"Bean?"
"Sir?" Bean turned to face him. Wiggin was standing in the shower entrance.
"I thought I ordered everybody to get down to the gym."
Bean thought back. The scene unfolded in his mind. Yes, Wiggin had ordered everybody to bring their flash suits to the gym.
"I'm sorry. I . . . was thinking of something else . . ."
"Everybody's nervous before their first battle."
Bean hated that. To have Wiggin see him doing something stupid. Not remembering an order--Bean remembered everything. It just hadn't registered. And now he was patronizing him. Everybody's nervous!
"You weren't," said Bean.
Wiggin had already stepped away. He came back. "Wasn't I?"
"Bonzo Madrid gave you orders not to take your weapon out. You were supposed to just stay there like a dummy. You weren't nervous about doing that."
"No," said Wiggin. "I was pissed."
"Better than nervous."
Wiggin started to leave. Then returned again. "Are you pissed?"
"I did that before I showered," said Bean.
Wiggin laughed. Then his smile disappeared. "You're late, Bean, and you're still busy rinsing. I've already got your flash suit down in the gym. All we need now is your ass in it." Wiggin took Bean's towel off its hook. "I'll have this waiting for you down there, too. Now move."
Wiggin left.
Bean turned the water off, furious. That was completely unnecessary, and Wiggin knew it. Making him go through the corridor wet and naked during the time when other armies would be coming back from breakfast. That was low, and it was stupid.
Anything to put me down. Every chance he gets.
Bean, you idiot, you're still standing here. You could have run down to the gym and beaten him there. Instead, you're shooting your stupid self in the stupid foot. And why? None of this makes sense. None of this is going to help you. You want him to make you a toon leader, not think of you with contempt. So why are you doing things to make yourself look stupid and young and scared and unreliable?
And still you're standing here, frozen.
I'm a coward.
The thought ran through Bean's mind and filled him with terror. But it wouldn't go away.
I'm one of those guys who freezes up or does completely irrational things when he's afraid. Who loses control and goes slack-minded and stupid.
But I didn't do that in Rotterdam. If I had, I'd be dead.
Or maybe I did do it. Maybe that's why I didn't call out to Poke and Achilles when I saw them there alone on the dock. He wouldn't have killed her if I'd been there to witness what happened. Instead I ran off until I realized the danger she was in. But why didn't I realize it before? Because I did realize it, just as I heard Wiggin tell us to meet in the gym. Realized it, understood it completely, but was too cowardly to act. Too afraid that something would go wrong.
And maybe that's what happened when Achilles lay on the ground and I told Poke to kill him. I was wrong and she was right. Because any bully she caught that way would probably have held a grudge--and might easily have acted on it immediately, killing her as soon as they let him up. Achilles was the likeliest one, maybe the only one that would agree to the arrangement Bean had thought up. There was no choice. But I got scared. Kill him, I said, because I wanted it to go away.
And still I'm standing here. The water is off. I'm dripping wet and cold. But I can't move.
Nikolai was standing in the bathroom doorway. "Too bad about your diarrhea," he said.
"What?"
"I told Ender about how you were up with diarrhea in the night. That's why you had to go to the bathroom. You were sick, but you didn't want to tell him because you didn't want to miss the first battle."
"I'm so scared I couldn't take a dump if I wanted to," said Bean.
"He gave me your towel. He said it was stupid of him to take it." Nikolai walked in and gave it to him. "He said he needs you in the battle, so he's glad you're toughing it out."
"He doesn't need me. He doesn't even want me."
"Come on, Bean," said Nikolai. "You can do this."
Bean toweled off. It felt good to be moving. Doing something.
"I think you're dry enough," said Nikolai.
Again, Bean realized he was simply drying and drying himself, over and over.
"Nikolai, what's wrong with me?"
"You're afraid that you'll turn out to be just a little kid. Well, here's a clue: You are a little kid."
"So are you."
