Shadow of the Giant

11

AFRICAN GOD

From: H95Tqw0qdy9@FreeNet.net

Posted at site: ShivaDaughter.org

Re: Suffering daughter of Shiva, the Dragon grieves at the wounds he caused you.

May not the Dragon and the Tiger be lovers, and bring forth peace? Or if there is no peace, may not the Tiger and the Dragon fight together?

Bean and Petra were surprised when Peter came to see them in their little house on the grounds of the Hegemony compound. "You honor our humble abode," said Bean.

"I do, don't I," said Peter with a smile. "The baby's asleep?"

"Sorry, you don't get to watch me nurse him," said Petra.

"I have good news and bad news," said Peter.

They waited for him to tell them.

"I need you to go back to Rwanda, Julian."

"I thought the Rwandan government was with us," said Petra.

"It's not a raid," said Peter. "I need you to take command of the Rwandan military and incorporate it into the Hegemony forces."

Petra laughed. "You're kidding. Felix Starman is going to ratify your Constitution?"

"Hard to believe, but yes, Felix is ambitious the way I'm ambitious— he wants to create something that will outlive him. He knows that the best way for Rwanda to be safe and free is for there to be no armies in the world. And the only way for that to happen is to have a world government that will maintain the liberal values he has created in his Rwanda—elections, individual rights, the rule of law, universal education, and no corruption."

"We've read your Constitution, Peter," said Bean.

"He asked for you in particular," said Peter. "His men saw you when you took Volescu. They call you the African Giant now."

"Darling," said Petra to Bean. "You're a god now, like Virlomi."

"The question is whether you're woman enough to be married to a god," said Bean.

"I shade my eyes and it keeps me from going blind."

Bean smiled and turned to Peter. "Does Felix Starman know how long I'm not expected to live?"

"No," said Peter. "I regard that as a state secret."

"Oh no," said Petra. "Now we can't tell each other."

"How long will you expect me to stay?"

"Long enough for the Rwandan army to transfer its loyalty to the Free People."

"To you?"

"To the Free People," said Peter. "I'm not creating a cult of personality here. They have to be committed to the Constitution. And to defending the Free People who have accepted it."

"In practical terms, a date, please," said Bean.

"Until after the plebiscite, at least," said Peter.

"And I can go with him?" asked Petra.

"Your choice," said Peter. "It's probably safer there than here, but it's a long flight. You can write the Martel essays from anywhere."

"Julian, he's leaving it up to us. We're Free People now too!"

"All right, I'll do it," said Bean. "Now what's the good news?"

"That was the good news," said Peter. "The bad news is that we've had a sudden and unexpected shortfall in revenue. It will take months, at least, to make up what we abruptly stopped receiving. Therefore we're cutting back on projects that don't contribute directly to the goals of the Hegemony."

Petra laughed. "You have the cheek to ask us to help you, when you're cutting off funding for our search?"

"You see? You immediately recognized that your search was not contributing."

"You're searching, too," said Bean. "To find the virus."

"If it exists," said Peter. "In all likelihood, Volescu is teasing us, and the virus doesn't actually work and hasn't been dispersed."

"So you're going to bet the future of the human race on that?"

"No I'm not," said Peter. "But without a budget for it, it's beyond our reach. However, it is not beyond the reach of the International Fleet."

"You're turning it over to them?"

"I'm turning Volescu over to them. And they're going to continue the research into the virus he developed and where he might have dispersed it, if he did."

"The I.F. can't operate on Earth."

"They can if they're acting against an alien threat. If Volescu's virus works, and it's released on Earth, it would create a new species designed to completely replace humanity in a single generation. The Hegemon has issued a secret finding that Volescu's virus constitutes an alien invasion, which the I.F. has kindly agreed to track down and ... repel for us."

Bean laughed. "Well, it seems we think alike."

"Really?" said Peter. "Oh, you're just flattering me."

"I already turned over our search to the Ministry of Colonization. And we both know that Graff is really functioning as a branch of the I.F."

Peter regarded him calmly. "So you knew I'd have to cut the budget for your search."

"I knew that you didn't have the resources no matter how much budget you have. Ferreira was doing his best, but ColMin has better software."

"Well, everything's working out happily for everyone, then," said Peter, standing up to go.

"Even for Ender," said Bean.

"Your baby's a lucky little boy," said Peter, "to have such attentive parents." And he was out the door.

