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And again.
Four days on the ship. You'd think it would get old fast, being stuck in space with five people you didn't know. But it was nice. Nice that they didn't know him. Didn't idolise him or feel sorry for him or tried to kill him. He was used to those three being his only options. In a few more days they would land on some planet. He could leave then, would probably be asked to leave. Hopefully the new world would be an interesting place. He'd so had it with the old one.
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Chapter Four: Wanna take this outside?
"You look like you're having fun."
Tyr did not miss a single beat on the punching bag; he was not taken by surprise by the voice, he had known he was being watched. Tyr might not be able to sneak up on Milon but the opposite was also true. The difference was Milon had not been trying.
"Fun has nothing to do with it," he said, finishing off with a devastating left hook, which nearly took the bag off the chain.
"No, I guess the bag doesn't really put up much of a fight, does it?"
Tyr turned around and looked at Milon. Over the past four days he had somewhat reluctantly started to give in to the idea that maybe the boy was not a security hazard after all. Not that Tyr was getting complacent, he still far from trusted him, but at the moment there seemed to be no real reason to treat him like the enemy. Besides, there was something about him, some... quality that seemed to make him much less of an annoyance to Tyr's personality than perhaps he should have been.
"Do you propose that I should use something else?" he said, taking a few long steps towards Milon.
"Oh, I'm just saying you might be good at kicking the shite out of stationary objects, but how are you with a living target?"
Was he really doing what Tyr thought he was? Tyr folded his arms across his chest and just looked at him for a moment. The boy sure did not look like a fighter. He was too slim. Not skinny, but certainly not built to measure his strength against Tyr.
"Muscles aren't everything, y'know," Milon said, "How are you going to hit something if you can't... well, hit it?"
"You mean to lecture me on combat?"
Milon chuckled quietly.
"No, of course not. I just wondered if you wanted a sparring partner."
"You?"
"Yeah, me! What's wrong, don't think you can take me?"
Try laughed out loud. Milon just smiled at him. Well, at least the boy had guts, Tyr couldn't deny that.
"Come on then."
Tyr motioned for him to step into the room. He intended to make this quick, if maybe not entirely painless. Throwing the boy to the floor should be adequate for taking that smile off his face. Tyr reached out to grab a hold of Milon's arm, but to his surprise Milon stepped back so quickly that for a split second Tyr almost felt out of balance. He had not expected him to move so fast.
"Thought I was just joking around?" Milon asked.
Tyr did not answer. This was for training, not for talking. He attacked again, this time making more than a half-hearted attempt at catching Milon, but again, he somehow managed to side step at the last minute. Hmm, could it be that Tyr had underestimated him?
"Ah, come on!" Milon said, "If you're not even gonna try, I'll find something else to do."
Mocking him now. Tyr could feel the anger starting to well up inside him. He had a feeling that was what Milon wanted, for him to lose control. That was not going to happen.
"Do not test me boy."
Tyr decided that it was time to lose the gloves and threw a well- aimed punch straight at Milon's face. Milon blocked it, hitting Tyr's arm sideways, throwing his aim off. Tyr immediately followed the first punch up with a rapid series of others. All which were blocked, or dodged. There was no way in the universe that a pure, unenhanced human could have reflexes that quick. Tyr was working hard to get a punch through, but Milon was too fast, even for him. He moved like an acrobat or something, avoiding every punch aimed towards him and making it look easy. Then Tyr felt a sting across his face. Milon had hit him. Not hard, compared to what Tyr was used to in battle it was nothing. It had not even drawn blood, but that was not the point. Strength was not everything. Just the fact that he had managed to touch him was enough. He could have been holding a knife.
"Impressive," Tyr admitted, "Do you still maintain that you are only human?"
"Yeah. More or less…"
Milon was still smiling; he was clearly enjoying this. And maybe Tyr was too. He could not pretend that he was not intrigued by what was slowly starting to be revealed to him.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"Well… you remember I said that you remind me of someone? He taught me some. The rest, I kinda just picked up…"
Tyr just nodded slowly.
"So, what? You giving up already?" Milon said.
"I have not even started."
They fought for a while in silence, neither of them managing to do any damage to their opponent. Tyr was beginning to get slightly frustrated. Finally, he launched his fist in a devastating blow to Milon's face. If it had connected, he might very well have given the boy a concussion. But again, Milon pulled back, clearing Tyr's fist by a mere inch. The fist. Not the bone blades, which now were fully extended. Milon let out a short cry of pain and recoiled. Tyr could see a thin but deep-looking gash across his left cheek. Oh, did he cut his pretty face? And it looked like it just might leave a scar as well. What a shame... Heh. Tyr could not help feeling a dark sense of pleasure at the sight of blood across pale skin. He was not smiling now, was he? No, he was stopping and looking at Tyr with surprise and curiosity.