"So it's OK to be really bad. Isn't that what you keep telling me?" Nikolai laughed. "Come on, if I can do it, bad as I am, so can you."
"Nikolai," said Bean.
"What now?"
"I really do have to crap."
"I sure hope you don't expect me to wipe your butt."
"If I don't come out in three minutes, come in after me."
Cold and sweating--a combination he wouldn't have thought possible--Bean went into the toilet stall and closed the door. The pain in his abdomen was fierce. But he couldn't get his bowel to loosen up and let go.
What am I so afraid of?
Finally, his alimentary system triumphed over his nervous system. It felt like everything he'd ever eaten flooded out of him at once.
"Time's up," said Nikolai. "I'm coming in."
"At peril of your life," said Bean. "I'm done, I'm coming out."
Empty now, clean, and humiliated in front of his only real friend, Bean came out of the stall and wrapped his towel around him.
"Thanks for keeping me from being a liar," said Nikolai.
"What?"
"About your having diarrhea."
"For you I'd get dysentery."
"Now that's friendship."
By the time they got to the gym, everybody was already in their flash suits, ready to go. While Nikolai helped Bean get into his suit, Wiggin had the rest of them lie down on the mats and do relaxation exercises. Bean even had time to lie down for a couple of minutes before Wiggin had them get up. 0656. Four minutes to get to the battleroom. He was cutting it pretty fine.
As they ran along the corridor, Wiggin occasionally jumped up to touch the ceiling. Behind him, the rest of the army would jump up and touch the same spot when they reached it. Except the smaller ones. Bean, his heart still burning with humiliation and resentment and fear, did not try. You do that kind of thing when you belong with the group. And he didn't belong. After all his brilliance in class, the truth was out now. He was a coward. He didn't belong in the military at all. If he couldn't even risk playing a game, what would he be worth in combat? The real generals exposed themselves to enemy fire. Fearless, they had to be, an example of courage to their men.
Me, I freeze up, take long showers, and dump a week's rations into the head. Let's see them follow that example.
At the gate, Wiggin had time to line them up in toons, then remind them. "Which way is the enemy's gate?"
"Down!" they all answered.
Bean only mouthed the word. Down. Down down down.
What's the best way to get down off a goose?
What are you doing up on a goose in the first place, you fool!
The grey wall in front of them disappeared, and they could see into the battleroom. It was dim--not dark, but so faintly lighted that the only way they could see the enemy gate was the light of Rabbit Army's flash suits pouring out of it.
Wiggin was in no hurry to get out of the gate. He stood there surveying the room, which was arranged in an open grid, with eight "stars"--large cubes that served as obstacles, cover, and staging platforms--distributed fairly evenly if randomly through the space.
Wiggin's first assignment was to C toon. Crazy Tom's toon. The toon Bean belonged to. Word was whispered down the file. "Ender says slide the wall." And then, "Tom says flash your legs and go in on your knees. South wall."
Silently they swung into the room, using the handholds to propel themselves along the ceiling to the east wall. "They're setting up th
eir battle formation. All we want to do is cut them up a little, make them nervous, confused, because they don't know what to do with us. We're raiders. So we shoot them up, then get behind that star. Don't get stuck out in the middle. And aim. Make every shot count."
Bean did everything mechanically. It was habit now to get in position, freeze his own legs, and then launch with his body oriented the right way. They'd done it hundreds of times. He did it exactly right; so did the other seven soldiers in the toon. Nobody was looking for anyone to fail. He was right where they expected him to be, doing his job.
They coasted along the wall, always within reach of a handhold. Their frozen legs were dark, blocking the lights of the rest of their flash suits until they were fairly close. Wiggin was doing something up near the gate to distract Rabbit Army's attention, so the surprise was pretty good.
As they got closer, Crazy Tom said, "Split and rebound to the star--me north, you south."
It was a maneuver that Crazy Tom had practiced with his toon. It was the right time for it, too. It would confuse the enemy more to have two groups to shoot at, heading different directions.
