{"id":2128,"date":"2026-01-03T22:12:13","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:12:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/enders-saga-10-a-war-of-gifts-card-orson-scott\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:12:13","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:12:13","slug":"enders-saga-10-a-war-of-gifts-card-orson-scott","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/enders-saga-10-a-war-of-gifts-card-orson-scott\/","title":{"rendered":"Ender’s Saga 10 – A War of Gifts – Card, Orson Scott"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
\n

Orson Scott Card<\/p>\n

A War of Gifts<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

An Ender Story<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>To Tom Ruby, <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>who has kept
\nthe faith <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>in and out of
\nBattle School <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

1 SAINT NICK <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Zeck Morgan sat attentively on the front row of the
\nlittle sanctuary of the Church of the Pure Christ in Eden, North Carolina. He
\ndid not fidget, though he had two itches, one on his foot and one on his
\neyebrow. He knew the eyebrow itch was from a fly that had landed there. The
\nfoot itch, too, probably, though he did not look down to see whether anything
\nwas crawling there.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He did not
\nlook out the windows at the falling snow. He did not glance to left or right,
\nnot even to glare at the parents of the crying baby in the row behind him-it
\nwas for others to judge whether it was more important for the parents to stay
\nand hear the sermon, or leave and preserve the stillness of the meeting.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck was the
\nminister’s son, and he knew his duty.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Reverend Habit
\nMorgan stood at the small pulpit-really an old dictionary stand picked up at a
\nlibrary sale. No doubt the dictionary that had once rested on it had been
\nreplaced by a computer, just one more sign of the degradation of the human
\nrace, to worship the False God of Tamed Lightning. “They think because
\nthey have pulled the lightning from the sky and contained it in their machines
\nthey are gods now, or the friends of gods. Do they not know that the only thing
\nwritten by lightning is fire? Yea, I say unto you, it is the fire of hell, and
\nthe gods they have befriended are devils!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It had been
\none of Father’s best sermons. He gave it when Zeck was three, but Zeck had not
\nforgotten a word of it. Zeck did not forget a word of anything. As soon as he
\nknew what words were, he remembered them.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But he did not
\ntell Father that he remembered. Because when Mother realized that he could
\nrepeat whole sermons word for word, she told him, very quietly but very
\nintensely, “This is a great gift that God has given you, Zeck. But you
\nmust not show it to anyone, because some might think it comes from Satan.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Does it?”
\nZeck had asked. “Come from Satan?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Satan
\ndoes not give good gifts,” said Mother. “So it comes from God.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Then why
\nwould anyone think it comes from Satan?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Her forehead
\nfrowned, though her lips kept their smile. Her lips always smiled when she knew
\nanyone was looking. It was her duty as the minister’s wife to show that the
\npure Christian life made one happy.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Some
\npeople are looking so hard to find Satan,” she finally said, “that
\nthey see him even where he isn’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Naturally,
\nZeck remembered this conversation word for word. So it was there in his mind
\nwhen he was four, and Father said, “There are those who will tell you that
\na thing is from God, when it’s really from the devil.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why,
\nFather?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They are
\ndeceived,” said Father, “by their own desire. They wish the world
\nwere a better place, so they pretend that polluted things are pure, so they
\ndon’t have to fear them.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Ever since
\nthen, Zeck had balanced these two conversations, for he knew that Mother was
\nwarning him about Father, and Father was warning him about Mother.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was
\nimpossible to choose between them. He did not want to choose.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Still\u2026 he
\nnever let Father see his perfect memory. It was not a lie, however. If Father
\never asked him to repeat a conversation or a sermon or anything at all, Zeck
\nwould do it, and honestly, showing that he knew it word for word. But Father
\ndid not ask anybody anything, except when he asked God.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Which he had
\njust done. Standing there at the pulpit, glaring out at the congregation,
\nFather said, “What about Santa Claus! Saint Nick! Is he the same thing as
\n‘Old Nick’? Does he have anything to do with Christ? Is our worship pure, when
\nwe have this ‘Old Saint Nick’ in our hearts? Is he really jolly? Does he laugh
\nbecause he knows he is leading our children down to hell?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He glared
\naround the congregation as if waiting for an answer. And finally someone gave
\nthe only answer that was appropriate for this point in the sermon:
\n“Brother Habit, we don’t know. Would you ask God and tell us what he
\nsays?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Whereupon
\nFather roared out, “God in heaven! Thou knowest our question! Tell us
\nthine answer! We thy children ask thee for bread, O Father! Do not give us a
\nstone!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then he
\ngripped the pulpit- the dictionary stand, which trembled under his hands- and
\ncontinued glaring upward. Zeck knew that when Father looked upward like that,
\nhe did not see the roof beams or the ceiling above them. He was staring into
\nheaven, demanding that all those hurrying angels get out of his way so his gaze
\ncould penetrate all the way to God and demand his attention, because it was his
\nright. Ask and it shall be given, God had promised. Knock and it shall be
\nopened! Well, Habit Morgan was knocking and asking, and it was time for God to
\nopen and give. God could not break his word- at least not when Habit Morgan was
\nholding him to it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But God took
\nhis own sweet time. Which was why Zeck was sitting there on the front row, with
\nMother and his three younger siblings beside him, all perched on chairs so
\nwobbly they showed the slightest trace of movement. The other children were
\nyoung, and their fidgets were forgiven. Zeck was determined to be pure, and his
\nwobbly chair might have been made of stone for all the movement it made.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>When Father
\nstared into heaven this long it was a test. Maybe it was a test given by God,
\nor maybe Father had already received his answer- received it perhaps the night
\nbefore when he was writing this sermon- and so the test was from him. Either
\nway, Zeck would pass this test as he passed all the tests laid before him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The long
\nminutes dragged. One itch would fade, only to be replaced by another. Father
\nstill stared into heaven. Zeck ignored the sweat trickling down his neck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And behind
\nhim, somewhere among the seventy-three members of the congregation who had come
\ntoday (Zeck hadn’t counted them, he had only glanced, but as usual he
\nimmediately knew how many there were), someone shifted in his seat. Someone
\ncoughed. It was the moment Father- or God- had been waiting for.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Father’s voice
\nwas only a whisper, but it carried through the room. “How can I hear the
\nvoice of the Holy Spirit when I am surrounded by impurity?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck thought
\nof quoting back to him his own sermon, given two years ago, when Zeck was only
\njust barely four. “Do you think that God cannot make his voice heard no
\nmatter what other noise is going on around you? If you are pure, then all the
\ntumult of the world is silence compared to the voice of God.” But Zeck
\nknew that to quote this now would bring down the rod of chastisement. Father
\nwas not really asking a question. He was pointing out what everyone knew: that
\nin all this congregation, only Habit Morgan was really, truly pure. That’s why
\nGod’s answers came to him, and only to him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Saint
\nNick is a mask!” roared Father. “Saint Nick is the false beard and
\nthe false laugh worn by the drunken servants of the God of frivolity. Dionysus
\nis his name! Bacchus! Revelry and debauchery! Greed and covetousness are the
\ngifts he instills in the hearts of our children! O God, save us from the Satan
\nof Santa! Keep our children’s eyes averted from his malicious, predatory gaze!
\nDo not seat our children upon his lap to whisper their coveting into his stony
\near! He is an idol of idolatry! God knows what spirit animates these idols and
\nmakes them laugh their ho, ho, whoredoms and abominations and braying
\njackassery!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Father was in
\nfine form. And now that he was bellowing the words of God, striding back and
\nforth across the front of the sanctuary, Zeck could scratch the occasional
\nitch, as long as he kept his gaze locked on Father’s face.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>For an hour
\nFather went on, telling stories of children who put their faith in Santa Claus,
\nand parents who lied to their children about Saint Nick and taught their
\nchildren that all the stories of Christmas were myths- including the story of
\nthe Christ child. Telling stories of children who became atheists when Santa
\ndid not bring them the gifts they coveted most.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Satan is
\na liar every time! When Santa puts a lie on the lips of parents, the seed of
\nthat lie is planted in the hearts of their children and when that seed comes to
\nflower and bears fruit, the fruit of that lie is faithlessness. You do not
\ndeserve the trust of your children when you lie for Satan!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then his voice
\nfell to a whisper. “Jolly old Saint Nicholas,” he hissed. “Lean
\nyour ear this way. Don’t you tell a single soul what I’m going to say.”
\nThen his voice roared out again. “Yes, your children whisper their secret
\ndesires to Satan and he will answer their prayers, not with the presents they
\nseek, and certainly not with the presence of God Immanuel! No, he will answer
\ntheir prayers with the ashes of sin in their mouths, with the poison of atheism
\nand unbelief in the plasma of their blood. He will drive out the hemoglobin and
\nreplace it with hellish lust!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And so on. And
\nso on.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>In Zeck’s
\nmind, the clock that kept perfect time went round the full forty minutes of the
\nsermon. Father never repeated himself once, and yet he also never strayed from
\nthe single message. God’s message was always brief, Father said, but it took
\nhim many words to translate the pure wisdom of the Lord’s language into the
\npoor English that mere mortals could understand.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And Father’s
\nsermons never ran over. He wrapped them up right in time. He was not a man who
\ntalked just to hear himself talk. He labored his labor and then he was done.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>At the end of
\nthe sermon, there was a hymn and then Father called upon old Brother Verlin and
\ntold him that God had seen him today and made his heart pure enough to pray.
\nVerlin rose to his feet weeping and could hardly get out the words of the
\nprayer of blessing on the congregation, he was so moved at being chosen for the
\nfirst time since he confessed selling an old car of his for nearly twice what
\nit was worth, because the buyer had tempted him by offering even more for it.
\nHis sin was forgiven, more or less. That’s what it meant, for Brother Habit to
\ncall on him to pray.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then it was
\ndone. Zeck leapt to his feet and ran to his father and hugged him, as he always
\ndid, for it felt to him when such a sermon ended that some dust of light from
\nheaven must linger still on Father’s clothing, and if Zeck could embrace him
\ntightly enough, it might rub off on him, so that he could begin to become pure.
\nBecause heaven knew he was not pure now.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Father loved
\nhim at such times. Father’s hands were gentle on his hair, his shoulder, his
\nback; there was no willow rod to draw blood out of his shirt.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Look,
\nson,” said Father. “We have a stranger here in the House of the
\nLord.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck pulled
\nfree to look at the door. Others had noticed the man, too, and stood looking at
\nhim, silent until Habit Morgan declared him to be friend or foe. The stranger
\nwore a uniform, but it wasn’t one that Zeck had seen before- not the sheriff or
\na deputy, not a fireman, not the state police.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Welcome
\nto the Church of the Pure Christ,” said Father. “I’m sorry you didn’t
\narrive for the sermon.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nlistened from outside,” said the man. “I didn’t want to
\ninterrupt.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Then you
\ndid well,” said Father, “for you heard the word of God, and yet you
\nlistened with humility.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Are you
\nReverend Habit Morgan?” asked the man.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nam,” said Father, “except we have no titles among us except Brother
\nand Sister. ‘Reverend’ suggests that I’m a certified minister, a hireling. No
\none certified me but God, for only God can teach his pure doctrine, and only
\nGod can name his ministers. Nor am I hired, for the servants of God are all
\nequal in his sight, and must all obey the admonition of God to Adam, to earn
\nhis bread by the sweat of his face. I farm a plot of ground. I also drive a
\ntruck for United Parcel Service.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Forgive
\nme for using an unwelcome title,” said the man. “In my ignorance, I
\nmeant only respect.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But Zeck was a
\nkeen observer of human beings, and it seemed to him that the man had already
\nknown how Father felt about the title “reverend,” and he had used it
\ndeliberately.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This was
\nwrong. This was a pollution of the sanctuary. Zeck ran from Father to stand a
\nfew feet in front of the man.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If you
\ntell the truth right now,” Zeck said boldly, fearing nothing that this man
\ncould do to him, “God will forgive you for your lie and the sanctuary will
\nbe purified again.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The
\ncongregation gasped. Not in surprise or dismay; they assumed that it was God
\nspeaking through him at times like this, though Zeck never claimed any such
\nthing. He denied that God ever spoke through him, and beyond that he could not
\ncontrol what they believed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What lie
\nwas that?” asked the man, amused.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You know
\nall about us,” said Zeck. “You’ve studied our beliefs. You’ve studied
\neverything about Father. You know that it’s an offense to call him ‘reverend.’
\nYou did it on purpose, and now you’re lying to pretend you meant respect.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You’re
\ncorrect,” said the man, still amused. “But what possible difference
\ndoes it make?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It must
\nhave made a difference to you,” said Zeck, “or you wouldn’t have
\nbothered to lie.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>By now Father
\nstood behind him, and his hand on Zeck’s head told him he had said enough and
\nit was Father’s turn now.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Out of
\nthe mouths of babes,” said Father to the stranger. “You’ve come to us
\nwith a lie on your lips, one which even a child could detect. Why are you here,
\nand who sent you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I was
\nsent by the International Fleet, and my purpose is to test this boy to see if
\nhe is qualified to attend Battle School.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We are
\nChristians, sir,” said Father. “God will protect us if that is his
\nwill. We will lift no hand against our enemy.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\nhere to argue theology,” said the stranger. “I’m here to carry out
\nthe law. There are no exemptions because of the religion of the parents.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What
\nabout for the religion of the child?” asked Father.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Children
\nhave no religion,” said the stranger. “That’s why we take them young-
\nbefore they have been fully indoctrinated in any ideology.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So you
\ncan indoctrinate them in yours,” said Father.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Exactly,”
\nsaid the man.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then the man
\nreached out to Zeck. “Come with me, Zechariah Morgan. We’ve set up the
\nexamination in your parents’ house.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck turned
\nhis back on the man.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He does
\nnot choose to take your test,” said Father.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nyet,” said the man, “he will take it, one way or another.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The
\ncongregation murmured at that.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The man from
\nthe International Fleet looked around at them. “Our responsibility in the
\nInternational Fleet is to protect the human race from the Formic invaders. We
\nprotect the whole human race- even those who don’t wish to be protected- and we
\ndraw upon the most brilliant minds of the human race and train them for
\ncommand- even those who do not wish to be trained. What if this boy were the
\nmost brilliant of all, the commander that would lead us to victory where no
\nother could succeed? Should everyone else in the human race die, just so you in
\nthis congregation can remain\u2026 pure?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Yes,”
\nsaid Father. And the congregation echoed him. “Yes. Yes.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We are
\nthe leaven in the loaf,” said Father. “We are the salt that must keep
\nits savor, lest the whole earth be destroyed. It is our purity that will
\npersuade God to preserve this wicked generation, not your violence.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The man
\nlaughed. “Your purity against our violence.” His hand lashed out and
\nhe seized Zeck by the collar of his shirt and dragged him sharply backward,
\ntoward him. Before anyone could do more than shout in protest, he had torn
\nZeck’s shirt from his body and then whirled him around to show his scarred
\nback, with the freshest wounds still bright red, and the newest of all still
\nbeading with blood from this sudden movement. “What about your violence?
\nWe don’t raise our hands against children.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t
\nyou?” said Father. “To spare the rod is to spoil the child- God has
\ntold us how to make our children pure from the moment they achieve
\naccountability until they have mastered their own discipline. I strike my son’s
\nbody to teach his spirit to embrace the pure love of Christ. You will teach him
\nto hate his enemies, so that it no longer matters whether his body is living or
\ndead, for his soul will be polluted and God will spit him out of his
\nmouth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The man threw
\nZeck’s shirt in Father’s face. “Come back to your house and you’ll find us
\nthere with your son, doing what the law requires.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck tore away
\nfrom the man’s grip. The man was holding him very tightly, but Zeck had a great
\nadvantage: He didn’t care how much it hurt to pull himself free. “I will
\nnot go with you,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The man
\ntouched a small electronic patch on his belt and immediately the door burst
\nopen and a dozen armed men filed in.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I will
\nplace your father under arrest,” said the man from the fleet. “And
\nyour mother. And anyone in this congregation who resists me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Mother came forward
\nthen, pushing her way past Father and several others. “Then you know
\nnothing about us,” said Mother. “We have no intention of resisting
\nyou. When a Roman demands a cloak from us, we give unto him our coat
\nalso.” She pushed the two older girls toward the man. “Test them all.
\nTest the youngest, too, if you can. She doesn’t speak yet, but no doubt you
\nhave your ways.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We’ll be
\nback for them, even though the two youngest are illegal. But not till they come
\nof age.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You can
\nsteal our son’s body,” said Mother. “But you can never steal his
\nheart. Train him all you want. Teach him whatever you want. His heart is pure.
\nHe will recite your words back to you but he will never, never believe them. He
\nbelongs to the Pure Christ, not to the human race.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck held
\nhimself still, so he could not shudder as his body wanted to. Mother’s boldness
\nwas rare, and always chancy. How would Father react to this? It was his place
\nto speak, to act, to protect the family and the church.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

