MILO

Milo bit into the breakfast taco. Crunchy tortilla bread and juicy, slow cooked chicken. The chili sauce proved to be a great addition. Diego had made a run to the food market and treated the awakened crewmembers before the start of the shift. The ship ran a three shift system and thus four crewmembers were always on active duty.

“This my friends is culture,” Diego said. “Not a crappy, quickly made taco. But proper. Made with love. Take another, Claire. You would not want to challenge the day on an empty stomach.”

Claire smiled, leaned back and swept back a tussle of brown hair. “No. I am full. This stomach has had its share of culture for this morning.”

“Captain Samuels?” Diego asked.

Sam rose from the bench. “Nah. Finished.”

“Milo?” Diego asked.

He chewed and swallowed the last pieces of taco. “I will have another, thanks!”

Sam looked at him, but didn’t say anything. Milo understood the hint, but could not help himself. He had always been a big eater, but after taking up this contract he ate twice the amount as before. It was because of his regular use of his power and which burned calories. He had lost five kilos! He was entitled to eat properly.

“I will fill up my thermos and when that is finished, we are going. I don’t care if you are in the middle of eating. We are not burning more time from this shift,” Sam said. “Claire and Diego, can you clean up here? Me and Milo are going to his apartment again. We will help with the shift when we return.”

“Ayay, Captain,” Claire said.

“Maybe we should try to make them ourselves? What do you think, Diego?” Milo asked and spooned up more chili sauce into the taco.

Diego nodded. “Yeah. I would like that.”

“Blue! You have a visitor,” Sam said while holding the thermos. “Keep it quick.”

“Milo, my son! You have finally come to your senses and accepted employment with Captain Samuels. Now you will get to see the world, see space,” Dad said as he walked into the mess hall. “I am happy for you.”

Milo got up and watched how Diego and Claire smiled on the side.

“Let’s chat in my quarters,” Milo said and led dad through the ship.

“To see the world, you say. What if the ship blows up? Or if I get shot?” Milo asked and ushered dad into his quarters.

Dad laughed. “Captain Samuels is competent! That will not happen,” he said. “This is your room? Nice and more spacious than I expected. I brought you these.”

Dad handed him a cardboard box the size of a head.

“Lemon pie,” Dad said and smiled.

Milo closed the lid and put the box aside. “Thank you. I will have a taste later.”

“Think about all the worlds you will see. The colonies, other space cities and strange new planets!” Dad said.

“And pirates. A lot of space pirates,” Milo said.

He had not told dad about his power, but this was not the time for it either. Maybe he should never tell him, it was not necessary.

“You only live once. Explore and adventure. Do not become like your old man. Caught in bland routines,” dad said and massaged his knees. “My body is not what it used to be. You have an opportunity to create memorable moments. Seize them!”

Milo sighed. Why was dad preaching again?

“Don’t talk like that. You have led a good life, filled with great food and peaceful times,” Milo said.

Dad looked down. “After your mom died nothing has felt the same. It’s like the colors of the world greyed out. But hey, I manage.”

Milo grabbed his dad’s hand. Cold, wrinkled and pale. “Life moves on. We move on.”

With his other hand, dad scratched just underneath his beard at jaw level.

“Shit. Shit,” Dad muttered, looking to the side instead of maintaining eye contact and still scratching for his jawline. Dad caught eye contact again. “Yeah, you are right. But you should go on your adventure. Do not let the past keep you stranded. See the world before you wither away like your old man. I am so tired.”

Yes, his dad was old. He had always been there. It would be hard when he died. A world without dad.

“Please. Do not talk like that. You are not going to die soon. You have decades left,” Milo said. “Please. Cheer up.”

“I know!” Dad exclaimed. “But I feel so tired in my head. My mind is so scrambled sometimes. I do not forget who I am, but during one of those periods my mind fills with thoughts that I do not recognize. Do you remember when I told you about my bad dreams?”

Milo hugged him. “Of course! I care about you, dad. But are you not magnifying the issue? Have you talked to a psychologist yet? Have you gotten your yearly scan yet? I do not want to arrive at the hospital having heard that you died from brain cancer.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Yes! Of course I have! I am not stupid!” dad snapped underneath the beard. “Sorry, Milo. The scans did not show anything. I am just tired, that’s all. But the feelings are so intense sometimes.”

“But the psychologist? Please, dad. If I should change my life, then should you.”

Dad looked down and Milo knew that he had not seen one yet. “Okay, then, son. I shall think of your advice,” dad said and stood up. “In the meantime, you should try to enjoy your life before it seeps between your fingers.”

Dad nodded and left. Very unlike the old man to preach about growing old. Has something happened? Whatever it could be he was not ready to share it. Milo would not press the old man, he had already pushed too far with suggesting a visit to a psychologist. Dad would never agree to see one. Backing off might be better.

“Blue! I saw your dad leave, let’s get a move on,” Sam said as he entered Milo’s quarters.

-

“You should step outside when I activate the power. At least for a few tries,” Milo said. “I believe that I just need to try a few times. I need to get a feel for it. Do you get what I am trying to tell you?”

Sam grabbed the thermos. “Alright. I will be right outside the door.”

“Thank you,” Milo said.

The door slid closed behind Sam.

