★ West ★

  An hour later, West had long since finished grading the quizzes and was deeply engrossed in the second chapter of Mutiny on the Bounty when he heard the abrupt tapping of a pencil on the desk in front of him. He looked up to see General Howard staring at him, and he jolted upright.

  “I take it you’re done?” Howard asked.

  “Yes, Sir, I am,” West fumbled for words. “Would you like me to go now?”

  “No, not at all. Sit back and relax for a bit. Let’s have a chat. And here,” Howard slid one of the teacups forward, “enjoy this too, even though it’s long since gone cold.”

  West nodded, and Howard took a deep breath. “I may have requested your presence to grade papers, but in reality, this exercise serves a dual purpose. It gives me the opportunity to get to know you. You see, I’m always curious as to the factors that inspire my most motivated students. They seem to fall into two categories—they either come from a place of tremendous privilege, or they’ve overcome a great deal of adversity. So tell me, which are you?”

  West stared down at his teacup. “I’m not sure you’d be all that interested. There’s nothing terribly special about me.”

  “It appears to be adversity for you, then.”

  West felt his face flush. “Does any of that matter now? I’m here attending classes, wearing a uniform, and sleeping in a dorm just like everyone else.”

  “That’s why every cadet from a background such as yours joins the Corps. Because once you pass through those doors, it ceases to matter—not to anyone but you or me. But despite your misgivings, I’m very interested in hearing about your past, if you’re willing to share it.”

  West sighed. “If you insist, but I think you’ll be disappointed.”

  “Oh, I highly doubt that.” Howard leaned back in his chair and stared at him intently. “By all means, continue.”

  West nodded. “My family always traveled around. Never stayed in one place very long. They were traveling when I was born; my mum gave birth on the side of a road just south of London. I don’t have a birth certificate, and I got my name because that’s the direction they were going at the time. My last name changed three times in my first few years depending on who I was living with—first it was my father’s, then when he ran off it was my mum’s, then after she died it was my Gran’s, and by the time I got to school I wasn’t even sure what to write on the forms. I probably wouldn’t have finished school at all if it hadn’t been for Sandi’s parents. My Gran worked for them as a cook, and Sandi and I became friends because she’d bring me along with her. We explored the woods out back of their estate and sat around talking the afternoons away. One day his mum sat me down and said she was sending me off to that expensive boarding school right along with him because she thought I deserved a better life than what the caravan parks could provide, or the beatings my Gran was giving me.”

  “That explains why you did so well in school, then,” Howard said. “You had motivation.”

  “Of course I did. I loved it there. I had friends, a space to myself, and a place to live without someone screaming at me all the time.”

  “I’d imagine your Gran didn’t object?”

  West shrugged. “My Gran never wanted me in the first place, so she couldn’t have been happier that I was gone.”

  “I understand why you did so well academically, but what drove you to apply to the Space Corps?”

  “Because there’s nothing left on Earth for me.”

  Howard sipped his tea, then lowered the cup again. “We seem to attract that type quite often—those who have nothing left to return to. I’m slightly confused as to why your friend applied with you, though.”

  “Because I convinced him to. Besides, he’s more adventurous than I am. He was always the one leading those excursions into the woods, so he was every bit as excited as I was when we both got in.”

  “It sounds like he’d be best off joining the Fleet. I’d chuck him over there myself if I had the authority. Lord knows, he doesn’t belong here.”

  “Because you made him feel that way, Sir,” West said. The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he regretted them the instant it happened.

  Howard stared at him, then set his teacup down.

  “You don’t get to critique my teaching methods,” he said. “I do what’s ideal for everyone by filtering out the least deserving students. It’s best for them to cut their losses early, and it’s best for those who remain to not be weighed down by the less motivated among them. As for you, West, you very much deserve to be here, but your friend doesn’t, and it sounds like some of his insubordinate tendencies are beginning to rub off on you. I can’t order you to make good life choices as a course of habit, but what I can do is point out that your selection of friends leaves much to be desired. You’re set to do very well here, and the only thing holding your back is your poor decision-making.”

