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David Cody

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Everything posted by David Cody

  1. I was on a film set Saturday from 2pm PST and left around 12am on Sunday morning, back again at 8am and came back at 9pm, where I finally had a chance to check email. Needless to say, you guys knew well before me. Congratulations to everyone, as well as our two runners up!! I never congratulate myself, but I do thank the judges! After working twenty-three some odd hours on a different format of fiction, sometimes the little surprises are the ones that makes it all worth it-- (though personally, I thought one of the other entries would take it). I won't steal Flt. Admiral Wolfe's thunder, the next challenge should be posted in very short order. I will say this is a favorite. (*big smile*) Can't wait to see what you guys come up with! Dave Cody (or Steve, rather)
  2. Well, I'll admit Toni and Julia here have inherited a fan of their respective writings from what I've read of them to date. Ben here as well... but I get a chance to read his contributes daily, which are always a tribute to some well laid plans and work (of course, in simming). I'm still getting to know others' respective styles and voices. Nah... I made a critical mistake which I didn't catch until well after. The topic was windows... not window (or glass) reflections. LOL
  3. Well, seven passes through it and gods only know how many edits, its under 3000... I almost thought I'd have to abandon it (*wiping brow*). Had to reject the first two concepts, but here's my contribution. Tricky challenge... loved it.
  4. act: v.1. obsolete; 2a. to respond or perform by action especially on the stage b. Feign, Stimulate c. Impersonate; 3. to play the part of as if in a play; 4. to behave in a manner suitable to. intransitive verb: 1a. to perform on the stage b. to behave as if performing on the stage; 2. to take action; 3. to conduct oneself; 4. to perform a specified function; 5. to produce an effect 6. of a play: to be capable of being performed; 7. to give a decision or award. Act I Alec felt an electric buzz course through his veins and glanced over the uniform once more. Shouts broke out from behind the black curtain as his fingers felt the starched collar, the three gold pips on one side. ‘Perfect.’ He took a long silent breath, as he did every night right before parting through that black curtain with the fire of the star trails. “NO!” He plunged through without thinking. That cry, her utter terror, it moved his feet faster as if driven by some invisible demon. Crashing under bright lights, he saw the silver flash of the eye, the green reptilian skin arcing back some kind of scythe to plunge it into that golden sparkle of hair. Alec yanked the phaser from his side and took aim. He pressed down and watched the sensor-rigged light streak, dead center back. He flung himself by as the Gorn fell, scooping up Lt. Hethro into his arms and throwing them to the ground out of the way. A metallic thud spun his head around, at the scythe point embedded in the floor. Hands flew around his neck. Snapping out of his daze, Alec flinched as he looked down on Hethro, breathing hard with those sparkling red ruby lips. He was vaguely aware of thunder clapping around him, until swinging an eye to center front. A standing sea of faces stood. Clapping hands swept over. “My hero…” Hethro giggled. Alec glanced down to her and she pulled him close, landing those perfect lips firmly on his. A thousand and one sensations blasted him. No matter how many times they performed, tonight it felt different… almost real. “That’s Commander Travine to you,” he replied, smiling. Act II He dragged himself through the dressing room door. It hissed closed as Alec dumped himself into the make-up chair, exhausted. Sweating, he wiped a hand across his forehead and marveled, thinking about the moment. A chime echoed before the door slid back open. Jumping up, Alec turned and threw his best grin, stopping cold at the sight of polished black boots, sparkling black pants and a red crisp jacket emblazing five pips stroll through the door, accompanied by silver hair worn by age, along with wrinkled brows and a pointed chin that mirrored an older Alec. Paling, Alec lost the smile. “Dad.” He licked his lips. Admiral Travine stopped inside and snorted at the décor. He riveted his hawkish gaze on Alec, quivering. “You have no idea what it means to wear that uniform,” he spoke, then spat on the floor. “Dad-“ Alec started. “No!” Admiral Travine crackled, striding over to shove his features into his son. “That was nothing but a mockery! YOU! If you had any sense in that head of yours, you could be wearing that uniform and those pips now instead of pretending to be one in that farce of a performance out there! Get your head out of stardust powder and try doing something sensible with your life.” “I AM!” Alec yelled, nose to nose. “And this is as close as I’ll ever get, okay?! I don’t have your brains or talent. All I can do is act…” Admiral Travine held Alec’s gaze a moment longer before straightening. “You’re a disgrace,” he whispered, then turned and walked for the door. Alec clamped his eyes shut. A searing pain of tears ripped from under his eyelids. ----- “Careful there. Someone might mistake you for the real thing.” Standing at a view window, Alec jumped, twisting around to catch Lt. Hethro out of costume, strolling over in a plain blouse and slacks. Her real name Michelle, she scooted up to Alec’s side and peered out the window. Through it, the massive infrastructure of the starbase, the airlock corridors stretching into the space to link with several ships, both large and small, currently in port. Sniffing, Alec composed himself, still staring at starships. He forgot to change out of costume, still wearing the red and black with those three gold pips shining on the collar. Scooting closer, Michelle nudged Alec’s side and slid an arm around his waist. “I heard you and your father.” It took him a moment to respond. “You wish for something so hard… but how can you follow when all you can ever be is a shadow to someone great?” Resting her head on Alec’s shoulder, Michelle ran her other hand over his chest. “I think you’d make a great Commander,” she smiled. Bowing his head, Alec shook it. “No… life didn’t afford the opportunity.” She studied him. “But you want it.” Alec shivered, feeling Michelle’s hand against his chin. “I can perform it,” he replied, choking a sob. “But I’ll never know what it’s like to command a starship.” He heaved a laugh. “I’ve never even been on one.” Michelle swept in front of Alec, brushing his hair and smoothing the uniform. “So? Go on board one of them. See what it feels like.” Alec laughed, grabbing her hands. “Are you nuts? I’ll get arrested.” Leaning in, Michelle kissed him. Stopping cold, Alec blinked. She never had kissed him off stage. “Go. If it’s something you’ve always wanted, do it. You’ll carry the regret for the rest of your life if you don’t act.” Before realizing it, Alec brushed strands of Michelle’s hair. She gave a soft smile and tiptoed to kiss him again. “Then come back and be my Commander,” she breathed. ----- Standing in front of the airlock door, Alec hesitated before glancing back down the corridor, watching actual uniformed officers head for what he was sure was well-deserved shore leave. Between the craziness of it all and the fact he knew just standing here outside the airlock of an actual Starship in this uniform could land him in jail kept him looking back and forth as his own chaotic feelings tore through him. ‘It’s wrong… this is just wrong.’ The tenderness of lips he never dreamed of experiencing brushed his lips again, making him feel ever more the Fool. ‘You better bail me out, Michelle.’ With a deep breath, Alec hit the lock release. A hiss broke the door open. Stepping through, Alec was assaulted by the immensity of just the entrance. He glanced around, startled, getting a first look at what appeared to be a few officers standing around, checking padds with a long line of other officers in uniform disembarking. ‘Great.’ One of them spotted Alec and frowned. He came striding over to halt, then salute. “I’m Lt. Nathan Peters.” Alec offered a half-hearted salute before catching himself, shooting his arm down. “Ah,” he stammered. Lt. Peters broke out a grin. “It’s okay, sir. You caught us in the middle of shore leave. Captain’s expecting you.” Alec blinked as those words hit home. “Excuse me?” he shot back, picturing his wrists in shackles. A nudge in his feet urged to bolt off the ship. “Uh, the Captain, Commander…?” Alec cut his gape before it became transparent. Not even a moment through the door and already he saw trouble. Why the heck did he listen to Michelle? “Uh, Travine. Alec Travine.” He stuck out his hand, inwardly feeling a rise of panic. ‘What do I do?!’ Peters shook it. “Welcome aboard the USS Odyssey, Cmdr. Travine. Permission to come aboard, granted.” He was sure his smile was plastered. Alec felt the sickly sense of falling down a rabbit hole. Shaking the Lt.’s hand, Alex glanced around the Odyssey, struggling to call up reserves. ‘It’s a stage. Just pretend it’s a stage.’ Slowly, he felt a sense of calm emerge. “Thanks for having me,” he replied. He pointed a finger one way, then the other. Peters laughed again. “Down the hall to your left. Turbolifts are at the end. Captain Damore is in the Ready Room.” ‘Bridge… Ready Room… oh, man…’ Alec couldn’t seem to muster confidence, slinking past the Lt. and down the line of officers waiting to leave. Almost all of them shot to attention, salutes abound. Alec stumbled, glancing at each and every one as a jerky hand moved into a salute. A crawling, oily and snake-skinned cringe enveloped Alec as he made it to the end of the line. It felt so wrong. Stepping around the corner, he glanced behind then ahead. Alone, he abandoned dignity and ran for those turbolifts. ----- The turbolift doors slid open for Alec to peer from the cabin into the bridge, looking around at what was surely senior officer staff currently at station. A convulsion hit him. Dizzy, Alec bowled over, covering his mouth. The officer at com caught Alec, half bent and covering his mouth. Her jaw dropped. “Sir! Are you alright?!” Alec’s head shot up, staring frozen as several heads snapped around, officers stopping on the bridge to look directly at him. His skin felt weak, his lips dry. What in the universe was he doing here?! “J-just a bit of indigestion,” he croaked. What a lame excuse! The com officer stood, coming over to extend a hand. Alec waived her off. “No, that’s okay. I’m alright, really.” She stopped, staring at him as her eyes crinkled. Alec knew. ‘She knows.’ They stared at each other a moment before she suddenly stepped back, nodding to her left. “The Captain’s expecting you,” she said with a smile. Alec pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “You know, I should go down to the doctor and get looked at.” The com officer pointed out the door. “Captain first, ‘Commander’.” Words of doom. Alec glanced at the com officer, then stuck his head out the turbolift door. Gulping, he stepped out into the one place he only knew from the stories his father told at the dinner table. Nodding at other faces, some clearly skeptical, others questioning, he managed to find some kind of masterly gait and approached the Captain’s Ready Room doors. Reaching over to that shiny, tiny button, he scrunched his eyes and pressed it. That voice, both authoritative and welcoming, boomed. “Enter!” The doors slid open and closing his eyes one last time, Alec straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back, and marched through the doors. Guillotine time. His eyes snapped open as he crossed the unforgivable barrier. Act III They swept around what was a very militaristic but with a soft touch room, comfortable temperature, and in spite of circumstance, cozy. Captain Eileen Damore sat at her deck, reviewing a padd. Her eyes glanced upward at Alec, who suddenly remembered to come to attention. Flashing on that row of officers below, he threw the snappiest salute he could muster. “Captain,” he spoke, getting some wind back. She studied him before setting down the padd to relax in her chair. Her lips pursed, a scientist studying a new species. “You’re my new Commander?” she let hang. What was the right thing to say? “I think there may have been a mistake,” Alec began. Not a bad way to start, not good either. “I really should—“ “Start by using the proper form,” Damore cut in. “I prefer ma’am or Captain while on duty.” Standing, she regarded Alec and crossed for a replicator. “Hot Chocolate, and I mean hot!” Turning her head on him, “And you?” Alec held up his hands. “No thank you, uh, ma’am.” Her back was already to him. Alec could hear Captain Damore loud and clear, despite her muttering. “Why Starfleet can’t let me decide who’s my first officer with all these last minute replacements… can you believe it?! Very last second they tell me my First Officer got killed in a shuttle accident on his way over.” Taking a steaming mug, she turned around, moving back. “Well, at least they managed a quick turnaround time.” She stopped mid-stride, closed her eyes, and swung on him to smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even get your name.” It took every ounce of effort Alec had not to give in to his feet’s impulse and bolt out those doors. He covered a cough. “Alec,” he responding, inwardly bracing for the worst. “Alec Travine.” Damore’s eyes flew wide. “As in Admiral Travine? You’re Gerald’s son?” Alec held out his shaking hands. “I-I can explain, ma’am—“ Damore barked a laugh. “They didn’t tell me I was inheriting the Admiral’s son. You’re not going to report me, right?” She winked, heading back to take a seat and drink. Alec stepped forward, rigid. He was in enough trouble. “Ma’am, I really need to explain—“ Damore covered her mouth as her throat bulged. Hitting her chest as her skin turned red, her eyes popped out. She suddenly hunched over clawing at her throat and gargled. Without thinking, Alec leapt. “Captain!” Everything blurred. Not feeling, not realizing, he jumped the desk and hauled Damore up from behind. Locking his arms under hers, he snaked his hands met just above her navel. Heaving, he heard the choke cutting off. He heaved again, moving his hands slightly up for one last Heimlich. He heard a spluttering, and a splash. A gasp of air filled his ears as Alec held on, breathing hard. Moments passed before he zeroed in on his hands, and faster than lightning, plastered against the wall. Images of chains, bars, armed guards, and his own legs braced with those electric things seared his vision. “I’m sorry!” he yelled. “I just acted without thinking!” Damore wiped her mouth. Her skin was peaked red and white. “W-wrong pipe,” she gasped. A faint trace of a smile ghosted her lips. “Not bad for a first day, Cmdr. Travine. I think I’ll keep you.” Alec stared, struck by the emptiness inside. He couldn’t… bowing his head, Alec shuddered. “W-would you believe me if I said I don’t have the first clue what to do?” Why did he do this? “Ma’am?” Damore sat on her desk, nodding. “Every single Commander has uttered those same words. I’ll tell you what I’ve told them. You conduct, you act, you behave in the manner suited to your uniform, perform, produce, decide and reward. Think of it as acting. The best Commanders are actors and directors.” Alec stared, and slowly shook his head. A twitter broke the pause. Turning, Damore hit something on the desk and an image popped up on the monitor screen. Not just any image. A frozen bolt rammed Alec into a pillar. Eyes wide, pasty, he gaped past Captain Damore. Admiral Travine folded his hands on his desk on screen, addressing Damore. “Captain Damore. I apologize for the delay. I’ve dispatched another Commander who should be arriving…” “Just now,” Captain Damore replied, massaging her chest. The elder Travine’s eyes riveted and locked, flaring open. His mouth parted, meeting… …Alec’s own wide, terrified eyes. ‘Oh gods… why did it have to be dad?’ A pregnant pause descended. Alec swallowed and stepped from the wall, placating his hands. “Dad,” he croaked, feeling the ten judges descend. The disgrace he just delivered to his father…“Dad, let me explain-“ That famous crunching jaw worked as Admiral Travine’s eyes formed daggers. “Captain,” he spoke, anger seething, “I apologize. There will be a ‘new’ Commander arriving shortly.” Damore slammed her hands on her desk, leaning for the monitor. “No!” she cracked. “I’ve had it with these last minute changes. Commander Travine here is perfectly capable of filling the role and he’s already performed it admirably, as you might have been replacing me if he hadn’t just acted!” The world collapsed. Alec moved his hands to cover his eyes. Why didn’t the Captain believe he wasn’t an actual Commander?! She wouldn’t even let him tell her! Admiral Travine stared, silent, motionless. Alec dropped his hands, shedding the last of whatever dignity he might have wished with his father. The elder Travine bobbed slightly. “You want him?” he commented acidly. “Just because he’s your son doesn’t mean he’s exempt,” Captain Damore snapped. “With all due respect, Admiral, son or not, he’s now under my command and I request that you stop these last minute changes. Send your next replacement packing. I’ve got my first officer!” It hit with the blast of Martian storm, swaying Alec. The immensity of it all, recalling his father’s words, “You have no idea what it means to wear that uniform.” The sting blinked his eyes as the first of the tears fell, finally understanding what his father meant. Licking his lips, “I’m sorry,” Alec whispered. Louder, “I’m the one who made the mistake, ma’am. I’m really—“ “Not used to a starship,” Admiral Travine cut in, smiling. “He’s been station-side his whole life.” Alec riveted his eyes on his father, then narrowed them. “Don’t even—“ “That’s ‘don’t even, Admiral’ while on duty, ‘Commander,’” Admiral Travine growled, grabbing a padd to scribble. “I’ll recall the replacement, Captain.” Shooting his head at Alec, “And when you get yourself settled, ‘Commander’ Travine, I expect a call at your ‘earliest’ convenience to discuss this matter.” He glared at Damore. “I will personally transfer Alec’s files within the hour. Travine out.” The screen went dark. Alec felt it mirrored the closing of the stage curtain, locking him into a façade. ‘He hooked me. My own father hooked me….’ “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts,” - William Shakespeare “As You Like It” 2/7
  5. ::blink, blink:: What? My spell checker conspired against me?? ::starts munching on the cream pie as he gives MS Word a 'talkin' to::
  6. Hold on a sec, everyone. The key thing to remember here, they’re stories we choose to share. (*smile*) Because end of the day, TPTB don’t need to do this. They do it because it’s fun, and it’s a chance to share our work in what’s suppose to be a fun, friendly competition to encourage a community of writers/simmers. It’s not about who wins (although I’m sure everyone who’s participated is somewhat motivated to win), it’s the process of submitting contributions for everyone to read and enjoy. In life (and I can attest to this personally), I have sheets upon sheets of rejection letters going back to 1986. I’m lucky if I can get any sort of feedback at all (I miss having C.G. editing the stuff I write to sell for me… big time). Believe me, feedback’s a curtousy, so before we complain about something, remember they don’t have to do this. I don’t get it right (probably easily 99% of the time, it’s the 1% that keeps me going, and readers… ). And if it’s constructive criticism we’re after, you need to keep in mind that’s a skill that’s developed with training and education, and a great deal of patience. I’ll make a deal with all of you. If you truly are looking for a constructive forum to grow and learn from on what you’d like out of the feedback, I’ll ask FlAdm. Wolfe to set up a subforum and I’ll do it after the deadlines (meaning, entries are all in and in process of judging). I’m not always a hundred percent right, and I do get a few things wrong, but I’m a much better coverage report writer on other works than mine. Heck, you can even disassemble anything I write and comment on what works or didn’t work. The only thing I ask in return: I need quotes from you simmers here in SB118 for an article I’m working on. Fun, friendly quotes on your experience with SB118. What say you, fair ladies and gents?
  7. Ever have one of those moments where you want to be that fly on the wall listening to what the Judges' are saying to each other? (*wry grin*) Let's see what we can all come up with this round and give 'em a harder run...
  8. Hmm... interesting concept. I'll have to give it some thought. BTW... Was away for the last week so I didn't get a chance to congratulate Julia and Ben on their stories before the topic went away. (*smile*)
  9. Uh huh... I know that look. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's going to be some great work
  10. Reflected A metallic echo. The child’s eyes snapped open. Covers went one way and he went the other, on his toes as he snuck for the moonlit window. Through it, the blinking lights of a city. He snuck a glance out and down, spotting a group of men and women outside. He couldn’t make out the uniforms, but he knew what they were: police. He could hear the door, its squeaky, un-oiled hinges when his mother’s voice floated up. “What do you want?!” One of the police, a sharp-eyed man, stepped forward to flash something small and glittery. The moonlight bounced off it. “You know why we’re here,” he spoke. The child heard the voice and it burned… like a sizzling lightbulb before popping. “No. Please!” Two words. The last two words he heard his mom speak as the child flung himself against the wall under his window, eyes squeezed shut as he prayed. ‘Please don’t take my mom away. Please.’ He finally dared to sneak a peak back out the window- and the man with the shiny thing stopped and snapped his head around, then up at him. The child stepped back into his room, watching the man in the street turn and head after the people who took his mom. The back of the man’s image froze. Brody studied the frozen hologram on his portable unit, studying the face of the man that took his life away, before shutting off the device. He caught a glimpse off the store window of the foot traffic through the promenade. Hurrying off, he strode into the middle of a tourist group, keeping his eyes on the back of a man walking alone ahead. A man who suddenly turned into another corridor. Brody snuck around and darted after the man, slowing his pace as he spotted what he hoped was his prey. The lanky, eighteen years old Brody made of muscle and wire dipped into a side pouch, pulling the small phaser as he closed the gap, until finally breathing down the man’s neck. He pressed the phaser into the small of the man’s back. “Don’t move,” he breathed, still walking with the man in the Starfleet uniform. “Keep walking.” He felt the man stiffen slightly, but otherwise everything was smooth. The man [...]ed his head to the side to meet Brody’s eyes. Blue eyes, sharp and narrowed, like in the recording. “You don’t want to do this,” the man spoke. The voice was only a touch rougher, but it matched the voice on Brody’s holo-recording. He shoved the phaser into the man’s back, keeping it locked as he walked just off side behind. “Yes,” Brody replied, “I do.” A SINGLE ROOM SPACE Brody shoved the man through the door and came in, keeping the phaser trained on the Starfleet uniform as he swung a fist against the lock panel. A sizzle and pop sparked out bits of fire. He motioned the man to a lone chair in the middle of the bare room. The brown haired, blue eyed man calmly walked to the chair and sat, facing Brody. He folded his hands in his lap, kicking a leg up. “So now what?” he asked in that irritating, calm voice. Brody took a step forward, quivering the phaser at the man. “The worst day of your life,” he spat, trying to control himself. A quick death was too easy. “Tell me your name.” The man shrugged. “Does it matter?” “It matters to me!” Brody yelled. A streak of red flew and burned a hole in the floor between the man’s feet. The man’s eyes darted at the hole and flickered to Brody in a fraction of a second. “Don’t miss,” was all the man said. Brody blinked and nearly tripped taking a step back. His eyes darted to the lone window, barred and reinforced with laser shielding. He finally looked back at the man in the chair. He didn’t mean to sound weak. His own voice betrayed him. “Will you please tell me your name?” Those sharp, piercing eyes focused on him. “Cody,” he finally replied. “That would Lt. David Cody, Starfleet.” A ray of hope broke. He was one step closer. Brody broke a smile as he re-aimed the phaser at Cody’s chest. “Well, Mr. high and mighty David Cody, Lt. of Starfleet. Looks like your past finally caught up to you.” Cody merely relaxed like a man at a bar, talking over a drink. “I don’t seem to recall a slight against you. What’s this about?” “Figures,” Brody spat, moving in but keeping his distance. “You probably forgot all about me.” Licking his lips, “Tell me, do you like destroying the lives of the people you come across? HUH?!” He brandished the phaser at the man’s face. Cody met Brody’s brown eyes with his cold, unyielding blue ones. “If they’re guilty, I bring them in. It goes with the job, son.” He launched himself at Cody and grabbed the man’s hair, yanking Cody’s head back. He stuck the phaser under the man’s chin pointing upward. Cody didn’t move, merely kept his hands in his lap. “She wasn’t guilty of anything, you arrogant [...]