Milo sat down in the middle of the apartment and crossed his legs. Hands closed into fists and held forward. He closed his eyes, returning to the darkness of his mind’s eye. The pool came into view almost instantaneously. Somehow it felt more alive this time. Its colors were more vibrant and its splashing motions wilder. Was it his own anticipation? In the real world, he pressed elbows into his sides and kept his fists separated by his own shoulder width. He inhaled and held the breath. Tensed. He wanted to feel her fear, taste her pain. What was it like to be maimed and burnt to death? Embrace it! His jaw clenched, sweat prickled on his forehead. Give up. Accept defeat. Accept death. His breaths came in short bursts, shoulders tensed and nails bit into his palms. Her pain and fear were his pain, his fear.

He tore into the shape of water and the sweet taste flooded his mouth. He opened his eyes. A single lightning bolt thundered between his fists, blinding him. Burnt, crispy air. He opened his eyes again. It worked!

Again. He embraced the despair Rachel must have felt. A second lightning bolt.

Again. The duress when the masked men tugged at her clothes. A third lightning bolt.

A fourth.

A fifth.

A sixth bolt thundered between his fists. He could do this all day.

He had cracked it. Empathy released the water, made the sweetness flow and brought electricity to life. He didn’t produce a seventh bolt, but instead slowed down and summoned carefully. Trying to unleash the power in smaller bits. Blue tendrils of electricity jumped out from inside his fists and snaked around his hands. Sparks crackled as the tendrils moved and twisted on his skin. They merged into each other and created louder and more colorful lightning bolts.

“That is something,” Sam said with big eyes, leaning on a wall inside the apartment. “I knew you could do it.”

Milo commanded and the power obeyed. The tendrils jumped between the fists.

“They originate from inside my fists,” Milo said.

“More,” Sam said.

Several more tendrils crackled to life. They snaked around his fists and arms, jumping freely between his fists and arms. A light show. He licked his lips. The sweet taste intensified and his body responded with additional saliva.

“Impressive,” Sam said and sat down in front of him. “Do you want a mug of coffee?”

Sam did something with the thermos, but Milo could not care less. He focused on the electrical tendrils. Commanded them to jump, to spark and to merge. A bolt of lightning consisted of a multiple of tendrils. How did the number of tendrils affect the bolt? The speed of their movements? The brightness? How did all these things compare to voltage, ampere and power? If he encased his body in electrical tendrils would they protect him?

By Milo’s mental command the tendrils moved faster. The crackling sound grew louder and the blue color turned brighter. Tendrils snaked from his arms to his shoulders and torso. His clothes were not damaged. More tendrils came to life from his fists and joined the others. They snaked around his legs.

“I would not dare to get into a fist fight with you!” Sam yelled over the crackling thunder.

Tendrils snaked over his face and head. His vision was tinted blue by their sparkling.

The sweet taste numbed. Slowly at the retreat. Lightning tendrils died off and their speed slowed down. Milo tensed. Trying to withhold the pressure of fuel from his mind. But he slipped. His fists opened, his focus slipped and all tendrils faded away. Breathing fast, sweat trickling down his face and his lips chapped.

Sam came to his side, helped him steady. “You okay, Blue?”

Milo caught his breath. “Yeah. But I am thirsty. I need water.”

“Let’s take you to Doc,” Sam said.

-

“You always come in here beaten up, injured or exhausted to the point of being comatosed,” Diego said with a snarling face. “I was busy, too! The med bay will not resupply itself.”

“I am tired. Not exhausted,” Milo lied. His body trembled and the nausea made it difficult to sit still. A headache bloomed. His lips cracked from being dry and bled.

“This is stupid,” Diego said, scanning him with some handheld device. “Clear as day, I say. You are loco. This thing you call your ‘power’ drains not just calories, but also your body’s liquids. It dries you up.”

Sam walked up to Diego’s side, frowning. “The power fuels on his water?”

“Yes!” Diego exclaimed.

Milo rearranged his legs, to allow better blood flow. “No. I just need to drink plenty of water after using my power and before. We have figured it out. My power drains my body’s liquids. The pool I see in my mind’s eye represents just that.”

Diego sighed, tapped up a mug of clear water. “Correct. You are not worried at all? How will your body behave if you constantly dehydrate so severely? How will your organs react? Will there be permanent damage?”

“Will this be a problem?” Sam asked. “I promised his father that he would not be hurt.”

Milo drank from the water greedily. It tasted sweet.

“Idiots. His body will shrivel up like a dry paper. Fat reserves will go to hell. The protective tissue around his organs will thin! Bones will start to wither and muscles will not repair themselves properly. Your blood will thin and not enough of it will pump around your body. To die of dehydration is a painful process and even if you don’t die some damages will become permanent,” Diego said.

“So we should be careful. But we cannot stop now, we only started to open the box. I want to know what’s inside. Don’t you, Blue?” Sam said.

Feeling a little worried, Milo swallowed another mouthful of water.

“Yes, of course!” Milo said. “Carefully.”

“Loco,” Diego said. “Why are you even doing this? For what end?”

Milo hesitated mid sip. Doc presented a good argument. It had started that he wanted to have control and not accidentally injure people. But didn’t he have that control now? He could summon the power and it obeyed his will as long as he still had fuel for it. So why would they continue? Why? They cannot stop already. They had only started to discover what he could do.

“No,” Milo said. “We are not stopping now. That would be stupid. We need to know what I can do.”

“Alright then. It is decided,” Sam said.