Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1)(7)
Dabeet did not believe there was any such information. “Because you’re a man of integrity who respects the wisdom of children,” said Dabeet.
“And you would know this because…”
“I read the trial transcripts,” said Dabeet.
“Ah, yes, my court-martial for causing the deaths of two children and abusing countless others.”
“There was a war. We won. As a direct result of your training methods.”
“I heard the verdict,” said Graff. “I believe the court-martial ended with my receiving a medal, a commendation, a reprimand, a suspended sentence, and an honorable discharge from the International Fleet.”
“And an immediate appointment by the Hegemon, the Polemarch, and the Strategos as Minister of Colonization, with an enormous budget and the authority to construct exploratory, reconnaissance, outpost, and colonization ships,” said Dabeet. “‘With Battle School placed under the Ministry of Colonization to serve as a preparatory school for children of the Fleet who showed promise as future commanders of such ships and expeditions.’”
“Word for word,” said Graff. “Demonstrating that your ability to memorize and retain is remarkable.”
“I don’t care who my father is, Minister. I don’t care if he’s still in the Fleet, denying he ever slept with a native girl, or if he harvested bananas on a plantation and was stung by a dozen tarantulas and died an agonizing death.”
“You just want to get into Fleet School.”
“There’s no law against a child of Earth being admitted to Fleet School.”
“There’s also no budget to pay for lifting some worthless piece of human cargo to a place where he cannot possibly benefit any nation on Earth.”
“Give me a scholarship,” said Dabeet. “You can’t have an oversupply of children as qualified as I am.”
“Though there are quite a few as vain as you are,” said Graff.
“Vanity is self-regard for trivial things—appearance, manner. Humility is recognition of the truth about oneself. The truth about me is that however I was conceived, I have abilities far beyond the capacity of the Charles G. Conn School for the Gifted in Elkhart, Indiana.”
“There are four national schools for gifted students in the United States,” said Graff, “and there are sixteen Hegemony schools, two of them in North America.”
“Those were the also-ran schools, for students not taken for Battle School.”
“Many brilliant students were passed over for Battle School because they weren’t quite right for our very narrow purposes.”
“You didn’t know what was quite right for your very narrow purposes,” said Dabeet. “You still don’t know. You don’t know why Ender Wiggin succeeded and others never came close to his abilities. Which test scores promised the results you got from him? Which students that you weeded out might have done even better, except that you measured them against criteria that had never been proven to have anything to do with military command success?”
“My point exactly,” said Graff. “These Earthside schools are excellent, with superb faculty and, in most cases, a commitment to creativity that allows students to explore and become whatever they want to be.”
“I want to be an explorer and a colonizer,” said Dabeet. “Which Earthside school has a career path leading there?”
“Wait till you’re seventeen and enlist.”
“I can finish a Ph.D. program in that time,” said Dabeet. “But it will all be wasted if I do it here on Earth.”
“Well, you make a strong case,” said Graff.
“But you’re unpersuaded.”
“We have rules for a reason,” said Graff.
“So you can hide behind them as you deny my application for reasons having nothing to do with those rules.”
Finally, Graff smiled. “For a boy who has never worked in government, you understand something about how it works.”
“Nobody understands how it works,” said Dabeet.
“No, Dabeet. I understand how it works. I play the instruments of government as if they were kazoos and ukeleles. They make a horrible din but at least when I play them, the music reaches an end.”
“The ugly noise of ambition,” said Dabeet.
“If I wanted to make sure I got an early retirement because somebody else had maneuvered me out of my position,” said Graff, “I would invite you to come and be an intern in my office.”
Dabeet felt a thrill of victory. Graff saw him as a potential threat. “I don’t want that job.”
“Yes you do,” said Graff. “You want any job that gets you out into space and leaves your mother behind.”
Dabeet had no answer. He knew that this would be one of the benefits of entering Fleet School, because it was the one school he could enter where Mother could not maneuver her way into following him. But Graff was saying that this was Dabeet’s main goal. To get away from his mother. Was it?
Maybe.
“Nobody ever wants just one thing,” said Dabeet.
“I read your little retelling of the Pinocchio story. There are so many versions, but you’re the first person ever to make Geppetto into a nun.”
“I think nuns are interesting,” said Dabeet.