Cody III, Chapter 17 The opaque darkness of the privacy glass lent a cocoon-like sanctuary to the booth, where Cody and Tara sat in weighted silence. The stillness was a temporary balm to their anxiety, an illusion of solitude amidst the beating heart of Ceres. They were waiting, hoping for any news that would negate the dread that had settled over them since Whiskers's departure. But peace was as fleeting. Their reprieve shattered with the methodical approach of two figures clad in the uniform black suits of Ceres Stewards, their crisp attire a stark contrast to the quiet disorder within Cody and Tara's thoughts. Flanking them, Dirk’s Security Guards, imposing and vigilant, scanned the area with practiced eyes. Trailing the procession was a man whose suit bore the gravity of higher authority - the Senior Security Chief - his chest adorned with an insignia that commanded respect. A young lady, her arms balancing a tray laden with refreshments, walked with measured steps behind them. Cody felt the intrusion like a physical force, his posture rigid against the cushioned backrest of the booth. Despite the formality of the approaching party, a frisson of irritation crawled under his skin. He did not move, did not speak; instead, he allowed his gaze to remain fixed through the darkened glass, as if he could will away the interruption by sheer disinterest. The Senior Security Chief produced a badge with practiced ease. The door's lock acknowledged its master with a soft click and a green light, granting entry into the space that had briefly been theirs alone. With the door ajar, the wave of intrusion swept in – the two Stewards followed, their footsteps muted but presence pronounced. Behind them, the young lady, perhaps the only one among them who sensed the intrusion's weight upon the room's occupants, moved with a quiet efficiency uncharacteristic of her entourage. Her hands were steady as she set down the tray on the table, a clink of glassware punctuating the act. Then, just as quickly as she had entered, she turned on her heel and retreated, leaving behind an offering that went unnoticed by the booth's original occupants. Outside, the Dirk’s Security Guards assumed their posts, statues of discipline, their presence a silent testament to the unspoken tension of what lay beyond the booth's confines. Inside, Cody remained unmoved, his body language a fortress, as the unwelcome guests stood expectantly. It was a tableau of discomfort, the air heavy with words yet spoken, the room charged with the anticipation of revelations yet to break. "Sir, when the owner of this booth exited through the escape door, we were notified immediately, and reviewed the security recording," the Security Chief stated, voice crisp as his suit. His words cut through the silence, echoing with the gravity of protocol and procedure. "The planet is now on lock-down, guests are being escorted back to their suites, all ships are grounded from leaving, and any ships that have recently left are being boarded and detained by Sol Fleet." Cody's fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the table's edge, the sound lost in the void of their private enclave. He offered no response, electing instead to let the tension swell between them, a testament to the futility of their scrutiny. “Has your security detail discovered anything yet?” The Security Chief added. Tara, her posture until now a picture of restraint, tilted her chin upward, eyes meeting the Security Chief's with a glint of steely resolve. "Not yet," she confirmed, her voice a mere whisper that seemed to carry the weight of their collective dread. In the stillness that followed, the unspoken hung like a specter—Whiskers' absence was a shadow upon them all, a harbinger of truths they were not yet prepared to face. Before the echoes of their dread could settle, the first suited man stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Tara with an intensity that belied the formality of his demeanor. "I assure you," he began, his voice a controlled blend of empathy and authority, "no effort will be spared to find the murderer." Tara's eyes, which had held a glimmer of steel when she faced the Chief, softened slightly at the promise. It was not comfort she sought, but the assurance of action, and in this, the man's commitment provided a sliver of solace amidst the chaos. As if on cue, the second steward, previously silent and statuesque, chimed in with a voice that held the crispness of freshly printed Ceres currency. "Captain Archer is being notified of the events," he informed them, the implication of his words clear: no stone would remain unturned, no shadow unexamined. "If there is anything you require, it will be provided." “For how much?” Cody said dryly. “What will it cost?” The security chief shifted uncomfortably, the starched collar of his suit appearing to tighten around his neck. It wasn't often that anyone addressed the hidden price of assistance on Ceres, especially not with such unveiled cynicism. "Sir, all tabs have been frozen for guests," the man replied, his voice a strained attempt at reassuring professionalism. He cleared his throat, perhaps in an effort to dispel the awkwardness that Cody's question had birthed. "I truly hope what Governor Trathon discovered is not your father, or any Ara. I hope it is a mistake." His eyes held a glimmer of genuine concern—the kind that surfaces when the tragedy of another seeps into one's own world. "But if true, we will do everything we can to aid you in this time of tragedy." Cody's response was a mere tilt of his head, a silent acknowledgement that cut through any pretense. The chief stood there, a man swathed in the trappings of authority yet laid bare by the raw edge of Cody's grief. All around them, the machinery of crisis continued to whirr, but in that moment, within the confines of the private glass booth, the only thing that seemed to