Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1)(10)

“I don’t think it went very well, Mother,” said Dabeet quietly when she ushered him back into the apartment.

“Tell me everything.”

So Dabeet spoke to his mother for an hour, and almost nothing that he said was any truer than the stories his mother had told him all his life, and so when he had satisfied her curiosity, he felt empty and wicked and angry and deeply, deeply sad.

I am never going to Fleet School, because Graff doesn’t like me, and whatever attributes he doesn’t like, they aren’t likely to change.

Besides, Dabeet realized, I don’t have the same urgency to get away from Mother. She’s my one protector in a hostile world where minds like mine are a commodity to be captured or killed or exploited by governments—haven’t we seen what happened to the Battle School students when they came home to Earth? I would have to be a fool to get out from under her protection.

And under that was a feeling so deep and so irrational that Dabeet was ashamed that it formed part of his reason for no longer seeking to leave her behind: She did not deserve to lose contact with the child for whom she had sacrificed her former life.

Only gradually did he realize that somewhere, apparently still living, were his birth parents. They must be brilliant to have been Dabeet’s genetic sources. How can they possibly be as obscure as Mother? Somewhere, in some country, his birth mother now lived the life she had abandoned him in order to pursue. Did she rule a nation? Run a great corporation? Had she produced works of art or literature? Was she a performer? Was she famous in some way? She must have Amerindian blood—Graff had said so. As for Dabeet’s father, he was in the Fleet, he knew about Dabeet’s existence … was there some way to figure out, perhaps from his picture, who he might be?

Stop it! Dabeet ordered himself silently. If they wanted to help you they’d already be helping. There’s only one person who will help you, and that’s Mother, and it’s time you treated her with the respect she has earned from you.





3

—That was too provocative, going to see him.

—How could I make any intelligent decision about him without meeting him?

—You could have called him in. You didn’t have to show your face.

—It’s on the front of my head. And bringing him in would be even more provocative.

—You know what’s going on right now. You know it’s only beginning. And now you’ve put a target on him.

—I don’t see how. He’s never had even the slightest military training. He’s useless to them.

—Whoever “them” is, are they going to think that matters? Ender Wiggin aced all the tests. Dabeet Ochoa aced all the tests. This is a matter of record and yes, of course they’ll find a way to access those records.

—I wish I had foreseen all these potential consequences.

—You foresee everything.

—I’m not God, you know. If he sees everything, either, which I’m not sure he does.

—You want them to take him.

—A child? You think I want them to—

—I think you want to see what he’ll do.

—He’s eleven. Which of the other kids was able to do anything?

—You placed a tracker on him?

—“Them” would find anything like that.

—You just can’t stand to let anybody in on your plans, even when it’s their legal responsibility to know what you’re doing to a child.

—It’s sweet that you imagine that I have plans. That’s why I shouldn’t have admirers working with me.

—I don’t admire you. I distrust you intensely.

—Yet you’re sure I have a plan.

—You always have plans, sixty-four layers deep, and reaching forward generations.

—I have aspirations. Let’s watch Dabeet carefully and see who does have plans for him.

The day after the Minister of Colonization visited him, Dabeet went to school as he normally did, but he could hardly concentrate on anything. Not that he needed to concentrate in order to answer in-class questions or deal with teachers. But he kept spinning through the tests that the minister had assigned to him.

The first test had been explicit: Figure out the qualities of a good colony leader and then see which of those qualities Dabeet lacked. Answers that immediately came to mind were: I don’t make friends with other children. I’m arrogant and they resent me. But the adults admire and respect me. Will I be leading a team of children or of adults, if I’m a Fleet School graduate? Adults, of course. But perhaps when I’m an adult, other adults will resent me and fear me the way other children do now. I need to think more about that.

Then there was the hypothetical test—that maybe receiving the answer Dabeet was asking for would be as much of a test as any other. And which answer was the one he was looking for? He had wanted to know if his father was with the International Fleet, and now Dabeet knew that he was. Why would knowing that be a test?

Or did Graff think that telling him his mother was not his mother was the answer he had been looking for? Absurd. It was probably a lie anyway. Children were often smarter than their parents. At least smart children were.

Unless even smart children are too ignorant and naive to understand just how smart their mothers really are.

That’s what the man wants. To set me thinking in circles and see if I can make rational decisions anyway.