A War of Gifts Read Online Free PDF Page A

School,” said Bridegan.
    So Zeck spent that Christmas in space, heading up to the station that housed Battle School. He did nothing to cause disturbance, obeyed every order he was given. When his launch group first went into the Battle Room, Zeck learned to fly just like all the others. He even pointed his weapon at targets that were assigned.
    It took quite a while before anyone noticed that Zeck never actually hit anybody with his weapon. In every battle, he was zero for zero. Statistically, he was the worst soldier in the history of the school. In vain did the teachers point out that it was just a game.
    â€œâ€˜Neither shall they learn war any more,’” quoted Zeck in return. “I will not offend God by learning war.” They could take him into space, they could make him wear the uniform, they could force him into the Battle Room, but they couldn’t make him shoot.
    It took many months, and they still wouldn’t send him home, but at least they left him alone. He belonged to an army, he practiced with them, but on every battle report, he was listed with zero effectiveness. There was no soldier in the school prouder of his record.

4
SINTERKLAAS EVE
    Dink Meeker watched as Ender Wiggin came through the door into Rat Army’s barracks. As usual, Rosen was near the entrance, and he immediately launched into his “I Rose de Nose, Jewboy extraordinaire” routine. It was how Rosen wrapped himself in the military reputation of Israel, even though Rosen wasn’t Israeli and he also wasn’t a particularly good commander.
    Not a bad one, either. Rat Army was in second place in the standings. But how much of that was Rosen, and how much was the fact that Rosen relied so heavily on Dink’s toon—which Dink had trained?
    Dink was the better commander, and he knew it—he had been offered Rat Army and Rosen only got it when Dink turned down the promotion. Nobody knew that, of course, except Dink and Colonel Graff and whatever other teachers might have known. There was no reason to tell it—it would only weaken Rosen and also make Dink look like a braggart or a fool, depending on whether people believed his claim. So he made no claim.
    This was Rosen’s show. Let him write the script.
    â€œ That’s the great Ender Wiggin?” asked Flip. His name was short for Filippus, and, like Dink, he was Dutch. He was also very young and had yet to do anything impressive. It had to gall a young kid like Flip that Ender Wiggin had been placed into the Battle Room early and then rose to the very top of the standings almost instantly.
    â€œI told you,” said Dink, “he’s number one because his commander wouldn’t let him shoot his weapon. So when he finally did it—disobeying his commander, I might add—he got this incredible kill ratio. It’s a fluke of how they keep the stats.”
    â€œKuso,” said Flip. “If Ender’s such a big nothing, why did you go out of your way to get him in your toon?”
    So somebody had overheard Dink ask Rosen to assign Ender to his toon, and word had spread. “Because I needed somebody smaller than you,” said Dink.
    â€œAnd you’ve been watching him. I’ve seen you. Watching him.”
    It was easy to forget sometimes that every kid in this place was brilliant. Observant. Clear memory and sharp analytical skills. Even the ones who were still too timid to have done much of anything. Not a good place for doing anything surreptitious.
    â€œÃ‰,” said Dink. “I think he’s got something.”
    â€œWhat’s he got that I don’t got?”
    â€œCommand of English grammar,” said Dink.
    â€œEverybody talks like that,” said Flip.
    â€œEverybody’s a sheep,” said Dink. “I’m getting out of here.” Moments later, Dink pushed past Rosen and Ender and left the room.
    He didn’t want to talk to Ender right away. Because this