Milo
Five days trapped inside this can. Sam had kept him busy with maintenance work, the commission of a new railgun and the preparation of its mounting. It was monotonous work to go through the ship’s power cables and confirm labels, performance and sheath quality. Every time the ship sustained a hit, vibrations shot through it and risked twisting and dislocating cables. A spark in the wrong place and the ship would go up in flames. Starships and fires didn’t mix well.
The sensor was smaller than a fingernail, round and attached with a single titanium bolt through its middle. It had left the network and failed to reconnect. No pings were replied, which meant it needed to be replaced. Milo placed the power tool’s head on the bolt. The sensor landed with a metallic clink on the floor of the crawl space. He picked it up and put it into his bag. A new sensor was bolted in place and connected with the network. No fire on his watch. His hand terminal chirped. Claire Williams had prepared the railgun.
Milo made his way to the nearest airlock, stepped into the vacuum suit and walked into the lock. It ran its cycle and the outer door slid aside. He transitioned from the ship’s artificial gravity and launched into space. Their ship hung a bit away from the city. Technically this meant he was outside, but not the kind he wanted. It had been days since he walked inside the city. He wanted to pay the market place a visit!
The new railgun floated besides another person dressed in a vac suit. Easily five times the size of a man, weighed several tonnes and shaped like a cannon. Would not want to give that thing any unnecessary momentum. He grabbed it carefully.
“Claire, if you hold it against the mounting I can bolt it,” Milo said through their shared communications channel.
Claire floated to him using a brief thruster boost. “Sounds good.”
Milo turned the weapon around. The mounting kept the railgun attached to the outer hull plating and integrated its systems with the ship; electricals, ammunition feeder, circuit breakers, monitoring sensors, cooling fluids and control units. Each one of these subsystems were critical, which meant the weapon would not function if any went down. As per Navy standard the whole system was riddled with redundancy.
“A little to the left,” Milo said through the suit’s comm system.
Claire helped him turn the weapon slightly, to align properly against the mounting.
“Up,” Claire said.
Milo shoved the whole thing upwards slightly. “Slide it in.”
The railgun slid into the mounting and the magnetic grips locked it into place. They let go. A temporary anchor. Claire unclipped the power tool from her suit and began bolting the railgun’s foundation to the mounting. Milo hooked a safety line between his suit and the hull. He opened the access hatch and connected sets of cables. The ammunition feeder looked like a metal tube, there were two of them. He pulled them out from the mounting and attached them to the railgun’s central hub. A square metal box sat between the tubes, it was the cooling unit. Everytime the railgun accelerated and launched an iron ball it created a lot of heat. The temperature of space would cool it down in seconds, but it was not enough if the weapon fired repeatedly. A cooling unit solved the problem by circulating a sub-zero liquid through the hardware. With two hands inside the cooling hub he checked wiring, the hardened circuit boards for any unconnected lines or faulty stuff. It looked fine. The manufacturer had done his job properly. Milo re-bolted the hatch.
Claire floated back around the weapon. “I have anchored it down. All bolts are rooted and double checked. You finished?”
“Great. Yeah,” Milo said, giving a thumbs up.
Claire nodded. “Stand back from the weapon, I will cycle through its motions.”
He detached the safety line and floated away, to provide the gun with enough space for full movement. The weapon rose from the mounting, rotated a few cycles while the muzzle extended and retracted, to mimic battlefield behavior. When Claire felt satisfied with the gun’s motions the muzzle retracted, the foundation pulled the railgun down and locked it against the mounting. Claire floated forward, unclipped the welding torch from her suit and made a weld all around the foundation. He nodded in approval. You could not be too careful with these things.
The image of the ship’s oldest crewmember and pilot appeared in his visor. Leopold Ryan with his thin hair and earpods.
“Did you know that the Navy always and I mean always accepts contracts from the lowest bidder? I kid you not. It’s the same in every branch of the military,” Leo said. The old man’s face wrinkled as he spoke.
“What’s your point? A little late to change things now?” Milo said. Had Sam not already had this conversation with him?