2<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

ENDER’S STOCKING<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Peter Wiggin was supposed to spend the day at the
\nGreensboro Public Library, working on a term paper, but he had lost interest in
\nthe project. It was two days before Christmas, a holiday that always depressed
\nhim. “Don’t get me any gifts,” he said to his parents last year.
\n“Put the money into mutual funds and give it to me when I graduate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Christmas
\ndrives the American economy,” Father said. “We have to do our
\npart.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It’s not
\nup to you what other people do and don’t give you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Peter resented
\nthe contempt in her tone. “And stroking his stocking and crying over it,
\nthat’s supposed to make anything better?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nreally are a piece of work, Peter,” she said, pushing past him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He followed
\nher into the kitchen. “I bet they hang up stockings for them up in Battle
\nSchool and fill them with little toy spaceships that make cool shooting
\nnoises.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m sure
\nthe Muslim and Hindu students will appreciate getting Christmas
\nstockings,” said Mother.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Whatever
\nthey do for Christmas, Mother, Ender isn’t going to be missing us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Just
\nbecause you wouldn’t miss us doesn’t mean he doesn’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He rolled his
\neyes. “Of course I’d miss you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Mother said
\nnothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m a
\nperfectly normal kid. So’s Ender. He’ll be busy. He’s getting along fine. He’s
\nadapting. People adapt. To anything.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She turned
\nslowly, reached across and touched his chest, then hooked a finger through the
\nneckline of his shirt and drew him close. “You never adapt,” she
\nwhispered, “to losing a child.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It’s not
\nlike he’s dead,” said Peter.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It’s
\nexactly like he’s dead,” said Mother. “I will never again see the boy
\nwho left here. I’ll never see him at age seven or nine or eleven. I’ll have no
\nmemories of him at those ages, only what I can imagine. That’s what the parents
\nof dead children have. So until you actually know something about what you’re
\ntalking about, Peter- human feelings, for instance- why don’t you just shut
\nup?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Merry
\nChristmas to you too,” said Peter. He left the room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>His own
\nbedroom, when he entered it, felt strange to him. Alien. Bare. There was
\nnothing there that expressed a personality. That had been a conscious decision
\non his part- anything individual that he put on display would give Valentine an
\nadvantage in their endless dueling. But at this moment, with Mother’s
\naccusation of his inhumanity still ringing in his ears, his bedroom looked so
\nsterile that he hated the person who would choose to live in it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So he wandered
\nback into the living room and reached into the box of Christmas stockings and
\npulled out the whole stack. Mother had cross-stitched their names and an iconic
\npicture on each stocking. His own was a spaceship. Ender’s stocking had a steam
\nlocomotive. But it was Ender in space, the little twit, while Peter was stuck
\non land with the locomotives.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Peter thrust
\nhis hand down into Ender’s stocking and started making it talk like a hand
\npuppet. “I’m Mommy’s bestest boy and I’ve been very very good.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>There was
\nsomething in the toe of the stocking. Peter reached deeper into the sock, found
\nit, and pulled it out. It was just a five-dollar piece- a nickel, as people had
\ntaken to calling them, though it was supposedly ten times the value of that
\nlong disused coin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So
\nyou’ve taken to stealing things out of other people’s stockings?” said
\nMother from the doorway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Peter felt as
\nembarrassed as if he had been caught in an actual crime. “The toe was
\nheavy,” he said. “I was seeing what it was.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It
\nwasn’t yours, whatever it was,” said Mother cheerily.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I wasn’t
\ngoing to keep it,” said Peter. Though of course he would have done exactly
\nthat, on the assumption that it had been forgotten and would never be missed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But that was
\nthe stocking she had been holding and weeping over. She knew perfectly well the
\nnickel was there.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nstill put stuff in his stocking every year,” he said, incredulous.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Santa
\nfills the stockings,” said Mother. “It has nothing to do with
\nme.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Peter shook
\nhis head. “Oh, Mother.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It has
\nnothing to do with you,” said Mother. “Mind your business.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“This is
\nmorbid,” said Peter. “Grieving for your hero-boy as if he were dead.
\nHe’s fine. He’s not going to die, he’s in the most sterile, oversupervised
\nschool in the universe, and after he wins the war he’s going to come home amid
\ncheers and confetti and give you a big hug.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Put back
\nthe five dollars,” said Mother.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nwill.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“While
\nI’m watching.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>That stung.
\n“Don’t you trust me, Mother?” asked Peter. He spoke in a
\nsarcastically aggrieved voice, to hide the fact that he really was hurt.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Not
\nwhere Ender is concerned,” said Mother. “Or me, for that matter. The
\ncoin is Ender’s. It shouldn’t have anybody’s fingerprints on it but his.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nSanta’s,” said Peter.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nSanta’s.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He dropped the
\ncoin down into the sock.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Now put
\nit away.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nrealize you’re making it more and more tempting to set this thing on
\nfire,” said Peter.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And you
\nwonder why I don’t trust you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And you
\nwonder why I’m hostile and untrustworthy.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Doesn’t
\nit make you just the tiniest bit uncomfortable that I have to wait until I’m
\nsure you’re not going to be home before I can allow myself to miss my little
\nboy?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

3<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

THE DEVIL’S QUESTIONS<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Zeck got into a hovercar with the man. There was one
\nsoldier driving; the rest of the soldiers got into a different vehicle, a
\nlarger one that looked dangerous.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m
\nCaptain Bridegan,” the soldier said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\ncare what your name is,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captain
\nBridegan said nothing. Zeck said nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They got to
\nZeck’s house. The door was standing open. A woman was waiting inside, with
\npapers spread out on the kitchen table, along with a pile of blocks and other
\nparaphernalia, including a small machine. She must have noticed Zeck looking at
\nit because she touched it and explained, “It’s a recorder. So other people
\ncan hear our session and evaluate it later.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captured
\nlightning, thought Zeck. Just another device used by Satan to snare the souls
\nof men.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“My
\nname,” she said, “is Agnes O’Toole.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He
\ndoesn’t care,” said Bridegan.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck extended
\nhis hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Agnes O’Toole.” Didn’t Bridegan
\nunderstand the obligation of kindness and courtesy that all men owed to all
\nwomen, since women’s destiny was to go down into the valley of the shadow of
\ndeath in order to bring more souls into the world to become purified so they
\ncould serve God? What tragic ignorance.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ll
\nwait out here,” said Bridegan. “If that’s all right with Zeck,
\nhere.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He seemed to
\nbe waiting for an answer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\ncare what you do,” said Zeck, not bothering to look at him. He was a man
\nof violence, as he had already proven, and so he was hopelessly impure. He had
\nno authority in the eyes of God, and yet he had seized Zeck by the shoulders as
\nif he had a right. Only Father had a duty to purify Zeck’s flesh; no other had
\na right to touch him. “His father beats him,” said Bridegan. And then
\nhe left.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Agnes looked
\nat him with raised eyebrows, but Zeck saw no need to explain. They had known
\nabout the chastisement of the impure flesh before they came- how else would
\nBridegan have known to take off his shirt and show the marks? Bridegan and
\nAgnes obviously wanted to use these scars somehow. As if they thought Zeck
\nwanted to be comforted and protected.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>From Father?
\nFrom the instrument chosen by God to raise Zeck to manhood? As well might a man
\nraise his puny hand to prevent God from working his will in the world.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Agnes began
\nthe test. Whenever the questions dealt with something Zeck knew about, he
\nanswered forthrightly, as his father had commanded him. But half the questions
\nwere about things completely outside Zeck’s experience. Maybe they were about
\nthings on the vids, which Zeck had never watched in his life; maybe they were
\nthings from the nets, which Zeck only knew about because they were damnable
\nwebs made of lightning, laid before the feet of foolish souls to snare them and
\ndrag them down to hell.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Agnes
\nmanipulated the blocks and then had him answer questions about them. Zeck saw
\nat once what the purpose of the test was. So he reached over and took the
\nblocks from her. Then he manipulated them to show each and every example drawn
\non two dimensions on the paper. Except one. “You can’t make this one with
\nthese blocks,” he said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She put the
\nblocks away.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The next test
\nwas entitled “Worldview Diagnostics: Fundamentalist Christian
\nEdition.” Since she covered this title almost instantly, it was obvious
\nZeck wasn’t supposed to know what he was being tested on.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She began with
\nquestions about the creation and Adam and Eve.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck
\ninterrupted her, quoting Father. “The book of Genesis represents the best job
\nthat Moses could do, explaining evolution to people who didn’t even know the
\nEarth was round.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nbelieve in evolution? Then what about Adam as the first man?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“The name
\n‘Adam’ means ‘many,'” said Zeck. “There were many males in that troop
\nof primates, when God chose one of them and touched him with his Spirit and put
\nthe soul of a man inside. It was Adam who first had language and named the
\nother primates, the ones that looked like him but were not human because God
\nhad not given them human souls. Thus it says, ‘And Adam gave names to all
\ncattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for
\nAdam there was not found an help meet for him.’ What Moses originally wrote was
\nmuch simpler: ‘Adam named all the beasts that were not in the image of God.
\nNone of them could speak to him, so he was utterly alone.'”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You know
\nwhat God originally wrote?” asked Agnes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nthink we’re fundamentalists,” said Zeck. “But we’re not. We’re
\nPuritans. We know that God can only teach us what we’re prepared to understand.
\nThe Bible was written by men and women of earlier times, and it holds only as
\nmuch as they were capable of understanding. We have a greater knowledge of
\nscience, and so God can clarify and tell us more. He would be an unloving Father
\nif he insisted on telling us only as much as humans could understand back in
\nthe infancy of our species.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She leaned
\nback in her chair. “So then why does your father call electricity
\n‘lightning’?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Aren’t
\nthey the same thing?” asked Zeck, trying to hide his contempt.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Well,
\nyes, of course, but-“<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So
\nFather calls it ‘lightning’ to emphasize how dangerous it is, and how
\nephemeral,” said Zeck. “Your word ‘electricity’ is a lie, convincing
\nyou that because it runs through wires and shifts the on-off state of
\nsemiconductors, the lightning has been tamed and no longer poses a danger. But
\nGod says that it is in your machines that lightning is at its most dangerous,
\nfor lightning that strikes you out of the sky can only harm your body, while
\nthe lightning that has tamed you and trained you through the machines can steal
\nyour soul.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So God
\nspeaks to your father,” said Agnes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“As he
\nspeaks to all men and women who purify themselves enough to hear his
\nvoice.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Has God
\never spoken to you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck shook his
\nhead. “I’m not yet pure.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nthat’s why your father whips you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“My
\nfather is God’s instrument in the purification of his children.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And you
\ntrust your father always to do God’s will?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“My
\nfather is the purest man on Earth right now.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Yet you
\nhave never trusted him enough to let him know you have a word-for-word
\nmemory.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Her words
\nstruck him like a blow. She was absolutely right. Zeck had heeded Mother and
\nnever let Father see his unnatural ability. And why? Not because Zeck was afraid.
\nBecause Mother was afraid. He had taken her faithlessness inside himself as if
\nit were his own, and so Father could not purify him. Could never purify him,
\nbecause he had been deceiving Father for all these years.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He rose to his
\nfeet.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Where
\nare you going?” asked Agnes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“To
\nFather.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“To tell
\nhim about your phenomenal memory?” she asked pleasantly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck had no
\nreason to tell her anything, and so he didn’t.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Bridegan was
\nwaiting in the other room, blocking the door. “No sir,” he said.
\n“You’re going nowhere.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck went back
\ninto the kitchen and sat back down at the table. “You’re taking me into
\nspace, aren’t you,” he said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Yes,
\nZeck,” she said. “You are one of the best we’ve ever tested.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ll go
\nwith you. But I’ll never fight for you,” he said. “Taking me is a
\nwaste of time.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Never is
\na long time,” she said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nthink that if you take me far enough from Earth, I’ll forget about God.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Not
\nforget,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll transform your
\nunderstanding.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t
\nyou understand how dangerous I am?” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We’re
\nactually counting on that,” she said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Not
\ndangerous as a soldier,” he said. “If I go with you, it will be as a
\nteacher. I’ll help the other children in your Battle School see that God does
\nnot want them to kill their enemies.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh,
\nwe’re not worried about you converting the other kids,” said Agnes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nshould be,” said Zeck. “The word of God has power unto salvation, and
\nno power on earth or in hell can stand against it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She shook her
\nhead. “I might worry,” she said. “If you were pure. But you’re
\nnot. So what power will you have to convert anybody?” She piled up the
\ntest booklets and stuffed them in the briefcase with the blocks and the
\nrecorder. “I have it on tape,” she said loudly, for Bridegan to hear.
\n“He said, ‘I’ll go with you.'”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Bridegan came
\ninto the kitchen. “Welcome to Battle School, soldier.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck did not
\nanswer. He was still reeling from what she had said. How can I convert anyone,
\nwhen I’m still impure myself?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I have
\nto talk to Father,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Not a
\nchance,” said Agnes. “It’s the impure Zechariah Morgan that we want.
\nNot the pure one who confessed everything to his father. Besides, we don’t have
\ntime to wait for another set of lash wounds to heal.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Bridegan
\nlaughed harshly. “If that bastard raises his hand against this boy one
\nmore time, I’ll blast it off.” Zeck whirled on him, filled with rage.
\n“Then what would that make you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Bridegan only
\nkept on laughing. “It would make me what I’ve always been- a bloody-minded
\nsoldier. My job is defending the helpless against the cruel. That’s what we’re
\ndoing, fighting the Formics- and it’s what I’d be doing if I took off your
\nfather’s hands up to the elbows.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>In reply, Zeck
\nrecited from the book of Daniel. “‘A stone was cut out without hands,
\nwhich smote the image upon his feet that were of iron and clay, and brake them
\nin pieces.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Without
\nhands. A neat trick,” said Bridegan.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And the
\nstone that smote the image became a great mountain, and filled the whole
\nearth,'” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He’s got
\nthe whole King James version by heart,” said Agnes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And in
\nthe days of these kings,” recited Zeck, “‘shall the God of heaven set
\nup a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left
\nto other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms,
\nand it shall stand for ever.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They’re
\ngoing to love him up in Battle School,” said Bridegan.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So Zeck spent
\nthat Christmas in space, heading up to the station that housed Battle School.
\nHe did nothing to cause disturbance, obeyed every order he was given. When his
\nlaunch group first went into the Battle Room, Zeck learned to fly just like all
\nthe others. He even pointed his weapon at targets that were assigned.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It took quite
\na while before anyone noticed that Zeck never actually hit anybody with his
\nweapon. In every battle, he was zero for zero. Statistically, he was the worst
\nsoldier in the history of the school. In vain did the teachers point out that
\nit was just a game.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“‘Neither
\nshall they learn war any more,” quoted Zeck in return. “I will not
\noffend God by learning war.” They could take him into space, they could
\nmake him wear the uniform, they could force him into the Battle Room, but they
\ncouldn’t make him shoot.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It took many
\nmonths, and they still wouldn’t send him home, but at least they left him
\nalone. He belonged to an army, he practiced with them, but on every battle
\nreport, he was listed with zero effectiveness. There was no soldier in the
\nschool prouder of his record.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