matter was the weight of a promise made amidst uncertainty and the price of trust in a world where even loyalty was a commodity. In the muted glow of the private glass booth, a silhouette emerged, its presence commanding immediate attention. The air seemed to shift, the tension crackling like static around the new arrival. Fang's visage was a stark canvas of grim revelation, his features etched with somber news yet to be spoken. Cody looked up, his eyes searching Fang's face for answers he wasn't sure he wanted to find. "Where's Whiskers?" The question hung between them, resonating with an urgency that pushed past the stifled atmosphere of the enclosed space. Fang's voice was steady, but it carried the weight of unspoken fears. "He is moving your parents back to the ship; it is more secure there." The words fell with a gravity that seemed to pull the very air from the room, leaving a silence that was heavy and thick. Cody absorbed the information, his thoughts racing to interpret what this development might mean for their safety, and for the unfolding chaos that had gripped Ceres. "What did you find?" Cody asked, his voice steady despite the tempest of dread and anticipation roiling inside. Fang's gaze swept over the occupants of the room, assessing the gravity of what he was about to divulge. He seemed to measure the impact of his words not just on Cody, but on everyone present. There was a brief hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty, before resolve solidified his stance. "It’s fine," Tara said, finally breaking the silence that had fallen like a shroud over the booth. "They need to know." The humans shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Cody and Fang. Even without the shared history and bonds of the Ara, they could sense the magnitude of the revelations that were poised on the precipice of utterance. They understood that knowledge, especially of this kind, often came with a weight they would be compelled to bear alongside Cody. Fang's towering form descended, his knees meeting the polished floor with a quiet thud that seemed to echo the weight of his grief. The normally vibrant light that danced within his eyes had dimmed, replaced by an ethereal shimmering that resembled tears. The sight was otherworldly, the raw emotion palpable even without the usual human telltales. "I'm sorry," Fang's voice was a low rumble, reverberating through Cody's chest. "It was your father, but there’s much more." Cody's breath hitched, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. A tempest brewed behind his closed eyelids, a storm of sorrow and fury seeking an outlet. Yet in that moment of confirmation, he found himself adrift in a sea of darkness, searching for the lighthouse that would guide him back to shore. "What?" The word emerged as a whisper, laden with a thousand unspoken questions and fears. “We also found the remains of the Fifth and Sixth Lights,” Fang began, his voice steady despite the sorrow that threatened to fracture it, “and at least a hundred of their soldiers. Humans were not involved in this; no human could have survived the intensity of the battle that took place.” His words bore the weight of an undeniable truth, each syllable sinking into Cody’s heart like lead. “There is molten rock still cooling in the caverns down there. Your father fought a valiant battle against his enemies.” The world seemed to tilt on its axis, reality skewing as the gravity of Fang's words pressed down upon him. The air in the booth grew thick with tension, the whirring of machinery and distant murmurs of the station outside now muffled as if underwater. Cody's voice emerged raw, every word fueled by a tempest of emotion that churned within. “Was anyone with my father?” The question hung heavy between them, laden with hope for an ally’s presence and dread for their potential fate. Fang hesitated, the struggle evident in the stiff set of his shoulders before he divulged the painful truth. His voice was a bare whisper, yet reverberating through the hushed confines of the private glass booth. "Yes, Long Claw and Jumper were at his side." He paused, the weight of his gaze meeting Cody's. "The Fifth and Sixth Lights grossly underestimated how strong The First Light and two Knights of the First House were. They didn’t intend to take such heavy losses." The silence that followed was suffocating. It wrapped around them like a shroud, heavy with the shadows of valiant warriors fallen in the heat of a battle they could not have foreseen. The air seemed to still, the soft hum of the station's life support systems a distant whisper compared to the thundering silence within. Tara’s composure crumbled, the facade she had maintained shattered by the names of the fallen. Her breath hitched, a dam giving way as sobs wracked her frame. "I loved them," she wept, the words spilling from her like a mournful prayer to warriors of old. Tears streamed down her cheeks, each droplet a testament to the bond forged in the innocence of childhood. "Those were the two dragons that you had propped up on the shelf above your bed to guard you while you slept." Her grief was a tangible force, filling the space between the cold glass and stark furnishings with a warmth born of memories and loss. It was the mourning of a shared history, of protectors who had once been nothing more than silent guardians perched above a young boy's bed, now gone forever. Cody watched her, his own heart aching in resonance with her sorrow. The names—Long Claw and Jumper—echoed in his mind, conjuring images of vibrant scales and fierce eyes. Guardians from a time when the world seemed simpler, when the night held no terror because they stood watch. And now they lay still, their eternal vigil ended in a cavern beneath the surface of Ceres. The truth of Fang's report settled heavily upon him, each word another stone added to the burden he carried. These were not