“I am not complaining about your work, I am just stating that this is the cheapest, functional railgun manufacturer the higher ups could find,” Leo said. “You know that they will have skimped in the materials.”
Milo sighed. “To the point.”
“All the manuals checks, could you do them again? I don’t want this cannon to tear a hole in our own ship when it fires,” Leo said. “Never trust the cheap bastards.”
Milo looked down, not at all interested to repeat all of that.
“Milo! You heard him, check them again,” Claire said. She had listened to their conversation.
There was no room for him to disobey. Just do it. The grind, always the grind. Milo redid all the manual checks.
The airlock ran its cycle and Milo walked into the ship with Claire at his side. He parked the vac suit in its cabin, commanded it to open and stepped out from it. Claire had already exited her’s.
“Fast and accurate. I am glad the Captain finally made you change your mind,” Claire said. “I will run the test suites during the next few hours, but I feel confident in our work. Diego and I have decided to buy the Captain a taco later, you wanna join?”
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Didn’t Claire and Diego have a falling out? Romantic relationships were strange. Milo have had some girlfriends, but the relationship always cracked after a time. Some had ended horribly. His face still tensed when he thought back at some of the more terrible moments.
“You make a great team!” Sam said and interrupted. “Claire, could I borrow Blue for a moment?”
“Ayah, Captain,” Claire replied, turning to Milo. “Lets meet up later.”
“You look healthy! Sometimes all you need is time and manual labor to heal the body. I think you are ready,” Sam said.
He had witnessed a murder just outside his apartment so he was not keen on the idea to return there. That wet sound. He swallowed. But he could not train on the ship. This was the way it had to be. Face your fears and conquer, and all that.
“Yeah. Let’s go,” Milo said. “I will just get my jacket.”
-
The apartment accepted his access token. The door slid to the side with a scraping sound. Embarrassing. He should get that fixed.
Sam acknowledged. “Yeah. Your apartment has always been in rough shape. If we didn’t need your apartment I would definitely suggest releasing the contract back to the government,” Sam said.
By Milo’s command the door locked with an audible click behind them. The apartment was messy, used clothes hung from the two chairs and dirty dishes sat in the sink. But at least no robbers had broken in. The Robin Hobb book still rested besides the coffee brewer. He had forgotten about it. This time he would grab it before they left. He walked into the apartment, threw the clothes on the bed and pushed the chairs into the center.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Milo asked. He opened the apartment’s small fridge and looked inside. One lonely can of synthetic and conserved mushrooms stood on the lower rack. “Water. Do you want water?” Milo asked before Sam could answer.
Sam sat down in one of the chairs. “No, I am good.”
“Great,” Milo said.
“Sit down, Blue,” Sam said and gestured to the second chair.
He complied. Sam grabbed his hands and examined them briefly before closing them into fists.
“Okay, you have gotten plenty of rest, eaten healthy and drunk a lot of water,” Sam said. “So, let’s test this battery theory of yours. As you explained it to me you should have recovered all or some of your body’s capacity. Could you give me a spark?”
“It does not work like that,” Milo said. “I cannot control it. It works when it wants to work.”
Sam sighed. “Take some deep breaths. Relax. You cannot let your body control you. You control yourself. Mind over matter. It is not a bullshit expression. Really.”
“Alright,” Milo said.
Milo rearranged his legs, straightened his back and closed his eyes. Deep breaths. Shoulders relaxed into their natural positions. How tense one could get without realizing it, interesting. Power. Confidence. Milo imagined a bolt of lightning snaking around his fingers with crackling sounds and a vibrant blue color. The scent of burnt air. He opened his eyes.
No spark.
“I have been thinking,” Milo said. “I could grab the coffee brewer’s power outlet and let my body drink on its electricity.”
Sam gave him a disapproving look. “No. What happened last time? You burnt your hand. I won’t try to pull you away if you get stuck. I have no wish to be electrocuted.”
