Cody III, Chapter 9 Cody dashed through the narrow corridors, his heart pounding in his chest. The ship's emergency lights cast eerie shadows on the walls as he yanked at the decon handles with a sense of urgency. Each pull released white smoke that billowed out, filling the space with its acrid stench. His eyes watered, the fumes clawing at them, but he blinked away the tears and continued his work. Outside the quarantine rooms, the screams pierced the smoky haze. Words distorted into feral howls. Cody pressed his back against the cool metal of the hallway, the sounds of rage from his family echoing around him. He clutched a small communicator tightly, the only lifeline to the Ara guardians within the sealed rooms. "Containment status?" he rasped into the device. "Secure," came the clipped response. He nodded to himself, reassurance mingling with exhaustion. As the screams began to wane, giving way to heavy breaths and finally silence, Cody felt his own body sagging. Relief was short-lived; there was no time to rest. Three days passed in a blur of routine and vigilance. On the third day, Amelia's room emitted a soft chime. Two-tails' voice, calm and measured, filtered through the communicator. "She is awakening." Cody hurried to her side. Amelia lay frail on the bed, her red hair splayed like a fiery halo on the pillow. Her hand, pale and trembling, reached out to him. Cody took it gently, the grip a mere whisper of strength. "Listen," she whispered, her blue eyes seeking his. "Instructions... lab..." Her words were disjointed, battling through the fog of confusion. "Slowly, Mom," Cody encouraged, his fingers intertwined with hers, a silent promise of his presence. "Machine... air sample..." She fought for every word, her gaze pleading with him to understand. "I'll do it," he said, squeezing her hand before releasing it. In the laboratory, Cody's reflection stared back at him from the visor of the hazmat suit. It loomed bulky and impersonal in the dim light, but he stepped into it with reverence. This was his parents' domain, their sanctuary of research and discovery. Now, it shielded him, a barrier against an unseen enemy. As he zipped up the suit, sealing himself inside, he felt a clarity settle over him. Instructions given. Actions to take. He was ready. Cody's breath fogged the inside of his helmet as he stepped through the airlock. Outside, the alien forest loomed, a tangle of bioluminescent foliage beneath a sky where twin moons hung like watchful eyes. His hands, clad in the thick gloves of the hazmat suit, fumbled with the sampling machine—a compact device of metal and blinking lights. He scooped the air, the machine whirring softly, drinking in the invisible toxins that had plagued their lungs. The trek back to the ship was silent but for the crunch of undergrowth beneath his boots. Once inside, he moved with methodical precision, scrubbing himself and the equipment with decontaminants that reeked of chemicals. The suit remained on—his new exoskeleton against an unseen menace. In the lab, the air sample cylinder clicked into place within the analyzer. Cody initiated the sequence, and machinery hummed to life. Hours crawled by while he waited, pacing, and checking the readouts that remained cryptic hieroglyphs to his anxious gaze. When at last the printer spat out a slip of paper, Cody grabbed it, hope and fear tangling in his chest. Lines, numbers, graphs—meaningless to him. He needed her insights, her expertise. "Mom," he called softly as he entered her quarantine chamber. Amelia stirred, her eyelids fluttering open, revealing the blue oceans of her irises clouded with fatigue. "I have the air sample results." With trembling hands, she accepted the printout. Her eyes darted across the data, a spark of her old fire igniting as she pieced together the puzzle. Then, a whisper, hoarse and laden with disbelief. "It's in the tree pollen... lysergic acid diethylamide..." Cody's heart pounded. "What's that?" Before Amelia could answer, sleep reclaimed her. A luminous tendril extended from Two-tails' form, light casting shadows on Amelia's peaceful face. "I’m accessing the ship medical database… lysergic acid diethylamide is commonly referred to as LSD—a potent hallucinogen," the guardian clarified. “I imagine there are other chemicals as well, making a toxic mixture to humans.” "Okay. Dangerous drug." Cody swallowed hard, processing the weight of the revelation. "Many treatments exist," Two-tails continued, its voice the calm in the storm of Cody's mind. "But without medical expertise..." "Mom’s a research exobotonist, Dad’s the medical doctor, let's check on Dad," Cody resolved, determination steadying his shaky breath. He would not let this forest, this planet, claim his family without a fight. Cody's shadow stretched long and thin as he approached his father's room, the printout clutched in his hand like a lifeline. He found Sam Branson curled inward, his large frame making the protective posture seem all the more poignant. The sight of his father—a rock in any storm—now adrift in his own fear, struck Cody like a physical blow. "Dad, Mom told me to get an air sample," Cody said, his voice strained yet steady. He extended the paper toward Sam, who uncurled enough to take it with hands that trembled like leaves in a tempest. "Lysergic acid diethylamide..." Sam murmured, eyes scanning the lines that danced before him. "The trees are producing it naturally?" Disbelief threaded each syllable. "Help me to the lab, we’ll need an intravenous solution—anticoagulants, vasodilators, and symptholytics." His command was not just for assistance, it was a plea for normalcy amidst chaos. "Whiskers, you go sit with my mom," Cody ordered, glancing at the silent guardian by the door. Then to Two-tails, “you’ve helped my parents in the lab before, you know where everything is.” Cody slipped an arm under his father's shoulders, lifting with ease. The