4<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

SINTERKLAAS EVE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Dink Meeker watched as Ender Wiggin came through the door
\ninto Rat Army’s barracks. As usual, Rosen was near the entrance, and he
\nimmediately launched into his “I Rose de Nose, Jewboy extraordinaire”
\nroutine. It was how Rosen wrapped himself in the military reputation of Israel,
\neven though Rosen wasn’t Israeli and he also wasn’t a particularly good
\ncommander.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Not a bad one,
\neither. Rat Army was in second place in the standings. But how much of that was
\nRosen, and how much was the fact that Rosen relied so heavily on Dink’s toon-
\nwhich Dink had trained?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink was the
\nbetter commander, and he knew it- he had been offered Rat Army and Rosen only
\ngot it when Dink turned down the promotion. Nobody knew that, of course, except
\nDink and Colonel Graff and whatever other teachers might have known. There was
\nno reason to tell it- it would only weaken Rosen and also make Dink look like a
\nbraggart or a fool, depending on whether people believed his claim. So he made
\nno claim.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This was
\nRosen’s show. Let him write the script.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\nthe great Ender Wiggin?” asked Flip. His name was short for Filippus, and,
\nlike Dink, he was Dutch. He was also very young and had yet to do anything
\nimpressive. It had to gall a young kid like Flip that Ender Wiggin had been placed
\ninto the Battle Room early and then rose to the very top of the standings
\nalmost instantly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I told
\nyou,” said Dink, “he’s number one because his commander wouldn’t let
\nhim shoot his weapon. So when he finally did it- disobeying his commander, I might
\nadd- he got this incredible kill ratio. It’s a fluke of how they keep the
\nstats.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Kuso,”
\nsaid Flip. “If Ender’s such a big nothing, why did you go out of your way
\nto get him in your toon?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So somebody
\nhad overheard Dink ask Rosen to assign Ender to his toon, and word had spread.
\n“Because I needed somebody smaller than you,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nyou’ve been watching him. I’ve seen you. Watching him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was easy to
\nforget sometimes that every kid in this place was brilliant. Observant. Clear
\nmemory and sharp analytical skills. Even the ones who were still too timid to
\nhave done much of anything. Not a good place for doing anything surreptitious.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“,”
\nsaid Dink. “I think he’s got something.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What’s
\nhe got that I don’t got?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Command
\nof English grammar,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Everybody
\ntalks like that,” said Flip.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Everybody’s
\na sheep,” said Dink. “I’m getting out of here.” Moments later,
\nDink pushed past Rosen and Ender and left the room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He didn’t want
\nto talk to Ender right away. Because this genius kid probably remembered the
\nfirst time they met. In a bathroom, right after Ender was put in Salamander
\nArmy’s uniform, his first day in the game. Dink had seen how small he was and
\nsaid something like, “He’s so small he could walk between my legs without
\ntouching my balls.” It didn’t mean anything, and one of his friends had
\nimmediately said, “Cause you got none, Dink, that’s why,” so it’s not
\nlike Dink had scored any points.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But it was a
\nstupid thing to say, which was fine; you could be stupid around new kids.
\nExcept it had been Ender Wiggin, and Dink now knew that this kid was something
\nelse, someone important, and he deserved better. Dink wanted to be the guy who
\nknew right away what Ender Wiggin was. Instead, he’d been the idiot who made a
\nstupid joke about how short Ender was.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Short? Ender
\nwas small because he was young. It was a mark of brilliance, to be brought to
\nBattle School a year younger than other kids. And then he was advanced to
\nSalamander Army while all the rest of his launch group were still in basic. So
\nhe was really under age. And therefore small. So what kind of idiot would mock
\nthe kid for being smarter than anybody else?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Oh, suck it
\nup, oomay, he told himself. What does it matter what Wiggin thinks of you? Your
\njob is to train him. To make up for the weeks he wasted in Bonzo Madrid’s
\nstupid Salamander Army and help this kid become what he’s supposed to become.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Not that
\nWiggin had really wasted the time. The kid had been running practice sessions
\nfor launchies and other rejects during free time, and Dink had come and
\nwatched. Wiggin was doing new things. Moves that Dink had never seen before.
\nThey had possibilities. So Dink was going to use those techniques in his toon.
\nGive Wiggin a chance to see his ideas played out in combat in the Battle Room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>I’m not Bonzo.
\nI’m not Rosen. Having a soldier under me who’s better than I am, smarter, more
\ninventive, doesn’t threaten me. I learn from everybody. I help everybody. It’s
\nabout the only way I can be rebellious in this place- they chose us for our
\nambition and they prod us to be competitive. So I don’t compete. I cooperate.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink was
\nsitting in the game room, watching the other players- he had beaten all the
\ngames in the room, so he had nothing left to prove- when Wiggin found him. If Wiggin
\nremembered Dink’s first dumb joke about his height, Wiggin didn’t show it.
\nInstead, Dink let him know which of Rosen’s rules and orders he had to obey,
\nand which he didn’t. He also let him know that Dink wouldn’t be playing power
\ngames with him- he was going to get Ender into the battles from the start,
\npushing him, giving him a chance to learn and grow.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin clearly
\nunderstood what Dink was doing for him. He left, satisfied.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>There’s my
\ncontribution to the survival of the human race, thought Dink. I’m not what
\ngreat commanders are made of. But I know a great commander when I see one, and
\nI can help get him ready. That’s good enough for me. I can take this stupid,
\nineffective school and accomplish something that actually might help us win
\nthis war. Something real.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Not this
\nstupid make-believe. Battle School! It was children’s games, but structured by
\nadults in order to manipulate the children. But what did it have to do with the
\nreal war? You rise to the top of the standings, you beat everybody, and then
\nwhat? Did you kill a single Bugger? Save a single human life? No. You just go
\non to the next school and start over as nothing again. Was there any evidence
\nthat Battle School accomplished anything?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Sure, the
\ngraduates ended up filling important positions throughout the fleet. But then,
\nBattle School only admits kids that are brilliant in the first place, so they
\nwould have been command material already. Was there any evidence that Battle
\nSchool made a difference?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>I could have
\nbeen home in Holland, walking by the North Sea. Watching it pound against the
\nshore, trying to wash over and sweep away the dikes, the islands, and cover the
\nland with ocean, as it used to be, before humans started their foolish
\nterraforming experiment.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink
\nremembered reading- back on Earth, when he could read what he wanted- the silly
\nclaim that the Great Wall of China was the only human artifact that could be
\nseen from space. In fact the claim wasn’t even true- at least not from
\ngeosynchronous orbit or higher. The wall didn’t even cast enough of a shadow to
\nbe seen.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>No, the human
\nartifact that could be seen from space, that showed up in picture after picture
\nwithout exciting any comment at all, was Holland. It should have been nothing
\nbut barrier islands with wide saltwater sounds behind them. Instead, because
\nthe Dutch built their dikes and pumped out the salt water and purified the
\nsoil, it was land. Lush, green land- visible from space.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But nobody
\nrecognized it as a human artifact. It was just land. It grew plants and fed
\ndairy cattle and held houses and highways, just like any other land. But we did
\nit. We Dutch. And when the sea levels rose, we raised our dikes higher and made
\nthem thicker and stronger, and nobody thought, Wow, look at the Dutch, they
\ncreated the largest human artifact on Earth, and they’re still making it, a
\nthousand years later.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>I could have
\nbeen home in Holland until they were actually ready to have me do something
\nreal. As real as the land behind the dikes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Free time was
\nover. Dink went to practice. Then he ate with the rest of Rat Army- complete
\nwith the ritual of pretending that all their food was rat food. Dink noticed
\nhow Wiggin observed and seemed to enjoy the game- but didn’t take part. He
\nstayed aloof, watching.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>That’s
\nsomething else we have in common.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Something
\nelse? Why had he thought of it that way? What was the first thing they had in
\ncommon, that made it so standing aloof was something else?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Oh, that’s
\nright. I almost forgot. We’re the smartest kids in the room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink silently
\nlaughed at himself with perfect scorn. Right, I’m not competitive. I know I’m
\nnot the best- but without even thinking about it, I assume that I’m therefore
\nsecond best. What an eemo.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink went to
\nthe library and studied awhile. He hoped that Petra would come by, but she
\ndidn’t. Instead of talking to her- the only other kid he knew who shared his
\ncontempt for the system- he actually finished his assignments. It was history,
\nso it mattered that he do well.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He got back to
\nthe barracks a little early. Maybe he’d sleep. Maybe play some game on his
\ndesk. Maybe there’d be somebody in a talkative mood and Dink would have a
\nconversation. No plans. He refused to care.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Flip was
\nthere, too. Already getting undressed for bed. But instead of putting his shoes
\nin his locker with the rest of his uniform and his flash suit and the few other
\npossessions a kid could have in Battle School, he had set his shoes down on the
\nfloor near the foot of his bed, toes out.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>There was
\nsomething familiar about it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Flip looked at
\nhim and smiled wanly and rolled his eyes. Then he swung up onto his bed and
\nstarted reading something on his desk, scrolling through what must be homework,
\nbecause now and then he’d run his finger across some section of the text to
\nhighlight it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The shoes.
\nThis was December fifth. It was Sinterklaas Eve. Flip was Dutch, so of course
\nhe had set out his shoes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Tonight,
\nSinterklaas- Sint Nikolaas, patron saint of children- would come from his home
\nin Spain, with Black Peter carrying his bag of presents, and listen through the
\nchimneys of the houses throughout Holland, checking to see if children were
\nquarreling or disobedient. If the children were good, then they would knock on
\nthe door and, when it was opened, fling candy into the house. Children would rush
\nout the door and find presents left in baskets- or in their shoes, left by the
\nfront door.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And Flip had
\nset his shoes out on Sinterklaas Eve.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>For some
\nreason, Dink found his eyes clouding with tears. This was stupid. Yes, he
\nmissed home- missed his father’s house near the strand. But Sinterklaas was for
\nlittle children, not for him. Not for a child in Battle School.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But Battle
\nSchool is nothing, right? I should be home. And if I were home, I’d be helping
\nto make Sinterklaas Day for the younger children. If there had been any younger
\nchildren in our house.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Without really
\ndeciding to do it, Dink took out his desk and started to write.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>His shoes will
\nsit and gather moss<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Without a gift
\nfrom Sinterklaas<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>For when a
\nsoldier cannot cross<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The battle
\nroom without a loss<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then why
\nshould Sinterklaas equip<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>A kid who
\ncannot fly with zip<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But crawls
\ninstead just like a drip<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Of rain on
\nglass, not like a ship<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>That flies
\nthrough space: I speak of Flip.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It wasn’t a
\ngreat poem, of course, but the whole idea of Sinterklaas poems was that they
\nmade fun of the recipient of the gift without giving offense. The lamer the
\npoem, the more it made fun of the giver of the gift rather than the target of
\nthe rhyme. Flip still got teased about the fact that when he first was assigned
\nto Rat Army, a couple of times he had bad launches from the wall of Battle Room
\nand ended up floating like a feather across the room, a perfect target for the
\nenemy.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink would
\nhave written the verse in Dutch, but it was a dying language, and Dink didn’t
\nknow if he spoke it well enough to actually use it for poem-writing. Nor was he
\nsure Flip could read a Dutch poem, not if there were any unusual words in it.
\nNetherlands was just too close to Britain. The BBC had made the Dutch
\nbilingual; the European Community had made them mostly anglophone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The poem was
\ndone, but there was no way to extrude printed paper from a desk. Ah well, the
\nnight was young. Dink put it in the print queue and got up from bed to wander
\nthe corridors, desk tucked under his arm. He’d pick up the poem before the
\nprinter room closed, and he’d also search for something that might serve as a
\ngift.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>In the end he
\nfound no gift, but he did add two lines to the poem: If Piet gives you a gift
\ntoday, You’ll find it on your breakfast tray.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It’s not as if
\nthere were a lot of things available to the kids in Battle School. Their only
\ngames were in their desks or in the game room; their only sport was in the
\nBattle Room. Desks and uniforms; what else did they need to own?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This bit of
\npaper, thought Dink. That’s what he’ll have in the morning.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was dark in
\nthe barracks, and most kids were asleep, though a few still worked on their
\ndesks, or played some stupid game. Didn’t they know the teachers did
\npsychological analysis on them based on the games they played? Maybe they just
\ndidn’t care. Dink sometimes didn’t care either, and played. But not tonight.
\nTonight he was seriously pissed off. And he didn’t even know why.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Yes he did.
\nFlip was getting something from Sinterklaas- and Dink wasn’t. He should have.
\nDad would have made sure he got something from Black Piet’s bag. Dink would
\nhave hunted all over the house for it on Sinterklaas morning until he finally
\nfound it in some perverse hiding place.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>I’m homesick.
\nThat’s all. Isn’t that what the stupid counselor told him? You’re homesick- get
\nover it. The other kids do, said the counselor.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But they
\ndon’t, thought Dink. They just hide it. From each other, from themselves.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The remarkable
\nthing about Flip was that tonight he didn’t hide it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Flip was
\nalready asleep. Dink folded the paper and slipped it into one of the shoes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Stupid greedy
\nkid. Leaving out both shoes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But of course
\nthat wasn’t it at all. If he had left only one shoe, that would have been proof
\npositive of what he was doing. Someone might have guessed and then Flip would
\nhave been mocked mercilessly for being so homesick and childish. So\u2026 both
\nshoes. Deniability. Not Sinterklaas Day at all- I just left my shoes by the
\nside of my bed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink crawled into
\nhis own bed and lay there for a little while, filled with a deep and
\nunaccountable sadness. It wasn’t homesickness, not really. It was the fact that
\nDink was no longer the child; now he was the one who helped Sinterklaas do his
\njob. Of course the old saint couldn’t get from Spain to Battle School, not in
\nthe ship he used. Somebody had to help him out.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink was
\nbeing, not the child, but the dad. He would never be the child again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

