Cody III, Chapter 14 Tara's reflection danced against the glass of the viewing window, her hands gesturing wildly as she pointed out celestial landmarks to an audience more absorbed in their thoughts than her tour. Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm, a bright stream of facts and memories that filled the observation deck. "And that little light over there is Earth, and you look off to the side, you can see Mars. Ceres is just on the other side between Mars and Jupiter. I’ve never been to Ceres. I didn’t know Uncle Max had a Box suite there." She paused for a breath, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned closer to the transparent barrier that separated them from the vacuum of space. "Oh, look... hey, slow down, there’s a speed limit inside the solar system. You can see Earth’s moon now. It only has one moon. I’ve been there on a school field trip to visit the Neil Armstrong museum." In a fluid motion, she swirled to face the others, her hair bouncing, eager to share her knowledge of Sol. "That’s where the Los Angeles World Ship was built, but it was decommissioned. It’s famous. Los Angeles was a city on old Earth, before the war that almost destroyed the planet..." Her words trailed off as mostly everyone either tuned her out or offered polite smiles before turning away. Tara, undeterred, spun back to the window, her narrative unspooling into the void. The tranquility of the scene was pierced by the crackle of the radio, which sprang to life with authoritative demand. “Heavy Inbound 2293.32.24, this is Sol Control, identify.” Fang, his tendrils flaring in surprise, turned to Dr. Amelia Branson, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. Though he commanded his own vessel through the skies of Ara, Earth's protocols were alien to him. Amelia, recognizing the urgency, strode across the room with a practitioner's grace and pressed the communication button firmly. "Sol Control, this is Ara FSO Heavy under diplomatic credentials, we are inbound for Ceres," she announced with practiced diplomacy. An expectant hush fell upon the crew as they awaited the response. After a tense pause, the voice returned, crisp and professional. “Ara FSO Heavy, tuck yourself into navigation lane 119 for Ceres, slow to 1.2mps, traffic ahead of you, 5/0 separation, and switch frequency to 119.45 for further instructions. Have a good day, Ma’am.” Amelia nodded, her fingers dancing over the controls to comply with the directive. She wore a faint smile of satisfaction, having navigated yet another formality of space travel. Beside her, Fang's tendrils relaxed, signaling his silent appreciation for Amelia's expertise. Tara barely registered the exchange, her gaze still glued to the cosmos beyond the window, her heart racing with the thrill of showing her companions the cradle of humanity as they sailed through her home solar system. Tara's eyes widened in awe as she observed the bustling mosaic of spacecraft weaving through the void outside the viewing window. Freighters, their hulls glinting like the facets of a gemstone, darted between sleek passenger liners and rugged mining vessels. It was a cosmic ballet choreographed by an invisible hand, each ship maintaining a delicate dance of proximity and speed. "I was always on the Aurora World Ship, so I never saw the traffic; this is crazy," Tara murmured, her voice tinged with wonder. Amelia, meanwhile, had settled into the Captain's Chair, her posture reflecting both authority and a seasoned calm. She glanced over at the mesmerized girl and nodded in agreement. "I’ve seen the Aurora come in once when I was in college. They hold up all the traffic for millions of miles while they bring that behemouth into orbit." The scene before them was indeed akin to rush-hour congestion on an interstellar scale, where the comings and goings of human endeavor were on full display. With the initial thrill subsiding, Tara felt a pull of concern for her friend. She turned from the window and made her way to Cody’s quarters, her bare feet padding softly against the metal floor. Pushing the door open, she found him propped up in bed, his complexion pallid but his gaze sharp, tracing lines across the pages of a chess strategy book. "You’re awake," Tara blurted out, relief washing over her. Cody looked up, a ghost of a smile crossing his features. "How much longer until we get to Ceres?" His question hung in the air as Tara's excitement deflated like a punctured balloon. "I don’t think we’re going to make it," she admitted, shaking her head. "We only have a week left before we have to head back to Ara, and with the traffic out there, we’re at least three days from Ceres." Cody's eyes slid shut for a moment, a brief sanctuary from the reality of their predicament. When they opened, determination had replaced the fatigue. "Tell Fang to drop into hyper-space, we’ll be there in minutes." Tara hesitated, biting her lip. "Hyper-space travel isn’t allowed in the Sol navigation lanes." "Leave it to me," Cody replied, brushing aside the rule with a wave of his hand. There was a certain steel in his voice, a hint that he was accustomed to bending situations to his will. Tara left the room, her mind racing with the implications of Cody's suggestion. If anyone could navigate the complexities of space law and protocol, it was him. But still, there was an unease that settled in her chest—an uncertainty about the consequences they might face for such a brazen act. The kaleidoscope of colors that accompanied hyper-space travel faded into the stark blackness of space, punctuated by the distant glitter of stars. The ship shuddered slightly as it reentered normal space near Ceres, a testament to Fang's adept piloting skills, even if they had bent the rules of interstellar travel to get here. "Docking sequence initiated," Dr. Amelia Branson announced, her voice steady as she communicated with the officials below. With practiced ease, she maneuvered the vessel toward its designated berth, the mechanical whir of the airlock signaling their imminent arrival. Cody, who had been waiting impatiently in the vestibule, felt the subtle shift beneath his feet as the ship docked. His pulse quickened—not from nervousness but anticipation. He was eager to step out onto solid ground, even if it wasn't his final destination. As the airlock door slid open with a hiss, he was greeted by a scene that could rival the grandeur of any planetary court. Men clad in crisp suits formed lines on either side, each holding a silver tray laden with exotic fruits that gleamed like jewels under the bright lights of the space dock. A soft melody drifted through the air, a classical concerto played flawlessly by musicians whose instruments caught the light and threw it back in dazzling