Cody II, Chapter 10 Winter became spring, and spring became summer, and with it adventures and quests came to an end for more mundane things, such as catching up with school work and planting crops. The summer sun blazed like a torch over the sprawling greenhouses Cody and Tara had helped to construct, its rays filtering through the translucent panels. With careful hands, they planted rows upon rows, each seed a promise of life on this alien world. But as the days grew warmer, only the hardy potatoes proved steadfast against Ara's relentless heat, their sprouts poking through the soil like tiny victories. Doctor’s Amelia and Samuel Branson were forced to retreat to the cool interiors of their old mining ship. Cody and Tara’s transformed hybrid bodies were hardy enough for the excessive heat, but not regular humans. "Look at them thrive," Cody said with a grin, wiping sweat from his brow. His eyes, crimson gems reflecting the bright light, sparkled with pride. "Yeah," Tara agreed, her mop of blonde hair sticking to her forehead. "Who knew we'd end up potato farmers?" Between the daily chores, Cody and Tara took a trip for their first glimpse of First City, a marvel of engineering hidden beneath Ara's surface. It was a vast labyrinth of tunnels and glowing crystal chambers. Yet, in spite of the underground wonders, he preferred the roaming forest paths and open clearings where the old mining ship stood—a silent guardian amidst the forest canopy. "Home is where you make it," Dr. Sam Branson often said, his blue eyes crinkling with a smile. And so, they had made a home here, where the old ship, with armor as thick as the stories it held, provided sanctuary from the scorching days and promised warmth for the winter snows. But as summer seared on, Cody and Tara’s bodies completed the last changes to the Ara hybrids they’d become, and found themselves gasping for breath within the confines of the ship. The thin human atmosphere, once a comfort, now felt like an invisible barrier squeezing their chests. He and Tara decided to sleep under the stars, their slumber accompanied by the nocturnal whispers of the Ara forest. "Feels good to breathe, doesn't it?" Tara mused one night, gazing up at the glittering sky. "Better than good," Cody replied, filling his lungs with the rich, dense air of Ara. Days turned into weeks, and the makeshift camp became their new domain. They adapted, as humans do in new environments, until being inside the ship felt almost alien. Cody's fingers trailed through the dirt, parting it gently to make room for another potato plant. His skin was warm from the sun beating down on the open field, and sweat trickled down his back. The simple rhythm of farming filled him with a quiet contentment he hadn't known he craved. "Working hard, I see," came a familiar voice, rich with warmth yet tinged with an unspoken tension. Cody didn't need to look up to know Firebelly, The First Light of Ara, had arrived. His arrival was always announced by a subtle shift in the air, a certain electricity that preceded his glowing presence. "Keeping busy," Cody replied without looking up, pressing a small sprout into the soft, dark soil. He avoided meeting Firebelly's gaze, focusing instead on the task at hand. Firebelly hovered awkwardly, a shimmering figure who seemed out of place amidst the pastoral simplicity of the farm. "Cody," he began, the light around him flickering with uncertainty, "I've come to—" "Talk?" Cody cut him off, still not facing the leader of the Ara. "You've said enough." His words were curt, carrying the weight of grievances not yet forgiven. The silence that fell between them was thick, charged with words left unsaid and apologies unaccepted. After a moment, Firebelly nodded slowly, conceding to the invisible barrier between them, and turned away to leave. "Until next time, son," he said, his voice a fading echo as he disappeared from sight. "Until next time," Cody murmured to himself, unsure whether he dreaded or longed for that inevitability. Days slipped by, marked by the steady growth of the crops and the relentless cycle of the sun across the sky. A break in the routine came when Cody spotted a group approaching the farm, their formal attire stark against the backdrop of green leaves and brown earth. "Mr. Branson," a man called out, panting slightly through the oxygen mask he wore as he tried to navigate through the muddy field. He was a human diplomat, sent from Earth through the interstellar channels that kept the two planets tethered. "Make yourself at home," Cody quipped, standing tall in the mud, wiping his hands on his overalls. The wild curls of his hair bobbed as he gestured expansively to the diplomats, inviting them further into the muck. "Quite the welcome," another diplomat muttered under her breath, her face pinched as she lifted her skirt to avoid the worst of the mud. "Speak your piece," Cody said, leaning on his shovel like a scepter, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and defiance. The diplomats exchanged looks, clearly unprepared for the challenge posed by the boy before them. They stood in the earthy sludge, hemming and hawing about the new space station being constructed outside the solar system, their polished words contrasting sharply with the rawness of the fields. “Construction costs are soaring,” Mr. Branson. “We can cut costs in half if we could mine the asteroid field.” Cody didn’t hesitate. “No, and I already told you no when you asked to