.
"Nothing," she said. She wasn't crying anymore.
"Don't try to lie to me," said Bean. "You were crying."
"I'm so happy," she said.
"You were thinking about how old little Ender will be when he dies."
"That's silly," she said. "We're going off in a starship until they find a cure. He's going to live to be a hundred."
"Petra," said Bean.
"What. I'm not lying."
"You're crying because in your mind's eye you can already see the death of your baby."
She sat up and lifted the now-sleeping baby to her shoulder. "Bean, you really are bad at guessing things like this. I was crying because I thought of you as a little baby, and how you didn't have a father to go and get you when you cried in the night, and you didn't have a mother to hold you and feed you from her own body, and you had no experience of love."
"But when I finally found out what it was, I got more of it than any man could hope for."
"Damn right," said Petra. "And don't you forget it."
She got up and took the baby back to the bassinet.
And tears came to Bean's eyes. Not pity for himself as a baby. But remembering Sister Carlotta, who had become his mother and stayed with him long before he learned what love was and was able to give any back to her. And some of his tears were also for Poke, the friend who took him in when he was in the last stages of death by malnutrition in Rotterdam.
Petra, don't you know how short life is, even when you don't have some disease like Anton's Key? So many people prematurely in their graves, and some of them I put there. Don't cry for me. Cry for my brothers who were disposed of by Volescu as he destroyed evidence of his crimes. Cry for all the children that no one ever loved.