Cody III, Chapter 11 Cody's fingers were stained with ink as he rifled through the avalanche of printouts, his focus so intense that the soft rustle of paper seemed to echo in the galley like whispers of a forgotten era. The ship's limited storage of paper had dwindled alarmingly fast, leaving evidence of his desperation in the form of brochures spilling onto the cold metal floor. Digital searches should've been more efficient, yet here he was, drowning in an analog sea because the digital deluge had been nothing short of overwhelming. Information overload was an understatement; this was informational chaos. The physicality of the task, the tactile engagement with each page, allowed him to ground himself in the search—each leaflet a tangible hope, each discarded pamphlet a missed opportunity. His eyes darted across tournament dates, locations, and participant lists, seeking a pattern or anomaly that might be the hidden key they needed. Across from him, Tara's horns peeked comically over a barricade of printouts, the tips moving ever so slightly as if they themselves pondered the enormity of their undertaking. Her voice cut through the quiet concentration, tinged with incredulity. "I can't believe there's this many chess tournaments." "Every High School Chess Club, Community Center, and Private Chess Club on fifteen-hundred worlds," Cody murmured without looking up, his voice steady despite the gnawing frustration. Tara shifted, and the paper fortress between them crinkled under her movement. "There’s got to be a better way to sort this mess digitally first," she suggested, the hope in her tone clashing with the resignation in her posture. Without raising his head, Cody shook it—a habit born of countless discussions turned debates. "Max said that wouldn’t work," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "It would only sort on keywords, and the clue isn’t going to be indexed. We have to see it to find it." Curiosity piqued, Tara rose, her eyes peering over the paper stacks at Cody. "Max? Are you on first-name basis now?" she asked, a playful smirk dancing around her lips and a twinkle of mirth in her eyes. Cody glanced up, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "As long as he's not in the same room, I don’t have a death wish." His amusement was fleeting, replaced quickly by renewed focus as he reached for another brochure, the endless quest for clues resuming with a flick of his wrist. Cody's fingers stalled in their relentless dance through the brochures as a familiar hum of activity encroached upon the galley's paper-clad isolation. Amidst the sea of printouts, family members shuffled in and out, each pausing to offer a hand with the sorting, their expressions a blend of determination and sympathy for the monumental task. But the urgency of the humanitarian fleet's arrival beckoned them away, pulling them back into the orbit of their own pressing responsibilities. "Good luck," his mother murmured, patting his shoulder before slipping away, her figure retreating into the steady stream of bodies navigating the corridors outside. Cody sighed, the weight of duty settling on his shoulders as he pushed back from the table. The search would have to wait; he was expected elsewhere. As the de facto liaison of the Humanitarian Fleet, the Ara looked to him for guidance and reassurance. With the delicate situation of First Contact looming over their heads, Cody's presence among the fleet was not just ceremonial—it was vital. He glanced one last time at the brochures before stepping out, the printed pages whispering behind him like leaves in the wind. *** As the shuttle glided smoothly between the colossal vessels of the fleet, Cody's gaze swept across the array of blinking lights and metallic hulls. Each ship housed minds working fervently to solve the crisis that had led to the fleet's assembly. It was during this contemplative scan that a small vessel, nestled inconspicuously among its larger companions, snagged his attention. "Can we go there? I haven’t been to that ship yet," he asked, pointing towards the modest craft. The Second Light of Ara followed his gesture with a cursory glance, the glow of his form dimming ever so slightly in disinterest. "The scientist that owns that ship is young," he stated flatly, his tone suggesting the matter was hardly worth discussing. "We allowed her to come because she had her own vessel, but she is not experienced enough to truly assist." "Nevertheless," Cody pressed on, undeterred by his uncle's dismissal, "she deserves my thanks for coming. I'd like to visit." A flash of annoyance flickered across the Second Light's luminescence, a subtle shift in the aura that Cody had learned to read all too well. After a moment's hesitation, borne more from obligation than agreement, the Second Light gestured to the pilot. The shuttle's course shifted, banking gently towards the smaller ship. "Very well," the Second Light conceded, though the tightness in his luminous field betrayed his thoughts. "But do not linger. There are many more important tasks at hand." "Of course," Cody replied, his eyes fixed on the approaching vessel with