"Hey, what's that? I thought this was supposed to be an unarmed thing?"
"Never suppose anything."
"What are those anyway?"
Milon walked up to him without hesitation and took a hold of his arm. Tyr was so taken aback by the reaction that he just stood there, letting the boy inspect his bone blades.
"They're not… part of your body?"
"Yes."
"Cool," Milon ran a finger along one of the spikes, "Have you any feeling in them?"
"Not as such…"
Tyr pushed the boy away. The uninvited intimacy of his actions was unsettling. It was like the fearless curiosity of a child, and coupled with the fact that he had proved himself a capable fighter, it made for an unpredictable personality.
"You wanna go again?"
Milon stepped back and looked at Tyr, his head slightly tilted. Tyr glared back at him. Something was not right. At fist Tyr could not put his finger on it, but there was definitely something about Milon that was… wrong. Then it came to him in a flash of disbelief. He walked up to Milon, who actually backed off, letting himself get cornered. He looked up at Tyr with a question in his eyes.
"Your face…"
Tyr lifted his hand and ran a finger over the skin on Milon's left cheek. A flash of nervous confusion shot through the boy's eyes. Then he seemed to understand and relaxed.
"…you were cut."
The pale skin on Milon's left cheek was smooth and unbroken.
"What? You must've imagined it."
Milon smiled at him again. He was playing with him. That was it. Tyr pushed him into the wall, putting his arm across his throat, the bone blades resting against the skin.
"Now you will listen to me boy. I know what I saw, and you are going to tell me what you are."
"Maybe I don't want to?" Milon said defiantly.
"What makes you think that I will give you a choice?"
Tyr pushed his arm forward slightly, the bone blades poking Milon's throat. Then suddenly there was a flash of light, bright as a star, and Tyr was blinded. He could not see a thing, only feel himself being pushed backwards, and then his legs were knocked from under him. A weight on his chest, something cold against his neck. His eyes were running, but at least his sight was starting to return gradually. Through a blizzard of black and white spots, he could make out Milon's shape, sitting on him, holding what could only be a knife to his throat.
"No, you listen!" Milon hissed, "Being threatened by some huge fucking alien with spikes coming out of his arms is not exactly on my list of favourite things!"
Tyr blinked, trying to clear his vision. He could see now. Could see the anger blazing in the earlier so calm, green eyes. All the softness was gone from the boy's face, now he looked like he was quite capable of slitting Tyr's throat. Unpredictable indeed. And yes, Tyr was impressed.
"Calm down boy…"
"And you can stop calling me that as well, while you're at it!"
"Yes… remove the knife, Milon."
"Well, what's the magic word?"
What was he talking about? Tyr did not know of a magic word. He wanted to make a move, throw Milon off him and pin him down, but after having got a demonstration of how quick the boy's reflexes were, and still not knowing if he was actually prepared to use his weapon, Tyr felt it wiser to play along. For now.
"What magic word is that?"
Tyr looked into his eyes. Milon was staring back at him with ice cold hostility. Then suddenly the anger just drained from his face. That easygoing smile broke through again, like the sun through stormclouds.
"Please. The magic word is 'please'."
"I see. Remove the knife… please."
"You've got it."
Milon took away the knife –where had he got it in the first place?- and stood up. He put his hand out to Tyr who was still lying on the floor. Tyr ignored the offered help and got to his feet.
"Look Tyr, I'm not your enemy and I don't wanna fight with you. You helped me out when I was in a hell of a squeeze and I'm grateful for that. But I'm getting sick of the threats and the suspicion and your whole attitude. I realise you have to be careful and probably have the ship's security at heart, but this is just not the way to do it."
Milon stuck the knife back in a sheath on his ankle. Tyr crossed his arms, studying him.
"Would you rather I held a gun to your head?"
"I would rather you asked nicely."
"Very well. Where did that light come from?"
"Me."
"And what happened to the cut on you face?"
"It healed."
"So you did lie to me. You said you were human."
"I am human! I just happen to have to have some… other stuff in me. It's nothing to worry about."
"What 'other stuff' is that?" Tyr asked calmly.
"Well… have you heard of Elementals?"
"No."
