Shadow Puppets (Ender, Book 7) (Shadow Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page A

he can't conceive of any of his plans failing. But the result is the same. And I have no intention of hearing about his death through some awful little email message. Or -- worse -- from a news report talking about how 'the brother of the great Ender Wiggin has failed in his bid to revive the office of Hegemon' and then watch how even in death Peter's obituary is accompanied by more footage of Ender after his victory over the Formics."
    "You seem to have a very clear view of all the future possibilities," said Graff.
    "No, just the unbearable ones. I'm staying, Mr. Colonization Minister. You'll have to find your completely inappropriate middle-aged recruits somewhere else."
    "Actually, you're not inappropriate. You're still of child-bearing age."
    "Having children has brought me such joy," said Theresa, "that it's really marvelous to contemplate having more of them."
    "I know perfectly well how much you've sacrificed for your children, and how much you love them. And I knew coming here that you wouldn't want to go."
    "So you have soldiers waiting to take me with you by force? You already have my husband in custody?"
    "No, no," said Graff. "I think you're right not to go."
    "Oh."
    "But Peter asked me to protect you, so I had to offer. No, I think it's a good thing for you to stay."
    "And why is that?"
    "Peter has many allies," said Graff. "But no friends."
    "Not even you?"
    "I'm afraid I studied him too closely in his childhood to take any of his present charisma at face value."
    "He does have that, doesn't he. Charisma. Or at least charm."
    "At least as much as Ender, when he chooses to use it."
    Hearing Graff speak of Ender -- of the kind of young man Ender had become before he was pitched out of the solar system in a colony ship after saving the human race -- filled Theresa with familiar, but no less bitter, regrets. Graff knew Ender Wiggin at age seven and ten and twelve, years when Theresa's only links to her youngest, most vulnerable child were a few photographs and fading memories and the ache in her arms where she could remember holding him, and the last lingering sensation of his little arms flung around her neck.
    "Even when you brought him back to Earth," said Theresa to Graff, "you didn't let us see him. You took Val to him, but not his father, not me."
    "I'm sorry," said Graff. "I didn't know he would never come home at war's end. Seeing you would have reminded him that there was someone in the world who was supposed to protect him and take care of him."
    "And that would have been a bad thing?"
    "The toughness we needed from Ender was not the person he wanted to be. We had to protect it. Letting him see Valentine was dangerous enough."
    "Are you so sure that you were right?"
    "Not sure at all. But Ender won the war, and we can never go back and try it another way to see if it would have worked as well."
    "And I can never go back and try to find some way through all of this that doesn't end up filling me with resentment and grief whenever I see you or even think of you."
    Graff said nothing for the longest time.
    "If you're waiting for me to apologize," began Theresa.
    "No, no," said Graff. "I was trying to think of any apology I could make that wouldn't be laughably inadequate. I never fired a gun in the war, but I still caused casualties, and if it's any consolation, whenever I think of you and your husband I am also filled with regret."
    "Not enough."
    "No, I'm sure not," said Graff. "But I'm afraid my deepest regrets are for the parents of Bonzo Madrid, who put their son into my hands and got him back in a box."
    Theresa wanted to fling a papaya at him and smear it all over his face. "Reminding me that I'm the mother of a killer?"
    "Bonzo was the killer, ma'am," said Graff. "Ender defended himself. You entirely mistook my meaning. I'm the one who allowed Bonzo to be alone with Ender. I, not Ender, am the one responsible for his death. That's why I feel more regret toward the Madrid family than toward you. I've