! You took her! You took her away from me!” “If you’re going to shoot, then shoot,” was all Cody said. Brody’s fingers curled over the button, still yanking on Cody’s hair. He wanted to… so badly, and the man was encouraging him! Cody must know he was guilty if he was asking Brody to shoot him! He pressed the phaser harder into the man’s chin, trying desperately hard to stop his hand from shaking… moving his finger on top of the button. And shoved Cody’s head forward jumping out of the way, walking fast back for the damaged and sealed door before spinning around, re-aiming the phaser. “I HATE YOU!” Brody roared. Again, the man named Cody didn’t flinch. He merely recrossed his legs in his lap, studying the young man. “Do you want me to tell you why you didn’t shoot?” he asked simply. Brody snorted. He knew he was visibly shaking. But he still had the phaser… “Sure,” he snorted. “You tell me, Mr. Policeman.” “Because you’re scared, for one,” Cody replied in that calm voice of his. Didn’t the man ever get [...]ed off? “And two, you want something. That’s the only reason why you didn’t just kill me back in the hall.” Cody’s eyes closed halfway. “Why don’t you tell me what is it you think I can give you.” Brody hit the wall staring after the man, the man who haunted his waking and sleeping moments every day for the past five years, and started to laugh without sound. It was like some weird holo-simulation, but everything was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be the weak one, Cody was. He had him! He had the weapon, the man in a room that couldn’t be broken out of, and alone. He was in charge, not this excuse for a human! “I want my mom back,” Brody finally croaked. “Right now, this very instant.” Springing away from the wall, he stomped toward the officer. “Where is she?!” Cody [...]ed his head at Brody, disregarding the phaser. “Do you have any idea how many mothers I’ve arrested?” “TRY THIS ONE!” Brody screamed, whipping out his portable holo-imager and flinging into Cody’s chest. It bounced off the man’s chest into the lap as an image sprung out, a dark-haired woman with sad, rounded eyes in the middle of a doorway. Her hands flew to her cheeks. ‘No. Please!’ Cody stared directly into the woman’s image flashing. FIVE YEARS AGO A younger David Cody stood among the local constable and watched with a certain detachment as the young woman was led out from the house. He waited with the patience of a man who had seen it before and would hear it again, clinical interest as two of the constables entered the opened door to the house. They emerged moments later and held up the padd. “Got it,” one of them commented. “Let’s go,” Cody said. He made sure the constables left before him and stepped for the door to pull it shut. Descending back to the cobbled sidewalk, he started after the party before he paused. A pin-[...]le of sensation rippled the back of his neck and he snapped his head around, then up— --where the head of a small boy watched from the window and stepped back into the shadow. Cody stopped, lingering in the middle of the darkened street watching the window above… then turned after the party taking the mother away. His image suddenly froze. A SINGLE ROOM SPACE Cody studied his own image of his back in the holo-imager, then tossed it back at Brody. “Lena Korosk. The boy in the window. Her son, Brody.” It hit the floor, still broadcasting Cody’s frozen back. “So he finally remembers,” Brody broke, hearing the cracking in his own voice. He stared down his destroyer, at the single man who took everything from him, and raised the phaser back up. His hand was surprisingly calm. “Give her back to me.” And he finally saw something in that cold, remorseless face. Cody’s eyes closed, and didn’t reopen for a long moment. Gone was the piercing, penetrating stare, that irritating irrelevance the man still had after five years of searching for him. Cody regarded Brody for another silent moment before he spoke. “I can’t do that,” he replied softly. “Lena Korosk is dead. She died the day after her arrest. I’m sorry, Brody.” “Then I guess you’re dead too,” Brody threw out, flippant. Aiming as: “My death won’t bring Lena back from the dead,” Cody stated, matter-of-fact. “All it will accomplish is a life sentence at a Starfleet Penal Colony. You don’t know what you saw that night, Brody.” Tears burned his skin, streaking down from his eyes. Pain, so much pain with the words that cut through him like a knife. He saw Cody then as he saw the man now, bringer of death, destroyer of families, ruthless as he needed to be now. Sniffing, Brody wiped his eyes. “Yes,” he cried, “I do.” Cody stood up from the chair. Backing away, Brody aimed. “Not another step! I mean it!” he yelled. The man regarded him for a moment then walked around Brody, heading for the broken door. He turned with Cody, following him with the phaser every step of the way. “Stop! STOP!” And Cody did. He turned his head on Brody, still the same calm and indifference etched into the man’s skin. “I’m going out this door,” Cody said simply. “You choose whether or not you’re going to kill me. Because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me.” “It’s broke,” Brody laughed, still crying. At this Cody did smile. It was not a pleasant one. “Do you really think that can stop someone like me?” He continued to the door and knelt to examine the smashed lock panel to the side, then stuck his fingers in. Brody moved the phaser to Cody’s back, stepping up as the man started crossing wires. Still crying, moving in and out and re-grasping the phaser. He wanted to… so badly. Why didn’t he just shoot?! He aimed, and re-aimed, and his finger wouldn’t just depress the button that would take the life of the man who took his. “Don’t you even care what you did?” he whispered at the man’s back. At this Cody turned around as the door slid open. “And what exactly did I do, Brody?” He couldn’t stop the tears from falling. How could Cody be so cold? “You killed her,” he continued through his tears. “You killed the only family I had.” Cody shook his head. “You didn’t listen. I never said that.” “Yes, you did.” Cody approached him, holding out his hand. “No. I told you that Lena Korosk was dead. I did not kill her.” He aimed in point-blank between Cody’s eyes. “But you’re the one who took her away. That makes you responsible.” It took Brody a moment to realize he was pointing an empty hand at the man. He stared at his fingers, his palm, and felt his legs sinking beneath him. He hit the floor on his knees and wailed the cry of a broken man, shielding the world from the tears that burned. A horrid, wretching sensation building in the back of his throat. “Nnnooooooooo….” Removing his hands, Brody stared up to see Cody’s back heading through the door. A animal whine broke through his lips, spotting the same frozen image lying on its side on the floor. Cody turned his head back, stopping outside. “Are you coming or not?” he asked. Shaking, Brody stared up at the face of the man, those cold, uncaring eyes that reflected nothing. “There’s nowhere to go,” he whispered. Cody shook his head. “You still didn’t listen.” ONE WEEK LATER He was nervous, walking alongside his Judas and looking behind him, taking in the street and the traffic around. Cody stopped suddenly in the middle of the path and shoved his hands into the black jumpsuit he wore. Brody stopped with him, staring at the man. Cody nodded ahead. Following the man’s gaze, Brody’s eyes landed on a door. He couldn’t stop trembling and felt a fresh wave of tears building. He looked at Cody, who nodded him on again. Taking a step away, Brody headed for the door and stopped. A spasm rippled his body and he tried to calm himself, looking back at the man again. “Go on,” Cody said. Turning back to the door, Brody raised his hand and knocked. The door opened a few moments later as an older woman looked out. There was some gray in her otherwise black hair, a pigmentation change to the color of her skin, and dark eyes which were the only things he recognized. Gaping, Brody couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he stammered, “Mom?” Lena’s hands flew to her mouth as her eyes widened. “Brody?” She suddenly lunged out the door, wrapping her arms around him and burying his head into her shoulder. “OH MY GOD! THEY SAID THEY COULDN”T FIND YOU!” Feeling her arms around him, he wailed into her shoulder, raising his head just in time to catch a mirror hanging off the wall just inside. Captured in its mirror reflection, David Cody turned his back and walked away.
