that Ender or some of his army could carry to protect him from physical attack by Bonzo. But there was nothing that would be both concealable from the teachers and powerful enough to give smaller kids sufficient leverage over larger ones.
It was a disappointment, but he'd find other ways to neutralize the threat. And now, as long as he was scanning the inventory, was there anything that he might be able to use in the battleroom? Cleaning supplies weren't very promising. Nor would the hardware stocks make much sense in the battleroom. What, throw a handful of screws?
The safety equipment, though ...
"What's a deadline?" asked Bean.
Dimak answered. "Very fine, strong cord that's used to secure maintenance and construction workers when they're working outside the station."
"How long?"
"With links, we can assemble several kilometers of secure deadline," said Dimak. "But each coil unspools to a hundred meters."
"I want to see it."
They took him into parts of the station that children never went to. The decor was far more utilitarian here. Screws and rivets were visible in the plates on the walls. The intake ducts were visible instead of being hidden inside the ceiling. There were no friendly lightstripes for a child to touch and get directions to his barracks. All the palm pads were too high for a child to comfortably use. And the staff they passed saw Bean and then looked at Dap and Dimak as if they were crazy.
The coil was amazingly small. Bean hefted it. Light, too. He unspooled a few decameters of it. It was almost invisible. "This will hold?"
"The weight of two adults," said Dimak.
"It's so fine. Will it cut?"
"Rounded so smoothly it can't cut anything. Wouldn't do us any good if it went slicing through things. Like spacesuits."
"Can I cut it into short lengths?"
"With a blowtorch," said Dimak.
"This is what I want."
"Just one?" asked Dap, rather sarcastically.
"And a blowtorch," said Bean.
"Denied," said Dimak.
"I was joking," said Bean. He walked out of the supply room and started jogging down the corridor, retracing the route they had just taken.
They jogged after him. "Slow down!" Dimak called out.
"Keep up!" Bean answered. "I've got a toon waiting for me to train them with this."
"Train them to do what!"
"I don't know!" He got to the pole and slid down. It passed him right through to the student levels. Going this direction, there was no security clearance at all.
His toon was waiting for him in the battleroom. They'd been working hard for him the past few days, trying all kinds of lame things. Formations that could explode in midair. Screens. Attacks without guns, disarming enemies with their feet. Getting into and out of spins, which made them almost impossible to hit but also kept them from shooting at anybody else.
The most encouraging thing was the fact that Ender spent almost the entire practice time watching Bean's squad whenever he wasn't actually responding to questions from leaders and soldiers in the other toons. Whatever they came up with, Ender would know about it and have his own ideas about when to use it. And, knowing that Ender's eyes were on them, Bean's soldiers worked all the harder. It gave Bean more stature in their eyes, that Ender really did care about what they did.
Ender's good at this, Bean realized again for the hundredth time. He knows how to form a group into the shape he wants it to have. He knows how to get people to work together. And he does it by the most minimal means possible.
If Graff were as good at this as Ender, I wouldn't have had to act like such a bully in there today.
The first thing Bean tried with the deadline was to stretch it across the battleroom. It reached, with barely enough slack to allow knots to be tied at both ends. But a few minutes of experimentation showed that it would be completely ineffective as a tripwire. Most enemies would simply miss it; those that did run into it might be disoriented or flipped around, but once it was known that it was there, it could be used like part of a grid, which meant it would work to the advantage of a creative enemy.
The deadline was designed to keep a man from drifting off into space. What happens when you get to the end of the line?
Bean left one end fastened to a handhold in the wall, but coiled the other end around his waist several times. The line was now shorter than the width