Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1)(29)

And then Oddson came to him and told him the testing was over. “Here’s your flash suit. Practice putting it on and taking it off until you can do it with your eyes closed.”

“What did all these tests reveal?”

“That you’re almost as smart as you think you are,” said Oddson.

Dabeet did not say anything like “I could have told you that,” because he recognized the thinly veiled insult and the challenge in Oddson’s words.

“Look at you, trying not to gloat,” said Oddson. “I’ve heard of people who could strut sitting down, but you can do a victory dance without even twitching.”

“Victory dances,” said Dabeet, “are apparently in the eye of the beholder.”

“You’ll attend classes, but everybody does work at their own level on their own desk. Just don’t expect the teacher to waste the whole class’s time by lecturing to you.”

That far ahead of everybody. Dabeet was justifiably proud of his self-education. Though some of his ability had been honed by the handful of good teachers at Conn.

“When I’ve mastered putting on clothes and taking them off,” said Dabeet, “could you explain why I’m going to waste my time trying to play games with this group?”

“Ah, there it is, the superiority complex I was warned about.”

“I’m not superior to anybody,” said Dabeet. “When it comes to the battleroom, I’m going to be like a snail clinging to the wall and leaving a slime trail. And even if I could fly like the others, so what? They aren’t an army. They’re barely a committee.”

Then Dabeet proceeded to explain his observations about the groups that the children were divided into and how it made cohesive action impossible.

“Very good observations,” said Oddson.

“They weren’t observations, they were criticisms.”

“You can hardly blame the children for divisions that affect the whole IF and everybody else who isn’t on Earth or Luna.”

“I don’t blame anybody. Well, no, I do blame the administration and teachers at this school for tolerating this social situation. It must be completely counterproductive and yet you let it go on this way.”

“We do,” said Oddson. “So now that you’ve pointed out our culpability, I eagerly await your plan of action.”

“Why should I have a plan? I’m a child.”

“If you don’t have a plan, then your criticisms are just blather.”

“Oh, I’m supposed to reform the way teaching is done at this school?”

“You don’t know anything about teaching, though you’re a bit of a whiz at learning. So … learn what’s wrong with this school, learn it so deeply and well that you can fix it. Then we’ll all know how to do it, and Fleet School will be better from then on, all because a dirtboy named Dabeet Ochoa was allowed to come from Earth into space to save us.”

Then Dabeet realized that Oddson was simply restating Graff’s original challenges. “What qualities would make a good leader of an expedition?” Obviously this group was not ready to accomplish anything as a team, and so Dabeet’s challenge was to somehow make a team out of them. Without even a shred of authority, without getting respect from any of the other children, Dabeet’s challenge was to make a team out of these kids.

Had they deliberately let a team succumb to all these prejudices and divisions solely to pose a challenge for him? Was this all put together as a test for Dabeet?

No, that was solipsism, the idea that the whole world was set up solely for his benefit. This army was real, its problems were real, and Dabeet had been given his assignment—to reshape the children until they became a team.

He couldn’t possibly tell anybody else what to do. He couldn’t even make suggestions—he was already being treated with disdain, but if he uttered the criticisms that every suggestion was bound to imply, he would be even more isolated, treated with hostility rather than mere contempt.

He would have to do it without seeming to do anything at all.

Maybe Ender Wiggin could have done it. But Dabeet was not a natural leader of anything.

They’re setting me up to fail.

Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. But I’m going to work hard at learning to fly in zero-gee without puking or humiliating myself, and by then maybe I’ll have an idea of how to influence people who despise me already for things completely beyond my control.

Somehow, I’ve got to become the kind of person that every kid in this army will want to follow.

He laughed aloud in his bunk that night, thinking about his impossible dilemma. Other boys, hearing him, were sure that he was crying himself to sleep. “Misses his mommy,” one boy muttered—loudly and clearly enough to be sure Dabeet heard him.

“I do miss her,” Dabeet said, loud enough to be heard by just as many people.

“Don’t miss your father, though,” said another.

“I’ve missed him my whole life,” said Dabeet. “But I’ve never shed a tear for either of them.”

This was not actually true, but it didn’t matter, because there was no more response from anybody. He hadn’t silenced them with his comment. They just didn’t care enough to say anything more.