an eagerness that belied his calm demeanor. He sensed opportunity in this deviation, a chance encounter that might yield unexpected insights. As the shuttle docked, Cody stepped forward, ready to extend gratitude and maybe discover something more within the quiet confines of the unassuming research vessel. As the airlock hissed open, the compact interior of the research vessel greeted Cody and the Second Light with a quiet stillness. The space was functional, every inch utilized, leaving little room for pleasantries. The researcher's sole crew member, a draconian pilot with scales that shimmered like tarnished silver, lounged in a chair near the control console, a data pad balanced on one knee. Cody stepped through the hatchway, following close behind his uncle, expecting the formality befitting a visit from the Second Light. But the pilot remained seated, his gaze fixed on the screen before him as if the arrival of two high-ranking Ara was a mere footnote in his day. The Second Light, radiating a subtle glow of authority, cast a brief glance at the insouciant figure. Cody waited for the customary reprimand to crackle through the air, yet his uncle did nothing more than let out an almost imperceptible pulse of irritation. With no further acknowledgment, the Second Light continued forward into the belly of the ship, clearly intent on dismissing the slight. Cody, however, could not. He paused before the pilot, whose indifference gnawed at him, igniting a fiery trail along his vines. "You're from the Tenth Domain?" Cody's voice held an edge sharp enough to slice through durasteel. "Yep," the pilot answered without looking up, his thumb swiping lazily across the data pad. "What's it to you?" A surge of anger sparked in Cody's eyes, a reflection of his inner turmoil visible in their depths. "This ship is marked as belonging to the Eighth Domain," he pointed out, each word measured and deliberate. "Sure, yeah," the pilot replied with a nonchalant shrug, his attention still tethered to whatever triviality danced across his screen. "She couldn't find a pilot and I was bored." Bristling at the disrespect, Cody fought back the instinctive desire to command authority through force. He took a grounding breath instead, reminding himself that restraint was the hallmark of leadership. "Do you treat the Tenth Light with such contempt?" At this, the pilot's casual demeanor faltered, his eyes flickering up to meet Cody's for the first time. A shadow of fear, fleeting yet unmistakable, crossed his rugged features. "No?" came the tentative response. "Neither have I," Cody stated, his tone now cooler, more controlled. "So why would you show it to me?" Silence stretched between them, the hum of the ship's systems playing understudy to the tension. Then, with a reluctant shift of his body, the pilot stood, facing Cody directly. He executed a shallow bow, an action that spoke more of obligation than sincerity. Cody regarded him for a moment longer, the lesson in courtesy delivered without a single blow struck. Violence was never his preferred path; he sought respect, not fear. And perhaps, in this instance, he had found a way to impart a lesson unexpected but necessary—one that might resonate deeper than any physical reprimand ever could. Cody's grin widened as he glanced at Fang, his stern demeanor softening slightly. "Does the Tenth Light have a proper Knight to protect him?" he asked, his voice carrying a trace of amusement. Fang's laughter rumbled through the compact bridge like distant thunder. "No," he chuckled, shaking his head. "There is nobody in the Tenth Domain that would survive the first ten minutes of training at the Crystal Castle." "Then it's settled," Cody declared with a nod. He gestured toward the pilot, whose posture had stiffened under their scrutiny. "Find another pilot for this ship, and put this man on the next supply ship back to Ara." His words were firm, leaving no room for challenge or protest. "I want him sent to the Crystal Castle for training. My father pardoned the Tenth Light and gave him back his seat on the Council of Light. It is only proper that he be given a Knight as his position requires." Without waiting for a response, Cody turned away, the vines along his arms settling back into a calm pattern. Fang moved swiftly, a hand clamped onto the pilot's shoulder, guiding him with an unyielding grip towards their shuttle. As they exited the small ship's bridge, the Second Light trailed behind Cody, his radiant hues shifting to reflect a mixture of surprise and mirth. "I didn't think you had that level of brutality in you," he commented dryly. "You've just given him a death sentence." Cody shook his head, his stride never faltering. "I don't think so," he countered calmly. "Did you see the scars on his scales? That man can fight. His only problem is he's never been taught respect." His tone was resolute, his gaze forward. "I'll turn him into a useful Ara, and gain a favor with the Tenth Light for sending one of his people to the Crystal Castle." The Second Light conceded, albeit begrudgingly, the glow around him softening as if yielding to the logic in Cody's