5<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

SINTERKLAAS DAY<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Zeck saw the shoes. He saw Dink put something into the
\nshoe in the darkness, when most kids were asleep. But it meant nothing to him,
\nexcept that these two Dutch boys were doing something weird.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck wasn’t in
\nDink’s toon. He wasn’t really in any toon. Because nobody wanted him, and it
\nwouldn’t matter if they had. Zeck didn’t play.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Which made it
\nall the more remarkable that Rat Army was in second place- they won their
\nbattles with one less active soldier than anybody else.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>At first Rosen
\nhad threatened him and tried to take away privileges- even meals- but Zeck
\nsimply ignored him, like he ignored other kids who shoved him and jostled him
\nin the corridors. What did he care? Their physical brutality, mild as it might
\nbe, showed what kind of people they were- the impurity of their souls- because
\nthey rejoiced in violence.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Genesis,
\nchapter six, verse thirteen: “And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh
\nis come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and,
\nbehold, I will destroy them with the earth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Didn’t they
\nunderstand that it was the violence of the human race that had caused God to
\nsend the Buggers to attack the Earth? This became obvious to Zeck as he was
\nforced to watch the vids of the Scouring of China. What could the Buggers
\nrepresent, except the destroying angel? A flood the first time, and now fire,
\njust as was prophesied.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So the proper
\nresponse was to forswear violence and become peaceful, rejecting war. Instead,
\nthey sacrificed their children to the idolatrous god of war, taking them from
\ntheir families and thrusting them up here into the hot metal arms of Moloch,
\nwhere they would be trained to give themselves over entirely to violence.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Jostle me all
\nyou want. It will purify me and make you filthier.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Now, though,
\nnobody bothered with Zeck. He was ignored. Not pointedly- if he asked a
\nquestion, people answered. Scornfully, perhaps, but what was that to Zeck?
\nScorn was merely pity mingled with hate, and hate was pride mixed with fear.
\nThey feared him because he was different, and so they hated him, and so their
\npity- the touch of godliness that remained in them- was turned to scorn. A
\nvirtue made filthy by pride.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>By morning he
\nhad forgotten all about Flip’s shoes and the paper that Dink had put into one
\nof them the night before.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But then he saw
\nDink step out of the food line with a full tray, and walk back to hand the tray
\nto Flip.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Flip smiled,
\nthen laughed and rolled his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck
\nremembered the shoes then. He walked over and looked at the tray.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was
\npancakes this morning, and on the top pancake, everything had been cut away
\nexcept a big letter “F.” Apparently, this had some significance to
\nthe two Dutch boys that completely escaped Zeck. But then, a lot of things
\nescaped him. His father had kept him sheltered from the world, and so he did
\nnot know many of the things most of the other children knew. He was proud of
\nhis ignorance. It was a mark of his purity.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This time,
\nthough, there was something about this that seemed wrong to him. As if the
\nletter “F” in the pancake was some kind of conspiracy. What did it
\nstand for? A bad word in Common? That was too easy, and besides, they weren’t
\nlaughing like that- it wasn’t wicked laughter. It was\u2026 sad laughter.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Sad laughter.
\nIt was hard to make sense of it, but Zeck knew that he was right. The F was
\nfunny, but it also made them sad.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He asked one
\nof the other boys. “What’s with the F Dink carved into Flip’s
\npancake?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The other kid
\nshrugged. “They’re Dutch,” he said, as if that accounted for any
\nweirdness about them.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck took that
\nsolitary clue- which he had already known, of course- and took it to his desk
\nimmediately after breakfast. He searched first for “Netherlands F.”
\nNothing that made sense. Then a few more combinations, but it was “Dutch
\nshoes” that brought him to Sinterklaas Day, December sixth, and all the
\ncustoms associated with it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He didn’t go
\nto class. He went to Flip’s tidily made bed and unmade it till he found, under
\nthe sheet and next to the mattress, Dink’s poem.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck memorized
\nit, put it back, and remade the bed- for it would be wrong to put Flip at risk
\nof getting a demerit that he did not deserve. Then he went to Colonel Graff’s
\noffice.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nremember sending for you,” said Colonel Graff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\ndidn’t,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If you
\nhave a problem, take it to your counselor. Who’s assigned to you?” But
\nZeck knew at once that it wasn’t that Graff couldn’t remember the counselor’s
\nname- he simply had no idea who Zeck was.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m Zeck
\nMorgan,” he said. “I’m a spectator in Rat Army.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh,”
\nsaid Graff, nodding. “You. Have you reconsidered your vow of
\nnonviolence?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No
\nsir,” said Zeck. “I’m here to ask you a question.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And you
\ncouldn’t have asked somebody else?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Everybody
\nelse was busy,” said Zeck. Immediately he repented of the remark, because
\nof course he hadn’t even tried anybody else, and he only said this in order to
\nhurt Graff’s feelings by implying he was useless and had no work to do.
\n“That was wrong of me to say that,” said Zeck, “and I ask your
\nforgiveness.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What’s
\nyour question,” said Graff impatiently, looking away.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“When you
\ninformed me that nonviolence was not an option here, you said it was because my
\nmotive is religious, and there is no religion in Battle School.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No open
\nobservance of religion,” said Graff. “Or we’d have classes constantly
\nbeing interrupted by Muslims praying and every seventh day- not the same
\nseventh day, mind you- we’d have Christians and Muslims and Jews celebrating
\none Sabbath or another. Not to mention the Macumba ritual of sacrificing
\nchickens. Icons and statues of saints and little Buddhas and ancestral shrines
\nand all kinds of other things would clutter up the place. So it’s all banned.
\nPeriod. So please get to class before I have to give you a demerit.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That was
\nnot my question,” said Zeck. “I would not have come here to ask you a
\nquestion whose answer you had already told me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Then why
\ndid you bring up- Never mind, what’s your question?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If
\nreligious observance is banned, then why does Battle School tolerate the
\ncommemoration of the day of Saint Nicholas?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We
\ndon’t,” said Graff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And yet
\nyou did,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No we
\ndidn’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It was
\ncommemorated.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Would
\nyou please get to the point? Are you lodging a complaint? Did one of the
\nteachers make some remark?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Filippus
\nRietveld put out his shoes for Saint Nicholas. Dink Meeker put a Sinterklaas
\npoem in the shoe and then gave Flip a pancake carved with the initial ‘F’ An
\nedible initial is a traditional treat on Sinterklaas Day. Which is today,
\nDecember sixth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff sat down
\nand leaned back in his chair. “A Sinterklaas poem?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck recited
\nit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff smiled
\nand chuckled a little.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So you
\nthink it’s funny when they have their religious observance, but my religious
\nobservance is banned.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It was a
\npoem in a shoe. I give you permission to write all the poems you want and
\ninsert them into people’s wearing apparel.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Poems in
\nshoes are not my religious observance. Mine is to contribute a small part to
\npeace on Earth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You’re
\nnot even on Earth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I would
\nbe, if I hadn’t been kidnapped and enslaved to the service of Mammon,”
\nsaid Zeck mildly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>You’ve been
\nhere almost a year, thought Graff, and you’re still singing the same tune.
\nDoesn’t peer pressure have any effect on you?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If these
\nDutch Christians have their Saint Nicholas Day, then the Muslims should have
\nRamadan and the Jews should have the Feast of Tabernacles and I should be able
\nto live the gospel of love and peace.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why are
\nyou even bothering with this?” said Graff. “The only thing I can do
\nis punish them for a rather sweet gesture. It will make people hate you
\nmore.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You mean
\nyou intend to tell them who reported them?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,
\nZeck. I know how you operate. You’ll tell them yourself, so they’ll be angry
\nand people will persecute you and that will make you feel more purified.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>For a man who
\ndidn’t recognize him when he came in, Graff certainly knew a lot about him. His
\nface wasn’t known, but his ideas were. Zeck’s persistence in his faith was
\nmaking an impression.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If
\nBattle School bans my religion because it forbids all religion, then all
\nreligion should be forbidden, sir.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I know
\nthat,” said Graff. “I also know you’re an insufferable twit.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nbelieve that remark falls under the topic of ‘The commander’s responsibility to
\nbuild morale,’ is that correct, sir?” asked Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And that
\nremark falls under the category of ‘You won’t get out of Battle School by being
\na smartass,'” said Graff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Better a
\nsmartass than an insufferable twit, sir,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Get out
\nof my office.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>An hour later,
\nFlip and Dink had been called in and reprimanded and the poem confiscated.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Aren’t
\nyou going to take his shoes, sir?” asked Dink. “And I’m sure we can
\nrecover his initial when he shits it out. I’ll reshape it for you so there’s no
\nmistaking it, sir.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff said
\nnothing, except to send them back to class. He knew that word of this would
\ncirculate throughout Battle School. But if he hadn’t done it, then Zeck would
\nhave made sure that word of how this “religious observance” had been
\ntolerated would spread, and then there really would be a nightmare of kids
\ndemanding their holidays.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was
\ninevitable. The two recusants, Zeck and Dink, both of whom refused to cooperate
\nwith the program here, were bound to become allies. Not that they knew they
\nwere allied. But in fact they were- they were deliberately stressing the system
\nin order to try to make it collapse.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Well, I won’t
\nlet you, dear genius children. Because nobody gives a rat’s ass about
\nSinterklaas Day, or about Christian nonviolence. When you go to war- which is
\nwhere you’ve gone, believe it or not, Dink and Zeckthen childish things are put
\naway. In the face of a threat to the survival of the species, all these
\nplanetside trivialities are put aside until the crisis passes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And it has not
\npassed, whatever you little twits might think about it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

