Milo

The water deposit sat distinct within his mind. Milo reached and tore into it. The sweetness started flowing into his mouth and he extended his palm forward, aiming for the training room’s far and insulated wall. But no lightning bolt was discharged, instead the hammer blow of a headache crashed onto him. The sweetness retreated and he massaged his temples in an effort to stave off the throbbing pain.

“Goddamn. Still erratic,” Milo said.

He went through the motions again and extended his palm forward. Electrical tendrils came to life from the center of his palm and they merged, tangling together, before thundering across the room. The lightning bolts struck the wall with a deafening crackle. He went down on one knee and extended the palm again. No lightning bolt discharged. The sweetness vanished and was replaced with the headache.

“Goddamnit!” Milo said.

The frustration ate at him. Slowly, it was wearing him down.

“You know what? Since you became Captain, your usage of goddamn and all its forms has increased by a tenfold. I am impressed,” Sam said.

“So, what? The pressure is on my shoulders, I need to be able to cast my lightning. It just doesn’t work when it should. The crew depends on me,” Milo said.

Milo walked over to the old coffee brewer and loaded it up. Sam would want a mug too, so there was no need to ask him. When finished preparing the brewer, Milo started it and it hummed away.

“The members of a starship crew depend on everyone on it. It’s not only the Captain’s job to serve and protect his crewmates. Your crewmates have the same responsibility to you,” Sam said. “At least that is what I have learned during my years as Captain.”

The coffee brewer hummed its song and the aromatic scent of coffee entered the air. The air tasted wonderful. Milo gave it a deep inhale.

“Yes, I get that. But how am I supposed to zap Saif with this if it behaves erratically? We will all die,” Milo said.

“True. But if you keep focusing on the pressure and responsibility on your shoulders, you will never be able to perform past them. Focus on the task. Feel the lightning surging inside you. Taste the water as it rushes into your mouth,” Sam said. “Also, you will be surprised at what your crew is capable of when the situation demands it. Look, we are still alive and kicking. We have joined forces with space dragons and we fight in an intergalactic war. Since we left Europe13, I think we have achieved much. I am impressed that we made it this far without more casualties.”

Milo poured the coffee into two mugs, handing one to Sam.

“Thank you.” Sam nodded.

The coffee tasted great. His old brewer still performed. Much better than his lightning.

“We must make the final stretch of the race. Like you said, we need to kill him. No matter the cost,” Milo said. “I just need to reach him and keep discharging lightning at him until he is drained. A simple plan.”

“A simple plan with a lot of assumptions. I am not here to discourage you, but how will we even reach him? His fleet is vast and his vanguard is strong,” Sam said.

“Argus made a passing note about cloaking technology,” Milo said. “We will solve it. We always do. I just need to fix my lightning.”

Sam sipped from his mug. “Alright, say that we make it again. We kill Saif. His army will not drop dead on the spot. All the loyalists in his forces will keep hunting us and I am pretty sure those mental seeds of his will not vanish with him. What happens then?”

“I know this. When people are let go from his control, I think they will be able to think for themselves. It will be a different ball game. I am pretty sure most of his followers will disband, there will be the offshots, that are too loyal to break course. But those we can handle. They cannot amount to anything,” Milo said.

Sam nodded. “From this angle, you seem very positive, but when you talk about your power, you sound broken. Why not try to harness that optimism and lack of doubts?”

“You know my hook, I need to lean into it. My own pain and suffering,” Milo said.

“Okay,” Sam said. “So, when we kill Saif, will we live happily ever after?”

Milo finished his mug of coffee and started pouring a refill, gesturing for Sam and who gladly accepted more. “That’s the point.”

“You think we can go back to Europe13, just like that? Even if the people have started thinking for themselves and thrown Saif aside, they remember what we did. There is footage of when our ship fires its railgun through a line of combat suits and how we rampaged through the city. We cannot just go back. We will have to stay isolated,” Sam said.

“I don’t think so. People will know, they will understand that we saved them all. I am sure of it,” Milo said.

Sam brought forth his thermos, that he somehow had managed to hide from view. “Please fill this too. Thank you. Back to my point, I don’t think they will understand.”

“Always the optimist,” Milo said.