build the space station. You wanted it, not me, and not one ounce of resources for it will come from this solar system. We won’t do like the human worlds and pretend everything for five light years in every direction belongs to us, but don’t ask for our resources to build your senseless space station that will serve no useful purpose.” “Perhaps we can discuss it with the First Light,” the lead diplomat replied stubbornly. Cody shrugged. “Certainly, he’s currently conducting a scientific survey of the center of our sun.” Cody turned to Fang. “Would you kindly escort our guests to the First Light.” The diplomat’s face turned pale. “That’s okay, we don’t want to disturb him. We can come again another time. Thank you for your... hospitality," the lead diplomat said ending the discussion, the sarcasm evident even to Cody's young ears. "Anytime," Cody replied, flashing a grin as he watched them retreat, their steps heavy with the weight of the wet earth clinging to their shoes. “You’re grumpy,” said Tara. “They bugged the heck out of me at the Peace Conference about it, trying to get us to pay for that space station, saying it was in our best interest. I told them no at least a hundred times.” The days continued to flow into one another, each bringing a new sunrise, a fresh layer of growth, and the promise of harvests yet to come. Cody plunged his hands into the rich, loamy soil, coaxing a stubborn potato from its earthen bed. Sunlight danced across his curly mop of hair, casting a halo around him in the heat of the Ara summer. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smudge of dirt on his sun-kissed skin. He paused, sensing a presence behind him. Turning, he saw her – the Seventh Light of Ara, shimmering softly like a mirage on the horizon. Her arrival was unannounced, yet there she stood amidst the green foliage, her form barely disturbing the blades of grass beneath her. "Your potatoes seem to thrive, Cody," she observed, her voice melodious as a gentle stream. "How do they fare in our soil?" Cody straightened up, feeling the weight of his responsibilities press upon him despite his love for the simplicity of farm work. "They're holding up," he said curtly, not in the mood for idle chatter. "What brings you here?" The Seventh Light's luminescence seemed to pulse with an understanding patience. "Cody, darling," she began, her tone devoid of condescension, "I am not my sister. The toys you sent have been shared justly among the children of my domain." Cody's gaze softened slightly, his crimson eyes reflecting a glimmer of apology. "Sorry for being short, I’m a little worn out on diplomacy," he muttered, brushing a hand through his unruly hair. She moved closer, her light casting patterns on the ground akin to sunlight passing through stained glass. "The gifts from Earth will dwindle, Cody. Memories fade, interests shift. I propose a toy factory on Ara, for profit but also for equity." Her words were carefully chosen, each one deliberate and filled with intent. "Profit?" Cody echoed, skepticism lacing his tone. "Indeed," she affirmed. "A place where we can manufacture joy, sustainably, and at a fair price. I'll adhere to your guidelines, and even support your Children’s Foundation for less fortunate Ara children." Cody's fingers paused, hovering above the tender leaves of a potato plant as he felt Tara's gaze on him. The quiet hum of insects and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the momentary silence. He turned to look at her, his crimson eyes searching her face for guidance. With a determined tilt to her chin, Tara stepped forward, her green eyes meeting the Seventh Light's radiant glow without flinching. "All factories and stores are to be inspectable by us without notice," she stated firmly. Her voice carried across the field, clear and unwavering. "Fair wages will be paid to all employees. Toy design must be approved by us before production. We maintain trademark ownership of toys of human design. We receive forty percent stock in all toy companies created. We receive twenty percent royalties of all sales. Cody gets a voting seat on the Board of Directors. This agreement is conditional pending a thorough review by Ara attorneys versed on Ara law." The Seventh Light's aura shimmered, casting prismatic colors onto the surrounding plants. A soft chuckle seemed to emanate from her very being. "Ah, I see who I should be negotiating with," she said, her tone light yet conceding respect. "I will remember that and come to you first from now on." Her form shifted slightly, conveying the equivalent of a nod. "I agree to fifteen percent stock holdings, and five percent royalties." Cody rolled his eyes and turned back to his potato’s, he had no interest in this discussion. Tara could deal with it. "Thirty-five percent stock," Tara insisted, her hands on her hips. "And don't even think about skimping on royalties." The Seventh Light's shimmer dulled slightly, betraying her momentary frustration before brightening again. "Thirty percent stock, ten percent royalty for the first five thousand units of a toy line, fifteen percent after ten thousand, and twenty-five after fifty thousand units. That's fair." Tara smiled. “Agreed, pending attorney approval.” "Fine," the Seventh Light conceded at last. "But I insist on one more thing." Her voice softened, laced with a hint of mirth. "Build a proper office next to your toy warehouse so that I never have to wade through the mud again to speak