top graduate, now you 'd be in a Chinese reeducation camp.
"See?" said Ambul. "I'm missing out on all the character-building experiences."
Bean handed him a slip of paper. "Go there and you'll find the identity stuff you need."
"Complete with holographic ID?" asked Ambul doubtfully.
"It'll adjust to you the first time you use it. Instructions are with it. I've used these before."
"Who does stuff like that?" asked Ambul. "The Hegemony?"
"The Vatican," said Bean. "These are leftovers from my days with one of their operatives."
"All right," said Ambul.
"It'll get you to Damascus, but it won't get you to Alai. You'll need your real identity for that."
"No, I'll need an angel walking before me and a letter of introduction from Mohammed himself."
"The Vatican has those," said Petra. "But they only give them to their top people."
Ambul laughed, and so did Bean, but the air was thick with tension.
"I'm asking you for a lot," said Bean.
"And I don't owe you much," said Ambul.
"You don't owe me anything," said Bean, "and if you did, I wouldn't try to collect it. You know why I asked you, and I know why you're doing it."
Petra knew, too. Bean asked him because he knew Ambul could do it if anyone could. And Ambul was doing it because he knew that if there was to be any hope of stopping Achilles from uniting the world under his rule, it would probably depend on Bean.
"I'm so glad we came to this park," said Petra to Bean. "So romantic."
"Bean knows how to show a girl a good time," said Ambul. He spread his arms wide. "Take a good look. I'm it."
And then he was gone.
Petra reached out and took Bean's hand again.
"Satisfied?" asked Bean.
"More or less," said Petra. "At least you did something."
"I've been doing something all along."
"I know," said Petra.
"In fact," said Bean, "you're the one who just goes online to shop."
She chuckled. "Here we are in this beautiful park. Where they keep alive the memory of a great man. A man who gave unforgettable music to the world. What will your memorial be?"
"Maybe two statues. Before and after. Little Bean who fought in Ender's jeesh. Big Julian who brought down Achilles."
"I like that," said Petra. "But I have a better idea."
"Name a colony planet after me?"
"How about this-they have a whole planet populated by your descendants."
Bean's expression soured and he shook his head. "Why? To make war against them? A race of brilliant people who breed as fast as they can because they're going to die before they're twenty. And every one of them curses the name of their ancestor because he didn't end this travesty with his own death."
"It's not a travesty," said Petra. "And what makes you think your... difference will breed true?"
"You're right," said Bean, "if I marry a long-lived stupid short girl like you, my progeny should average out to a bunch of average minds who live to be seventy and grow to be six feet tall."
"Do you want to know what I've been doing?" said Petra.
"Not shopping."
"I've been talking to Sister Carlotta."
He stiffened, looked away from her.
"I've been walking down the paths of her life," said Petra. "Talking to people she knew. Seeing what she saw. Learning what she learned."
"I don't want to know," said Bean.
"Why not? She loved you. Once she found you, she lived for you.
"I know that," said Bean. "And she died for me. Because I was stupid and careless. I didn't even need her to come, I just thought I did for a little while and by the time I found out I didn't, she was already in the air, already heading for the missile that killed her."
"There's somewhere I want us to go," said Petra. "While we're waiting for Ambul to pull off his miracle."
"Listen," said Bean, "Sister Carlotta already told me how to get in touch with the scientists who were studying me. Every now and then I write to them and they tell me how soon they estimate my death will come and how exciting it is, all the progress they're making in understanding human development and all
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