“Our family has a lot of pride.”

“Well, no matter what you think, I'm doing this out of conscience, no matter whether you want to call it pride or stubbornness or anything else.”

“I believe you,” said Miro.

"But do I believe you when you say that you believe me? We're in such a tangle." She turned back to her terminal. "Go away now, Miro. I told you I'd think about it, and I will.

“Go see Planter.”

"I'll think about that, too." Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. "He is my friend, you know. I'm not inhuman. I'll go see him, you can be sure of that. "

“Good.”

He started for the door.

“Miro,” she said.

He turned, waited.

“Thanks for not threatening to have that computer program of yours crack my files open if I didn't open them myself.”

“Of course not,” he said.

“Andrew would have threatened that, you know. Everybody thinks he's such a saint, but he always bullies people who don't go along with him.”

“He doesn't threaten.”

“I've seen him do it.”

“He warns.”

“Oh. Excuse me. Is there a difference?”

“Yes,” said Miro.

“The only difference between a warning and a threat is whether you're the person giving it or the person receiving it,” said Quara.

“No,” said Miro. “The difference is how the person means it.”

“Go away,” she said. “I've got work to do, even while I'm thinking. So go away.”

He opened the door.

“But thanks,” she said.

He closed the door behind him.

As he walked away from Quara's place, Jane immediately piped up in his ear. “I see you decided against telling her that I broke into her files before you even came.”

“Yes, well,” said Miro. “I feel like a hypocrite, for her to thank me for not threatening to do what I'd already done.”

“I did it.”

“We did it. You and me and Ender. A sneaky group.”

“Will she really think about it?”

“Maybe,” said Miro. “Or maybe she's already thought about it and decided to cooperate and was just looking for an excuse. Or maybe she's already decided against ever cooperating, and she just said this nice thing at the end because she's sorry for me.”

“What do you think she'll do?”

“I don't know what she'll do,” said Miro. “I know what I'll do. I'll feel ashamed of myself every time I think about how I let her think that I respected her privacy, when we'd already pillaged her files. Sometimes I don't think I'm a very good person.”

“You notice she didn't tell you that she's keeping her real findings outside the computer system, so the only files I can reach are worthless junk. She hasn't exactly been frank with you, either.”

“Yes, but she's a fanatic with no sense of balance or proportion.”

“That explains everything.”

“Some traits just run in the family,” said Miro.

The hive queen was alone this time. Perhaps exhausted from something– mating? Producing eggs? She spent all her time doing this, it seemed. She had no choice. Now that workers had to be used to patrol the perimeter of the human colony, she had to produce even more than she had planned. Her offspring didn't have to be educated– they entered adulthood quickly, having all the knowledge that any other adult had. But the process of conception, egg-laying, emergence, and cocooning still took time. Weeks for each adult. She produced a prodigious number of young, compared to a single human. But compared to the town of Milagre, with more than a thousand women of childbearing age, the bugger colony had only one producing female.

It had always bothered Ender, made him feel uneasy to know that there was only one queen. What if something happened to her? But then, it made the hive queen uncomfortable to think of human beings having only a bare handful of children– what if something happened to them? Both species practiced a combination of nurturance and redundancy to protect their genetic heritage. Humans had a redundancy of parents, and then nurtured the few offspring. The hive queen had a redundancy of offspring, who then nurtured the parent. Each species had found its own balance of strategy.

“Because we're at a dead end. Because everybody else is trying, and you have as much at stake as we do.”

“The descolada threatens you as much as it threatens us. Someday you probably aren't going to be able to control it, and then you're gone.”

“No.” It was the problem of faster-than-light flight. Grego had been wracking his brains. In jail there was nothing else for him to think about. The last time Ender had spoken with him, he wept– as much from exhaustion as frustration. He had covered reams of papers with equations, spreading them all over the secure room that was used as a cell. “Don't you care about faster-than-light flight?”

The mildness of her response almost hurt, it so deeply disappointed him. This is what despair is like, he thought. Quara a brick wall on the nature of descolada intelligence. Planter dying of descolada deprivation. Han Fei-tzu and Wang-mu struggling to duplicate years of higher study in several fields, all at once. Grego worn out. And nothing to show for it.

She must have heard his anguish as clearly as if he had howled it.

“You've done it,” he said. “It must be possible.”

“You projected an action across light-years. You found me.”

“Not so,” he said. “I never even knew we had made mental contact until I found the message you had left for me.” It had been the moment of greatest strangeness in his life, to stand on an alien world and see a model, a replication of the landscape that had existed in only one other place– the computer on which he had played his personalized version of the Fantasy Game. It was like having a total stranger come up to you and tell you your dream from the night before. They had been inside his head. It made him afraid, but it also excited him. For the first time in his life, he felt known. Not known of– he was famous throughout humanity, and in those days his fame was all positive, the greatest hero of all time. Other people knew of him. But with this bugger artifact, he discovered for the first time that he was known.

“How did you find me, then?”

“I wasn't searching for you. I was studying you.” Watching every vid they had at the Battle School, trying to understand the way the bugger mind worked. “I was imagining you.”

“And that was all?”

He was having trouble making sense of what they were saying. What kind of network was he connected to?