with you." Tara crossed her arms but nodded, “agreed.” Cody couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle. Mud or no mud, Tara was a force to be reckoned with. The days that followed were a blur of sun and heat as summer draped its heavy cloak over the land. The routine was comfortable, predictable, and Cody found solace in the simplicity of farm life. It was during one such peaceful afternoon, while he was inspecting the robust growth of their resilient potato crop, that a sleek figure approached the edge of the field. "Mr. Branson," the Representative called, his suit ill-fitting against the backdrop of sprawling farmland. The visitor’s badge hanging around his neck identified him as a representative from Galicon Mining Corporation. "We need to discuss mining the asteroid field." Cody’s light, though not as bright as a full Ara, was still bright as it flared red with anger. He met the man's gaze, his crimson eyes blazing. "No," Cody said firmly. "No Mining Corporation ship will ever enter this solar system. Not as long as I'm the First Son." The Representative's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, clearly not used to resistance from a boy of thirteen. But Cody held his ground, his decision as immovable as the ancient boulders that dotted the landscape. With a curt nod, the man turned on his heel and left, leaving Cody alone with his thoughts and the steady hum of insect life around him. "Good riddance," Cody muttered to himself, then looking up at Fang. “No mining corporation representatives are to be granted a visitors pass again.” “I will inform the Sixth Light,” Fang replied. “Speaking of Lights, I haven’t met the Fifth and Eighth Light yet, we should get that out of the way.” “The Eighth Light of Ara is in charge of the oceans,” Fang stated. “He is rather elusive, it may take some time to locate him. The Fifth Light will also be difficult to locate, he has taste for adventure and is often away exploring something new.” Autumn came with hues painting the potato fields in warm tones, a stark contrast to the metallic sheen of the spaceship that now stood at their edge. Cody's fourteenth birthday had transformed the farm into a festival, with bright tents and fluttering banners catching the eyes of thousands of Ara who had come from every corner of the planet. "Happy Birthday, Cody," the Third Light of Ara said, his voice resonating with a warmth that matched his charismatic presence. The towering figure gestured toward the gleaming vessel, a gift of incomparable value and technology. Cody's sparkling crimson eyes widened as he approached the ship, larger than his parent’s mining ship, with several decks intended solely to serve as a meeting place for diplomats when Cody would, one day, visit other worlds. Its sleek lines promising speed and adventures beyond his wildest dreams. "It's... it's beautiful," he managed to say, his voice tinged with awe. "Remember, no dismantling this one for curiosity's sake," the Third Light cautioned, a playful glint in his eye, knowing full well Cody's penchant for taking things apart to see how they worked. The boy nodded, his wild curls bouncing with each enthusiastic movement. He resisted the urge to reach for an imaginary screwdriver, instead choosing to run his fingers over the cool hull. Three weeks later, as the first snowflakes began to descend from the gray skies, Cody and Tara made their home within the confines of the new ship. Their quarters were a sanctuary, tailored to their needs, a blend of Ara and human preferences. "Feels like we're in our own little world here," Tara commented, her green eyes reflecting the icy landscape outside the massive view window. "Yep," Cody replied, his focus on an engineering book, the pages filled with diagrams and formulas that sparked his imagination. He was nestled in his favorite spot by the window, where he could watch the snowfall like a silent dance of white against the darkening evening. Time seemed to slow down in this idyllic routine of family dinners with his parents, studies, and quiet contemplation. That is until the unexpected happened. Cody looked up from his book as a soft glow illuminated the room. The Third Light of Ara materialized beside him, his expression somber, and the usual twinkle in his aura noticeably absent. Cody sat up straighter, instinctively sensing that the peaceful pattern of daily life was about to change. Cody's greeting was a breath of warmth against the chill that crept into the ship's cabin, "Hello, Uncle." He didn't stand, but his eyes left the pages of his book to rest upon the Third Light's shimmering form. The presence of the Being of Light always filled him with a mix of awe and comfort, like a nightlight warding off the dark unknown. "Hello, Cody," the Third Light responded, his voice a soothing hum that seemed to reverberate through the metal bones of the ship. But there was an undercurrent of urgency that made Cody's spine stiffen. The Third Light approached, extending a hand that glowed like a captured star. Between his fingers was a simple piece of paper that seemed out of place in his luminous grasp. It was folded neatly, its edges sharp enough to slice through the silence that had fallen between them. "Cody," he began, the light around him dimming ever so slightly, "The First Light has been kidnapped." The words hung in the air like a storm cloud threatening to burst. Cody's heart thudded in his chest, each beat echoing the gravity of the