  11. A big congratulations to our winner here and everyone for some well executed, very diverse and complex stories. It's reading everyone else's submissions that's the real reward, the opportunity to see the voices who craft the stories. And I'm looking forward to reading more, so let's all come back and share more in the next round-- and bring more voices. But thank you... I'm a little surprised since there were so many excellent stories this round!
  12. Good luck to everyone! Some excellent work here...
  13. I'm now thoroughly irritated with the language filter... there were no swear words in that story. There are two instances where the filter took individual letters out of completely different and appropriate words... not cool.
  14. The clang of rampant noise and the red lights frightened Orola, jumping up from the cramped confinements of the space. She had a cot for a bed, a porcelain bowl for sanitary functions and a tiny faucet to drink metallic-recycled water. Ignoring the mess of her hair and the few s[...]s of clothes she wore (the same clothes she had on Rigel VIII), she didn’t know why the light in the room glowed like two suns bent on racing each other, or the awful banshee noise that rattled her skin. All she knew… all she felt… was the worst had happened. The noise cut itself off, for which Orola was glad. It hurt her ears, which she was told was similar to Terran ears. Varek, the Ferengi who had come to the spaceport, who sat with his jowls of fat and roared a manic cackle under the dim lights and smoke-filled neon blue of the dance cages… whose ear fetish she never quite understood, told her up front this might happen. She wasn’t going back! She couldn’t! Her talon-like claws at the tip of her fingers reached into her hair and scratched vigorously. She winced, feeling the trickle of blood seep into her hair, but she didn’t care. Whirling around, she bumped into the sink and cried out before shoving a fist into her mouth… knowing what she had just done. She broke the rule. Voices broke out above her head. Orola swung her head to the ceiling; like a coiled snake she sometimes used in her dance maneuvers, pipes carried the low grumble of the engine during the long sojourns of snores and that fiendish cackling she grew to hate over the last few days. She flung herself into the cot and pulled a ratted blanket over her, burying herself into it. Varek would come… someone would have heard her cry. Sound carried in a way she did not understand here… not the velvet acoustic she associated with the speakers of the dance cage… or the soft amber moans of men who lay both above and beneath her… this was different. This was angry! This was pain… A hiss and a glare flashed through the thin blanket that hid her. Orola couldn’t help but shiver. The movement would draw attention. Varek the Ferengi would shout and say it was all her fault! She bit off another cry as she heard footsteps, each one a bell of her impending doom… a tug on the blanket— “Come on out of there.” She gasped. The voice… not harsh, but melodious. The timber and pitch, almost music… she yanked the blanket hard back over her shuddering, imaging the lashes of the cold, cruel leather strap- ‘No! They do not do that here!’ The blanket was ripped away. Orola bolted upright and swayed with the motion of the cot, shielding her human-shaped body over assets Verek drooled moisture from that awful voice of his. Her other hand shielded her eyes, somewhat blinded by the light behind the harmonious voice of the figure that stood before her, blocking the door. She could just see fat Varek standing just outside the door, neck on fire with smoldering eyes focused on the man’s back. The man suddenly knelt. He wasn’t a tall man, but rugged, broad, almost like her masters— “What’s your name?” the unnamed male said, bringing his sharp, detail-focused eyes on her. She watched those eyes take in every inch of her, and felt exposed… but not in the way she was used to. Attempting to scamper from those scrutinizing eyes, she only succeeded feeling her gorge rise to her throat and coughed off a reply. A hand shot out, steadying her. “It’s alright… please, tell me your name,” the man (a Terran!) repeated. Orola could see him a bit better now. Brown hair, sharp blue eyes, the crisp and formal uniform of… ‘Starfleet!’. Orola tripped throwing herself over the side of the cot and plastered herself on the floor. Remaining against the ground, she raised her head— into the curious and somewhat mysterious gaze of the Starfleet stranger before her. She moistened her mouth and poised her claws. “No…” she whispered. “Please…” The Starfleet stranger offered his hand. “You don’t have anything to worry about, miss. It’s this scu-,” the stranger cut himself off to twist his torso backwards, looking out the opened door. “Transporting slaves, Verek?” And that rough, high-pitched wheeze of a sound came roaring back. “You know I would never do such a thing, Cody! YOU… of all Terrans! We took you in! We nursed you, like a baby! Taught you our ways! This is how you thank us?! Accusing me of trafficking slaves?!” The man named Cody stood up and turned around. Orola didn’t dare look up. Instead she buried her head under her arms, wrapping them around her. She heard the Terran male’s voice… this Cody’s voice… roar through her shaking arms. “Where is she on your passenger manifest, Varek? Show me the logs! You were attempting to sneak her through Federation space! And in that!” The sting of tears swept over Orola’s eyes as she blinked. That voice! Oh my… even angry it was beautiful! How much she wanted to hear a Terran voice, listen to their sounds and dance to their beat! She was Terran in appearance! “Simply a misunderstanding! She was in the passenger logs, Cody! I swear she was! Someone must have made a filing error-“ “Don’t even try that with me.” She felt his hands on her arms. Warm! His fingers, ever so gentle sliding to the underside of her biceps and she swooned. He was picking her up! Orola took her arms away to stare into that sharp focused pair of blues on the Cody man and shivered, hating herself for it. He was guiding her for the door! “NO!” Orola tore herself away and flung herself back into her tiny world… the only world she had until Varek got her back to his homeworld. “PLEASE!” The Cody man stared at her for a moment, then swung his head around on Varek, who attempted a half-hearted smile and a shrug. “Well,” Varek started… and trailed off. The Cody man motioned with one of his clipped fingers. Two more Starfleet people, a swooning black haired woman and a tall, burly man came forward and hiked Varek three feet off the ground. He abruptly turned back to her, extending his hand. “We’re not going to hurt you,” he started. Orola backed further into her world, shaking her head. “No… please. You can’t!” His hand held firm, held out in the open to her. It wasn’t aggressive, it was not passive. It just hovered there. “You don’t know what he was planning to do,” the Cody man replied calmly. And oooh! Those eyes, soft and yielding, despite the hard ridges. As if he could see the sum of the life she had lived… “Please… take my hand.” She caught herself extending her own talon-nailed hand out to his, feeling the pulsing veins under that pink skin of his… felt his fingers wrap around hers and guide… not force… guide her to him. She shivered, lost in the touch and slightly offered a prayer of thanks to the gods for bringing such a beautiful, divine and songful voice into her arms. ---------- Cody guided the green-skinned Orion woman wearing clothes that belonged in an incinerator out of the storage closet, a close eye on those talons that could easily rip through his skin. He truly wanted to do some serious damage to Varek, amazed he was able to keep his fury off his usual stone-faced expression. She finally came. He could see the tense, powerful muscle lurking beneath that exotic, alluring skin that captured the thoughts and dreams of all races alike. Beneath the dirt and grime, she was extraordinarily beautiful. “Will you tell me your name, now?” he asked, a soft smile playing on his lips. ‘Play to her sensuality.’ It was a cold and calculated thought, but a necessary one. The Orion blossomed a smile, coming out of the closet. “Orola,” she replied. Her body language was coy… they were playing on her turf now. “Beautiful name,” Cody coated, inwardly hating himself for playing this game with Orola. He coxed her down the hall, where ahead the two Starfleet officers carried a protesting Varek. “You must be quite something.” Orola snaked her arm into his, falling into step as she swung extremely round and wide eyes on his features. He watched her eyes travel over his expression, landing on his mouth, which struck Cody somewhat odd. “Your voice is harmony,” she confessed, peering closer at his mouth. “I could dance to it.” Cody missed a step on that one… he searched Orola briefly with a penetrating gaze, attempting to gage her interpretation. He could feel the tips of her talons barely s[...]ing at his arm… a feeling not entirely unpleasant, but extremely dangerous if she lashed out. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before,” he commented wryly, offering her a rare smile. “But it is!” Orola suddenly exploded, and leaped in front of his path. Cody stopped, momentarily finding himself at the scrutiny of what was surely an Orion dancer, the grace of fluid motion he couldn’t even follow. She peered up at him and reached a hand for his cheek. It took every once of will to keep himself calm, expressionless, and motionless as her claws tickled the corners of his mouth, traced his mouth line. She stepped closer to him… her warm, moist breath sending tremors. “I love it… I always wanted to hear a Terran…” He didn’t breathe easier until Orola lowered her hand, even closer than he remembered. She was a shorter than him, tilting her head up to look into his eyes. “Everything about you is beautiful,” she confessed, diminutive suddenly. ‘Oh boy,’ came Cody’s thought. This was the exactly last thing he needed in his life right now. Dead-pan, he matched her eyes as the common phrase he told every woman escaped his lips. “So you’re volunteering,” he commented, unable to keep the mirth out from his voice. Before he could blink, Orola jumped straight into his arms and he felt her talons poised right into his back as she hugged him, beaming at him. He felt a swift response in a place he definitely did not want. “Yes!” she gushed. “I want to!” Orola’s mouth was uncomfortably close, wrapping one of her arms around Cody’s neck. She brought her mouth closer, nearly tickling his own. “I can please you… I can.” she breathed, swinging her wide, opened eyes up on him. He felt her entire body tense up suddenly. “I… I want children…” Cody swung a hand around and gently pulled Orola’s arm off his neck, keeping close until he could manage a bit of distance. His cheeks burned as he sought the void to fuel the rampant hormones that were intoxicating him. He understood why Vulcans had such a command over their own emotions, enough to live with the cold, hard logic of fact he was delivering. Orola looked after Cody as he stepped away from her, steeling himself. Looking past her at the turbolift door at the end of the hall in Varek’s ship, he saw both Starfleet officers, along with an extremely anxious Varek, watching the exchange. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I think it might be better if another officer took you to our ship.” ---------- The world was crashing around her. ‘No!’ It was a silent, crushing, heartbreaking no that screamed through her as the Cody man stepped away. And he didn’t even understand! She wanted this! It screamed with every fiber of her being, and here he was suggesting that it must be someone else! She stepped after, sticking out her hand. “No…” she whispered… she could taste him! Every part of him… his unfeeling eyes she knew had passion behind them, that scruff exterior skin that didn’t flinch at her talons… he was the one! “I really think it would be for the best,” the Cody man replied softly, musically… it swooned her to the very core of her being! He didn’t know… he didn’t have to know! He wanted her… she knew he did, no matter how hard he tried to bury it. She could bring it out… the love, pain and the suffering she heard in those wonderful tones. “Please!” Orola begged, another step closer. She wanted to feel his touch again, everywhere, over her, through her… she didn’t want it to stop. “I can… I just have to go with Varek briefly.. but I’ll be there! I promise! Every day! Please… don’t leave…” The Cody man lowered his head. She could see his eyes were snapped shut and muttering something she couldn’t discern. He finally raised his head to her, all traces of whatever lurked within him gone. Stone… his face was made of stone. “Another officer is going to take you back to our ship. We’ll get in touch with the Orion Ambassador—“ Orola went rigid at the mention of the name and slowly backed away, feeling her jaw betray her. Shaking her head, “No… no….” Whirling, she stared down the hall at Varek. “NO! YOU PROMISED! YOU CAN”T TAKE ME BACK! VAREK!” Cody’s hands were back, holding hers behind her back. She could feel her own talons against her skin as Orola lashed out, kicking and screaming, shaking her head. “CODY, NO! I LOVE YOU! I PROMISE! I HAVE TO GO WITH VAREK FIRST! CODY!” He didn’t answer her. All she felt was his strong, unyielding hands guiding her down the hall for those dreaded doors… those doors that would send her straight back into the hell that awaited her. “CODY, PLEASE! I CAN’T GO BACK! I CAN’T! THEY’LL KILL ME!” His musical voice finally wavered. “I’m sorry, Orola. I have no choice.” Pain… the tears seared her skin as she continued kicking out, dragging them, holding them off. She couldn’t go through that door! She thrashed, yanking her arms to and from, hoping she could break those endearing and wonderful hands off her as they came closer and closer to the other two Starfleet officers, holding Varek in the lift. She met eyes with Varek, and truly, finally, saw those calculating and un-sounding Ferengi eyes sing a sad tune. “Don’t do it, Cody,” Varek said softly. “They’ll kill her.” “You know I can’t do that, Varek,” Cody’s voice sang behind her. They were at the doors now. Orola pushed herself back against the love and planted her feet firm on either side of the door, thrusting back into him. ‘Oh, please, Cody!’ she silently screamed. “No,” Varek urged. His eyes met hers, and she felt silent alarms ring. “You don’t understand… what she is.” Orola stopped, letting her feet hit the floor as she watched everything collapse in the space of a heartbeat. She pleaded Varek, those tiny Ferengi eyes weighing her as if he were weighing a bar of latinum. “NO! Varek, don’t tell him! Please! I want him… I want his children!” Varek swung his head down, refusing to look at her. He finally looked up past Orola and she just knew; her savior… her betrayer. She folded, bursting out in fresh tears feeling the warmth, touch and harmony of the man she wanted life with, this Cody man behind her. “She’s a clone, Cody.” The pressure against Orola stopped. She wretched her arms away from Cody with a resounding cry and crashed on her knees, bawling out while hiding her eyes from the world the Cody man took her into. “No…” she managed between cries. “Don’t tell him…” “She paid me to take her out of Orion,” Varek’s trembling voice replied. “I know some people… who could solve Orola’s problem…” All of her hopes, her desires, her life goal and dreams with the Cody man went with it… in that same warm, soft, musical tone she wanted so desperately to remain the rest of her life with. It didn’t matter! It shouldn’t matter! She knew him! She knew this Cody man. He wouldn’t let that one thing stand between them! He wasn’t like the rest… The Cody man’s voice came, “…you … you know the LAW, VAERK! YOU KNOW!” “I KNOW CLONES AREN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE CHILDREN!” roared Varek’s bitter, hollow voice. “BUT SHE’S INNOCENT, CODY! SHE DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS LIFE! I KNOW YOU! I KNOW YOU FEEL THE SAME AS I…” “Noho…” Orola broke, hearing it in the Cody man’s voice. “I WANT CHILDREN… it’s not fair… IT’S NOT FAIR! I’M REAL! I’M REAL, CODY! I’M JUST AS REAL AS YOU!” She sniffed, feeling build-up, and coughed, still crying. Her stomach hurt… a horrible wrenching that shook the rest of her and wouldn’t let go. “Please… I love you. I want to have your children…” Silence. Quivering, Orola shook, rocking herself. “Cody, please…” Why didn’t he answer?! And more silence. “Please,” she whispered, feeling a cold, emptiness where her heart should have been. Why didn’t her love answer her? “Please…” ---------- And Cody still said nothing as the Security Officers lifted Orola off the floor and into the turbolift. He leaned against the bulkhead as the doors closed and crossed his arms, staring at the floor, alone. Completely stone, a mask of cold steel. He rubbed an arm over his nose and bowed his head. Snapping his eyes shut, Cody lingered in her scent. Orola… a fruit born from a poisoned tree… His eyes broke open with a flood of tears… the only form of redemption he could offer her. He shielded his face. The tears, the broken-down silent cry of a man sworn to obey the laws that governed her, his guilt… were just as poisonous. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, haunted by echoes of Orola’s cry.