They pulled up on handholds. Their bodies, of course, swung against the wall, and suddenly the lights of their flash suits were quite visible. Somebody in Rabbit saw them and gave the alarm.
But C was already moving, half the toon diagonally south, the other half north, and all angling downward toward the floor. Bean began firing; the enemy was also firing at him. He heard the low whine that said somebody's beam was on his suit, but he was twisting slowly, and far enough from the enemy that none of the beams was in one place long enough to do damage. In the meantime, he found that his arm tracked perfectly, not trembling at all. He had practiced this a lot, and he was good at it. A clean kill, not just an arm or leg.
He had time for a second before he hit the wall and had to rebound up to the rendezvous star. One more enemy hit before he got there, and then he snagged a handhold on the star and said, "Bean here."
"Lost three," said Crazy Tom. "But their formation's all gone to hell."
"What now?" said Dag.
They could tell from the shouting that the main battle was in progress.
Bean was thinking back over what he had seen as he approached the star.
"They sent a dozen guys to this star to wipe us out," said Bean. "They'll come around the east and west sides."
They all looked at him like he was insane. How could he know this?
"We've got about one more second," said Bean.
"All south," said Crazy Tom.
They swung up to the south side of the star. There were no Rabbits on that face, but Crazy Tom immediately led them in an attack around to the west face. Sure enough, there were Rabbits there, caught in the act of attacking what they clearly thought of as the "back" of the star--or, as Dragon Army was trained to think of it, the bottom. So to the Rabbits, the attack seemed to come from below, the direction they were least aware of. In moments, the six Rabbits on that face were frozen and drifting along below the star.
The other half of the attack force would see that and know what had happened.
"Top," said Crazy Tom.
To the enemy, that would be the front of the star--the position most exposed to fire from the main formation. The last place they'd expect Tom's toon to go.
And once they were there, instead of continuing to attempt to engage the strike force coming against them, Crazy Tom had them shoot at the main Rabbit formation, or what was left of it--mostly disorganized groups hiding behind stars and firing at Dragons coming down at them from several directions. The five of them in C toon had time to hit a couple of Rabbits each before the strike force found them again.
Without waiting for orders, Bean immediately launched away from the surface of the star so he could shoot downward at the strike force. This close, he was able to do four quick kills before the whining abruptly stopped and his suit went completely stiff and dark. The Rabbit who got him wasn't one of the strike force--it was somebody from the main force above him. And to his satisfaction, Bean could see that because of his firing, only one soldier from C toon was hit by the strike force sent against them. Then he rotated out of view.
It didn't matter now. He was out. But he had done well. Seven kills that he was sure of, maybe more. And it was more than his personal score. He had come up with the information Crazy Tom needed in order to make a good tactical decision, and then he had taken the bold action that kept the strike force from causing too many casualties. As a result, C toon remained in position to strike at the enemy from behind. Without any place to hide, Rabbit would be wiped out in moments. And Bean was part of it.
I didn't freeze once we got into action. I did what I was trained to do, and I stayed alert, and I thought of things. I can probably do better, move faster, see more. But for a first battle, I did fine. I can do this.
Because C toon was crucial to the victory, Wiggin used the other four toon leaders to press their helmets to the corners of the enemy gate, and gave Crazy Tom the honor of passing through the gate, which is what formally ended the game, bringing the lights on bright.
Major Anderson himself came in to congratulate the winning commander and supervise cleanup. Wiggin quickly unfroze the casualties. Bean was relieved when his suit could move again. Using his hook, Wiggin drew them all together and formed his soldiers into their five toons before he began unfreezing Rabbit Army. They stood at attention in the air, their feet pointed down, their heads up--and as Rabbit unfroze, they gradually oriented themselves in the same direction. They had no way of knowing it, but to Dragon, that was when victory became complete--for the enemy was now oriented as if their own gate was down.
Bean and Nikolai were already eating breakfast when Crazy Tom came to their table. "Ender says instead of fifteen minutes for breakfast, we have till 0745. And he'll let us out of practice in time to shower."
