I’m sorry, Dave. I can’t do that.
For this I am more than sorry, I am ashamed.
“You should know you’re not the only fish in the sea. I have…options.”
“Options? Oh, really?”
Let’s look at this thing from a… um, from a standpoint of status. What do we got on the spacecraft that’s good?
We have 12 of these shotgun shells, 26 of these pussy nine mils, and 16 of those .357 Magnums.
Six men came to kill me one time. And the best of 'em carried this. It’s a Callahan full-bore auto-lock. Customized trigger, double cartridge thorough gauge. It is my very favorite gun.
Nuke 'em. Let’s nuke the bastards.
All right, we waste him. No offense.
I’m hiring mercenaries to protect against an invasion, but food and shelter is all we can offer in payment. All of our wealth is in our culture.
Note, we’re discussing rather a lot of property, by ordinary standards.
There is an alien in the kitchen making bagels and coffee.
Joanna! How could you do a thing like that? Just when I was going to give you coffee!
Cherry, I want you to get me a Pepsi.
I have a question. Is it that your body is too massive for your teeny-tiny head, or is it that your head is too teeny-tiny for your big fat body?
I’m going to need a microscope or a magnifying glass or… something.
I don’t think your average colonist should run under 25 microns, Saltonstall. Give them a chance to slug it out.
Be proud, Bonito, pretty boy. You can go home and tell your father: Yes, I beat up Ender Wiggin, who was barely ten years old, and I was thirteen. And I had only six of my friends to help me, and somehow we managed to defeat him, even though he was naked and wet and alone – Ender Wiggin is so dangerous and terrifying it was all we could do not to bring two hundred.
I believe my exact words were “a dangerous, savage, child-race.”
He was their sweet little dream. He had little hands, little legs, little feet. Little lungs.
It’s alive!