Ender would have hated that. Hated himself for being part of it. It really was better that Graff had arranged to send him off on the first colony ship to a former Bugger world. Right now, each second of Ender’s life aboard the starship was a week to Bean. While Ender read a paragraph of a book, a million babies would be born on Earth, a million old people and soldiers and sick people and pedestrians and drivers would die and humanity would move forward another small step in its evolution into a starfaring species.

Starfaring species. That was Graff’s program.

“You’re not here for the fleet, then,” said Bean. “You’re here for Colonel Graff.”

“For the Minister of Colonization?” Rackham nodded gravely. “Informally and unofficially, yes. To inform you of an offer.”

“Graff has nothing that I want. Before any starship could arrive on a colony world, I’d be dead.”

“You’d undoubtedly be an…interesting choice to head a colony,” said Rackham. “But as you said, your term in office would be too brief to be effective. No, it’s a different kind of offer.”

“The only things I want, you don’t have.”

“Once upon a time, I believe, you wanted nothing more than survival.”

“It’s not within your power to offer me.”

“Yes it is,” said Rackham.

“Oh, from the vast medical research facilities of the International Fleet there comes a cure for a condition that is suffered by only one person on Earth?”

“Not at all,” said Rackham. “The cure will have to come from others. What we offer you is the ability to wait until it’s ready. We offer you a starship, and lightspeed, and an ansible so you can be told when to come home.”

Precisely the “gift” they gave Rackham himself, when they thought they might need him to command all the fleets when they arrived at the various Bugger worlds. The chance of survival rang inside him like the tolling of a great bell. He couldn’t help it. If there was anything that had ever driven him, it was that hunger to survive. But how could he trust them?

“And in return, what do you want from me?”

“Can’t this be part of your retirement package from the fleet?”

Rackham was good at keeping a straight face, but Bean knew he couldn’t be serious. “When I come back, there’s going to be some poor young soldier I can train?”

“You’re not a teacher,” said Rackham.

“Neither were you.”

Rackham shrugged. “So we become whatever we need to be. We’re offering you life. We’ll continue to fund research on your condition.”

“What, using my children as your guinea pigs?”

“We’ll try to find them, of course. We’ll try to cure them.”

“But they won’t get their own starships?”

“Bean,” said Rackham. “How many trillions of dollars do you think your genes are worth?”

“To me,” said Bean, “They’re worth more than all the money in the world.”

“I don’t think you could pay even the interest on that loan.”