6<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

HOLY WAR<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Dink left Graff’s office seething. “If they can’t
\nsee the difference between praying eight times a day and putting a poem in a
\nshoe once a year\u2026”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It was a
\ngreat poem,” said Flip.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It was
\ndumb,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Wasn’t
\nthat the point? It was a great dumb poem. I just feel bad I didn’t write one
\nfor you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I didn’t
\nput out my shoes.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Flip sighed.
\n“I’m sorry I did that. I was just feeling homesick. I didn’t think anybody
\nwould do anything about it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Sorry.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We’re
\nboth so very very sorry,” said Flip. “Except that we’re not sorry at
\nall.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,
\nwe’re not,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“In fact,
\nit’s kind of fun to get in trouble for keeping Sinterklaas Day. Imagine what
\nwould happen if we celebrated Christmas.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Well,”
\nsaid Dink, “we’ve still got nineteen days.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Right,”
\nsaid Flip.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>By the time
\nthey got back to Rat Army barracks, it was obvious that the story was already
\nknown. Everybody fell silent when Dink and Flip stood in the doorway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Stupid,”
\nsaid Rosen.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Thanks,”
\nsaid Dink. “That means so much, coming from you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Since
\nwhen did you get religion?” Rosen demanded. “Why make some kind of
\nholy war out of it?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It
\nwasn’t religious,” said Dink. “It was Dutch.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Well,
\neemo, you be Rat Army now, not Dutch.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“In three
\nmonths I won’t be in Rat Army,” said Dink. “But I’ll be Dutch until I
\ndie.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Nations
\ndon’t matter up here,” said one of the other boys.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Religions
\nneither,” said another.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Well
\nit’s obvious religion does matter,” said Flip, “or we wouldn’t have
\nbeen called in and reprimanded for cutting a pancake into an ‘F’ and writing a
\nfunny poem and sticking it in a shoe.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink looked
\ndown the long corridor, which curved upward toward the end. Zeck, who slept at
\nthe very back of the barracks, couldn’t even be seen from the door.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He’s not
\nhere,” said Rosen.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Who?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Zeck,”
\nsaid Rosen. “He came in and told us what he’d done, and then he
\nleft.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Anybody
\nknow where he goes when he takes off by himself?” asked Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why?”
\nsaid Rosen. “You planning to slap him around a little? I can’t allow
\nthat.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I want
\nto talk to him,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh,
\ntalk,” said Rosen.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“When I
\nsay talk, I mean talk,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nwant to talk to him,” said Flip. “Stupid prig.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He just
\nwants to get out of Battle School,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If we
\nput it to a vote,” said one of the other boys, “he’d be gone in a
\nsecond. What a waste of space.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“A
\nvote,” said Flip. “What a military idea.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Go stick
\nyour finger in a dike,” the boy answered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So now
\nwe’re anti-Dutch,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They
\ncan’t help it if they still believe in Santa Claus,” said an American kid.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Sinterklaas,”
\nsaid Dink. “Lives in Spain, not the North Pole. Has a friend who carries
\nhis bag- Black Piet.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Friend?”
\nsaid a kid from South Africa. “Black Piet sounds like a slave to me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Rosen sighed.
\n“It’s a relief when Christians are fighting each other instead of
\nslaughtering Jews.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>That was when
\nEnder Wiggin joined the discussion for the first time. “Isn’t this exactly
\nwhat the rules are supposed to prevent? People sniping at each other because of
\nreligion or nationality?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And yet
\nwe’re doing it anyway,” said the American kid.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Aren’t
\nwe up here to save the human race?” asked Dink. “Humans have
\nreligions and nationalities. And customs. Why can’t we be humans too?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin didn’t
\nanswer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Makes no
\nsense for us to live like Buggers,” said Dink. “They don’t celebrate
\nSinterklaas Day, either.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Part of
\nbeing human,” said Wiggin, “is to massacre each other from time to
\ntime. So maybe till we beat the Formics we should try not to be so very very
\nhuman.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nmaybe,” said Dink, “soldiers fight for what they care about, and what
\nthey care about is their families and their traditions and their faith and
\ntheir nation- the very stuff they don’t allow us to have here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Maybe we
\nfight so we can get back home and find all that stuff still there, waiting for
\nus,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Maybe
\nnone of us are fighting at all,” said Flip. “It’s not like anything
\nwe do here is real.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ll
\ntell you what’s real,” said Dink. “I was Sinterklaas’s helper last
\nnight.” Then he grinned.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So
\nyou’re finally admitting you’re an elf,” said the American kid, grinning
\nback.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“How many
\nDutch kids are there in Battle School?” said Dink. “Sinterklaas is
\ndefinitely a minority cultural icon, right? Nothing like Santa Claus,
\nright?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Rosen kicked
\nDink lightly on the shin. “What do you think you’re doing, Dink?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Santa
\nClaus isn’t a religious figure, either. Nobody prays to Santa Claus. It’s an
\nAmerican thing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Canadian
\ntoo,” said another kid.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Anglophone
\nCanadian,” said another. “Papa N\u00f5el for some of us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Father
\nChristmas,” said a Brit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“See? Not
\nChristian, national,” said Dink. “It’s one thing to stifle religious
\nexpression. But to try to erase nationality- the whole fleet is thick with
\nnational loyalties. They don’t make Dutch admirals pretend not to be Dutch.
\nThey wouldn’t stand for it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“There
\naren’t any Dutch admirals,” said the Brit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It wasn’t that
\nDink let idiotic comments like this make him angry. He didn’t want to hit
\nanybody. He didn’t want to raise his voice. But still, there was this deep
\ndefiance that could not be ignored. He had to do something that other people
\nwouldn’t like. Even though he knew it would cause trouble and accomplish
\nnothing at all, he was going to do it, and it was going to start right now.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They
\nwere able to stifle our Dutch holiday because there are so few of us,”
\nsaid Dink. “But it’s time for us to insist on expressing our national
\ncultures like any other soldiers in the International Fleet. Christmas is a
\nholy day for Christians, but Santa Claus is a secular figure. Nobody prays to
\nSaint Nicholas.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Little
\nkids do,” said the American, but he was laughing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Santa
\nClaus, Father Christmas, Papa Noel, Sinterklaas, they may have begun with a
\nChristian feast day, but they’re national now, and people with no religion at
\nall still celebrate the holiday. It’s the day of gift-giving, right? December
\ntwenty-fifth, whether you’re a believing Christian or not. They can keep us
\nfrom being religious, but they can’t stop us from giving gifts on Santa Claus
\nday.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Some of them
\nwere laughing. Some were thinking.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You’re
\ngoing to get in such deep doodoo,” said one.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“,”
\nsaid Dink. “But then, that’s where I live all the time anyway.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t even
\ntry it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink looked up
\nto see who had spoken so angrily. Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I think
\nwe already know where you stand,” said Dink. “In the name of Christ I
\nforbid you to bring Satan into this place.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>All the smiles
\ndisappeared. Everyone fell silent.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You know,
\ndon’t you, Zeck,” said Dink, “that you just guaranteed that I’ll have
\nsupport for my little Santa Claus movement.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck seemed
\ngenuinely frightened. But not of Dink. “Don’t bring this curse down on
\nyour own heads.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nbelieve in curses, I only believe in blessings,” said Dink. “And I
\nsure as hell don’t believe I’ll be cursed because I give presents to people in
\nthe name of Santa Claus.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck glanced
\naround and seemed to be trying to calm himself. “Religious observances are
\nforbidden for everybody.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And yet
\nyou observe your religion all the time,” said Dink. “Every time you
\ndon’t fire your weapon in the Battle Room, you’re doing it. So if you oppose
\nour little Santa Claus revolution, eemo, then we want to see you firing that
\ngun and taking people out. Otherwise you’re a flaming hypocrite. A fraud. A
\npious fake. A liar.” Dink was in his face now. Close enough to make some
\nof the other kids uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Back
\noff, Dink,” one of them muttered. Who? Wiggin, of course. Great, a
\npeacemaker. Again, Dink felt defiance swell up inside him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What are
\nyou going to do?” said Zeck softly. “Hit me? I’m three years younger
\nthan you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,”
\nsaid Dink. “I’m going to bless you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He set his
\nhand in the air just over Zeck’s head. As Dink expected, Zeck stood there
\nwithout flinching. That was what Zeck was best at: taking whatever anybody
\ndished out without even trying to get away.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I bless
\nyou with the spirit of Santa Claus,” said Dink. “I bless you with
\ncompassion and generosity. With the irresistible impulse to make other people
\nhappy. And you know what else? I bless you with the humility to realize that
\nyou aren’t any better than the rest of us in the eyes of God.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You know
\nnothing about God,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I know
\nmore than you do,” said Dink. “Because I’m not filled with
\nhate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Neither
\nam I,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,”
\nmurmured another boy. “You’re filled with kuso.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Toguro,”
\nsaid another, laughing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I bless
\nyou,” said Dink, “with love. Believe me, Zeck, it’ll be such a shock
\nto you, when you finally feel it, that it might just kill you. Then you can go
\ntalk to God yourself and find out where you screwed up.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink turned
\naround and faced the bulk of Rat Army. “I don’t know about you, but I’m
\nplaying Santa Claus this year. We don’t own anything up here, so gift-giving
\nisn’t exactly easy. Can’t get on the nets and order stuff to be shipped up
\nhere, all gift-wrapped. But gifts don’t have to be toys and stuff. What I gave
\nFlip here, the gift that got us in so much trouble, was a poem.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh how
\nsweet,” said the Brit. “A love poem?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>In answer,
\nFlip recited it. Blushing, of course, because the joke was on him. But also
\nloving it- because the joke was on him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink could see
\nthat a lot of them thought it was cool to have a toon leader write a satirical
\npoem about one of his soldiers. It really was a gift.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And just
\nto prove that we aren’t celebrating actual Christmas,” said Dink,
\n“let’s just give each other whatever gifts we think of on any day at all
\nin December. It can be Hanukkah. It can be\u2026 hell, it can be Sinterklaas Day,
\ncan’t it? The day is still young.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If Dink
\nwould give us all a gift,” intoned the Jamaican kid, “that would give
\nour hearts a lift.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh how
\nsweet,” said the Brit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Crazy
\nTom thinks everything’s sweet,” said the Canadian, “except for Tom’s
\nown mold-covered feet.” Most of them laughed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Was that
\nsupposed to be a present?” said Crazy Tom. “Father Christmas is doing
\na substandard job this year.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It would
\nbe pleasant to get a present,” said Wiggin. Everybody laughed a little.
\nWiggin went on, “It would be better to get a letter.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Only a few
\npeople chuckled at that. Then they were all quiet.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\nthe only gift I want,” said Wiggin softly. “A letter from home. If
\nyou can give me that, I’m with you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\ncan’t,” said Dink, now just as serious as Wiggin. “They’ve cut us off
\nfrom everything. The best I can do is this: At home you know your family’s
\ndoing Santa stuff. Hanging up stockings, right? You’re American, right?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin nodded.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Hang up
\nyour stocking this year, Wiggin, and you’ll get something in it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Coal,”
\nsaid Crazy Tom, the Brit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nknow what it is yet,” said Dink, “but it’ll be there.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It won’t
\nreally be from them,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No, it
\nwon’t,” said Dink. “It’ll be from Santa Claus.” He grinned.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin shook
\nhis head. “Don’t do it, Dink,” he said. “It’s not worth the
\ntrouble it’ll cause.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What
\ntrouble? It’ll build morale.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We’re
\nhere to study war,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck
\nwhispered: “Study war no more.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Are you
\nstill here, Zeck?” said Dink, then pointedly turned his back on him.
\n“We’re here to build an army, Wiggin. A group of men who work together as
\none. Not a bunch of kids hammered down by teachers who think they can erase ten
\nthousand years of human history and culture by making a rule.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin looked
\naway and said, sadly, “Do what you want, Dink.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I always
\ndo,” answered Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“The only
\ngift that God respects,” said Zeck, “is a broken heart and a contrite
\nspirit.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>A lot of kids
\ngroaned at that, but Dink gave Zeck one last look. “And when were you ever
\ncontrite?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Contrition,”
\nsaid Zeck, “is a gift I give to God, not to you.” Only then did Zeck
\nwalk away, back toward his bed, where he’d be hidden behind the curvature of
\nthe barracks room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

