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And then it was over. Ender let go of his hand. He turned toward the door. "Wait," said Bean. "Where are you going? Tactical? Navigational? Support?" "Command School," said Ender.
"*Pre*-command?"
"Command." Ender was out the door.
Straight to Command School. The elite school whose location was even a secret. Adults went to Command School. The battle must be coming very soon, to skip right past all the things they were supposed to learn in Tactical and Pre-Command.
He caught Graff by the sleeve. "Nobody goes to Command School until they're sixteen!" he said. Graff shook off Bean's hand and left. If he caught Bean's sarcasm, he gave no sign of it.
The door closed. Bean was alone in Ender's quarters.
He looked around. Without Ender in it, the room was nothing. Being here meant nothing. Yet it was only a few days ago, not even a week, when Bean had stood here and Ender told him he was getting a toon after all.
For some reason what came into Bean's mind was the moment when Poke handed him six peanuts. It was life that she handed to him then.
Was it life that Ender gave to Bean? Was it the same thing?
No. Poke gave him life. Ender gave it meaning.
When Ender was here, this was the most important room in Battle School. Now it was no more than a broom closet.
Bean walked back down the corridor to the room that had been Carn Carby's until today. Until an hour ago. He palmed it -- it opened. Already programmed in.
The room was empty. Nothing in it. This room is mine, thought Bean. Mine, and yet still empty.
He felt powerful emotions welling up inside him. He should be excited, proud to have his own command. But he didn't really care about it. As Ender said, the game was nothing. Bean would do a