Milo

Milo slept better than he had done in years and it was not only because of the upgraded bed. This ship felt like home and the crew like family. It sounded silly, but it was not. Sam had been correct in calling the crew family. The ship’s tight space and the shifts’ rhythms bonded them.

Dad had been right. This might be the adventure he needed. The last years he had focused on just getting by on his own. Never really trying new things, except new recipes. Too afraid to try this. To accept Sam’s hiring proposal. Too bad Rachel never responded to his texts. She had given him her private number, so why would she ignore him? Had she forgotten about him?

Someone knocked on the door.

Milo stumbled off the bed and stepped into his Navy fatigues. The door slid open. Leopold stood in the opening, leaning his gangly body against the door frame and wearing his wireless earpods. Why would Sam send the pilot instead of a message to his hand terminal?

“Cap’n wants you,” Leopold said. “I heard him talking about you and I was already on the way here. So I took it upon myself to tell you he wants to see you.”

“Alright,” Milo replied. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to thank you for your precise work on mounting the new railgun. Ms Williams can be quite a hot head and liberates herself through shortcuts,” Leopold said. “Your thoroughness is a nice change.”

Milo scratched his neck. “Thanks.”

“Good luck with the Captain,” Leo said and dipped away.

When Milo entered the mess hall Sam stood by the coffee brewer holding his thermos as it filled up with fresh coffee. Milo inhaled the aromatic scent.

“You are holding that thing like a mother cradling a baby,” Milo said.

Diego and Claire sat on the benches and laughed.

Sam turned to him. “You know, sometimes you have these childish tantrums. Saying things without thinking first. It doesn’t suit you. This thermos got me through the muddy ruins and bloody battles during the war on Mars.”

Milo filled a bowl with breakfast porridge and got started. Sam had woken up on the wrong side of the bed today. “Right. But won't your combat suit be doing all the heavy lifting?”

“Even in my rig I won’t charge into battle without my thermos, my partner loaded up. If you keep it clean and well oiled it will keep your coffee warm and tasty. If you hold it like this, “ Sam said and changed his grip on the thermos. “And swing like this.”

Sam swung the thermos and Milo closed his eyes, but the metal cylinder didn’t connect. The Captain had halted an inch from the side of his head.

“You can break skulls with it,” Sam said and smiled. “A loyal friend in the dark.”

“Of course, Captain,” Milo said, stood straight and saluted. “You have done me well, sir.”

“You started it. Let’s get going,” Sam said.

-

Milo closed his eyes and recalled the thoughts that had gone through his head when he had wanted to save Rachel. Her pain, her anxiety. The shaped water in his mind became distinct and he tore into it, letting the liquids drench him. For a brief moment he was certain that he observed more shaped water in the distance, but then the sweetness flooded his mouth and he opened his eyes.

Tendrils of lightning crackled and snaked around his closed fists. There was an ever present strain to keep them alive, if his mind slipped away they would simply snuff out. The logic came naturally to him, having more tendrils alive required more focus and fuel. As he commanded the current tendrils to move slower he felt that the necessary water to keep them alive dropped. Additional tendril crackled to life from his fists and entered the flow. He made the electric flow move across his entire body, from their origin in his fists over torso, waist and legs. The tendrils moved up along his neck and tingled. To his ears and above. His vision tinted blue as they crackled over his eyes. But the coverage was sparse.

“How long can you hold this up?” Sam asked.

“A few minutes. I think,” Milo said, panting. “I had this idea that if I could keep enough tendrils alive and move them fast enough they could act as a barrier.”

Sam frowned and sipped at his coffee. “A barrier? For what? For combat? I know that I told you to feel confident and shove away your fears. But now you are overreaching. I promised your father to keep you safe.”

“No. Oh no. We need to know what I can do,” Milo said. “The limits.”

“Understandable. I see the sweat beads in your forehead, your strained breathing and tensed posture,” Sam said. “But the progress you have made the last two weeks have been phenomenal.”

“Yeah,” Milo said.

“But. You need to be prepared to face the point of stagnation,” Sam said. “It might be hard to accept if this power doesn’t live up to your expectations. Every sport and physical exercise have their plateaus and they will be different for everyone. The velocity of growth will slow. Diminishing returns, it is called.”

“I think I get it. For every stagnation I am able to pass I have to invest more effort for future ones,” Milo said.

“Exactly. You have a lot to improve,” Sam said and pinched his stomach.

Milo pulled back, almost losing his concentration. “Rude.”

“I am testing the limit of your focus,” Sam said.

All the tendrils moved to his right fist and he commanded them to move as fast he mustered. The pattern he intended for them to shape was a grid, but their weaving was too irregular and left skin exposed.

“I wonder how tight and how much power they need to absorb a beam weapon or shotgun slug? Or punches,” Sam said, but before Milo could reply Sam answered his own question. “Well, you have to cancel out the kinetic energy in the case of any projectiles. For beams it is the amount of energy needed to cool their heat. The exact numbers are easy to find.”

Sam pulled out his hand terminal and started searching.

The limit was distinct. If he tried to speed up the tendrils further the sweetness started to retreat and with it the power. Then he would need to hook it again. The grid would need to be formed tighter and expanded across his entire body. Much was required to achieve any of these stepping stones. He would need better control, sharper focus and more capacity.

“I found the numbers,” Sam said and showed him the result.

“I have a tool in my bag. It looks like a stick. Get it and connect it with your hand terminal,” Milo said. “Let’s see if my fist is laser proof.”