7<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

STOCKINGS<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Rat Army was only a small percentage of the population of
\nBattle School, but word spread quickly. The other armies began picking it up as
\na joke. Someone would pick up some scrap of leftover food and drop it on
\nsomeone else’s meal tray, saying, “There you are, from Santa with
\nlove.” And everybody at the table would laugh.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But even as a
\njoke, it was a gift, wasn’t it? Santa Claus was giving gifts all over Battle
\nSchool within days.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was more
\nthan just gifts. It was stockings. Nobody could say who started it, but after a
\nwhile it seemed that the giving of every gift was accompanied by a stocking.
\nRolled up, hidden inside something else, but always a stocking. Nobody hung the
\nstocking up in hopes of getting it filled, of course. It was the other way around-
\nthe stockings were being given as part of the gift.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And the
\nrecipient of the stocking found a way to wear it, whether it fit or not.
\nDangling from a sleeve. On a foot, but not matched with the other sock. Inside
\na flash suit. Sticking out of a pocket. Just for a day, the sock was worn, and
\nthen it was given back. It was the stocking more than the words now that said,
\nThis is from Santa Claus.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The stockings
\nwere needed, because what were the gifts? A few were poems, written on paper.
\nSome of them were food scraps. As the days passed, however, more and more of
\nthe gifts took the form of favors. Tutoring. Extra practice time in the Battle
\nRoom. A bed that was already made when somebody came back from the showers.
\nShowing somebody how to get to a hidden level in one of the video games.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Even when it
\nwasn’t a tangible gift, there was the stocking to make it real.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Father was
\nright, thought Zeck. The parents of these children put the lie of Santa in
\ntheir hearts, and now it bears fruits. Liars, all of them, giving gifts as
\nhomage to the Father of Lies. Zeck could hear his father’s voice in his memory:
\n“He will answer their prayers with the ashes of sin in their mouths, with
\nthe poison of atheism and unbelief in the plasma of their blood.” These
\nchildren were not believers- not in Christ, and not in Santa Claus. They knew
\nthey served a lie. If only they could see that when you do charity in the name
\nof Satan it turns to sin. The devil cannot do good.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck tried to
\ngo see Colonel Graff, but he was stopped by a Marine in the corridor. “Do
\nyou have an appointment with the commandant of Battle School?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,
\nsir,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Then
\nwhatever you have to say, say it to your counselor. Or one of the
\nteachers.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The teachers
\nwere no help. Few of them would talk to him anymore. They’d say, “Is this
\nabout algebra? No? Then tell it to somebody else, Zeck.” The words of
\nChrist had long since worn out their welcome in this place.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The counselor
\ndid listen- or at least sat in a room with him while he talked. But it came to
\nnothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So what
\nyou’re telling me is that the other students are being kind to each other, and
\nyou want it stopped.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They’re
\ndoing it in the name of Santa Claus.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What,
\nexactly, has anyone done to you- in the name of Santa Claus?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Nothing
\nto me, personally, but-“<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So
\nyou’re complaining because they’re being kind to other people and not to
\nyou?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Because
\nit’s in the name of-“<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Santa
\nClaus, I see. Do you believe in Santa Claus, Zeck?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What do
\nyou mean?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Believe
\nin Santa Claus. Do you think there’s really a jolly fat guy in a red suit who
\nbrings gifts?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So Santa
\nClaus isn’t part of your religion.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\nexactly my point. It’s part of their religion.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ve
\nasked. They say it isn’t religion at all. That Santa Claus is merely a cultural
\nfigure shared by many of the cultures of Earth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It’s
\npart of Christmas,” insisted Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And you
\ndon’t believe in Christmas.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Not the
\nway most people celebrate it, no.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What do
\nyou believe in?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nbelieve Jesus Christ was born, probably not in December at all anyway, and he
\ngrew up to be the Savior of the world.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No Santa
\nClaus.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So Santa
\nClaus isn’t part of Christmas.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Of
\ncourse he’s part of Christmas,” said Zeck. “For most people.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Just not
\nfor you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck nodded.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“All
\nright, I’ll talk about this to my superiors,” said the counselor. “Do
\nyou want to know what I think? I think they’re going to tell me it’s just a
\nfad, and they’re going to let it run itself out.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“In other
\nwords, they’re going to let them keep doing it as long as they want.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They’re
\nchildren, Zeck. Not many of them are as tenacious as you. They’ll lose interest
\nin it and it will go away. Have patience. Patience isn’t against your religion,
\nis it?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I refuse
\nto take offense at your sarcasm.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I wasn’t
\nbeing sarcastic.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I can
\nsee that you also are a true son to the Father of Lies.” And Zeck got up
\nand left.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m glad
\nyou didn’t take offense,” the counselor called after him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>There would be
\nno recourse to authority, obviously. Not directly, anyway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Instead, Zeck
\nwent to several of the Arab students, pointing out that the authorities were
\nallowing a Christian custom to be openly practiced. From the first few, he
\nheard the standard litany: “Islam has renounced rivalry between religions.
\nWhat they do is their business.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But Zeck was
\nfinally able to get a rise out of a Pakistani kid in Bee Army. Not that Ahmed
\nsaid anything positive. In fact, he looked completely uninterested, even
\nhostile. Yet Zeck knew that he had struck a nerve. “They say Santa Claus
\nisn’t religious. He’s national. But in your country, is there any difference?
\nIs Muhammad-“<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Ahmed held up
\none hand and looked away. “It is not for you to say the prophet’s
\nname.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\ncomparing him to Santa Claus, of course,” said Zeck. Though in fact Zeck
\nhad heard his father call Muhammad “Satan’s imitation of a prophet,”
\nwhich would make Santa and Muhammad pretty well parallel.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You have
\nsaid enough,” said Ahmed. “I’m done with you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck knew that
\nAhmed had gotten along well enough in Battle School. Their home countries were
\npowerless to insist on religious privileges, so the children in Battle School
\nhad been granted exemptions from the obligations of Muslims to pray. But what
\nwould he do now that the Christians were getting their Santa Claus? Pakistan
\nhad been formed as a Muslim country. There was no distinction between what was
\nnational and what was Muslim.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It apparently
\ntook Ahmed two days to organize things, especially because it was impossible to
\nascertain at any given time which earthside time zone they were in- or directly
\nabove- and therefore what times they should pray. They couldn’t even find out
\nwhat time it was in Mecca and use that schedule.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So Ahmed and
\nother Muslim students apparently worked it out so that they would pray during
\ntimes when they were not in class, and would continue to use the exemption for
\nthose students who were in an actual battle at a prayer time.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The result was
\na demonstration of piety at breakfast. At first it seemed only a half-dozen
\nMuslims were involved, the students prostrating themselves and facing- not
\nMecca, which would have been impossible- but to portside, which faced the sun.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But once the
\npraying began, other Muslim students took note and at first a few, then more
\nand more, joined in the praying. Zeck sat at the table, eating without
\nconversation with his supposed comrades in Rat Army. He pretended not to notice
\nor care, but he was delighted. Because Dink grasped the meaning almost at once.
\nThe prayer was a Muslim response to Dink’s Santa Claus campaign. There was no
\nway the commandant could ignore this.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So maybe
\nit’s a good thing,” Dink murmured to Flip, who was sitting next to him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck knew it
\nwas not a good thing. Muslims had renounced terrorism many years ago, after the
\ndisastrous Sunni-Shiite war, and had even reconciled with Israel and made
\ncommon economic cause. But everyone knew how much resentment still seethed
\nwithin the Muslim world, with many Muslims believing they were treated unfairly
\nby the Hegemony. Everyone knew of the imams and ayatollahs who claimed, loudly,
\nthat what was needed was not a secular Hegemony, but a Caliph to unify the
\nworld in worship of God. “When we live by Sharia, God will protect us from
\nthese monsters. When God sends a warning, we are wise to listen. Instead, we do
\nthe opposite, and God will not protect us when we are in rebellion against
\nhim.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was
\nlanguage Zeck understood. Apart from their religious delusions, they had the
\ncourage of their faith. They were not afraid to speak up. And they had numbers
\nenough to force people to listen to them. They would be heard by those who had
\nlong since stopped even pretending to listen to Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The next
\nprayer time was at the end of lunch. The Muslims had spread the word, and all those
\nwho intended to pray lingered in the mess hall. Zeck had already heard that the
\nsame thing happened in the commanders’ mess at breakfast, but now most of the
\nMuslim commanders had come into the main mess hall to join their soldiers in
\nprayer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Colonel Graff
\ncame into the mess hall just before the announced time of prayer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Religious
\nobservance in Battle School is forbidden,” he said loudly. “Muslims
\nhave been granted an exemption from the requirement of daily prayers. So any
\nMuslim student who insists on a public display of religious rituals will be
\ndisciplined, and any commanders or toon leaders who take part will immediately
\nand permanently lose their rank.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff had
\nalready turned to leave when Ahmed called out, “What about Santa
\nClaus?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“As far
\nas I know,” said Graff, “there is no religious ritual associated with
\nSanta Claus, and Santa Claus has not been sighted here in Battle School.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Double
\nstandard!” shouted Ahmed, and several others echoed him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff ignored
\nhim and left the mess hall.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The door had
\nnot closed when two dozen Marines came through the door and stationed
\nthemselves around the room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>When the time
\nfor prayer came, Ahmed and several others immediately prostrated themselves.
\nMarines came to them, forced them to their feet, and handcuffed them. The
\nMarine lieutenant looked around the room. “Anyone else?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>One more
\nsoldier lay down to pray; he was also handcuffed. No one else defied them. Five
\nMuslims were taken from the room. Not roughly, but not all that gently, either.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck turned
\nhis attention back to his food.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“This
\nmakes you happy, doesn’t it?” whispered Dink. Zeck turned a blank face
\ntoward him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You did
\nthis,” said Dink softly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m a
\nChristian. I don’t tell Muslims when to pray.” Zeck regretted speaking as
\nsoon as he finished. He should have remained silent.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You’re
\nnot a good liar, Zeck,” said Dink. And now he was talking loud enough that
\nthe rest of the table could hear. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s one of
\nyour best points- you’re used to telling the truth, so you never learned the
\nskill of telling lies.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nlie,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Your
\nwords were literally true, I’m sure. Our Muslim friends did not consult you on
\nthe timetable. But as an answer to my accusation that you did this, it was such
\na pathetically obvious lie. A dodge. If you really had nothing to do with it,
\nyou wouldn’t have needed a dodge. You answered like someone with something to
\nhide.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This time Zeck
\nsaid nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nthink this will help your chances of getting out of Battle School. Maybe you
\neven think it will disrupt Battle School and hurt the war effort- which makes
\nyou a traitor, from one point of view, or a hero of Christianity, from another.
\nBut you won’t stop this war, and you won’t hurt Battle School in the long run.
\nYou want to know what you really accomplished? Someday this war will end. If we
\nwin, then we’ll all go home. The kids in this school are the brightest military
\nminds of our generation. They’ll be running things in country after country.
\nAhmed- someday he’ll be Pakistan. And you just guaranteed that he will hate the
\nidea of trying to live with non-Muslims in peace. In other words, you just
\nstarted a war thirty or forty years from now.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Or
\nten,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Ahmed
\nwill still be pretty young in ten years,” said Flip, chuckling a little.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck hadn’t
\nthought of what this might lead to back on Earth. But what did Dink know? He
\ncouldn’t predict the future. “I didn’t start promoting Santa Claus,”
\nsaid Zeck, meeting Dink’s gaze.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No, you
\njust reported a little private joke between two Dutch kids and made a big deal
\nout of it,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