That was good news. They could slow down their eating.
Not that it mattered to Bean. His tray had little food on it, and he finished it immediately. Once he was in Dragon Army, Crazy Tom had caught him giving away food. Bean told him that he was always given too much, and Tom took the matter to Ender, and Ender got the nutritionists to stop overfeeding Bean. Today was the first time Bean ever wished for more. And that was only because he was so up from the battle.
"Smart," said Nikolai.
"What?"
"Ender tells us we've got fifteen minutes to eat, which feels rushed and we don't like it. Then right away he sends around the toon leaders, telling us we have till 0745. That's only ten minutes longer, but now it feels like forever. And a shower--we're supposed to be able to shower right after the game, but now we're grateful."
"And he gave the toon leaders the chance to bring good news," said Bean.
"Is that important?" asked Nikolai. "We know it was Ender's choice."
"Most commanders make sure all good news comes from them," said Bean, "and bad news from the toon leaders. But Wiggin's whole technique is building up his toon leaders. Crazy Tom went in there with nothing more than his training and his brains and a single objective--strike first from the wall and get behind them. All the rest was up to him."
"Yeah, but if his toon leaders screw up, it looks bad on Ender's record," said Nikolai.
Bean shook his head. "The point is that in his very first battle, Wiggin divided his force for tactical effect, and C toon was able to continue attacking even after we ran out of plans, because Crazy Tom was really, truly in charge of us. We didn't sit around wondering what Wiggin wanted us to do."
Nikolai got it, and nodded. "Bacana. That's right."
"Completely right," said Bean. By now everybody at the table was listening. "And that's because Wiggin isn't just thinking about Battle School and standings and merda like that. He keeps watching vids of the Second Invasion, did you know that? He's thinking about how to beat the Buggers. And he knows that the way you do that is to have as many commanders ready to
fight them as you can get. Wiggin doesn't want to come out of this with Wiggin as the only commander ready to fight the Buggers. He wants to come out of this with him and the toon leaders and the seconds and if he can do it every single one of his soldiers ready to command a fleet against the Buggers if we have to."
Bean knew his enthusiasm was probably giving Wiggin credit for more than he had actually planned, but he was still full of the glow of victory. And besides, what he was saying was true--Wiggin was no Napoleon, holding on to the reins of control so tightly that none of his commanders was capable of brilliant independent command. Crazy Tom had performed well under pressure. He had made the right decisions--including the decision to listen to his smallest, most useless-looking soldier. And Crazy Tom had done that because Wiggin had set the example by listening to his toon leaders. You learn, you analyze, you choose, you act.
After breakfast, as they headed for practice, Nikolai asked him, "Why do you call him Wiggin?"
"Cause we're not friends," said Bean.
"Oh, so it's Mr. Wiggin and Mr. Bean, is that it?"
"No. Bean is my first name."
"Oh. So it's Mr. Wiggin and Who The Hell Are You."
"Got it."
Everybody expected to have at least a week to strut around and brag about their perfect won-lost record. Instead, the next morning at 0630, Wiggin appeared in the barracks, again brandishing battle orders. "Gentlemen, I hope you learned something yesterday, because today we're going to do it again."
All were surprised, and some were angry--it wasn't fair, they weren't ready. Wiggin just handed the orders to Fly Molo, who had just been heading out for breakfast. "Flash suits!" cried Fly, who clearly thought it was a cool thing to be the first army ever to fight two in a row like this.
But Hot Soup, the leader of D toon, had another attitude. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"
"I thought you needed the shower," said Wiggin. "Yesterday Rabbit Army claimed we only won because the stink knocked them out."
Everybody within earshot laughed. But Bean was not amused. He knew that the paper hadn't been there first thing, when Wiggin woke up. The teachers planted it late. "Didn't find the paper till you got back from the showers, right?"
Wiggin gave him a blank look. "Of course. I'm not as close to the floor as you."