a decision out of duty, like his decision to stay with Mother. A decision because that is what he really wants.
Miro looked at Val, at the beauty that came more from deep goodness than from regular features. He loved her, but was it the perfection of her that he loved? That perfect virtue might be the only thing that allowed her -- allowed Ender in his Valentine mode -- to willingly let go and invite Jane in. And yet once Jane arrived, the perfect virtue would be gone, wouldn't it? Jane was powerful and, Miro believed, good -- certainly she had been good to him, a true friend. But even in his wildest imaginations he could not conceive of her as perfectly virtuous. If she started wearing Val, would she still be Val? The memories would linger, but the will behind the face would be more complicated than the simple script that Ender had created for her. Will I still love her when she's Jane?
Why wouldn't I? I love Jane too, don't I?
But will I love Jane when she's flesh and blood, and not just a voice in my ear? Will I look into those eyes and mourn for this lost Valentine?
Why didn't I have these doubts before? I tried to bring this off myself, back before I even half understood how difficult it was. And yet now, when it's only the barest hope, I find myself -- what, wishing it wouldn't happen? Hardly that. I don't want to die out here. I want Jane restored, if only to get starflight back again -- now that's an altruistic motive! I want Jane restored, but I also want Val unchanged.
I want all bad things to go away and everybody to be happy. I want my mommy. What kind of childish dolt have I become?
Val was looking at him, he suddenly realized. "Hi," he said. The others were looking at him, too. Looking back and forth between him and Val. "What are we all voting on, whether I should grow a beard?"
"Voting on nothing," said Quara. "I'm just depressed. I mean, I knew what I was doing when I got on this ship, but damn, it's really hard to get enthusiastic about working on these people's language when I can count my life by the gauge on the oxygen tanks."
"I notice," said Ela dryly, "that you're already calling the descoladores 'people.'"
"Shouldn't I? Do we even know what they look like?" Quara seemed confused. "I mean, they have a language, they --"
"That's what we're here to decide, isn't it?" said Firequencher. "Whether the descoladores are raman or varelse. The translation problem is just a little step along that road."
"Big step," corrected Ela. "And we don't have time enough to do it."
"Since we don't know how long it's going to take," said Quara, "I don't see how you can be so sure of that."
"I can be dead sure," said Ela. "Because all we're doing is sitting around talking and watching Miro and Val make soulful faces at each other. It doesn't take a genius to know that at this rate, our progress before running out of oxygen will be exactly zero."
"In other words," said Quara, "we should stop wasting time." She turned back to the notes and printouts she was working on.
"But we're not wasting time," said Val softly.
"No?" asked Ela.
"I'm waiting for Miro to tell me how easily Jane could be brought back into communication with the real world. A body waiting to receive her. Starflight restored. His old and loyal friend, suddenly a real girl. I'm waiting for that."
Miro shook his head. "I don't want to lose you," he said.
"That's not helping," said Val.
"But it's true," said Miro. "The theory, that was easy. Thinking deep thoughts while riding on a hovercar back on Lusitania, sure, I could reason out that Jane in Val would be Jane and Val. But when you come right down to it, I can't say that --"
"Shut up," said Val.
It wasn't like her to talk like that. Miro shut up.
"No more words like that," she said. "What I need from you is the words that will let me give up this body."
Miro shook his head.
"Put your money where your mouth is," she said. "Walk the walk. Talk the talk. Put up or shut up. Fish or cut bait."
He knew what she wanted. He knew that she was saying that the only thing holding her to this body, to this life, was him. Was her love for him. Was