argument. "You're starting to think like your father," he observed, "and though that was clumsily done, you took advantage of a situation and made an excellent political maneuver." Cody shrugged off the praise, his mind elsewhere. "That wasn't what I was doing," he admitted, his brow creasing slightly. "Sometimes I get these weird flashes, like little tiny pictures in my head, like I can see something ahead of me that's important." The feeling was hard to describe—a premonition or a fleeting whisper of insight. "I think the scientist on this ship is going to show us something important, but that man"—he jerked his head back toward the bridge—"is making it so nobody will listen to her because they’re already angry after meeting him and won’t listen to anything she says. He had to go." His uncle paused, regarding Cody with a newfound respect. "Your father has that ability," he said slowly, almost contemplatively. "It's a gift all The First Lights have had. I'm surprised to see it manifest in you." Cody felt a surge of pride mixed with the weight of expectation. This strange, intuitive gift was not something he could train or study—it was part of who he was, as much as his vines or the bloodline he carried. And if it meant understanding the hidden potential in others, like the young scientist awaiting them, then it was a gift he was ready to embrace. The door to the laboratory slid open with a soft whoosh, and Cody stepped through, his gaze sweeping the room filled with gleaming instruments and softly pulsing bioluminescent panels. He caught his breath as the research scientist—her tendrils aglow with the colors of her station—stumbled in her haste, nearly toppling over a stool that clattered against the metal floor. "Hi, I'm Cody," he said, extending a hand in the human gesture of greeting, though he knew it would go unreciprocated. The scientist's tendrils flared in a sequence that spoke volumes of her position. Eighth Domain, University of Science, twenty-sixth professor of genetic bioengineering studies—her luminescence was telling, even if her stature did not betray her youth. Her voice was a crackle of energy, "I am honored, First Son." She gestured broadly, encompassing the small but immaculate space. "Please, allow me to show you." Cody followed her lead, watching with interest as she pointed out various devices, each one humming with potential. Her pride shone as she elaborated on her work, her tendrils casting light on the intricate patterns of her experiments. "It all began with the discoveries of the Second Light," she admitted with a cautious look towards Cody's uncle. "Your exoskeletal bio-organisms are unmatched, and their strength... I aim to learn from them." Turning towards his uncle, Cody raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "You're a scientist?" he asked, the words slipping out before he could consider them. The Second Light fixed him with a stare that needed no translation. Cody's cheeks warmed under his scrutiny; he'd unwittingly revealed his ignorance. With a shrug, he tried to deflect the tension. "Well, if you weren’t always so grumpy and actually shared something about our family, maybe I wouldn't be so out of the loop." A flash of color, sharper than before, rimmed the edges of the Second Light's form, signaling agitation. But then, just as quickly, it softened into a calm blue hue. "While your father sought fame alongside the Third Light, I was at your grandfather’s side, learning, creating, making a difference for our people." Cody bit his lip, realizing he’d stumbled into a familial minefield, but pressed on, lifting his arm to display the bio-organism lacing his skin like living armor. "Look, I didn't mean to stir up old stories. But this," he gestured to the shimmering scales and vines that adorned his body, "this is incredible. It means everything to me." For a moment, the Second Light was silent, his luminosity dimming as if in contemplation. Then, unexpectedly, his form brightened fractionally, a sign of acknowledgment that surprised Cody. Perhaps, in sharing his genuine appreciation, he had managed to bridge a gap he hadn't known existed between his father and his uncle. "Thank you," Cody added softly, hoping the sentiment reached beyond the cool air of the laboratory and into the heart of his uncle's stoic demeanor. The Second Light's form swelled with a soft glow as he turned his attention to the young scientist, who seemed to vibrate with excitement under the weight of such high regard. "Tell me what you have done so far," he prompted in a tone that was at once both commanding and curious. Eagerly, she illuminated her work with enthusiasm. "I’m not trying to replicate the formidable strength of your creation for the First Son. My aim is to develop an air filtration system. By filtering the air on the afflicted planet, we can mitigate the toxic effects plaguing the colonists." As she spoke, her tendrils pulsed with dedication to her cause. "This could buy us time to engineer a lasting solution for their atmosphere." Nodding thoughtfully, the Second Light bent over the microscope on the table, his luminous form contracting