  “You want me to toss my lifelong best friend? After all he’s done for me? I wouldn’t even be here without him.”

  “It takes a fuel cell or two to leave Earth’s atmosphere, but we eject them once they’re spent.”

  West set his teacup down on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

  “I don’t think I can do that,” he said as he rubbed his eyes. “It’s not right.”

  “The right thing to do is rarely the easiest, but I’ll leave it up to you.”

  “How can you tell me that, after hearing where I’ve come from? I’ve got no family to speak of; I don’t count my Gran. I’ve got no one but Sandi. I mean no offense, Sir, but you don’t understand.”

  Howard leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and stared at him intently. “You think I don’t understand?”

  West shrugged, and Howard continued. “I know what you’re going through better than most, but all you really need to know is that I’ve spent a lifetime—my whole career, almost—recruiting, training, and educating our most promising candidates. I know how to spot them. Each year, the instant that class of cadets passes through the Academy doors for the first time, I can see which ones are officer material, and which ones deserve to be chucked in the bin.”

  “You can tell that just by looking at them?”

  “It’s not just a matter of looking, West, it’s about seeing them for who they really are. Most try to hide it, but you have to look past what they want you to see, straight to the intentions behind those eyes and the expressions behind those smiles. When you first walked into my classroom, I saw a bright young man who was happy to be there, eager to learn, and willing to do whatever it took in order to succeed. And when I saw your friend sneak in at the last moment and sit at that desk in the back corner—about to be late, and hoping I wouldn’t notice—I saw someone who thought they deserved the unmitigated praise, admiration, and respect of everyone around them while doing absolutely nothing to earn it.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir, but you can’t know that. You don’t know him like I do.”

  “Oh, don’t I? I’ve been doing this for decades, West—longer than you’ve been alive—and my gut instinct has never been wrong.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea again. “Perhaps it’s time for an example. Are you familiar with the story of Lieutenant Cruz?”

  West shook his head.

  “Well, I should say ‘former’ lieutenant because she no longer holds the rank. But she was a lot like you. She entered the Academy eight years ago, and she was one of our stars—a brilliant athlete, an excellent student, president of the debate team, and a fantastic officer in her company of cadets. The Academic Board loved her. They were dazzled by her performance, her charming smile, and her ability to say the right things to the right people. They identified her as top command material, and some of them were already recruiting her for their staff before she’d even graduated. But I saw her for what she truly was—a snake. I wanted to expel her after the second-year cadet review, but there were no grounds to do so, and they all thought I was insane for even suggesting it. Do you know what became of her?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  West shook his head again.

  “She graduated with honors and was commissioned as a lieutenant, and I had to see that smug smile on her face as I shook her hand and awarded her a diploma on stage. But then, two years later, she was caught stealing ammunition from the armory. That incident prompted an investigation, and they found even more in her quarters. She claimed it was for her own personal use, but it was far more than any single officer should ever have in their possession. The quantities that were stolen suggested her intent had been illegal resale, but no one could prove it. She was only convicted of theft, but that was still enough to earn her a dishonorable discharge, strip her of her rank and all the awards she’d earned, and toss her sorry, thieving arse into prison for a few years. Everyone who knew her was shocked, but it came as no surprise to me. We wasted five years training an officer who I would’ve thrown out on the first day if I’d had the chance. I warned them, and they didn’t listen. Now I’m warning you, and you aren’t listening either. Your friend’s poison, West, and the sooner you realize it, the better.”

  West took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “I can’t ditch my best friend; he’s all I’ve got. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you don’t know what we’ve been through together. He was there when even my own family didn’t want me.”

  He expected another lecture, but Howard simply nodded in agreement. “Like I said, West, I understand. I know what it’s like to be unwanted. I’ll spare you the details, but my childhood was very much like yours.”

  “I don’t mind hearing about it, Sir. You don’t have to spare anything.”

  “I think I should, for both our sakes.”

  West shrugged. “I’ve shared mine. Why not yours?”

  Howard studied him for a moment, then looked away and sighed. “You’re too curious for your own good, do you know that?”

