Book 1 sountrack:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vwVz...x=1&playnext=7
(FEEL FREE TO DISCUSS THE ENDER SERIES AND THIS FAN FIC)
The six soldiers shook around as the chopper started to land on the "rebellious" planet. They all had their night-gear on their helmets. Night vision goggles and their warrior helmets readied. Friendly soldier status floated over heads, target figures were outlined in red. Their targets were of the upmost importance as well. They all glanced at each other as a female mechanical voice informed them of their next action, "Red light, prepare to jump."
Several more minutes of soft mechanical humming from the chopper blades went on. The four soldiers began to check their magazines.
"All right men, dummy rounds. This target cannot expire, no matter what the hell the situation is."
"Yes sir," the other three replied.
"Green light, door open, please queue for the jump," said the totally emotionally detached female voice. The soldiers all nodded as they lined up, a sign to show they were hitched and ready to go. The first soldier jumped, the sound of air ripping all around him as he plummeted to the ground. The land on Lusitania was peaceful as all soldiers were unharmed. They made their way through the high-velocity disruptor fence, which had be deactivated by the humans there.
The house they were heading towards had almost all its lights on. The figures of the contents were plainly visible. "What should we do with the other four, sir?"
"Take them as well."
They headed to the front door and broke it down. The four of the targets hit the ground, while their main interest lunged at one of the soldiers. The soldier through his arm out to grab the target. The man quickly snatched the arm and pulled it down to his knee, hard. The crack was loud as the soldier screamed and hobbled back. Two more soldiers came at him, the man turned around as he grabbed a light stand. He swung it brutally at one of the soldier's masks, the glass visor shattering in his face.
"God damn it! He is one man, take him!" one of the soldiers shouted.
The other soldier jumped onto the man's back, the man slung himself backwards into a wall, and the soldier was crushed. All three assailants were downed, one on the floor, one clutching bleeding face, and the other grasping his broken arm. The last soldier quickly pulled his weapon out. "As you know, I will win. Now, these aren't live rounds, but they'll hurt like hell."
The man's face sank as he dropped the metal lamp stand. He put his hands up and said,
"Fine, you got me."
"That is right, Andrew Wiggin."
"Well, we got the school together quickly. From ansible contact, I hear the assault team got Andrew and his sister," said Admiral Lance. Admiral Lance had black hair, was about forty-seven, and always had an arrogant-looking smile on his face.
"Good, we will be able to get an army together soon enough."
"Eerily similar to about three-thousand years ago isn't it?" asked the Admiral.
"Well, children are brilliant tacticians, what can I say? And well, an added bonus is a familiar setting would get Ender to be able command more efficiently."
"That is what you are calling him now?"
"What would you rather me call him? God?"
"No, just with more respect."
"I do not respect him. He is clueless without a cause."
"He does have a cause now, sir," said the Admiral.
"Oh, and what is that?"
"Making us pay for the creation of the Descolada virus."
"Haha. He really thinks he is doing good isn't he? Well, when he arrives, he and Valentine will learn an awful amount about their actions."
"Roger that, Stevenson."
Stevenson was a plump sixty-year old. He had square glasses and his long hair was combed back. He sat in an intelligent conservative suit as he bent over his desk. He took his glasses off and looked at Admiral.
"That is 'sir' to you Admiral. For the next six years, I own you and Ender," said Stevenson. He smiled as Lance's face drained of arrogance. Stevenson leaned back an slipped his glasses on, "And they are going to be very, very fun."
"Well, you got me onto the bridge, what do you want?" asked Ender.
"Well, Mister Wiggin, we are in dire need of your excellent services."
"What do you mean?"
"Your commanding skills of course," replied the commander of the ship.
"Your alien killing skills. Except, this time is going to be a little different.
"Different how so?" asked Ender. Ender was forty, he could not stand surprises.
"You will see soon enough."
And he definitely did not stand this new predicament.