Volescu looked tired when Bean went to see him. Old. Confinement wasn't good for him. He was not suffering physically, but he seemed to be growing wan as a plant kept in a closet without sun.

"Promise me something," said Volescu.

"What?" asked Bean.

"Something. Anything. Bargain with me."

"The one thing you want," said Bean, "you will never have again."

"Only because you're vindictive," said Volescu. "Ungrateful—you exist because I made you, and you keep me in this box."

"It's a good-sized room. It's air-conditioned. Compared to the way you treated my brothers...."

"They were not legally—"

"And now you have my babies hidden away. And a virus with the potential to destroy the human race—"

"Improve it—"

"Erase it. How can you be given your freedom again? You combine grandiosity with amorality."

"Rather like Peter Wiggin, whom you serve so faithfully. His little toad."

"The word is 'toady,' " said Bean.

"Yet here you are, visiting me. Could it be that Julian Delphiki, my dear half-nephew, has a problem I could help him with?"

"Same questions as before," said Bean.

"Same answer," said Volescu. "I have no idea what happened to your missing embryos."

Bean sighed. "I thought you might want a chance to square things with me and Petra before you leave this Earth."

"Oh, come on," said Volescu. "You're threatening me with the death penalty?"

"No," said Bean. "You're simply ... leaving Earth. Peter is turning you over to the I.F. On the theory that your virus is an alien invasion."

"Only if you're an alien invasion," said Volescu.

"But I am," said Bean. "I'm the first of a race of short-lived giant geniuses. Think how much larger a population the Earth can sustain when the average age at death is eighteen."

"You know, Bean, there's no reason for you to die young."

"Really? You have the antidote?"

"Nobody needs an antidote to destiny. Death from giantism comes from the strain on your heart, trying to pump so much blood through so many kilometers of arteries and veins. If you get away from gravity, your heart won't be overtaxed and you won't die."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" said Bean. "I'll still continue to grow."

"So you get large. The I.F. can build you a really big ship. A colony ship. You can gradually fill it up with your protoplasm and bones. You'd live for years, tied to the walls of the ship like a balloon. An enormous Gulliver. Your wife could come visit you. And if you get too big, well, there's always amputation. You could become a being of pure mind. Fed intravenously, what need would you have of belly and bowels? Eventually, all you really need is your brain and spine, and they need never die. A mind eternally growing."

Bean stood up. "Is that what you created me for, Volescu? To be a limbless crippled monster out in space?"

"Silly boy," said Volescu, "to ordinary humans you already are a monster. Their worst nightmare. The species that will replace them. But to me, you're beautiful. Even tethered to an artificial habitat, even limbless, trunkless, voiceless, you'd be the most beautiful creature alive."

"And yet you came within one toilet-tank lid of killing me and burning my body."

"I didn't want to go to jail."

"Yet here you are," said Bean. "And your next prison is out in space."

"I can live like Prospero, refining my arts in solitude."

"Prospero had Ariel and Caliban," said Bean.

"Don't you understand?" said Volescu. "You're my Caliban. And all your little children—they're my Ariels. I've spread them over the earth. You'll never find them. Their mothers have been taught well. They'll mate, they'll reproduce before their giantism becomes obvious. Whether my virus works or not, your children are my virus."

"So that's what Achilles plotted?"

"Achilles?" Volescu laughed. "That bloody-handed little moron? I told him your babies were dead. That's all he wanted. Fool."

"So they're not dead."

"All alive. All implanted. By now, perhaps, some of them born, since those with your abilities will be born two months premature."

"You knew that and didn't tell us?"

"Why should I? The delivery was safe, wasn't it? The baby was mature enough to breathe and function on its own?"

"What else do you know?"

"I know that everything will work out. Julian, look at yourself, man! You escaped at the age of one. Which means that seventeen months after conception, you were able to survive without parents. I don't have even the tiniest worry about the health of your babies, and neither should you. They don't need you, because you didn't need anybody. Let them go. Let them replace the old species, bit by bit, over the generations to come."

"No," said Bean, "I love the old species. And I hate what you did to me."

"Without 'what I did to you,' all you'd be is Nikolai."

"My brother is a wonderful person. Kind. And very smart."

"Very smart, but not as smart as you. Would you really trade with him? Would you really like to be as dull-witted as he is, compared to you?"

Whereupon Bean left, having no answer to Volescu's last question.