★ West ★
General Howard’s Friday lecture droned on, and on, and on.
West spent the entire lesson clinging to every word from his usual place in the front row, while opposite him in the back corner, Sandi hung off the edge of his seat waiting for the instant class was dismissed so he could bolt into the hallway and leave this accursed place behind.
But it seemed as if that moment would never come. Howard was in an especially fiery mood, and he rambled at length about the Europa Station’s history, long-resolved territory disputes, and campaigns waged decades ago against hostile insurgents.
“The Arcadian skirmish,” he said. “One of the few Martian conflicts during the war. It was a fantastic example of non-violent attrition, and I would know because I was there. Tell me, who was it that decided the outcome? Do any of you recall the name of the individual who fixed the supply chain disruptions and arrived with desperately needed provisions?”
He strolled down the aisle and stopped beside the timid-looking girl who was sitting behind West.
“You. Let’s see if you’ve done this week’s required reading. Who was it?”
“I… don’t know, Sir. One of the Fleet’s generals?”
He slammed his hand down on her desk and loomed over her. “The Fleet’s generals are called ‘admirals,’ and it was Admiral Arthur, who at the time held the rank of captain. One of my best friends, God rest his soul, and the reason I’m alive today. If you can’t honor his memory by so much as recalling his name, then you have no place in my classroom. Leave.”
“But Sir—”
“Take your useless complaints to someone who cares. There’s the door, and you should use it. Go.”
She appeared to be fighting back tears as she gathered her things, rose from her seat, and turned to leave the classroom. Howard stood motionless in front of the class, watching until she was gone.
“I hope the rest of you aren’t nearly so incompetent,” he said after she’d left. Then, he took a few paces forward and motioned at West.
“You, there. Who was it that used Admiral Arthur’s diversion to infiltrate the blockade and destroy the communications array?”
“Captain Rodgers, Sir.”
Howard nodded. “Finally, some intelligence in my classroom.” He glanced at the clock. “Now, we’ve gone over our allotted time, and my patience has reached its limit. Go amuse yourselves with whatever vapid pursuits you choose to fill your weekend, and I hope you’re all better prepared for Tuesday. You’re dismissed.”
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The cadets rose one by one, talking amongst themselves and noisily shuffling around the room. West was preparing to leave when Howard walked by and tapped on his desk.
“Not you,” he said.
West complied and remained in his seat as the rest of the cadets filed out. After a minute it was just the two of them alone in the classroom, and Howard leaned back against his desk and stared at him.
“That bit about Captain Rodgers wasn’t part of your required reading. You just happened to know it.”
West nodded.
“You’ve done a lot of reading, then?”
“I like military history.”
“Well, I’m impressed, and those aren’t words I say very often.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Howard took a deep breath, and his voice softened a bit. “Captain Rodgers wasn’t just an entry in a textbook to me. He was my friend, and if he hadn’t been killed that day, he’d probably have become just as much of a general as I am, wearing the same pin and sitting next to me on the Council. But he’s not. He died, and many others lived because of it. Nobody today seems to respect the sacrifices that were made back then, so it’s good to find someone who does.”
West nodded again.
“I’ve got an offer for you,” Howard continued. “Most members of senior command have a full roster of staff working for them, which includes an assistant or two—a junior aide who learns their daily routine, and to whom they can delegate simple tasks. But I don’t. Instead, I choose to fill that role with some of my most talented students. Every year after I’ve had a few classes and identified the standouts, I select one bright, promising cadet from my classroom to assist with my office duties—a student helper of sorts. And this year, I’d like it to be you.”
West’s eyes widened. “You’d like me to help you?”
“I can think of no one better. You’ve already distinguished yourself. You’re enthusiastic, you’re eager to learn, you seem to want to be here more than anyone else, and you respect authority. And unofficially, it’s nice to have the company of another Brit. There’s rarely more than one or two of us in my classroom.”
“There’s actually three this year—”
“Your friend’s an embarrassment.”
“But Sir…”
“Do you care to argue this? Because if so you can leave, just like all the other disappointments the Academy seems so keen to admit these days.”
West closed his mouth and shook his head.
“Good. Now, will you be accepting my offer? I can give you time to think it over if you’d like.”
“No need, Sir. Consider it done.”
“Brilliant. You can start Monday morning. Your first task will be to attend the weekly Council briefing with me.”
“I’d love to, but I have class on Monday.”
“I’ll rearrange your schedule for you. The knowledge you’ll gain in these briefings is superior to anything you could learn in a classroom. You’ll get a front-row seat to the inner workings of both the Academy and Space Corps high command, and it’ll do wonders for your career. Most of my assistants went on to become cadet officers before graduation, and a few even became Chief of Cadets—the highest command role among the student ranks, which reports directly to me. Imagine how that’ll look in your file a few years down the road, once you’ve graduated and you’re in consideration for a promotion. You’ll already be a familiar face to the officers making those decisions.”
West smiled. “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, then. Words mean little to me; what matters most is the performance behind them. Now, I expect you to report to the Upper Command Deck bright and early Monday morning at 07:30, and we’ll begin the first day of the rest of your career.”
West nodded. “Of course, Sir. You won’t be disappointed.”