Ender's Game (Ender's Saga, #1) - Orson Scott Card Page 0,99

to each other.”

“True. But body to body, mind to mind. It’s the most important thing we learned from them. Their communication, however they do it, is instantaneous. Lightspeed is no barrier. When Mazer Rackham defeated their invasion fleet, they all closed up shop. At once. There was no time for a signal. Everything just stopped.”

Ender remembered the videos of uninjured buggers lying dead at their posts.

“We knew then that it was possible. To communicate faster than light. That was seventy years ago, and once we knew what could be done, we did it. Not me, mind you, I wasn’t born then.”

“How is it possible?”

“I can’t explain philotic physics to you. Half of it nobody understands anyway. What matters is we built the ansible. The official name is Philotic Parallax Instantaneous Communicator, but somebody dredged the name ansible out of an old book somewhere and it caught on. Not that most people even know the machine exists.”

“That means that ships could talk to each other even when they’re across the solar system,” said Ender.

“It means,” said Graff, “that ships could talk to each other even when they’re across the galaxy. And the buggers can do it without machines.”

“So they knew about their defeat the moment it happened,” said Ender. “I always figured—everybody always said that they probably only found out they lost the battle twenty-five years ago.”

“It keeps people from panicking,” said Graff. “I’m telling you things that you can’t know, by the way, if you’re ever going to leave I.F. Command. Before the war’s over.”

Ender was angry. “If you know me at all, you know I can keep a secret.”

“It’s a regulation. People under twenty-five are assumed to be a security risk. It’s very unjust to a good many responsible children, but it helps narrow the number of people who might let something slip.”

“What’s all the secrecy for, anyway?”

“Because we’ve taken some terrible risks, Ender, and we don’t want to have every net on earth second-guessing those decisions. You see, as soon as we had a working ansible, we tucked it into our best starships and launched them to attack the buggers home systems.”

“Do we know where they are?”

“Yes.”

“So we’re not waiting for the Third Invasion.”

“We are the Third Invasion.”

“We’re attacking them. Nobody says that. Everybody thinks we have a huge fleet of warships waiting in the comet shield—”

“Not one. We’re quite defenseless here.”

“What if they’ve sent a fleet to attack us?”

“Then we’re dead. But our ships haven’t seen such a fleet, not a sign of one.”

“Maybe they gave up and they’re planning to leave us alone.”

“Maybe. You’ve seen the videos. Would you bet the human race on the chance of them giving up and leaving us alone?”

Ender tried to grasp the amounts of time that had gone by. “And the ships have been traveling for seventy years—”

“Some of them. And some for thirty years, and some for twenty. We make better ships now. We’re learning how to play with space a little better. But every starship that is not still under construction is on its way to a bugger world or outpost. Every starship, with cruisers and fighters tucked into its belly, is out there approaching the buggers. Decelerating. Because they’re almost there. The first ships we sent to the most distant objectives, the more recent ships to the closer ones. Our timing was pretty good. They’ll all be arriving in combat range within a few months of each other. Unfortunately, our most primitive, outdated equipment will be attacking their homeworld. Still, they’re armed well enough—we have some weapons the buggers never saw before.”

“When will they arrive?”

“Within the next five years, Ender. Everything is ready at I.F. Command. The master ansible is there, in contact with all our invasion fleet; the ships are all working, ready to fight. All we lack, Ender, is the battle commander. Someone who knows what the hell to do with those ships when they get there.”

“And what if no one knows what to do with them?”

“We’ll just do our best, with the best commander we can get.”

Me, thought Ender. They want me to be ready in five years. “Colonel Graff, there isn’t a chance I’ll be ready to command a fleet in time.”

Graff shrugged. “So. Do your best. If you aren’t ready, we’ll make do with what we’ve got.”

That eased Ender’s mind.

But only for a moment. “Of course, Ender, what we’ve got right now is nobody.”

Ender knew that this was another of Graff’s games. Make me believe that it all depends on me, so