8<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

PEACE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The Santa Claus thing was over. Dink didn’t imagine that
\nhe controlled it anymore- it had grown way past him now. But when the Muslim
\nkids were arrested in the mess hall, it stopped being a game. It stopped being
\njust a way to tweak the nose of authority. There were real consequences, and as
\nZeck had pointed out, they were more Dink’s fault than anyone else’s.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So Dink asked
\nall his friends to ask everybody they knew to stop doing the stocking thing. To
\nstop giving gifts that had anything to do with Santa Claus.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And, within a
\nday, it stopped.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He thought
\nthat would be the end of it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But it wasn’t
\nthe end. Because of Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Nothing Zeck
\ndid, of course. Zeck was Zeck, completely unchanged. Zeck didn’t do anything in
\npractice except fly around, and he didn’t do anything in battle except take up
\nspace. But he went to class, he did his schoolwork, he turned in his
\nassignments.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And everybody
\nignored him. They always had. But not like this.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Before, they
\nhad ignored him in a kind of tolerant, almost grudgingly respectful way: He’s
\nan idiot, but at least he’s consistent.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Now they
\nignored him in a pointed way. They didn’t even bother teasing him or jostling
\nhim. He just didn’t exist. If he tried to speak to anybody, they turned away.
\nDink saw it, and it made him feel bad. But Zeck had brought it on himself. It’s
\none thing to be an outsider because you’re different. It’s another thing to get
\nother people in trouble for your own selfish reasons. And that’s what Zeck had
\ndone. He didn’t care about the no-religion rule- he violated it all the time
\nhimself. He just used Dink’s Sinterklaas present to Flip as a means of making a
\nlame point with the commandant.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So I was
\nchildish too, thought Dink. I knew when to stop. He didn’t.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Not my fault.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And yet Dink
\ncouldn’t stop observing him. Just glances. Just\u2026 noticing. He had read a little
\nbit about primate behavior, as part of the theory of group loyalties. He knew
\nhow chimps and baboons that were shut out of their troop behaved, what happened
\nto them. Depression. Self-destruction. Before, Zeck had seemed to thrive on
\nisolation. Now that the isolation was complete, he wasn’t thriving anymore.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He looked drawn.
\nHe would start walking in some direction and then just stop. Then go again, but
\nslowly. He didn’t eat much. Things weren’t going well for him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And if there
\nwas one thing Dink knew, it was that the counselors and teachers weren’t worth
\na bucket of hog snot when it came to actually helping a kid with real problems.
\nThey had their agenda- what they wanted to make each kid do. But if it was
\nclear the kid wouldn’t do it, then they lost interest. The way they had lost
\ninterest in Dink. Even if Zeck asked for help, they wouldn’t give it. And Zeck
\nwouldn’t ask.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Despite
\nknowing how futile it was, Dink tried anyway. He went to Graff and tried to
\nexplain what was happening to Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Interesting
\ntheory,” said Graff. “He’s being shunned, you think.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I know.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But not
\nby you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ve
\ntried to talk to him a couple of times, he shuts me out.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So he’s
\nshunning you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But
\neverybody else is shunning him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Dink,”
\nsaid Graff, “ego to absolvo.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Whatever
\nyou might think,” said Dink, “that wasn’t Dutch.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It was
\nLatin. From the Catholic confessional. I absolve you of your sin.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\nCatholic.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\na priest.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\ndon’t have the power to absolve anybody from anything.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But it
\nwas worth a try. Go back to your barracks, Dink. Zeck is not your
\nproblem.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why
\ndon’t you just send him back home?” asked Dink. “He’s never going to
\nbe anything in this army. He’s a Christian, not a soldier. Why can’t you let
\nhim go home and be a Christian?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff leaned
\nback in his chair. “Okay, I know what you’re going to say,” said
\nDink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\ndo?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“The same
\nthing everybody always says. If I let him do it, then I have to let everybody
\nelse do it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Really?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If
\nZeck’s noncompliance or whatever it is gets him sent home, then pretty soon
\nyou’ll have a lot more kids being noncompliant. So they can go home, too.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Would
\nyou be one of those?” asked Graff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I think
\nyour school is a waste of time,” said Dink. “But I believe in the
\nwar. I’m not a pacifist, I’m just anti-incompetence.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But you
\nsee, I wasn’t going to make that argument,” said Graff. “Because I
\nalready know the answer. If the only way a kid can go home is acting like Zeck
\nand being treated like Zeck, there’s not a kid in this school who’d do
\nit.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\ndon’t know that.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But I
\ndo,” said Graff. “Remember, you were all tested and observed. Not
\njust for logic, memory, spatial relationships, verbal ability, but also
\ncharacter attributes. Quick decision-making. Ability to grasp the whole of a
\nsituation. The ability to get along well with other people.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So how
\nthe hell did Zeck get here in the first place?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Zeck is
\nbrilliant at getting along with people,” said Graff. “When he wants
\nto.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink didn’t
\nbelieve it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Zeck can
\nhandle even megalomaniacal sociopaths and keep them from harming other people.
\nHe’s a natural peacemaker in a human community, Dink. It’s his best gift.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\njust kuso,” said Dink. “Everybody hated him right from the
\nstart.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Because
\nhe wanted you to. He’s getting exactly what he wants, right now. Including you
\ncoming here to talk to me. All exactly what he wants.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nthink so,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\nbecause you don’t know the thing that I was debating with myself about telling
\nyou.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So tell
\nme.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,”
\nsaid Graff. “The side arguing for discretion won, and I won’t tell.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink ignored
\nthe obfuscation. Graff wanted him to beg. Instead, Dink thought about what
\nGraff had said about Zeck’s abilities. Had Zeck somehow been playing him? Him
\nand everybody else?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why?”
\nasked Dink. “Why would he deliberately alienate everybody?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Because
\nnobody hated him enough,” said Graff. “He needed to be so hated that
\nwe gave up on him and sent him home.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I think
\nyou give him credit for more plans than he actually has,” said Dink.
\n“He didn’t know what would happen.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I didn’t
\nsay his plan was conscious. He just wants to go home. He believes he has to go
\nhome.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I can’t
\ntell you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Why
\nnot?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Because
\nI can’t trust you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If I say
\nI won’t repeat a story, I won’t repeat it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh, I
\nknow you can be discreet. I just don’t think I can trust you to do the job that
\nneeds doing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And what
\njob is that?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Healing
\nZeck Morgan.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I tried.
\nHe won’t let me near him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nknow,” said Graff. “So the thing you want to know, I’m going to tell
\nto someone else. Someone who is also discreet. Someone who can heal him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink thought
\nabout that for a few moments.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Ender
\nWiggin.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\nyour nominee?” asked Graff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,”
\nsaid Dink. “He’s yours. You think he can do anything.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Graff smiled a
\nlittle Mona Lisa smile, if Mona Lisa had been a pudgy colonel.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I hope
\nhe can,” said Dink. “Should I send him to you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ll bet
\nyou,” said Graff, “that Ender never needs to come to me at all.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He’ll
\njust know what to do without being told.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He’ll
\nact like Ender Wiggin, and in the process he’ll find out what he needs to know
\nfrom Zeck himself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Wiggin
\ndoesn’t talk to Zeck either.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You mean
\nthat you haven’t seen him talk to Zeck.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink nodded.
\n“Okay, that’s what I mean.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Give him
\ntime,” said Graff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink got up
\nfrom his chair.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nhaven’t dismissed you, soldier.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink stopped
\nand saluted. “Permission to leave your office and return to my barracks to
\ncontinue feeling like a complete shit, sir.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Denied,”
\nsaid Graff. “Oh, you can feel like whatever you want, that’s not my
\nbusiness. But your effort on behalf of Zeck has been duly noted.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I didn’t
\ncome here for a commendation.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nyou’re not getting one. All you’re getting from this is my good opinion of your
\ncharacter. It’s not easily won, but once won, my good opinion is hard to lose.
\nIt’s a burden you’ll have to carry with you for some time. Learn to live with
\nit. Now get out of here, soldier.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