"Years and years ago these… beings came to Earth. Interbred with the humans. There's still some of their genes going round. That's where the power is. My… bioluminescence."
"I have never heard of this before."
"Nah, you wouldn't have."
"So what are you?"
"Well, some people call us Genies. Genetic Elementals is the scientific name for it…"
"Is that why those humans were after you?"
"Probably. Look, Tyr, you think you could just... keep this to yourself? I really don't want to go through the whole twenty questions thing with Dylan... we'll be getting to that planet in a few days right? I'll be out of your hair then, so..."
Milon was looking up at Tyr a bit like a child who was asking his father for something he did not really think that he was going to get. For some reason Tyr felt uncharacteristically inclined to prove him wrong. But Tyr was too experienced in diplomatic tactics not to suspect that he was being manipulated. Still, maybe the situation could be used to his advantage.
"Are you asking me to keep this important piece of information from my captain?" he asked, keeping a straight face.
"Well... yeah."
"And what reason would I have for doing that?"
"It always has to be something in it for you, doesn't it?"
Tyr just looked at him with raised eyebrows. Eventually the silence seemed to get too much for the boy. Tyr could hear the reluctance in his voice as he shrugged his shoulders and said:
"Well, what you want then?"
"You say you produced that light with your own body?"
"Yeah…"
"Show me."
Milon hesitated for a while. He kept looking at Tyr, like he was trying to figure him out. He really did not seem to want to reveal more than he had to. Tactically, it was the right decision. Tyr had thought that Milon had just been young and overconfident, but it had turned out that he was actually a very skilled fighter. He had also thought that he was slightly naive, but now he seemed to be very careful. All these things made Tyr increasingly pleased with the fact that he had not left the boy to die down on Earth.
"Not here," Milon said finally, "Plus, you've seen it once. Didn't seem to like it…"
"You blinded me. Do you mean to tell me that you cannot control the strength of the light? I would not believe that."
"Why?"
"Because it is unlikely that the only brightness you were able to generate would coincide perfectly with what it takes to blind somebody, yet leave no lasting damage to their eyesight."
"Clever, aren't ya."
"It is pure logic."
"Yeah, I guess. Well, as it happens, you're right. I'll show you later."
Milon smiled at him again, turned around and walked out before Tyr had time to argue.
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And again.
Four days on the ship. You'd think it would get old fast, being stuck in space with five people you didn't know. But it was nice. Nice that they didn't know him. Didn't idolise him or feel sorry for him or tried to kill him. He was used to those three being his only options. In a few more days they would land on some planet. He could leave then, would probably be asked to leave. Hopefully the new world would be an interesting place. He'd so had it with the old one.
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Chapter Four: Wanna take this outside?
"You look like you're having fun."
Tyr did not miss a single beat on the punching bag; he was not taken by surprise by the voice, he had known he was being watched. Tyr might not be able to sneak up on Milon but the opposite was also true. The difference was Milon had not been trying.
"Fun has nothing to do with it," he said, finishing off with a devastating left hook, which nearly took the bag off the chain.
"No, I guess the bag doesn't really put up much of a fight, does it?"
Tyr turned around and looked at Milon. Over the past four days he had somewhat reluctantly started to give in to the idea that maybe the boy was not a security hazard after all. Not that Tyr was getting complacent, he still far from trusted him, but at the moment there seemed to be no real reason to treat him like the enemy. Besides, there was something about him, some... quality that seemed to make him much less of an annoyance to Tyr's personality than perhaps he should have been.
"Do you propose that I should use something else?" he said, taking a few long steps towards Milon.
"Oh, I'm just saying you might be good at kicking the shite out of stationary objects, but how are you with a living target?"
Was he really doing what Tyr thought he was? Tyr folded his arms across his chest and just looked at him for a moment. The boy sure did not look like a fighter. He was too slim. Not skinny, but certainly not built to measure his strength against Tyr.
"Muscles aren't everything, y'know," Milon said, "How are you going to hit something if you can't... well, hit it?"
"You mean to lecture me on combat?"
Milon chuckled quietly.
"No, of course not. I just wondered if you wanted a sparring partner."
"You?"
"Yeah, me! What's wrong, don't think you can take me?"
Try laughed out loud. Milon just smiled at him. Well, at least the boy had guts, Tyr couldn't deny that.
"Come on then."
Tyr motioned for him to step into the room. He intended to make this quick, if maybe not entirely painless. Throwing the boy to the floor should be adequate for taking that smile off his face. Tyr reached out to grab a hold of Milon's arm, but to his surprise Milon stepped back so quickly that for a split second Tyr almost felt out of balance. He had not expected him to move so fast.
