Peter had been sent elsewhere for the past two days, to meet with some people who both preferred to remain anonymous, and preferred not to be found. He didn't mind it: for one, talks had been beneficial to all parties involved, and he wasn't exactly looking for the most conspicuous places to be himself these days ( Read more... )

After several weeks in Haiti, Peter had grown tanned and both more harried and more confident-looking. Not only that, but his hair was starting to grow out, and he was, for the very first time, trying to grow out something of a beard, or at least facial hair ( Read more... )

Last night had been terribly busy: first Peter'd arrived well into the afternoon, then he'd been swept down to his new lodgings, asked to put on a suit (which he had) and have an audience with the president followed by a more informal chat with the prime minister, Mr. LeBon, who had asked him here ( Read more... )

Peter had lost several assets over the past few days, including his employment at the primary site for his blog, but... it could have been worse. Some of his contacts had winked out, but certainly not all of them, or even the majority - Carlotta's ruse had worked brilliantly.

What was left to him now was somewhere... permanent... to put himself. ( Read more... )

Peter stared at his essay again, good and long as it was. It detailed everything, or at least everything he could confess to considering his chosen spin and the fact Bean's whereabouts had to remain secret.

He had thanked the leaders who had proposed to elect him as the next Hegemon. He had admitted candidly that he was not a viable candidate ( Read more... )

It was late when Peter finally got home, his hands stuck in his pockets, his head whirling with thoughts. He went up the stairs immediately, feet banging against every step just to make sure his parents were awake; then he walked up to their bedroom door and knocked ( Read more... )

For Peter, the dinner at Leblon with his parents and Bean and Carlotta consisted of long periods of excruciating boredom interrupted by short passages of sheer panic. Nothing that anyone was saying mattered in the slightest. Because Bean was passing himself off as little more than a tourist visiting Ender's shrine, all anyone could talk about was ( Read more... )

"Here he is. A resident student. Lives on the dorms, but no stranger access. So what we have is an email and a campus box."

"What about his class schedule?"

"They don't post that."

"And that's supposed to be a problem?"

"No, Bean, you aren't going to crack their system. I can't think of a better way for you to attract attention than to trip some trap ( Read more... )

Peter had reported on animal transformations often enough to know that they tended to end very inconveniently. So, when he'd woken up in Topher's room that morning feeling very, very strange, he knew there was only one possible thing he could do to avoid the ignominy of winding up naked in a room with Christopher fucking Brink: he made a run for it ( Read more... )

There was a fox staring at a holographic display.

C, he tapped, his paw dropping back onto the holographic generator. RT he added, then frowned, flailing at the backspace button.

I was the next one. Then S, I, S.

There. Now things were going pretty smoothly.

SPACEBARPeter fell off the actual desk ( Read more... )