"I see," said Petra. "You're the Ministry of Colonization's resident philosopher."
Rackham grinned. "The consolations of philosophy are many, but never enough."
"I think you and Graff planned the whole history of the world. I think you chose Bean and Peter for the roles they're playing now."
"You're wrong," said Rackham. "Flat wrong. All that Graff and I ever did was choose the children we thought might win the war and try to train than for victory. We failed again and again until we found Ender. And Bean to back him up. And the rest of the Jeesh to help him. And when the last battle ended and we had won, Graff and I had to face the fact that the solution to the one problem was now the cause of another."
"The military geniuses you had identified would now tear the world apart with their ambition."
"Or be used as pawns to satisfy the ambitions of others, yes."
"So you decided to use them as pawns in your own game once again."
"No," said Rackham softly. "We decided to find a way to set most of them free to live human lives. We're still working on that."
"Most of us?"
"There was nothing we could do for Bean," said Rackham.
"I guess not," said Petra.
"But then something happened that we hadn't planned on," said Rackham. "Hadn't hoped for. He found love. He became a father. The one we could do nothing for, you made him happy. So, I have to admit, we feel a lot of gratitude to you, Petra. You could have been out there playing the game with the others." He chuckled. "We would never have guessed it. You're off the charts when it comes to ambition. Not quite like Peter, but close. Yet somehow you set it all aside."
She smiled as beatifically as she could.
If only you knew the truth, she thought.
Or maybe he does know, but telling her that he admires her is a way of manipulating her...
Nobody ever completely means what they say. Even when they think they're telling the truth, there's always something hidden behind their words.
It was dark when she got back to her own house in the military headquarters compound just outside Kigali. Mazer Rackham did not come inside with her. So she carried both babies, Ender in the sling again, and Bella at her shoulder.
Bean was there, waiting for her. He ran to her and took the new baby from her and pressed his cheek to the baby's cheek.
"Don't smother her, oaf," said Petra.
He laughed and kissed her. They sat together on the edge of the bed, holding the two children, and then trading, back and forth.
"Seven to go," said Petra.
"Was it hard?" asked Bean.
"I'm glad you weren't there," said Petra. "I'm not sure you would have been tough enough to go through with it."
14
VIRLOMI'S VISITORS
From: lmperialSelf%HotSoup@ForbiddenCity.ch.gov
To: Suriyawong@hegemon.gov
Re: We have found Paribatra
Suriyawong, I am relieved to tell you that Paribatra, the former prime minister of Thailand, has been located. His health is not good but with proper attention it is believed that he will recover as well as can be expected for a man his age.
The former government had nearly perfected the art of making people disappear without actually killing them, but we are still tracking down other Thai exiles. I have great hopes of finding and releasing your family members.
You know that I opposed all these illegal actions against Thailand, its citizens, and its government. I have now moved at the first opportunity to undo as much of the damage as I can.
For internal political reasons I cannot release Paribatra directly to Ambul's Free Thai organization at this time, even though I fully expect that his group will be the core of the new government of Thailand and look forward to an early reconciliation.
As we free Paribatra into the care of the Hegemon, it seems appropriate that you who tried so hard to save Thailand should be the one to receive him.
Virlomi came to Hyderabad, and in front of the gate of the military complex where she once worked in virtual captivity, drawing up plans for wars and invasions she did not believe in, she now built a hut with her own hands.
Each day she went to a well and drew water, even though there were few villages in India that did not already have clean running water. Each dawn she buried her night soil even though most villages had working sewer systems.
Indians came to her by the hundreds, to ask her questions. When she was tired, she came out and wept for them and begged them to go home. They went, but the next morning others came.
No soldiers came near her, so there was no overt provocation to the Muslims inside the military compound. Of course, she was controlling the Indian military, which grew in strength every day, through her encrypted cellphones, which were swapped out daily for freshly charged ones by aides posing as ordinary supplicants.
Now and then someone from another land would come to see her. Her aides would whisper to them that she would not speak to anyone who was not barefoot, and if they wore western business suits she would offer them appropriate clothing, which they would not like, so it was better to be clad already in Indian clothing of their own choosing.
Three visitors came to her in one week of her vigil.
The first was Tikal Chapekar. Emperor Han had freed him, along with many other Indian captives. If he had expected some kind of ceremony when he returned to India, he was disappointed.
He assumed at first that the silence from the media was because the Muslim conquerors would not allow any mention of the return of the imprisoned Prime Minister to India.
So he went to Hyderabad to complain to the Caliph himself, who now ruled over his vast Muslim empire from within the walls of the military compound there. He was allowed to enter the compound, though while he waited in line at the checkpoint, he was curious about the hut a few dozen meters away, where a great many more Indians waited in line than waited to see the rulers of the nation.
"What is that hut?" he asked. "Do ordinary citizens have to go there first before coming to this gate?"
The gate guards laughed at his question. "You're an Indian, and you don't know that's where Virlomi lives?"
"Who is Virlomi?"
Now the guards grew suspicious. "No Hindu would say that. Who are you?"
He explained that he had been in captivity until just a few days ago, and was not aware of the news.
"News?" said one guard. "Virlomi isn't on the news. She makes her own news."
"Wish they'd just let us shoot her," muttered another.
"And then who would protect you as they tore us all limb from limb?" said another, quite cheerfully.
"So ... who is she?" asked Chapekar.
"The soul of India is a woman," said the one who had wanted to shoot her. He said "woman" with all the contempt he could put into a single word. Then he spat.
"What office does she hold?" asked Chapekar.
"Hindus don't hold offices anymore," said another guard. "Not even you, former Prime Minister."
Chapekar felt a wave of relief. Someone had recognized his name.
"Because you forbid the Indian people to elect their own government?"
"We allow it," said the guard. "The Caliph declared an election but nobody came."
"No one voted?"