slightly as he scrutinized the slides beneath the lens. "An excellent initiative," he praised, his voice resonating with approval. "However, it is imperative that the system adapts to the individual needs of each wearer." Cody, feeling slightly out of his depth but eager to contribute, peered into another microscope. The intricate cells and structures were as foreign to him as the stars in a distant galaxy. "I wish I could help," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Without warning, the Second Light reached over and plucked Cody’s school tablet from his pocket. He held it aloft, casting an expectant gaze upon his nephew. “Cody, tell me now that you will prioritize your studies as fervently as you chase adventures across the cosmos,” he said, his essence rippling with a sternness that demanded sincerity. Cody met his uncle's gaze, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. "I promise," he said, and he meant it. "Good." The Second Light handed back the device, his form softening ever so slightly. “You can't assist today, but with knowledge, you may someday. I have placed 103 introduction to biology lessons on your tablet. Complete them, and further instruction will follow.” As Cody accepted the tablet, his eyes widened at the sheer volume of coursework. His mind raced—how could he possibly balance this with his existing Academy obligations? Biology had never been his passion; it was his parents' domain. "Uncle... umm... I..." he started, hesitance clear in his tone. "Rest assured," interrupted the Second Light, a flicker of understanding passing through his aura. "For every biology lesson you finish, a lesson in engineering awaits you. To one day ascend the Throne of Light, you must cultivate a breadth of knowledge—not just in your preferred fields." Cody exhaled, a mix of resignation and determination settling in. This was not just about academic rigor; it was about preparing for his future role in ways he hadn't imagined. And if his uncle believed in him enough to provide this guidance, then perhaps it was worth embracing—even the biology. Cody slid down the cool metal wall of the laboratory, the hum of complex machinery creating a soothing backdrop. The tablet felt heavy in his hands, not from its physical weight but from the gravity of promises made and the future they implied. He tapped the screen to life, and the list of lessons sprang forth in an orderly sequence—a digital challenge laid before him by his uncle. One Academy lesson, one Biology lesson, one Engineering lesson. Rinse and repeat. The alternating pattern glared back at him, an unspoken agreement that each step forward in his favored field would be earned through diligence in another. It was a clever tactic; the Second Light knew how to harness Cody’s thirst for the mechanics and structures of engineering as a lure to draw him into the complex web of biological sciences. From his vantage point against the wall, Cody looked up, catching a glimpse of the Second Light's form, immersed in scholarly discussion with the young scientist. His uncle's tendrils of light moved with purpose, illustrating concepts that danced far above Cody’s current understanding. He couldn't help but admire the easy command of knowledge the Second Light wielded. A grin tugged at the corners of Cody's mouth. The irony wasn't lost on him—his uncle had effectively used Cody's own methodology, a strategic plan to maneuver pieces on the board, to corner him into submission. It was a move worthy of respect, even if it meant sitting still, a task he often found as challenging as deciphering the mysteries of biology itself. Ara children were taught to value silence as a vessel for learning. Cody, however, was a hybrid of cultures—a mix of Ara stillness and human action. To sit and learn in silence was foreign to his nature, yet here he was, about to embrace that very tradition. "Okay, fine," he muttered under his breath, surrendering to the new regimen with a reluctant nod. There was an underlying excitement, a spark of curiosity within him. What secrets did those biology lessons hold? How would they shape his view of the universe, of life itself? Cody's fingers swiped across the screen, bringing up the first lesson. It detailed the basics of cellular biology—the building blocks of all living organisms. He skimmed through the introduction, his mind already racing ahead to the engineering reward that awaited. "Patience," he reminded himself. "Focus on this, and the gears and circuits will come." He settled into the rhythm of study, acknowledging that he stood on the threshold of vast knowledge. Each fact learned was a step closer to understanding, to being the leader he was destined to become. And somewhere beyond the dry text and unfamiliar terminology lay the tantalizing mechanics of creation, beckoning him forward. "Show me what you've got," Cody whispered to the tablet as he delved into the world of biology, his gaze occasionally drifting to the engineering icon that teased him from the corner of the screen. A silent promise of intricate designs and logical systems waited patiently for him to earn his passage.