  15. Wow... I wasn't even thinking I was going to get an honorable mention. There was a bunch of truly brilliant stories here. Seriously. I was reading everyone else's and thinking I would not want to be a judge on this... a ton of great material from a powerful group of writers. Thanks. Look forward to reading more stories from you guys! Congratualations to everyone! (PS. How do you stick that image on this thing? )
  16. ::mutters to himself about forgetting to drop in the arrow again::
  17. Sorry. I forgot to drop in the symbol that states this is done.
  18. Hope this isn't coming too late at the end... thought I might contribute.
  19. This Bitter Aftertaste - by David Cody Stardate 238010.04 – 12:00hrs The hiss. David Cody [...]ed his head and listened, the oxygen that fueled the connecting corridor from the ship to the Mars Colony starbase and stopped in the middle of walking pedestrians to lift his head and sniff. Processed and pressurized Oxygen, with a faint tint of wetness. That meant water-based processing. A welcome relief from the recycled air which always left a bitter aftertaste. Armed with a beat-up duffel bag, Cody hiked the rest of the corridor and left through the opened doors into the main bustle of Starfleet and galaxy commerce, ignoring most around him. His next stop was at a window, overlooking the sweeping red carbonized dirt that defined Mars, the slight whirls of dirt that blew off the ground revealed a slight wind (opposed to the storm tornadoes that ripped across the world, sometimes lasting up to months before settling off). It was here, overlooking the planet through the window that Cody thought about what coming home meant. And he felt nothing, exactly the same feeling when he left nearly six years ago. Home, he had discovered, is where you are at any given moment. We are, ultimately, based on carbon and oxygen. He felt nothing else, and he knew he should, given the nature of why he returned. He caught a glimpse of the boots, well-worth with hundreds of particles that mapped his journey. His hands clenched briefly, thinking of the worlds and trade routes Tvatec took him on in the past two years. He still could picture the Ferengi, grossly overweight and never without gold jewelry which overpowered the tattered cloak the Ferengi wore everywhere, the faint red outlines of the ears which distinguished Tvatec from other Ferengi. A small smile broke. ‘Details individualize.’ Was he steeling himself for the inevitable? Cody left the window and proceeded through the staff, tourist, and shore-leave crowd, weaving through as a man born to the land. His next destination wasn’t far. Starfleet Headquarters for Mars Colony compromised the upper levels of the Colony complex and the floor in particular was Floor 11. Starfleet Medical Examiner’s Office 12:47hrs She was beautiful, the earmarks of her Betazoid heritage wearing a doctor’s uniform. Cody caught the namebadge pinned to her blue coat: A. Kenzellete. Curly black hair fell to her mid-back as she led Cody through the Medical Floor and down one of the many stainless steel corridors. He left his bag at the locker rooms, following while observing Starfleet Medical staff walking to and from closed door offices and examination rooms. Chief Medical Examiner Kenzellete stopped at a door and glanced back at him. Dark, slightly oval retinas studied him. On the wall above, there was a sign: “Morgue”. “Are you ready?” she asked, the tones of her accent suggested a region in the southern hemisphere of her home planet, Betazoid. Cody merely nodded. She entered the Morgue. Cody followed while the florescent lights snapped on in the entry. Clear tables of chrome greeted them. She proceeded for a wall of square metal doors and typed on a keypad for two of them. They slid open, silent as the room, with two white sheets laid over bodies. Cody stepped up between the two beds next to Kenzellete and regarded each form. “Let’s see them,” he simply said. Kenzellete pulled the white sheets off, revealing the bodies of a middle-aged couple resting with closed eyes. Nothing evidental on appearance. They could have been sleeping. The man bore a direct resemblance to Cody, being his father, Barnes Cody, with sheet grey hair and a smooth complexion. The woman on the other bed, his mother Barbara Jennet-Cody, a smooth unbroken face known to a few worlds. Cody nodded. “It’s them.” Kenzellete typed in another command. The beds slid back into the wall to let the chrome squares slide back and lock. She turned to him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cody.” “What did the autopsy reveal?” Cody asked promptly, examining the room. At this Kenzellete hesitated, a quick glance down at her feet. “The results were ultimately inconclusive to cause of death,” she finally admitted, squeezing past Cody and heading for a terminal. She typed a moment to bring up the file. Cody came over to take a look, leaning past Kenzellete to read the summaries. “Nothing?” his voice dropped, obvious disbelief. “No physiological symptoms, no foreign chemicals, no abnormal energy readings. They simply just died.” Even Kenzellete didn’t believe it. She ran the autopsy again, at least four or five times, unwilling to accept two normal, healthy people into their golden years simply passed away. Cody snorted. “Impossible.” “But not entirely improbable,” Kenzellete countered, watching Cody’s reaction. The man was stone cold, simply reading the reports. She expected an outburst, but he did nothing. It was worse than she imagined. A griever, she knew, would cope. She saw, perhaps more clearly than the Ferengi Tvatec, what kind of man Cody was and it made her shiver. ‘Please,’ came the sudden thought. ‘Get mad. Yell. Break things. Give me something that’ll make me feel better.’ She knew right then Cody would never let this go, and a secret part of her was glad, as well as sad. She had done all she could. “How does two healthy indivudals simply just die?” Cody remarked, oddly clinical. He didn’t know how else to be. The shock discovering his parents were dead should have seized him, but didn’t. All he could think of is what kind of physical evidence was at the scene. He could picture it, he knew the room since he grew up in the house. A museum of artifacts; statues and paintings his parents collected as leisure from various parts of the galaxy. The room temperature was never above 58 degrees. “Any trace evidence?” It was a term he discovered researching Earth’s history, paying particular attention to the 20th and 21st centuries in forensic research. A Vulcan scientist he met on one of Tvatec’s legitimate trade runs asked Cody how he managed to get from the Ice Rings of Hellard to the tropical gardens of Utez. Cody had blinked then laughed, asking how the Vulcan had known. The Vulcan, one S’ven by name, pointed at Cody’s boots. “Solar ice particles are embedded in the boot print, the coloration of white-blue suggests ice rings. It became obvious you had, at some point, come into contact. Since ice rings of planets are abundant, I simply observed other evidence. Those, in particular, have a yellowish tint, which is more distinct to five ice ring planets. A tiny fleck of gold individualizes your particular ice ring. Hellard.” Cody was impressed. “And Utez?” he