"Thought I was just joking around?" Milon asked.
Tyr did not answer. This was for training, not for talking. He attacked again, this time making more than a half-hearted attempt at catching Milon, but again, he somehow managed to side step at the last minute. Hmm, could it be that Tyr had underestimated him?
"Ah, come on!" Milon said, "If you're not even gonna try, I'll find something else to do."
Mocking him now. Tyr could feel the anger starting to well up inside him. He had a feeling that was what Milon wanted, for him to lose control. That was not going to happen.
"Do not test me boy."
Tyr decided that it was time to lose the gloves and threw a well- aimed punch straight at Milon's face. Milon blocked it, hitting Tyr's arm sideways, throwing his aim off. Tyr immediately followed the first punch up with a rapid series of others. All which were blocked, or dodged. There was no way in the universe that a pure, unenhanced human could have reflexes that quick. Tyr was working hard to get a punch through, but Milon was too fast, even for him. He moved like an acrobat or something, avoiding every punch aimed towards him and making it look easy. Then Tyr felt a sting across his face. Milon had hit him. Not hard, compared to what Tyr was used to in battle it was nothing. It had not even drawn blood, but that was not the point. Strength was not everything. Just the fact that he had managed to touch him was enough. He could have been holding a knife.
"Impressive," Tyr admitted, "Do you still maintain that you are only human?"
"Yeah. More or less…"
Milon was still smiling; he was clearly enjoying this. And maybe Tyr was too. He could not pretend that he was not intrigued by what was slowly starting to be revealed to him.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"Well… you remember I said that you remind me of someone? He taught me some. The rest, I kinda just picked up…"
Tyr just nodded slowly.
"So, what? You giving up already?" Milon said.
"I have not even started."
They fought for a while in silence, neither of them managing to do any damage to their opponent. Tyr was beginning to get slightly frustrated. Finally, he launched his fist in a devastating blow to Milon's face. If it had connected, he might very well have given the boy a concussion. But again, Milon pulled back, clearing Tyr's fist by a mere inch. The fist. Not the bone blades, which now were fully extended. Milon let out a short cry of pain and recoiled. Tyr could see a thin but deep-looking gash across his left cheek. Oh, did he cut his pretty face? And it looked like it just might leave a scar as well. What a shame... Heh. Tyr could not help feeling a dark sense of pleasure at the sight of blood across pale skin. He was not smiling now, was he? No, he was stopping and looking at Tyr with surprise and curiosity.
"Hey, what's that? I thought this was supposed to be an unarmed thing?"
"Never suppose anything."
"What are those anyway?"
Milon walked up to him without hesitation and took a hold of his arm. Tyr was so taken aback by the reaction that he just stood there, letting the boy inspect his bone blades.
"They're not… part of your body?"
"Yes."
"Cool," Milon ran a finger along one of the spikes, "Have you any feeling in them?"
"Not as such…"
Tyr pushed the boy away. The uninvited intimacy of his actions was unsettling. It was like the fearless curiosity of a child, and coupled with the fact that he had proved himself a capable fighter, it made for an unpredictable personality.
"You wanna go again?"
Milon stepped back and looked at Tyr, his head slightly tilted. Tyr glared back at him. Something was not right. At fist Tyr could not put his finger on it, but there was definitely something about Milon that was… wrong. Then it came to him in a flash of disbelief. He walked up to Milon, who actually backed off, letting himself get cornered. He looked up at Tyr with a question in his eyes.
"Your face…"
Tyr lifted his hand and ran a finger over the skin on Milon's left cheek. A flash of nervous confusion shot through the boy's eyes. Then he seemed to understand and relaxed.
"…you were cut."
The pale skin on Milon's left cheek was smooth and unbroken.
"What? You must've imagined it."
Milon smiled at him again. He was playing with him. That was it. Tyr pushed him into the wall, putting his arm across his throat, the bone blades resting against the skin.
"Now you will listen to me boy. I know what I saw, and you are going to tell me what you are."
"Maybe I don't want to?" Milon said defiantly.
"What makes you think that I will give you a choice?"
Tyr pushed his arm forward slightly, the bone blades poking Milon's throat. Then suddenly there was a flash of light, bright as a star, and Tyr was blinded. He could not see a thing, only feel himself being pushed backwards, and then his legs were knocked from under him. A weight on his chest, something cold against his neck. His eyes were running, but at least his sight was starting to return gradually. Through a blizzard of black and white spots, he could make out Milon's shape, sitting on him, holding what could only be a knife to his throat.