solid weight of his father contrasted sharply with the fragile mental state he bore. Together, they shuffled toward the lab, the metallic scent of antiseptics growing stronger with every step. Inside the sterile confines of the lab, Sam began dictating the needed components with clinical precision. "Two-tails, prepare the syringes. The solutions are in the second drawer—blue vials." "Your hands..." Cody noticed the uncontrollable quivering. It was clear Sam couldn't perform the delicate task ahead. "Son, I've taught you this. You'll have to do it," Sam said, his voice betraying the slightest waver. Tears blurred Cody's vision, guilt washing over him in waves. "This is my fault... If I hadn't—" "Stop." The single word from Sam held a tremor of authority. "This isn't your fault. We would have faced this eventually." His gaze locked onto Cody's, willing strength into his son. Cody blinked back the moisture clouding his sight. "I can do it," he affirmed, the words less for Sam and more for himself. He turned to the medical supplies, his fingers wiping away tears before they could fall. Each vial clicked softly as he set them in order, the sound a counterpoint to the drumming of his heart. He repeated the steps he'd learned, practiced, committing them to muscle memory. "Good," Sam whispered, watching as Cody prepped the IV line. "Just like that." "Ready," Cody announced, the simple word carrying the weight of newfound resolve. Sam's nod was filled with pride, the trembling of his body subsiding as he witnessed his son rise to meet the direst of circumstances. Two-tails' arms were a steadying presence around Sam as they entered Amelia's room. The dim light from the bio-luminescent panels cast long shadows against the sterile walls. Cody, with trembling fingers, found the blue vein threading under his mother's pale skin. He pierced it with the needle, hands guided by memories of lessons in the lab. The clear fluid began its journey into her bloodstream. Amelia's eyelids fluttered open; her gaze fixed on the IV line before shifting to Sam's drawn face. "We broke protocol," she murmured, each word laced with fatigue and regret. “We didn’t take an air sample before going outside.” Sam offered a smile, frail but genuine. "We're going to be okay," he said. "I'll be back." His words were a promise as he turned toward Tara's room, leaning heavily on Two-tails. Cody knelt by Tara, the needle ready in his hand. Her scales shimmered with an ethereal glow, a beautiful barrier. "Dad, her scales are in the way, should I rip one off so I can get the needle in?" His voice was hesitant, seeking assurance. "Remember," Sam instructed from the doorway, "alternate injection sites, her hands are only partially covered with scales, like yours." His voice, though weakened, carried the tone of experience. The first attempt at her hand faltered; the needle slipped against her toughened skin. Cody's hands shook anew, betraying his inner turmoil. "Calm down, son," Sam urged. "You can do it, try again." With a steadying breath, Cody positioned the needle once more. This time, it slid into place. Relief washed over him, mirrored in Sam's nod of approval. They returned to Amelia's bedside where Sam lay down, exhaustion claiming him. Cody, with newfound precision, inserted another needle into Sam's arm. "Wake me," Sam murmured before sleep took him, "in six hours for the next dose... or if anything changes." Silence enveloped the room save for the soft hiss of the IV and the rhythmic breathing of the resting patients. Cody stood sentinel, his youth eclipsed by the weight of responsibility now resting on his shoulders. Cody slipped quietly into Tara's room, his shadow long in the dim light. He settled beside her bed, eyes tracing the soft rise and fall of her chest. The hum of the ventilation system was a steady companion as he watched over her slumbering form. Hours stretched into a days. Cody moved through the ship's corridors, his steps automatic as he fetched water, food, supplies. His parents' rooms became waypoints on a circuit he knew by heart. A glance at Amelia, a squeeze of Sam's shoulder, and then back to Tara. Her scales caught the faint glow from the overhead lights, casting prismatic colors across the sterile walls. He reached out, hesitant, fingers brushing the cool surface before retreating. The warmth of life pulsed beneath, a promise of the vitality waiting to surge forth. "Come on, Tara," he murmured. "Wake up." The ship creaked, metal settling, as the alien planet outside unseen windows waited for the intruders to emerge again. In the lab, machines whirred, processing air samples, synthesizing antidotes. Time passed with the quiet diligence of their function. Two weeks blurred by, marked by small victories. Amelia's voice grew stronger, her instructions clearer. Sam sat up longer each day, his hands steadying. And finally, Tara's eyelids fluttered, revealing eyes that held the depths of space within them. "You're back," Cody breathed out, relief washing over him like a tide. "I could hear you, talking to me in my sleep," she whispered, her voice rough but gaining strength. "Couldn't let you sleep forever," he said with a tired smile. Days merged into night, and Cody kept moving. Errands never ceased; the list etched into his mind. He delivered meals, checked IV lines, listened for changes in breathing. Sleep was an elusive dream he chased between tasks. Finally, his body yielded to exhaustion. In his own room, he stumbled towards the bed, limbs heavy as if weighed down by gravity from a denser world. He collapsed onto the mattress, not bothering to crawl beneath the blankets. Sleep claimed him, deep and absolute. Cody's chest rose and fell in the silent room, his face serene in repose. Dreams awaited, perhaps of forests untainted by alien pollen, where he could run free and unburdened. For now, rest was his only pursuit, and he embraced it fully.