"The Pope sees non-Catholics all the time. He sees me."
"The Pope isn't Muslim," said Petra.
"Just be patient," said Peter. "Alai knows we're here. Eventually he'll decide to see me."
"Eventually? I'm pregnant, Mr. Hegemon, and my husband is dying in a big way, ha ha ha, and you're wasting some of the time we have together and that pisses me off."
"I invited you to come. I didn't compel you."
"It's a good thing you didn't try."
But now it was out. In the open. Clear at last. Of course she was really irritated at all the things she complained about. But underneath it all was resentment about how Peter had let Bean do his killing for him.
"Petra," said Peter. "I'm not a soldier."
"Neither is Bean!"
"Bean is the finest military mind alive," said Peter.
"So why isn't he Hegemon?"
"Because he doesn't want to be."
"And you do. And that's why I hate you, since you asked."
"You know why I wanted this office and what I'm trying to do with it. You've read my Locke essays."
"I also read your Demosthenes essays."
"Those also needed to be written. But I intend to govern as Locke."
"You govern nothing. The only reason you even have your little army is because Bean and Suriyawong created it and decided to let you have the use of it. You only have your precious compound and all your staff because Bean killed Achilles and gave it back to you. And now you're back to putting on your little show of importance, but you know what? Nobody's fooled. You're not even as powerful as the Pope. He's got the Vatican and a billion Catholics. You've got nothing but what my husband gave you."
Peter didn't think this was quite accurate—he had labored for years to build up his network of contacts, and he had kept the office of Hegemon from being abolished. Over the years he had made it mean something. He had saved Haiti from chaos. Several small nations owed their independence or freedom to his diplomatic and, yes, military intervention.
But certainly he was on the verge of losing it all to Achilles— because of his own stupid mistake. A mistake that Bean and Petra had warned him about before he made it. A mistake that Bean had rectified only at a grave risk.
"Petra," said Peter, "you're right. I owe everything to you and Bean. But that doesn't change the fact that whatever you think of me and whatever you think of the office of Hegemon, I hold that office, and I'm trying to use it to avoid another bloody war."
"You're trying to use your office to make your office into 'dictator of the world.' Unless you can figure out a way to extend your reach out to the colonies and become 'dictator of the known universe.' "
"We don't actually have any colonies yet," said Peter. "The ships are all still in transit and will be until we're all dead. But by the time they arrive, I'd like them to send their ansible messages back home to an Earth that is united under a single democratic government."
"It's the democratic part I missed," said Petra. "Who elected you?"
"Since I don't have any actual authority over anybody, Petra, how can it possibly matter if I'm not legitimately authorized?"
"You argue like a debater," she said. "You don't actually have to have an idea, you just have to have a seemingly clever refutation."
"And you argue like a nine-year-old," said Peter. "Sticking your fingers in your ears and going 'La la la' and 'same to you.' "
Petra looked like she wanted to slap him. Instead she put her fingers in her ears and said, "Same to you" and "La la la."
He did not laugh. Instead he reached out a hand, intending to pull her arm away from her ear. But she whirled around and kicked his hand so hard that he thought she might have broken his wrist. As it was, he staggered and stumbled over the corner of the bed in his hotel room and ended up on his butt on the floor.
"There's the Hegemon of Earth," said Petra.
"Where's your camera? Don't you want this to be public?"
"If I wanted to destroy you, you'd be destroyed."
"Petra, I didn't send Bean into that compound. Bean sent himself."
"You let him go."
"Yes I did, and in any event I was proven right."
"But you didn't know he'd live. I was carrying his baby and you sent him in to die."
"Nobody sends Bean anywhere," said Peter, "and you know it."
She whirled away from him and stalked out of the room. She would have slammed the door, but the pneumatics prevented it.
He had seen, though. The tears in her eyes.
She didn't hate Peter. She wanted to hate him. But what she really was furious about was that her husband was dying and she had agreed to this mission because she knew it would be important. If it worked, it would be important. But it wasn't working. It probably wouldn't work.
Peter knew that. But he also knew that he had to talk to Caliph Alai, and he had to do it now if the conversation was to have any good effect. If possible, he'd like to have the conversation without risking the prestige of the office of Hegemon. But the longer they delayed, the greater the likelihood of word of his trip to Damascus getting out. And then if Alai rebuffed him, the humiliation would be public, and the office of Hegemon would be greatly diminished.
So Petra's judgment of him was obviously unfair. If all he cared about was his own authority, he wouldn't be here.
And she was clever enough to know that. She got into Battle School, didn't she? She was the only girl among Ender's Jeesh. That certified her as his superior—at least in the area of strategy and leadership. Surely she must see that he was putting the goal of preventing a bloody war above his own career.
As soon as he thought of this, he heard her voice inside his head, saying, "Oh, isn't that fine and noble of you, to put the lives of hundreds of thousands of soldiers ahead of your own indelible place in history. Do you think you get a prize for that?" Or else she'd say, "The only reason I'm along is specifically so you can avoid risking anything." Or else, "You've always been bold as a risk-taker—when the stakes are high enough and your own life isn't on the line."
This is great, Peter, he thought. You don't even need her in the room with you and you can still carry on an argument with her.
How did Bean stand her? No doubt she didn't treat him like this.
No. It was impossible to imagine that being nasty was something she could switch on and off. Bean had to have seen this side of her. And yet he stayed with her.
And loved her. Peter wondered what it would be like, to have Petra look at him the way she looked at Bean.
Then he corrected himself at once. Wonderful to have a woman look at him the way Petra looked at Bean. The last thing he wanted was a lovelorn Petra making googly eyes at him.
The telephone rang.
The voice made sure it was "Peter Jones" and then said, "Five in the morning, be downstairs outside the north lobby doors." Click.
Well, what brought that on? Something in Petra's and his argument? Peter had swept the room for bugs, but that didn't mean they couldn't have some low-tech device like somebody in the next room with his ear pressed against the wall.
What did we say to make them let me see the Caliph?
Maybe it was what he said about avoiding another bloody war.
Or perhaps it was because they heard him admit to Petra that maybe he didn't have any legitimate authority.
What if they recorded that? What if it suddenly surfaced on the web?