“Plan for the worst and hope for the best. My sergeant used to say that,” Sam said. “And I think it fits our situation perfectly. I am sure we cannot hope for a happy ending. If Saif is killed then our goal has been achieved and I can die gladly. Society will not accept me back. Look at me. The crew hates me. You have seen the looks they have thrown at me. Beth awaits the justified moment to put her hands around my throat.”

Sam’s hands started twitching again, as if his fingers tried squeezing imaginary triggers.

“They don’t hate you,” Milo said.

“Don’t be so goddamn naive,” Sam said. “I don’t care about them. We only have to kill Saif and that’s it. Everything after is just overhead. It’s not important. The world will change when he dies. I agree that his armies will disband, but it will take years and there will be stragglers. But those, someone else will have to manage.”

Milo handed the filled thermos back to Sam. “We will move on, Sam. I don’t hate you. You are my friend.”

Sam smiled. “You will hate me. Oh boy, you will hate me so much. Because this plan we have cooked up, it will not work. Too many assumptions. But I have a new one. One which will work. Our best weapon against Saif is Beth. You saw her when she was partly fueled with adrenaline. What do you think happens when she fuels fully with it? Without being hindered.”

“Her power is too erratic,” Milo said.

“Your lightning is more erratic than her strength at this moment. That fourth, elusive deposit you have been talking about, where is it and what is its purpose? Exactly, my point, you cannot reach it, your power is too erratic. I know what triggers her,” Sam said. “We need to murder the kid.”

Milo froze. “What?”

“Tom. The kid, we need to murder him right in front of her. That will set her off, I know it. That will enrage her enough to fuel fully with adrenaline,” Sam said.

Milo shook his head. “We don’t murder children, Sam.”

“I am going to cut the kid’s throat right in front of her. One life for the rest of humanity. It’s a fair exchange,” Sam said.

“No, Sam. Don’t talk like this,” Milo said. His old friend had finally gone insane. Was the cybernetic implants messing this badly with his mind?

“Her strength can be turned into mental strength, she will resist his control better than anyone. And when she has fully transformed, she will kill him. This is the only way,” Sam said. “No assumptions, no caveats. One method, one result.”

“No, no. I am ordering you, Sam, we cannot go around murdering children,” Milo said, tendrils snaked out onto his fists from the inside of his palms. He had not summoned his power, it just came alive by itself.

“Something has to be done. Someone has to have the will to save us.” Sam started for the exit. “Look at what happens when you cast aside all doubt, your path becomes clear and your power becomes strong again. The time you spent in that circuit board, it changed you, it changed your hook. Don’t let your doubts hold you back, Milo. Act as a proper Captain.”

“Sam, don’t. I am ordering you, don’t do it. I will stop you,” Milo said.

“Don’t tell anyone about this meeting. Not even a whisper. It would crack this crew apart, stopping all our chances for a victory. You do what you need to do and I will do what I need to do,” Sam said. “Just like that. Look at your fists. Your electricity vibrates stronger, see?”

Milo did as he said, and yes, the tendrils snaked fast and crackled loudly. He had not even reached for the deposits, but the power was there all the same. Had his hook really changed?

“Think about it. You don’t have to make up your mind right now. But when you train with your power, cast away all doubts and hesitation, bring forth that confidence I have seen you marshal before. Be the Captain, own it,” Sam said.

Milo nodded. “I will try.”

Sam left him alone. Alone with his thoughts. Sam always upheld his promises and Milo had no doubts that his old friend would try this. Murdering a child, it was despicable.

Milo sat down and refilled his mug again. He had drank too much coffee again, his body had gotten the jitters again. But he needed to take the edge off of Sam’s words. If it saved humanity from Saif, was the trade of one murdered boy fair? One boy for billions of lives, even more when considering the whole of the Universe and all the alien civilizations.

“Fuck,” Milo mumbled.

First thing, Milo was not able to tell anybody about it. If even one of the others in the crew knew, they would jump Sam. Milo had not agreed with Sam about the crew hating him, but it was true. The crew indeed hated Sam. And Beth, she just needed an excuse to kill. Milo couldn’t tell anybody, he needed them all for this plan to work. He needed Sam and Beth at their A-game if the plan would have any chance to work. He would need to stop Sam, himself. A lightning bolt would fry at least some of his cybernetic implants. It would have to do the trick. Milo made his choice. He would stop Sam at the last possible moment, instead of telling anybody about the hidden plan. Plans within plans within plans. Maybe they had already failed, scheming among each other and going behind each other’s backs.