Third Light's statement. His hand reached out, almost of its own accord, to take the paper, his fingers brushing against the cool energy of the Third Light's skin. "Kidnapped?" Cody echoed, the concept feeling too large and too strange to fit within the confines of his young mind. Around them, the ship seemed to grow colder, the snow outside no longer just a silent dance but a reminder of how quickly beauty could be swallowed by shadow. Cody's body lurched to his feet, a spring uncoiled by shock. "How is that even possible?" he blurted out. The question was a spark in the dimming light of the ship's cabin, igniting a flurry of possibilities in his mind. The Third Light's glow wavered, like a flame buffeted by an unseen wind. "I do not know," he admitted, his voice threading through the dense quietude that enveloped them. "I cannot sense him, it is as if he doesn't exist," he continued, his tone laced with a confusion that seemed foreign to such a powerful being. Cody's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Not knowing where to begin looking was a maze with no entrance, and the thought scared him more than he wanted to admit. Cody's gaze flicked back to the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand, the words blurring and then snapping into focus as he read the demand again. His voice wavered with confusion, "It says they want the Orb of Draconia. What's that?" The room's air seemed to thicken with uncertainty as the Third Light paused, his luminescence dimming ever so slightly—a somber eclipse amidst the glow. "There is no such thing," he declared, a note of perplexity threading his usually confident tone, "not even in legends or stories." The Third Light's presence was usually a comfort, like a beacon in the night, but now it seemed as if shadows were creeping around the edges of his radiance. "We have to start searching, there must be clues," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command despite its youthful pitch. There was no time for hesitation; Firebelly's fate hung on their actions now. The Third Light nodded, his glow flickering with the same intensity that fueled Cody's determination. "That is why I've come to you. This was in my brother's office, but it doesn't belong to him," he revealed, his tone hushed as though sharing a secret with the universe's gravity. Cody's fingers trembled as they reached out, brushing against the delicate folds of paper. The object was intricate, layers of colored paper weaving together to form the majestic shape of a dragon. He lifted it gently, holding it up to the light that filtered in through the spaceship's view window. "This is an origami dragon," Cody murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and confusion. The paper creature seemed almost alive in his palm, wings poised as if caught mid-flight, fiery patterns swirling across its scales. It was a tiny masterpiece, crafted with precision and care that spoke of human hands and human artistry. The Third Light stood by, a silent sentinel bathed in ethereal glow, watching as Cody turned the origami over in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in the air, an unspoken question hanging between them. Cody's gaze shifted from the dragon to the being before him, his crimson eyes locking onto the shimmering aura. "Oh, I get it," he said, a spark igniting in his chest. "This points straight at humans having something to do with the kidnapping." The realization felt like a cold splash of water, dousing the warmth of his previous wonder. The toy dragons scattered around his room had always been a source of comfort, a symbol of his connection to Earth and the whimsy of childhood. But now, this little paper creation was a harbinger of something darker, a clue that led back to his own kind. "Indeed," came the soft, almost melodic voice of the Third Light, breaking the silence. "Nobody but you and I know of this clue, so far." His aura pulsed gently, like the slow beat of a heart. "If the Ara learn of this, it will mean war." The words hung heavy in the air, a threat to the fragile peace that had been so carefully cultivated. Cody felt the prickle of sweat on his brow, not from heat but from the sudden pressure that had fallen upon his shoulders. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Then we better find The First Light, and fast," he said, more to himself than to the being before him. His voice was steady, belying the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. He set the origami dragon down on the table with reverence, as if it were both a treasure and a bomb. It was as though by releasing it from his grip, he could somehow distance himself from the looming conflict it represented. Cody turned back to the Third Light, his young face etched with a resolve that belied his years. "We'll start now. Any ideas where to begin?" His hands clenched into fists at his sides, ready to embark on this next unexpected quest, even as the shadows of coming events stretched long and dark across the cold metal floor. Here ends Cody, Part II. Will I write Part III? Probably, idk. Part I was Cody discovering the Ara. Part II was Cody becoming a hybrid Ara-human. And Part III will be...idk, something, I'm sure the Dragons will tell me. Thanks to everyone reading the story. My goal for writing has always been for readers to make a cup of coffee in the morning, sit down, and escape into another world for a bit before they have to face boring old Earth.