Sam found the prodding stick, connected it to his hand terminal and held it at Milo’s electrical fist. The measure was immediate.

“This feels like guesswork. You want to take these measurements and subtract them with the numbers the weapons produce?” Sam asked. “A negative figure means that you will be hurt?”

Milo nodded. “Yes. Let me see.”

The energy produced by the barrier of his fist was above the one produced by a laser rifle. Which meant that its beam would cool before penetrating. But what would happen if several beams were fired in rapid succession?

A knock on the door. The sweetness retreated and the electrical tendrils faded.

He still had not gotten around to fixing the bell, but if he stayed on the ship maybe it was not as important anymore. Someone was outside. Who would come to his place? Had he given Rachel his address?

“Are you expecting someone?” Sam asked, grabbing the thermos and positioned himself closer to the door.

“No,” Milo said, walking up to the door’s panel and activating the blank screen.

The three metal suits were almost as wide and high as the corridor they stood in. Military combat suits. He caught his breath, crossed his arms tight and his hands moved around like he had an itch on his elbows. To stare at those machines were to stare at death. Just one of those massive guns could obliterate just about anything they pointed at. Insane how they were allowed inside a pressurized environment. The police badges on their chests didn’t comfort him.

“This is the City Police Core. Open up or we will!” A voice boomed into the apartment.

“You alright? It looks like you just pooped your pants,” Sam said and put down the thermos. “See that name and rank on the middle suit? That is Commander Jacob Meyer. Let’s see what they have to say.”

But Milo was not keen on removing the only obstacle between himself and the combat suits. Even though the door would probably be a minor inconvenience if they wanted to come inside.

“Why would he be here?” Milo asked.

“It is weird. He already thanked us about saving his daughter,” Sam said and held a finger close towards the unlock button. “There have been rumors. We have to open this door no matter what. I am curious.” Sam unlocked it.

The door slid aside. Those suits represented absolute power and a promise of violence.

“At ease, marine,” Commander Jacob said. Sam stepped back. “Civilian.”

Milo nodded and moved to the side, giving the combat suits ample room to move. He had no intention to stand too close to one of those. Sam looked comfortable in the situation. Sweat prickled in Milo’s forehead. Door slid closed and locked. Commander Jacob parked his combat suit besides the bed. The back of the suit flaked and the different pieces slid and folded away. A man that even rivaled Sam’s size and stern face stepped out. Commander Jacob was clean shaven and to Milo’s surprise the face wore scars. A broken nose and damaged tissue across his jawline. Why did the richest man in the city not fix his face?

“Why are you here, Commander? We have already talked about the incident,” Milo said.

“First off, thank you for saving my daughter. During the previous days we have hunted down the remaining thugs from that group which you two repelled, so I have yet have the time to thank you in person. But with that taken care of, you can sleep safe now,” Commander Jacob said. The way the man said it made it sound like killing and violence was just another everyday thing. “Secondly, I can’t have people running around my city and throwing lightning at folks. I don’t like it.”

Milo stepped back, his back against a wall. He tried to form an argument, but nothing came out. He froze.

“Okay,” Milo said.

Commander Jacob stepped forward and gestured with his hands. “Calm down. Breathe.”

“Eh! Don’t come too close,” Sam said and stepped in between. “I won’t allow it.”

“What will you do? Hit me with your shitty coffee thermos?” Commander Jacob said. “I am not here to hurt you. Like everyone else in my city I have seen the video. I am pretty sure that there was no weapon. You have a power. For the safety of the inhabitants I am going to fold you into my vanguard.”

Sam locked eyes with the Commander. “Bad luck. He is already contracted.”

Sam and the Commander looked like two giants ready to duke it out. The two police officers Commander Jacob had brought flanked them.

“You need education and training before you zap the wrong person. I can provide this. I have a compound with people like you. Powered people,” Commander Jacob said. “Captain Samuels Adam, by standing in front of me and staring threateningly you risk court martial.”

Sam growled.

Milo shoved Sam, but the big man would not budge. So he stepped around him instead. “So you know how it works?”

“Yes. Fully. You do not. The spikes in the electrical grid have proved as much. It is dangerous for you to train without a supervisor. People will get hurt and I want to avoid that. This is not a request, it is an order,” Commander Jacob said with a grin. “You will of course keep your contract with Captain Samuels. But instead of training with him you will visit my facilities. You will learn to control and expand your potential.”

“Outstanding! Tomorrow morning we start. I will send you the specifics to your terminal. You are also invited to lunch afterwards. My daughter has talked a lot about you and I think it is due time for you to pay her some attention so that I don’t have to listen to her,” Commander Jacob said and walked back to his combat suit. “And Captain Samuels, drink a mug of coffee to cool down.”

Commander Jacob stepped into his combat suit and left with his two police officers. The door locked behind them.

“I do not like this at all,” Sam said. “The rumors about him. His cruel ways. Hurting his own soldiers.”

“But he can teach me about my power!” Milo said.

“At what cost? Beatings and what else?” Sam said. “What if he is lying?”

Milo recognized Sam’s reaction. The man’s anger boiled. But there was no choice to make.

Milo straightened his back and met his friend’s eyes. “I need training. Proper training. What if I hurt someone? What if I hurt you? Last week I almost killed you. I need this,” Milo said.

Sam frowned. “If he mistreats you I will crush his face.”

“You are a great friend,” Milo said, smiling.

“You don’t think it is a little strange that the Commander is hooking you up with his own daughter?” Sam said.

“Maybe she is just shy,” Milo said.