Milo looked at his palms, shoving away all doubts in his mind and pulling his confidence into the front row. He inhaled and continued the exercise, finding the thoughts that produced the correct feelings.

It clicked.

Confidence took the shape of his hook and he pulled.

Deposits snapped into distinction. He felt them, he knew he could reach for either one of them if he wanted to, and without the price of the headache.

Water.

Blood.

Adrenaline.

Fat. The deposit sat deeper into his mind than the others. Its brownish liquid moved back and forth in its transparent container, inviting him to tear into it. He tore into it. But his focus faded and only a few drops of the liquid came through the crack.

The taste of meat trickled into his mouth.

A surge went through him and crashed into his palms. They shook as the electrical tendrils raced around them. It felt like… like if his hands wanted to come together. He moved the palms closer to each other, and the tendrils started jumping across the distance. Tendrils merged and unmerged with each other, a dance of crackling lightning.

He shoved his hands even close, to the point where the palms almost touched.

In that remaining distance, something was constructed. A sphere the size of a marble, but made out of surging and crackling tendrils.

The few drops of fat that trickled into his mouth stopped and the sphere stopped growing. But it still floated in the distance between his palms.

Was this it? He had fueled with fat and it had created this electrical sphere.

It had to do something.

Was it an electrical grenade?

Milo threw the sphere into the air. As its trajectory came to its peak, the sphere stopped. It had halted in mid and stayed in place, hovering by the ceiling on its own accord.

The sphere’s tendrils started moving faster, crackling more erratically.

Weird.

Milo stepped back and for a second he looked down at his boots instead.

Lightning bolts thundered from the sphere, consuming its very own tendrils. One, two and three times, lightning struck the floor around his feet. He jumped to the side, avoiding the bolts. But the sphere had calmed already. It was depleted and had faded into thin air. The lightning bolts had struck where his attention had been. It was not an electrical grenade. It was a lightning storm. Fat fueled into creation.

His hand terminal chirped. It was Claire. He inhaled deeply and relaxed his shoulders, it was time to be the Captain. He answered the call.

“Claire, what’s up?” Milo asked.

“Yo, we need to make some decisions on how to proceed with the upgrades. I need my Captain,” Claire said. “In my ‘shop.”

“I am on my way,” Milo said.

-

Milo heard the arguments before he passed through the workshop’s door, but the door was open already. Why were the doors always open in this ship? He should enforce a policy change. If the ship suddenly started venting the atmosphere, it would be better if all the doors were closed.

“If we cannot mask our ship and make it to his flagship, no amount of weaponry will ever matter,” Birgitta said.

“Void torpedoes are weapons,” Claire said. “Beth, back me up here. We are not throwing them aside as decoys. They are the most lethal weapons we have.”

Milo entered Claire’s workshop and prepared to face this trial. Don’t tell them about Sam’s plan and help them through the arguments they were having. A Captain’s duty.

Birgitta, Claire, Beth, Diego and Elzrig were gathered in the workshop.

“But how else are we going to be able to approach his ship?” Birgitta said. “There is a fleet between us and him.”

Claire coughed. “They are weapons. Not decoys. Like Beth, should we throw her to the left, just so that they can chase her instead?”

“I don’t enjoy being described as a weapon. Saif always said that, Admiral Harris always said that. I hate it,” Beth said.

Milo stepped out between the racks. “I solved the fourth deposit. Fat fuels into creation. I created a lightning storm inside the training room.”

“That is the reason the sensors went haywire,” Claire said.

“Great job!” Beth said.

Diego gave him a thumb’s up.

Birgitta nodded in his direction and smiled. “Lightning-in-a-bottle.”

“People, people. Crew of the Final Sight. I am allowed to partake in this conversation, it sounds like a Captain should. This discussion sounds pretty critical,” Milo said.

Beth turned, Argus still hanging in his makeshift harness on her back. “Of course! We are discussing how we should best use all this newly obtained technology.”

“You argue like rodents,” Argus said. “You have powers, but you still argue like rodents.”

Beth slammed her fist against his shell. “Shut it, ball.”

“This is about violence, we should invite Sam,” Milo said.

Beth shook her head. “I would rather avoid his presence completely. That maniac.”

“Don’t say that,” Milo said.

A figure stepped out from the dark corner of the workshop. “Don’t worry, Captain Milo. I see and hear everything that happens on this ship.”