reflections. "First Son of Ara, welcome to Ceres," intoned a tall man dressed in a suit that seemed to absorb the surrounding opulence. His smile was wide, his bow deep. But Cody was unimpressed; his gaze lingered on the colorful display of fruit, a pang of hunger reminding him of more pressing needs. "I’d like to go to our suite and freshen up," Cody stated flatly, his tone indicating that this was not a request but an expectation. The man's smile did not waver, though his eyes conveyed a different message—one of bureaucratic inconvenience. "Sir, the Authorities have contacted us requesting that you be detained for the unsafe use of hyper-space travel." Cody's jaw clenched, his annoyance palpable. "Well, that was quick," he muttered under his breath, his mind already calculating the cost of smoothing over this latest complication. "Sir," the man continued, unfazed by Cody's reaction, "our detainment facility is quite comfortable. All your needs will be met." "Comfort is not my concern," Cody retorted sharply. "On Ceres, I understand everything has a price. Make it so there are no violations." For a moment, the facade cracked, and the man's smile nearly faltered. "That would take a considerable amount of money..." "Contact Captain Archer," Cody interrupted, dismissing the hurdle with a nonchalant wave. "He'll cover it just to keep his niece out of jail." With a nod, the man excused himself, disappearing into the throng to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile, servers swooped in, transforming an empty space into a dining area that could have easily belonged in an upscale galaxy guidebook. Seated at the table, Cody focused solely on the feast before him. He reached for the fruit first, savoring the burst of sweetness against his tongue before hungrily moving onto the heartier fare. Eggs, sausage, ham—a spread fit for royalty—disappeared bite after ravenous bite. "Slow down," Amelia chided gently, though her eyes were tinged with amusement and concern. She knew her son, knew the voracious appetite of teenage growth. "Can't," Cody managed between mouthfuls. "Feels like it's been ages since I last ate." Fang, standing nearby, plucked an orange from the array and examined it closely. With a swift movement, the citrus vanished, consumed in one gulp. "His hunger," Fang explained calmly, "is due to the energy he expended during recovery." Amelia nodded in understanding, watching her son with a mixture of maternal pride and wariness. They had come far and faced much, but Ceres was only the beginning—and she couldn't shake the feeling that their journey was about to become even more complicated. The clinking of silverware against fine porcelain ceased as the suited man reappeared, his stride purposeful amidst the hum of conversation and the soft strains of the string quartet. Cody had just pushed his chair back, patting his stomach in satisfaction, when the man leaned in, placing a golden plastic card before him with a flourish. "Sir, Captain Archer has dealt with your situation personally," he announced, straightening up. "The service you requested will not be needed. However, he said that he will pay for any other services you require while you are here." The card glinted under the ambient light, a symbol of limitless possibilities. Cody peered up at the man, his eyebrows knitting together. "Was Captain Archer mad?" he asked, a hint of concern undercutting his tone. "Sir, that is not for me to say," the man replied, maintaining his professional composure. "Unless, of course, you would like to have my conversation with Captain Archer analyzed. We do have the finest analysts available for such discreet services." With a dismissive wave of his hand, Cody declined, "That won’t be necessary. I understand." His eyes flickered across the gold card, then back to the man. "Everything really is for sale on Ceres. Can we go to our suite now?" Without missing a beat, the man's gaze shifted to Fang and Whiskers, standing a respectful distance away. "I assume this is your security detail?" he inquired. "Yes," Cody replied, a note of pride edging his voice. "They will have to check their weapons," the man stated matter-of-factly. A second attendant approached, bearing an empty silver tray with practiced grace. Fang and Whiskers exchanged a glance, then each placed an innocuous-looking device upon the polished surface. "Those are hyper-space atomic obliterators," Fang explained. "Be careful with them; if mishandled, they could end all life in this solar system." Though the man's smile remained fixed, there was a fleeting shadow of concern that darted across his features—a momentary crack in his otherwise impeccable facade. He nodded curtly, and gesturing to the attendants, they carefully took possession of the tray. "Very well, your weapons will be kept in a secure vault," the man said, turning back to Cody. "If you'll follow me, we'll proceed to your suite." Cody rose, brushing crumbs from his shirt, a small smirk playing on his lips at the man's barely concealed discomfort. It was a game of power and perception, and on Ceres, it seemed, even the improbable could be made to feel plausible. The entourage proceeded down the gleaming corridor, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished metal floor. Tara, trailing slightly behind Cody and the man in the suit, sidled up to Fang, her gaze flickering toward the silver tray now a safe distance away in the hands of the attendant. "Hey," she murmured under her breath so that only Fang's sensitive hearing could pick it up. "What is a hyper-space atomic obliterator, and maybe we shouldn’t let them hold it." Fang's eyes crinkled at the corners as his grin revealed rows of perfectly aligned, sharp teeth. "Those?" he said, his voice a low rumble filled with amusement. "Those are the Ara version of a toothbrush, and harmless, but excellent for getting molecular decay off one’s back teeth." Tara blinked, her lips parting in surprise before a quiet chuckle escaped her. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the attendants who were gingerly carrying the tray with the utmost caution, their faces set in expressions of grave responsibility. "Guess everyone has their own ways of maintaining dental hygiene," she quipped, her eyes twinkling with mirth as they continued forward. As the group approached the transport, the luxurious interior beckoned with plush seating and ambient lighting designed to soothe the weary traveler. But for Tara, the comfort was secondary to the entertainment of witnessing Ceres' elite handling Ara toothbrushes like doomsday devices. It was just another peculiar anecdote she'd have to share about her journey through the stars—a tale that would surely draw more than a few polite smiles back home on Ara.