9<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

WIGGIN<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Zeck came upon Wiggin at one of the elevator wells. It
\nwasn’t one much used by students- it was out of the normal lanes of traffic,
\nand mostly teachers used it, when it was used at all. Zeck used it precisely
\nfor that reason. He could wait in line at the busier elevators for a long time,
\nbut somehow he never got to the front of the line until everyone else had gone.
\nThat was usually fine with Zeck, but at mealtime, when everyone was headed for
\nthe same destination, it was the difference between a hot meal with a lot of
\nchoices and a colder one with almost no choices left.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>So there was
\nWiggin, sitting with his back to the wall, gripping his left leg so tightly
\nthat his head rested on his own knee. He was obviously in pain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck almost
\nwalked past him. What did he owe any of these people?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then he
\nremembered the Samaritan who stopped for the injured man- and the priest and
\nthe Levite who didn’t. “Something wrong?” asked Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Thinking
\nabout something and didn’t watch where I was stepping,” said Wiggin
\nthrough gritted teeth. “Bruise? Broken skin?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Twisted
\nankle,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Swollen?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nknow yet,” said Wiggin. “When I move it, it throbs.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Bring
\nyour other leg up so I can compare ankles.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin did.
\nZeck pulled his shoes and socks off, despite the way Wiggin winced when he
\nmoved his left foot. The bare ankles looked exactly alike, as far as he could
\ntell. “Doesn’t look swollen.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Good,”
\nsaid Wiggin. “Then I guess I’m okay.” He reached out and grabbed
\nZeck’s upper arm and began to pull himself up.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\na fire pole,” said Zeck. “Let me help you up instead of just grabbing
\nmy arm.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Sure,
\nsorry,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>In a moment,
\nWiggin was up and wincing as he tried to walk off the injury. “Owie owie
\nowie,” he breathed, in a parody of a suffering toddler. Then he gave Zeck
\na tiny smile. “Thanks.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t
\nmention it,” said Zeck. “Now what did you want to talk to me
\nabout?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin smiled
\na little more broadly. “I don’t know,” he said. No attempt to deny
\nthat this whole thing had been staged to have an opportunity to talk. “I
\njust know that whatever your plan is, it’s working too well or it isn’t working
\nat all.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nhave a plan,” said Zeck. “I just want to go home.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We all
\nwant to go home,” said Wiggin. “But we also want other things. Honor.
\nVictory. Save the world. Prove you can do something hard. You don’t care about
\nanything except getting out of here, no matter what it costs.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“That’s
\nright.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So, why?
\nAnd don’t tell me you’re homesick. We all cried for mommy and daddy our first
\nfew nights here, and then we stopped. If there’s anybody here tough enough to
\ntake a little homesickness, it’s you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So now
\nyou’re my counselor? Forget it, Wiggin.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What are
\nyou afraid of?” asked Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Nothing,”
\nsaid Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Kuso,”
\nsaid Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Now I’m
\nsupposed to pour out my heart to you, is that it? Because you asked what I was
\nafraid of, and that shows me how insightful you are, and I tell you all my
\ndeepest fears, and you make me feel better, and then we’re lifelong friends and
\nI decide to become a good soldier to please you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\ndon’t eat,” said Wiggin. “Humans can’t live in the kind of isolation
\nyou’re living in. I think you’re going to die. If your body doesn’t die, your
\nsoul will.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Forgive
\nme for pointing out the obvious, but you don’t believe in souls.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Forgive
\nme for pointing out the obvious,” said Wiggin, “but you don’t know
\nsquat about what I believe. I have religious parents too.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Having
\nreligious parents says nothing about what you believe.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But
\nnobody here is religious without religious parents,” said Wiggin.
\n“Come on, how old were you when they took you? Six? Seven?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I hear
\nyou were five.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And now
\nwe’re so much older. You’re eight now?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Almost
\nnine.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But
\nwe’re so mature.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They
\npicked us because we have a mental age much higher than the norm.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I have
\nreligious parents,” said Wiggin. “Unfortunately not the same
\nreligion, which caused a little conflict. For instance, my mother doesn’t
\nbelieve in infant baptism and my father does, so my father thinks I’m baptized
\nand my mother doesn’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck winced a
\nlittle at the idea. “You can’t have a strong marriage when the parents
\ndon’t share the same faith.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Well, my
\nparents do their best,” said Wiggin. “And I bet your parents don’t
\nagree on everything.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I bet
\nthey don’t agree on you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck turned
\naway. “This is completely none of your business.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I bet
\nyour mother was glad you went into space. To get you away from your father.
\nThat’s how much they disagree on religion.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck turned
\naround to face him, furious now. “What did those bunducks tell you about
\nme? They have no right.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Nobody
\ntold me anything,” said Wiggin. “It’s you, oomay. Back when people
\nwere still talking to you, when you first came into Rat Army, it was always,
\nYour father this, your father that.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You only
\njust joined Rat yourself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“People
\ntalk outside their armies,” said Wiggin. “And I listen. Always your
\nfather. Like your father was some kind of prophet. And I thought, I bet his
\nmother’s glad he isn’t under his father’s influence anymore.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“My
\nmother wants me to respect my father.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“She just
\ndoesn’t want you to live with him. He beat you, didn’t he?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck shoved
\nWiggin. Before he even thought of doing it, there was his hand, shoving the kid
\naway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Come
\non,” said Wiggin. “You shower. People see the scars. I’ve seen the
\nscars.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“It was
\npurification. There’s no way a pagan like you would understand that.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Purification
\nof what?” asked Wiggin. “You were the perfect son.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Graff’s
\nbeen feeding you information from their observation of me, hasn’t he! That’s illegal!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Come on,
\nZeck. I know you. If you decide something’s right, then that’s the thing you’ll
\ndo, no matter what it costs you. You believe in your father. Whatever he says,
\nyou’ll do. So what have you done wrong that makes it so you need all this purification?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck didn’t
\nanswer. He just closed down. Refused to listen. He let his mind go off
\nsomewhere else. To the place where it always went when Father purified him. So
\nhe wouldn’t scream. So he wouldn’t feel anything at all.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“There it
\nis,” said Wiggin. “That’s the Zeck he made you into. The Zeck who
\nisn’t really here. Doesn’t really exist.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck heard him
\nwithout hearing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And
\nthat’s why you have to get home,” said Wiggin. “Because without you
\nthere, he’ll have to find somebody else to purify, won’t he? Do you have a
\nbrother? A sister? Some other kid in the congregation?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He never
\ntouched any other kid,” murmured Zeck. “I’m the impure one.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh, I
\nknow. It’s your mother, isn’t it? Do you think he’ll try to purify your
\nmother?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>At Wiggin’s
\ncue, Zeck started thinking about his mother. And not just any picture of her.
\nIt was his mother saying to him, “Satan does not give good gifts. So your
\ngood gift comes from God.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And then
\nFather, saying, “There are those who will tell you that a thing is from
\nGod, when it’s really from the devil.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck had asked
\nhim why.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“They are
\ndeceived by their own desire,” Father had said. “They wish the world
\nwere a better place, so they pretend that polluted things are pure, so they
\ndon’t have to fear them.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He couldn’t
\nlet Father know what Mother had said, because it was so impure of her. Can’t
\nlet Father know.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>If he whips
\nMother I’ll kill him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The thought
\nstruck him with such force he gasped and stumbled against the wall.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>If he whips
\nMother I’ll kill him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin was
\nstill there, talking. “Zeck, what’s wrong?” Wiggin touched him.
\nTouched his arm. The forearm.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck couldn’t
\nhelp himself. He yanked his arm away, but that wasn’t enough. He lashed out
\nwith his right leg and kicked Wiggin in the shin. Then shoved him backward.
\nWiggin fell against the wall, then to the floor. He looked helpless. Zeck was
\nso filled with rage at him that he couldn’t contain it. It was all the weeks of
\nisolation. It was all his fear for his mother. She really wasn’t pure. He
\nshould hate her for it. But he loved her. That made him evil. That made him
\ndeserve all the purification Father ever gave him- because he loved someone as
\nimpure as Mother.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And for some
\nreason, with all of this rage and fear, Zeck threw himself down on Wiggin and
\npummeled him in the chest and stomach.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Stop
\nit!” cried Wiggin, trying to turn away from him. “What do you think
\nyou’re doing, purifying me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck stopped
\nand looked at his own hands. Looked at Wiggin’s body, lying there helpless. The
\nvery helplessness of him, his wormlike, fetal pose, infuriated Zeck. He knew
\nfrom class what this was. It was blood lust. It was the animal fever that took
\na soldier over and made him strong beyond his strength.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was what
\nFather must have felt, purifying him. The smaller body, helpless, complete
\nsubject to his will. It filled a certain kind of man with rage that had to tear
\ninto its prey. That had to inflict pain, break the skin, draw blood and tears
\nand screaming from the victim.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was
\nsomething dark and evil. If anything was from Satan, this was.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I
\nthought you were a pacifist,” said Wiggin softly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck could
\nhear his father going on and on about peace, how the servants of God did not go
\nto war.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“‘Beat
\nyour swords into ploughshares,” murmured Zeck, echoing his father quoting
\nMicah and Isaiah, as he did all the time.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Bible
\nquotations,” said Wiggin, uncurling himself. Now he lay flat on the
\nground. Completely open to any blows Zeck might try to land. But the rage was
\ndissipating now. Zeck didn’t want to hit him. Or rather, he wanted to hit him,
\nbut not more than he wanted not to hit him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Try this
\none,” said Wiggin. “‘Think not that I am come to send peace on earth:
\nI came not to send peace, but a sword.’ “<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t
\nargue scripture with me,” said Zeck. “I know them all.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But you
\nonly believe in the ones your father liked. Why do you think your father always
\nquoted the ones about hating war and rejecting violence, when he beat you the
\nway he did? Sounds like he was trying to talk himself out of what he found in
\nhis own heart.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\ndon’t know my father.” Zeck hissed out the words through a tight throat.
\nHe could hit this kid again. He could. But he wouldn’t. At least he wouldn’t if
\nthe kid would just shut up.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I know
\nwhat I just saw,” said Wiggin. “That rage. You weren’t pulling your
\npunches. That hurt.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Sorry,”
\nsaid Zeck. “But shut up now, please.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Oh, just
\nbecause it hurt doesn’t mean I’m afraid of you. You know one of the reasons I
\nwas glad to leave home? Because my brother threatened to kill me, and even
\nthough I know he probably didn’t mean it, my guts didn’t know that. My guts
\nchurned all the time. With fear. Because my brother liked to hurt me. I don’t
\nthink that’s your father, though. I think your father hated what he did to you.
\nAnd that’s why he preached peace.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He
\npreached peace because that’s what Christ preached,” said Zeck. He meant
\nto say it with fervor and intensity. But the words sounded lame even as he said
\nthem.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“‘The
\nLord is my strength and song,” quoted Wiggin. “‘And he is become my
\nsalvation.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Exodus
\nfifteen,” said Zeck. “It’s Moses. Old Testament. It doesn’t
\napply.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“‘He is
\nmy God, and I will prepare him an habitation; my father’s God, and I will exalt
\nhim.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What are
\nyou doing with the King James version anyway?” said Zeck. “Did you
\nlearn these scriptures just to argue with me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Yes,”
\nsaid Wiggin. “You know the next verse.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“‘The
\nLord is a man of war,'” said Zeck. “‘Jehovah is his name.'”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“The King
\nJames version just says ‘the Lord,’ ” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“But
\nthat’s what it means when the Bible puts it in small caps like that. They’re
\njust avoiding putting down the name of God.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“The Lord
\nis a man of war,” said Wiggin. “But if your dad quoted that, then
\nhe’d have no reason to try to control this bloodlust thing. This berzerker
\nrage. He’d kill you. So it’s really a good thing, isn’t it, that he ignored
\nJesus and Moses talking about how God is about war and peace. Because he loved
\nyou so much that he’d build half his religion up like a wall to keep him from
\nkilling you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Stay out
\nof my family,” whispered Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“He loved
\nyou,” said Wiggin. “But you were right to be afraid of him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t
\nmake me hurt you,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\nworried about you,” said Wiggin. “You’re twice the man your father
\nis. Now that you’ve seen the violence inside you, you can control it. You won’t
\nhit me for telling you the truth.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Nothing
\nthat you’ve said is true.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Zeck,”
\nsaid Wiggin. “It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about
\nhis neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these
\nlittle ones.’ Did your father quote that very much?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He wanted to
\nkill Wiggin. He also wanted to cry. He didn’t do either. “He quoted it all
\nthe time.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And then
\nhe took you out and made all those scars on your back.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I wasn’t
\npure.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No, he
\nwasn’t pure. He wasn’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Some
\npeople are looking so hard to find Satan that they see him even where he
\nisn’t!” cried Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nremember that from the Bible.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It wasn’t the
\nBible. It was Mother. He couldn’t say that.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’m not
\nsure what you’re saying,” said Wiggin. “That I’m finding Satan where
\nhe isn’t? I don’t think so. I think a man who whips a little kid and then
\nblames the kid for it, I think that’s exactly where Satan lives.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The urge to
\ncry was apparently going to win. Zeck could hardly get the words out. “I
\nhave to go home.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“And do
\nwhat?” asked Wiggin. “Stand between your mother and father until your
\nfather finally loses control and kills you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If
\nthat’s what it takes!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You know
\nmy biggest fear?” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\ncare about your fear,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“As much
\nas I hate my brother, what I’m afraid of is that I’m just like him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nhate my father.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You’re
\nterrified of him,” said Wiggin, “and you should be. But I think what you’re
\nreally planning to do when you go home is kill the old son of a bitch.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No I’m
\nnot!” cried Zeck. The rage filled him again, and he couldn’t stop himself
\nfrom lashing out, but at least he aimed his blows at the wall and the floor,
\nnot at Wiggin. So it hurt only Zeck’s own hands and arms and elbows. Only
\nhimself.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“If he
\nlaid one hand on your mother-” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I’ll
\nkill him!” Then Zeck hurled himself backward, threw himself to the floor
\naway from Wiggin and beat on the floor and kept beating on it till the skin of
\nthe palm of his left hand broke open and bled. And even then, he only stopped
\nbecause Wiggin took hold of his wrist. Held it and then put something in his
\npalm and closed Zeck’s fist around it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You’ve
\ndone enough bleeding,” said Wiggin. “In my opinion, anyway.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Don’t
\ntell,” whispered Zeck. “Don’t tell anybody.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nhaven’t done anything wrong,” said Wiggin, “except try to get home to
\nprotect your mother. Because you know your father is crazy and dangerous.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Just
\nlike me,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No,”
\nsaid Wiggin. “The opposite of you. Because you controlled it. You stopped
\nyourself from beating the little kid. Even when he deliberately provoked you.
\nYour father couldn’t stop himself from beating you- even when you did
\nabsolutely nothing wrong at all. You are not alike.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“The
\nrage,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“One of
\nthe soldierly virtues,” said Wiggin. “Turn it on the Buggers instead
\nof on yourself or your father. And especially instead of me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nbelieve in war.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Not many
\nsoldiers do,” said Wiggin. “You could get killed doing that stuff.
\nBut you train to fight well, so that when a war does come, you can win and come
\nhome and find everything safe.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“There’s
\nnothing safe at home.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I bet
\nthat things are fine at home,” said Wiggin. “Because, see, with you
\nnot there, your mother doesn’t have any reason to stay with your father, does
\nshe? So I think she’s not going to put up with any more crap from him. Don’t
\nyou think so? She can’t be weak. If she were weak, she could never have produced
\nsomebody as tough as you. You couldn’t have gotten your toughness from your
\nfather- he doesn’t have much, if he can’t even keep himself from doing what he
\ndid. So your toughness comes from her, right? She’ll leave him if he raises his
\nhand against her. She doesn’t have to stay to look out for you anymore.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was as much
\nthe tone of Wiggin’s voice as the words he said that calmed him. Zeck pulled
\nhis body together, rolled himself up into a sitting position. “I keep
\nexpecting to see some teacher rush down the corridor demanding to know what’s
\ngoing on.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I don’t
\nthink so,” said Wiggin. “I think they know exactly what’s going on-
\nprobably watching it on a holo somewhere- and maybe they’re keeping any other
\nkids from coming along here to see. But they’re going to let us work it out on
\nour own.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Work
\nwhat out?” said Zeck. “I got no quarrel with you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You had
\na quarrel with everybody who stood between you and going home.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I still
\nhate this place. I want to get out of here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Welcome
\nto the club,” said Wiggin. “Look, we’re missing lunch. You can do
\nwhat you want, but I’m going to go eat.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You
\nstill planning to limp on that left ankle?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Yes,”
\nsaid Wiggin. “After you kicked me? I won’t have to act.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Chest
\nokay? I didn’t break any ribs, did I?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“You sure
\nhave an inflated opinion of your own strength,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Then he
\nstepped into the elevator and held the bar as it drifted upward, carrying him
\nalong with it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck sat there
\nawhile longer, looking at nothing, thinking about what just happened. He wasn’t
\nsure if anything had been decided. Zeck still hated Battle School. And
\neverybody in Battle School hated him. And now he hated his father and didn’t
\nbelieve in his father’s phony pacifism. Wiggin had pretty much convinced him
\nthat his father was no prophet. Hell, Zeck had known it all along. But
\nbelieving in his father’s spirituality was the only way he could keep himself
\nfrom hating him and fearing him. The only way he could bear it. Now he didn’t
\nhave to bear it anymore. Wiggin was right. Mother was free, now that she didn’t
\nhave to look out for Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He unclenched
\nhis fist and saw what Wiggin had stuffed into it to stanch the bleeding. One of
\nhis socks, covered in blood.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

10<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

GRACE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Dink saw how Wiggin walked with his food tray and knew
\nsomething was wrong. And it wasn’t just because his tray was double-loaded. Who
\nwas he getting lunch for? Didn’t matter- what mattered was that Wiggin was in
\npain. Dink pulled out the chair beside him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What
\nhappened?” he asked as soon as Wiggin sat down.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Got
\nlunch for Zeck,” said Wiggin.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I mean
\nwhat happened to you,” said Dink.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Happened?”
\nWiggin’s voice was all innocence, but his eyes, lasering in at Dink’s eyes,
\nwere telling him to back off.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Suit
\nyourself,” said Dink. “Keep your dandruff to yourself for all I
\ncare.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The
\nconversation at the table flowed around them after that. Dink joined in now and
\nthen, but he noticed that Wiggin just ate, and that he was careful about how he
\nbreathed. Something had injured his chest. Broken rib? No, more likely a
\nbruise. And he’d been favoring one leg when he walked. Trying not to show it,
\nbut favoring it all the same. And he was saving lunch for Zeck. They’d had a
\nfight. The pacifist and the genius? Fighting each other? That was stupid. But
\nwhat else could it have been? Who else but a pacifist would attack somebody as
\nlittle as Wiggin?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Half the
\nsoldiers were gone from the table by the time Zeck came in. The food line had
\nalready closed down, but Wiggin saw him and stood up and waved him over. He was
\nslow raising his hand to wave, though, what with his chest hurting and all.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Zeck
\napproached. “Got lunch for you,” said Wiggin, stepping away from his
\nchair so that Zeck could sit in it.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The other kids
\nat the table were obviously poising themselves to leave if Zeck sat down there.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No, I’m
\nnot hungry,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Had he been
\ncrying? No. And what was with his hand? He kept it in a fist, but Dink could
\nsee that it had been injured. That there had been blood.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“I just
\nwanted to give you something,” said Zeck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He laid a
\nstocking down on the table beside Wiggin’s tray.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Sorry
\nit’s wet,” said Zeck. “I had to wash it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Toguro,”
\nsaid Wiggin. “Now sit and eat.” He almost pushed Zeck down into the
\nchair.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It was the
\nstocking that did it. Wiggin had given Zeck a gift- a Santa Claus gift, of all
\nthings- and Zeck had accepted it. Now Wiggin stood with his hands on Zeck’s
\nshoulders, staring at each of the other Rat Army soldiers in turn, as if he was
\ndaring them to stand up and go.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink knew that
\nif he got up, the others would too. But he didn’t get up, and the others
\nstayed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“So I’ve
\ngot this poem,” said Dink. “It really sucks, but sometimes you just
\ngotta say it to get it out of your system.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“We’ve
\njust eaten, Dink,” said Flip. “Couldn’t you wait till our food is
\ndigested?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“No, this
\nwill be good for you,” said Dink. “Your food’s turning to shit right
\nnow, and this will help.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>That got him a
\nlaugh, which bought him enough time to finish coming up with the rhymes he
\nneeded.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“What do
\nyou do with Zeck?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>You want to
\nbreak his neck.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But I warn you
\nnot to try<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Cause Zeck’s
\ntoo stubborn to die.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>As poems go,
\nit was pretty weak. But as a symbol of Dink’s decision that Zeck should be
\ngiven another chance, well, it did the job. Between Wiggin’s stocking and
\nDink’s poem, Zeck had returned to his previous status: barely tolerated.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dink looked up
\nat Wiggin, who was still standing behind Zeck- who now seemed to be eating with
\nsome appetite.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>“Merry
\nChristmas,” Dink mouthed silently.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Wiggin smiled.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

DOWNLOAD EPUB<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Book Preview Orson Scott Card A War of Gifts \u00a0 An Ender Story \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To Tom Ruby, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 who has kept the faith \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 in and out of Battle School \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 1 SAINT NICK \u00a0 \u00a0 Zeck Morgan sat attentively on the front row of the … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2127,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[116],"class_list":["post-2128","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-orson-scott-card"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2128","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2128"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2128\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2127"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2128"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2128"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2128"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}