Free Midshipman by Phil Geusz Page B

fair! I don’t want to be anyone’s hero!”
    “There, there!” Mr. Banes replied, hugging me close alongside him. Thank heavens James was away visiting His Majesty—I couldn’t have stood for him to see me like that. Then my tutor sighed and looked me in the eye. “Wherever did you get the idea, young David, that life is fair?”
    “I… Well…”
    He laughed a single, harsh syllable. “Was it fair that you were born a slave, David?”
    “No,” I answered without even thinking about it. “Not really. But—”
    “Was it fair that your father never knew a minute’s freedom till the day he died?” he interrupted.
    I opened my mouth, then bit off my reply. Somehow, I’d never really considered the issue. “Gee,” I answered at length. “That was really terrible!”
    “Yes,” my tutor agreed, nodding soberly. “Utterly wretched, in fact.” Then he looked off into the distance. “How about all the other Rabbits, David? Or for that matter, all the other enslaved individuals of history? However many billions there’s been, of all races and creeds?”
    I pressed my lips together and nodded. “You’re right,” I admitted. “They all had it a lot worse than I do.”
    He nodded again. “And then we might consider the destitute, the ignorant, the endless legions of the crippled…” He shook his head and sighed. “Life’s never fair, David, nor can it be made fair. No matter how hard people try.  If I could share only one lesson with you, this would be the one. Every single person there’s ever been was a universe unto themselves, and their path through life a unique, individual voyage that can’t be meaningfully compared with that of any another. Nothing’s ever the same twice and therefore no two lives, or two people, are comparable.” He sighed. “So fairness is an illusion, David, and yearning for it is a waste of precious time.” He squeezed me extra-tight. “Especially for someone like you.”
    “I… I guess I am more different than most,” I admitted.
    “In many ways,” Mr. Banes agreed. “Which must make you feel very lonely. I understand this and make allowances for it when I can. But I fear that no one can ever be lonely for you. It’s something everyone has to go through for themselves.”
    I nodded slowly, my face screwing up again. “You expect so much from me! All of you!”
    Mr. Banes nodded. “Yes, we do. Including His Royal Highness. Or so I’m informed.” He smiled softly. “I suspect I know what’s really bothering you, son. No one will make you attend the Academy. I’d offer my own word of honor, but His Majesty has already made you his promise. And he never, ever breaks his word on things like this.” He peered at me intently. “Did I guess right?”
    I nodded. “He says it’s okay if I don’t. And I know he wouldn’t make me. But…” I looked down at my feet. “I guess I sorta have to go anyway.”
    Mr. Banes smiled again. “And why is that, David?”
    My eyes filled with tears. “Because… Because I just do ! Part of it’s the Sword, yes. But…” I looked up at him. “ Someone has to be first. His Highness is right about how important it is. And so are you and Lord Robert and everyone else around here. Something’s gotta give, you see. And… And… And…” I looked down, and Mr. Banes squeezed me again.
    “Something’s got to give,” he whispered. “And someone has to be the first. You’re the best-placed there’s ever likely to be. You know it as well as we do, and because of that you can’t run away. Even though it’ll make you miserable.”
    I nodded wordlessly.
    He squeezed me around the shoulders and we sat in silence for what felt like forever before he spoke again. “David,” he said at last. “You’re aware by now that I’m no ordinary instructor.”
    “Yeah,” I answered. “You’re a special-good one. And I’m thankful for all you’ve done for me. Even if I don’t say it out loud very often.”
    He smiled.