  West was unsure how to respond. He feared he’d pushed too far, but it was Howard’s turn to reply with a shrug. “Fine, then. Why not? We have more in common than you’ll ever know, so maybe it’s time you heard where I come from.” He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “Much like you, life saw fit to give me nothing but adversity from the moment I was born. My father wasn’t much better than your Gran; nothing I ever did was good enough for him. He beat me as a child, then he beat me as a teenager, and he would’ve beaten me as an adult if I hadn’t been able to fight back.

  “My mother seemed to love me a bit more than he did, but all she ever wanted was a girl, and all she ever had was boys. I was the youngest, so I was the living reminder of what she’d never have. She wanted a daughter so badly she even dressed me in girls' clothes every now and then and called me by a girl’s name. I wasn’t a boy named Ed to her; I was a girl named Edie. It was the only way she’d ever accept me. She loved me well enough, I think, but I wasn’t who she would’ve chosen for a child. I never got the chance to see what kind of mother she’d have turned out to be, though, because she died when I was young. This left us in the care of my father, who considered us to be a burden since he never wanted children in the first place. He didn’t want Ed or Edie; he wanted nothing to do with any of us. And then, as it so often does, luck granted a perverse version of his wish—when I was seven years old, my brother died too; drowned while he was out swimming one day.

  “Despite his misgivings, my father had developed a close relationship with my brother because they were very much alike. He’d never liked children, but my brother was always the favorite in our household. My father was of the opinion that the wrong child had died, and he spent the rest of my childhood making sure I knew it. He’d get blackout drunk every night, and when he was conscious enough to realize I was there, it was nothing but screaming, violence, and threats until I left. You can relate, can’t you?”

  West nodded.

  “Those of us with such lots in life have very few options because no one will ever help us unless we’re supremely lucky, and most of us aren’t,” Howard continued. “Your friend’s parents were that stroke of luck for you, and for me, it was the fact that a brand new military academy had just been commissioned the year I turned seventeen, and they were desperately seeking applicants. No one in my family had ever served, and I didn’t know the first thing about the Space Corps other than that it would take me far away from Earth, but that was good enough for me.”

  “You were one of the first cadets here?” West asked.

  “Yes; I was a member of the inaugural class. The only ones ahead of me were those with guaranteed admission.”

  “How can anyone have guaranteed admission? I thought there were rules against that.”

  “Admission is all but guaranteed when your last name is Gray, and your grandfather was one of the Academy's founding members.”

  “That seems unfair,” West said.

  “Unfair?”

  “Well… yes. From what I’ve heard about the Gray family, it seems they’ve gotten everything handed to them.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I… don’t know. That’s just what I’ve heard.”

  “West,” Howard leaned forward and stared at him, “what did I tell you earlier? Your background ceases to matter once you pass through those doors. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way—my roommate that year was a bookish bore, and I told him so. His family was disgustingly wealthy, and he’d never worked a day in his life. Never did much of anything, really; he spent most of his time reading, went to bed early every night, and always got perfect grades. Not only that, but he looked the part—he was tall and thin with dark stringy hair and wore glasses so thick they were nearly comical. Overall I just wanted nothing to do with him, so I told him he seemed like he never had any fun, and to stay out of my way. He looked me right back in the eye, though, and told me my accent was as stupid as the rest of me. And from that day on, we were best friends.”

  West smiled. “Do you still talk to him?”

  Howard sighed, and his demeanor changed. “Well, that’s the thing about growing old. Many of your friends don’t.”

  “Oh.” West wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sorry.”

  Howard shrugged. “It’s just part of life. Don’t fret it. All I’m saying is to let this be a lesson against disparaging those you know nothing about. There are certain members of the Gray family who deserve every bit of criticism thrown their way, but two of them are irreplaceable. I thought we’d never have anyone as good as Fred—or, excuse me, ’General Frederick Gray,’ as you know him—but then his daughter came along and somehow proved to be better than he was. There are those who think she hasn’t earned her place here, but they’re the ones who merely look, rather than truly seeing.”

  West nodded. “I apologize for making a hasty judgment.”