“Samuels.” Beth nodded.

They had not had a clue that their former Captain had hidden in the room. If someone knew about all the ship’s nooks and crannies, it would be Sam. He had practically lived on this ship for many years. And whenever a retrofit or re-design was made, it was ultimately his decision that mattered.

“Hi, Sam,” Milo said.

“Birgitta wants to use the void torpedoes as bait. Create the biggest thermal and radioactive splash possible, like a smokescreen and which we will fly through, sneaking under their noses. Make an emergency dock at Saif’s ship. Engage the enemy and kill him,” Sam said.

“Finely worded,” Argus said. “I can hear that you are the Chieftain of this crew.”

Milo smacked the omf on his shell. “Shut it, ball.”

Which prompted Beth to smile at him, they exchanged a chuckle.

“A good approach as any. Samuels, for once we are in agreement,” Birgitta said.

“But is it not a waste of the torpedoes? They are intended for blowing and sucking things into them, not randomly detonating in space,” Claire said. “Samuels, you don’t see my point? There has to be another way.”

“Not with me on the helm. I am not Leo,” Diego said.

Claire sighed. “Diego, you are supposed to support me, no matter what. That is the whole thing about being a couple.”

“I am not getting us killed for nothing. And that’s that,” Diego said.

Milo stepped forward, but was interrupted before he got started.

Elzrig made a spin and landed in front of him. “You humans have small bodies, some of you are able to fight very well, but most of you can be exceptionally loud. Wyrhgon would have pointed that out, if anybody would know of a way of sneaking through space it would have been him. He was always a little too good at doing that. Rahgon sends her regards, by the way. She is watching the eggs and these corridors are too narrow for her mighty body. She wanted me to say exactly those words and in that sequence. I hope I made her proud.”

“Thanks, Elzrig,” Rahgon dropped into the mental channel.

Milo nodded at the blue scaled dragon. “Thank you for your observation. And yes, humans can indeed be quite loud when they start arguing.” He turned his attention to his crew, all lined up and ready for him to speak his mind, for him to enter the argument, for him to settle the argument. He inhaled deeply and straightened his back before starting. “Sam, Birgitta, would it work?”

“It’s all we have,” Birgitta said. “With Argus’ help I am sure we are able to cloak and stealth the Final Sight for just long enough for us to make the distance. All thermal and radioactive emissions will be in chaos because of all the explosions and synthetic wormholes. We could throw in nukes as well, to enhance the effect. The omf tech will mask our electrical emissions. We are good to go.”

“Yes, it will work. This is the plan we have. Claire, save one of the void torpedoes for my rig. I want to have the opportunity to shove one down Saif’s throat if the situation favors me. But the others will be used in the smokescreen,” Sam said. “Claire, I have designed some other upgrades to my rig, I need your help with. With your knowledge about material science and the omf’s tech, I think we can finally make it happen.”

“Of course, Cap…. Of course, Samuels,” Claire said. “But there are other upgrades to perform as well. Our energy weapons can be upgraded, our hulls can be armored, our electrical grid reinforced, our railguns can be tuned up and then the reactor chamber has to be modified to burn antimatter. Everyone has to chip in for it to work.”

“Crew, are we in agreement?” Milo asked.

A ringing ‘yes’ went around the circle of crewmembers. Even Elzrig and Rahgon joined in.

Yuri stepped into the workshop with his body covered in white marble, and a continuous layer of pebbles from his arm which extended onto the mace’s handle he held in one hand. “Wait, you are having a meeting without me? I know I have not been with you guys for long, but should I not be a part of these discussions? I thought I was part of this crew.”

“You are, Yuri. You did well back there. I am officially upgrading your temporary membership. Welcome to the crew of the Final Sight,” Milo said.

Yuri nodded. “Thank you. So, what are we doing?”

Milo reiterated the plan for the upgrades and how their approach should be handled.

“I am game,” Yuri said.

“Milo, I will need your help to rewire the railguns,” Claire said. “Samuels, after we have had a look at your rig, you will need to start welding all the outside stuff. Birgitta and Yuri begin with drawing up the detonation sequence for the smokescreen. Diego, look over Leo’s flight patterns, we will need something juicy. Elzrig, Rahgon, I might need your fire and strength later.”

Milo nodded. “Crew, you heard the lady. Get to work!”