just soldiers; they were family, bound not by blood but by a loyalty that transcended lifetimes. And they had paid the ultimate price. Cody's nod was slow, almost imperceptible, an acknowledgment of a truth too heavy to bear. "They were loyal to the end," he said, his voice seemed to emanate from deep within him, as if the very core of his being resonated with the gravity of their sacrifice. Around him, the air felt charged, a static tension that clung to every surface and danced upon his skin. There were no tears in Cody’s eyes, no shimmering veil of grief to blur the harsh reality before him. Instead, there was only the smoldering red of a growing fire, a fierce glow that mirrored the simmering anger and resolute determination that had taken root in the depths of his gaze. The bioluminescent vines that wreathed across his body pulsed with a life of their own, a vibrant display of light and color that traced the lines of his muscles and bones. With each beat of his heart, they brightened, their luminosity a stark contrast against the dim confines of the glass booth, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters along the walls. Cody's form seemed to become one with the energy that enveloped him, the vines a manifestation of his will, a visual echo of the power that surged through his veins. It was as if he were a conduit for an ancient force, a living embodiment of the legacy he bore as the son of The First Light. And in that moment, it was clear he was ready to avenge those who had fallen, to confront whatever darkness lay ahead. "Sir, you have our sincerest condolences," said one of the black suited men. The words were smooth, too smooth, like oil on water, and they did nothing to douse the anger smoldering within Cody. "Is there anything we can do for you?" Cody's body was still, but beneath the surface, a storm raged. He didn't need enhanced senses to detect the fear emanating from the stewards. It clung to them more firmly than their impeccable suits, a scent that spoke of desperation and concern not for the tragedy that had unfolded, but for its implications. Their eyes held the sheen of dread, the knowledge that three Ara world leaders had fallen not just on their watch but under their supposed sanctuary. Ceres was meant to be a bastion of peace, a neutral ground where conflict was left at the threshold. Yet now it stood tainted, stained by an act of treachery so profound that the ripples would be felt across the galaxy. For a moment, Cody considered the offer, weighed the possibilities. Could these stewards be of use? Or were they simply scrambling to salvage what they could of a situation rapidly spiraling out of control? His silence stretched, a tangible thing, while the vine-like tendrils around him writhed with his internal turmoil. Then, without a word, he let the energy recede, the luminescent flora retreating back against his skin. There was no trust here, only a transaction to be made, one that held no currency in the face of his loss. "Your condolences are noted," Cody finally replied, his voice devoid of warmth. A simple acknowledgment, nothing more. Whatever steps he took next, he would take without their aid. Cody rose from his chair, the bioluminescent vines that had once thrashed in anger now pulsed with a determined glow. He faced Fang squarely, his jaw set in resolve that left no room for argument. "Fang, take Tara to our ship, and stay with her," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of a decision made in the crucible of grief and fury. "I'm going to Ara, it is time to fight." Fang's stature was unyielding as the ancient trees of their homeworld, and his eyes, usually a calm sea of wisdom, now mirrored the storm raging within Cody. With a slow, deliberate movement that betrayed his reluctance, Fang took a step closer. "I cannot allow you to go alone," he stated, his voice resonating with the loyalty and protectiveness that had always defined him. Cody's glare bore into Fang with a ferocity that matched the turbulent emotions churning within him. The vines along his forearms glowed a fierce blue, a visual echo of his resolve. "Don't argue with me," Cody snapped, the command in his voice brooking no dissent. "This is my last order for you. Protect my family. If I fall on Ara, take my family to the Aurora, Captain Archer will protect them." Fang's lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw twitching with unspoken conflict. His eyes, once filled with the serene light of their shared homeworld, now reflected the harsh reality of their predicament. "Cody, a human cannot protect them from the Ara should your enemies go after them," Fang countered, his voice low and steady despite the tension that gripped the air between them. "We should flee the galaxy now while we can." Cody faced Fang squarely, his bioluminescent markings casting an otherworldly glow across the stark confines of the booth. He knew Fang's words were born of loyalty and concern, but this was not a time for retreat. This was a moment that called for action, for justice—for retribution. "Trust me, Fang," Cody implored, his expression softening just enough to convey the weight of his trust in his friend. "Captain Archer has hidden resources beyond our own. They'll be safe with him." Their gazes locked, two warriors standing on the precipice of an uncertain future. Fang's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, his age-old duty to protect resonating with the sincerity in Cody's plea. "Very well," Fang conceded, a hint of resignation lacing his words. "I will do as you command." Cody’s eyes flicked to Tara, tears flowing down her face. His voiced softened, but was cut with the finality of his pending departure. “Goodbye, Tara.” Special Notes: The Cody III story is coming to it's finale, probably the next chapter, and maybe an epilogue. Will there be a Cody IV... no, but there may be a spin-off.