“Fine,” Milo said. “But I have another idea. I thought I was sick at first, since I had this strange sweet taste in my mouth. But now I understand why. The sweet taste only appeared when I used the sparks. They are connected! Either the sparks triggers the sweetness or the sweetness triggers the sparks.”
Sam leaned back, letting go of Milo’s hands. “A great observation. So the plan is to imagine a sweet taste?”
“Almost. Last time I was able to shoot a lightning bolt when I tried to rescue Rachel without grabbing anything electrical. It worked like you said. I charged in with confidence and it just worked, for a while. You know the saying: fake it until you make it.”
“Fake it good then,” Sam said and crossed his arms.
The world became black when Milo closed his eyes, chin dipped. Sweetness. Taste of sugar. He imagined it running along his mouth and tickling his tongue. Cold drops of sweat slowly trickled down his face, fingernails bit into his palms. Tension grew. It wanted to be released. But how to trigger it? A spherical shape hung away in the far distance. The spherical shape faded. The irritating sweat drops were wiped off and the shape became real again. What was it? He focused on the shape and in turn it grew more real. His perspective shifted closer. A deposit of water? The water was the spherical shape! But why would it not spill out? Nothing seemed to hold it in place. Could it be glass or transparent metal? As his perspective shifted closer it became clear that the water didn’t just rest still in the spherical shape, it splashed around wildly while keeping the shape. He reached, but his hands could not pierce the invisible barrier. What was missing? When he had charged in to rescue Rachel he had done so without concern of his own health. To help her had been the priority. To rescue and to help another person had things in common: kindness, courage, empathy. Rachel had feared for her life. The pain on her arms as the assailants pinned her down and tugged at her clothe...
His hands tore into the water deposit, real sweetness flooded his mouth, he opened his eyes. A sudden bright light threw him to the floor.
His vision was foggy, his hearing overwhelmed with a ringing sound. He struggled to his feet. A human shape lay on the floor on the other side of the apartment. Sam! Milo’s legs carried him stumbling across the floor. He had to step over a burnt chair. Contours and colors returned to his vision. Sam’s lips were moving, but the ringing noise made it difficult to distinguish. He pulled him up. Sam yelled something. The ringing faded slowly.
“CAN YOU DO THAT AGAIN?” Sam yelled.
“YEAH!” Milo yelled back.
“BUT NOT THAT STRONG!” Sam yelled.
Milo returned to the bed and sat down. The world around him stabilized as his senses returned to his control. Vision grew normal. The two chairs were burnt and broken. Sam sat down on the floor and leaned against a wall. He didn’t look injured, but he looked surprised. The Robin Hobb book smouldered besides him. Damn, how would dad react?
“You need to tune that down, Blue,” Sam said.
“But I don’t know,” Milo said.
Sam sighed. “What goes on in your mind? Just before the lightning comes to life.”
“I focused on faking the sweet taste, but it was not enough,” Milo said. “In my mind I found a deposit of water. I wanted to pierce and see what would happen, but I could not. So I went through the scene when I saved Rachel. I listed the emotions and bang! The water deposit broke and it flooded me, the real sweetness rushed into my mouth and the lightning awoke,” Milo explained. “Faking the sweetness led me to the water, focusing on her struggles and pain triggered it. Like a switch or hook.”
Sam frowned as in deep thought. “I have a suggestion. If this imaginary pool of water is the fuel, what if you only released a little bit of it? Like a drop or two.”
“But how? You try to stop a broken dam,” Milo said.
Sam stood up, walked over and sat down on the bed beside Milo.
“It is in your mind. Your brain can control its own mental concepts. Just imagine a pipe or something. Constrain the flow,” Sam said. “But tomorrow instead. My head is aching.”
Why it might work came down to him consciously controlling his body. It would be the same as when he ordered his muscles to constrict. But walking didn’t require him to send signals to each individual muscle to decide how much they needed to constrict. Instinctively the brain just made it happen. Goddam, what if taking a step would require exact thinking? Terrible thought. Maybe training these unused pathways would let him control the lightning as instinctively? The mental imagery would help to provoke them. Worth a try.
“I have a different idea,” Milo said.