  “Well, who can fault you for it? You’re young, and you’ve just arrived. It’s my job to show you the truth of things. Now, enough of that. We weren’t talking about them, we were talking about my father. Where was I?”

  “You were one of the first cadets to enroll in the Academy.”

  “Ah, right—I enrolled, I attended, and I graduated. My career prospects vastly improved as a result, but unfortunately, my home life didn’t. I still lived with my father off and on until well into my twenties because I had nowhere else to go between deployments. As he got older his temper got worse, and he despised my presence because all I did with my time was lay about his house drinking myself stupid in order to avoid dealing with him.”

  He paused, leaned back in his chair, and stared absently at the wall. “And then, the day before I was to leave on my fourth deployment, we got into yet another fight—the proper kind; one that draws complaints from the neighbors. And there, during that argument, he shouted that he hoped I’d die out there so he’d never have to see me again. I don’t know if your Gran has ever openly wished for your death, but my father did.”

  West inhaled sharply. “Did you ever speak to him again after that?”

  “I had no choice. He nearly got his wish—I was almost killed during that tour of duty. The mission went bad, and I was the only one to come back alive—barely. I lay in a hospital bed for weeks, unconscious, and as my last living relative, he was called in to make medical decisions on my behalf.”

  “You came that close to dying?”

  “It was more than close; I was as good as gone. Even the doctors who were treating me thought so. But my father fought them as hard as he’d ever fought me—he argued to keep me on life support and he insisted they use every medical intervention they had to keep me alive, even though they all agreed it was a waste of time. And by some miracle, I lived.”

  “Did he treat you better you after that?” West asked.

  Howard shrugged. “I don’t know. We still didn’t talk much. I moved back in with him after I was discharged from the hospital several months later, and we lived together for another seven years until he died in his sleep one night of a stroke, which I suspect was a result of his excessive drinking.” He sighed. “I don’t know if that experience changed him, but it certainly changed me. I wasn’t much of an outstanding officer before that, and no one would’ve batted an eye if I’d left the Corps with the medal I’d earned from that ordeal and gone on my way. But I didn’t. I returned and attacked my career with the passion that can only be gained by nearly losing it, and by the time my father passed, I’d gotten a few more promotions under my belt. He never went quite so far as to say he was proud of me, but we never fought again.”

  West remained silent, and Howard continued.

  “So don’t tell me, West, that I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I know what it’s like to be alone in this world, when the adult who was supposed to raise you instead treats you as a blight on their existence. I know what it’s like to live that life, and I know what it’s like to overcome it, and so will you. You’ve already overcome so much, and you’ll go even further, I guarantee it, if only you believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.”

  “Thank you,” West whispered.

  Howard nodded. “I’ve made a career of helping cadets such as yourself overcome their backgrounds, and I’m prepared to do it again. You don’t have to agree with every word of my orders—don’t tell anyone I said that—but our highest achievers are those who can think for themselves while still functioning within the confines of authority. I simply ask that you take what I say into consideration and understand that I’m not blindly issuing orders; rather, these are words of experience from someone who’s looking out for you.”

  West nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’ll never let you down, if I can help it.”

  “Well, I certainly look forward to seeing what’s in store for you. Now, I’m dismissing you because it’s grown quite late, and I hadn’t intended to spend so long talking. I’m glad we did, though. That’s a good thing—to enjoy each other’s company. It means you’re full of potential, and you’ve got a lot to offer. You’ll do very well here, West; I’m sure of it. Now go, and have a good evening.”

  West inhaled deeply and stood up. “Thank you again, Sir. I don’t even know what to say. This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

  “Oh, I do know. But do you recall what I said during the first week of class? Your actions mean more to me than your words ever will, so spare me the thanks, and show me you mean it. Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, don’t forget your book. I’d like you to finish that before our next meeting. Can I expect to see you here again in two weeks?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good.” Howard smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  And so, that evening, West left the Chancellor’s office with a renewed sense of hope, as well as a newfound distrust of his best friend, who was sleeping just a few feet away in their shared dorm room that night.