"No, you listen!" Milon hissed, "Being threatened by some huge fucking alien with spikes coming out of his arms is not exactly on my list of favourite things!"
Tyr blinked, trying to clear his vision. He could see now. Could see the anger blazing in the earlier so calm, green eyes. All the softness was gone from the boy's face, now he looked like he was quite capable of slitting Tyr's throat. Unpredictable indeed. And yes, Tyr was impressed.
"Calm down boy…"
"And you can stop calling me that as well, while you're at it!"
"Yes… remove the knife, Milon."
"Well, what's the magic word?"
What was he talking about? Tyr did not know of a magic word. He wanted to make a move, throw Milon off him and pin him down, but after having got a demonstration of how quick the boy's reflexes were, and still not knowing if he was actually prepared to use his weapon, Tyr felt it wiser to play along. For now.
"What magic word is that?"
Tyr looked into his eyes. Milon was staring back at him with ice cold hostility. Then suddenly the anger just drained from his face. That easygoing smile broke through again, like the sun through stormclouds.
"Please. The magic word is 'please'."
"I see. Remove the knife… please."
"You've got it."
Milon took away the knife –where had he got it in the first place?- and stood up. He put his hand out to Tyr who was still lying on the floor. Tyr ignored the offered help and got to his feet.
"Look Tyr, I'm not your enemy and I don't wanna fight with you. You helped me out when I was in a hell of a squeeze and I'm grateful for that. But I'm getting sick of the threats and the suspicion and your whole attitude. I realise you have to be careful and probably have the ship's security at heart, but this is just not the way to do it."
Milon stuck the knife back in a sheath on his ankle. Tyr crossed his arms, studying him.
"Would you rather I held a gun to your head?"
"I would rather you asked nicely."
"Very well. Where did that light come from?"
"Me."
"And what happened to the cut on you face?"
"It healed."
"So you did lie to me. You said you were human."
"I am human! I just happen to have to have some… other stuff in me. It's nothing to worry about."
"What 'other stuff' is that?" Tyr asked calmly.
"Well… have you heard of Elementals?"
"No."
"Years and years ago these… beings came to Earth. Interbred with the humans. There's still some of their genes going round. That's where the power is. My… bioluminescence."
"I have never heard of this before."
"Nah, you wouldn't have."
"So what are you?"
"Well, some people call us Genies. Genetic Elementals is the scientific name for it…"
"Is that why those humans were after you?"
"Probably. Look, Tyr, you think you could just... keep this to yourself? I really don't want to go through the whole twenty questions thing with Dylan... we'll be getting to that planet in a few days right? I'll be out of your hair then, so..."
Milon was looking up at Tyr a bit like a child who was asking his father for something he did not really think that he was going to get. For some reason Tyr felt uncharacteristically inclined to prove him wrong. But Tyr was too experienced in diplomatic tactics not to suspect that he was being manipulated. Still, maybe the situation could be used to his advantage.
"Are you asking me to keep this important piece of information from my captain?" he asked, keeping a straight face.
"Well... yeah."
"And what reason would I have for doing that?"
"It always has to be something in it for you, doesn't it?"
Tyr just looked at him with raised eyebrows. Eventually the silence seemed to get too much for the boy. Tyr could hear the reluctance in his voice as he shrugged his shoulders and said:
"Well, what you want then?"
"You say you produced that light with your own body?"
"Yeah…"
"Show me."
Milon hesitated for a while. He kept looking at Tyr, like he was trying to figure him out. He really did not seem to want to reveal more than he had to. Tactically, it was the right decision. Tyr had thought that Milon had just been young and overconfident, but it had turned out that he was actually a very skilled fighter. He had also thought that he was slightly naive, but now he seemed to be very careful. All these things made Tyr increasingly pleased with the fact that he had not left the boy to die down on Earth.
"Not here," Milon said finally, "Plus, you've seen it once. Didn't seem to like it…"
"You blinded me. Do you mean to tell me that you cannot control the strength of the light? I would not believe that."
"Why?"
"Because it is unlikely that the only brightness you were able to generate would coincide perfectly with what it takes to blind somebody, yet leave no lasting damage to their eyesight."
"Clever, aren't ya."
"It is pure logic."
"Yeah, I guess. Well, as it happens, you're right. I'll show you later."
Milon smiled at him again, turned around and walked out before Tyr had time to argue.
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