threw out. The Vulcan swerved his emotionless face at Cody, without a trace of a smile. “Simple. Your clothes have an aroma of the species aesoterraphim, which is only local to the soil of Utez within twenty parsecs.” And examining the summery reports on his parents, Cody did not find a single fiber in or about the house, or on his parents, that suggested anything. Which was in itself a clue. Someone had taken the time to remove every single piece of trace evidence in the house. “They were killed,” he said softly. Kenzellete whipped her head around on him, hair flying with eyes wide. “What makes you say that?” “Locard’s Rule,” came Cody’s reply. “In every crime scene, there is an exchange of evidence between the perpetrator and the victim or the locale itself, however minute… or in this case, the lack of thereof.” Recoiling, Kenzellete stumbled back, looking between her summery and Cody. “I can’t list that…” she said. “Not without some kind of evidence to suggest that possibility.” Cody blinked at her, a complete mask. She couldn’t tell if he felt anything. He examined her for a moment and sniffed slightly. His eyes darted about her person before locking on hers. “The perfume is Solis, a hint of cherry blossom and poinette. Your hands are callosed. You didn’t accomplish that in Medical. You play an instrument, a string instrument… violin, I would think. You were married once, but it didn’t last. He left for someone younger. It’s evident the way the imprint around your left forth finger is established. It was yanked off.” Kenzellete hit the other wall away from Cody and stared, wide-eyed, back at him feeling stripped. And she hated it… she felt a sudden urge to lash out at him, attack him! There was no cause to dissect her! Cody nodded and strolled for the Morgue door. Watching him go, Kenzellete muttered under her breath and tried to get herself under control. She was furious… and amazed, as much as she hated to admit it… and she bit the tip of her tongue as a grudging admiration settled in her stomach. Looking after him, “Wait…” At the door, Cody twisted around to look at her. Calming herself, Kenzellete stepped away from the wall and slowly approached. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t modify the report, but I need something more than lack of evidence, Cody. Gods… you’re probably right, though.” “It doesn’t do any good either way,” Cody remarked, “unless there is a witness or information that could be obtained by listing it as a homicide.” He straightened to survey the Morgue. “’Pologize. Didn’t mean to put you on the defense.” He let the door slide open and stepped through. “Hey, Cody!” He stopped and looked back at Kenzellete again, standing in the middle of the room. She had a habit of moistening her lips, he noticed. Nervous energy. This one’s important. “Yes?” he asked politely. “…did… would you consider joining Starfleet?” she finally asked. Cody blinked. He had just stepped off a Ferengi trader ship he bribed to drop him off here. Two years he felt was enough payment for a slip of the tongue. There was several reasons that leapt to mind to refute her request, at top the mystifying circumstances surrounding his parents’ death, and instantly regretted he didn’t find out when they died. But… despite what he might or might not inherit, the vast resources of Starfleet were known for their scientific research. It was… an interesting notion. And sometimes Cody knew he had to act on notions, whether he agreed with them or not. He grunted, relaxing his posture. “Any particular reason?” he asked. At this Kenzellete flashed him a tightly controlled smile. It was a complex response, in Cody’s eyes. Both professional, and he suspected something else. “I was just thinking you’d make one hell of a scientific investigator,” she replied. 13:58 It stood among the shops, the carnies, the fragrances, the exotics among the strip along Junction J-2G. There was no sign, no prominence, glass or glitter. It was a simple office unit of mirrored glass displaying trade rates throughout the systems. Cody studied his reflection in the mirror and watched the colors of life pass by on errands, zipping to and from. He knew he had to go here, even though it was a bitter aftertaste. Logic leads from one point to the next, and reflecting on what Dr. Kenzellete remarked to him back in the Medical Examiner’s office resonated with him. oO One hell of a scientific investigator. Yeah, right. Oo He stepped up to let the doors slide open and proceed into the office unit, the tan brown carpet, the marbled walls and leather couches to give it that extra ‘special’ touch to leave the impression every person mattered… ‘and they did.’ Remarkably, nothing seemed to have changed. He spotted a black haired razor, a striking blue-eyed runway model he expected to find on a holo-vid seated at one of the stations. He counted five, five holographic windows with trade delegates shouting through the interfacing. He studied her face, feeling entranced. She wasn’t a beautiful woman on second glance. The angles of her ridge were off-set, the nose, hooked. Little imperfections that made her all the more real to him… Cody never believed in the “perfection” progression. Before he moved, the woman swung around to him. Five different mics poised near her mouth as she continued. Pulling one away, those hawkish blue eyes pierced him. “Welcome to Jennet Trade Securities Corporation. What can I do for you?” Cody shrugged. “Came to take a look at the file, take care of the pleasantries, I guess you’d call it.” The woman slid her chair back eyeing him, a roster nearby on the desk. She gave it only the briefest glance. “Do you have an appointment?” “Yeah, I guess you call it that.” Cody offered his hand. “Name’s David Cody.” The woman in the chair blinked, half-rising out of her seat as her mouth dropped. She suddenly leaned over and hit the transmission link. All five screens winked out at once. She tore the mic set from her head and turned on him. “…oh my, God… we… we thought you were dead!” Cody closed his eyes. Images of star dust trails and blinking tundras of stars flashed in the memory, all the worlds he traveled to and representatives, faces of hundreds of races, men, women and children. No matter where he traveled though, it was never his dime. ‘The true irony is mom would have loved me doing it.’ The thought stung him, a horrid wretch in his gut. His expression, however, remained unchanged. Finally, Cody offered a tight-lipped smile. “I get that occasionally.” The woman offered her hand. “Deborah Turow, Securities Investigator.” He shook it when the first sensation took hold. A bitter acid that stung at his eyes. David closed them and backed a step, feeling the strange, almost dry tears break the surface of his skin and scorch a trail. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. He couldn’t remember this bitter aftertaste, or the sudden hole where his heart should have been. Leaning forward, Cody scrunched his face as the tears fell, a man not used to crying. Deborah took two steps forward and braced him in strong, firm and smooth arms sliding around his back. He heard a noise… where he didn’t know. All he could feel was this quick lightning searing that didn’t want to stop… he didn’t want to show. He wouldn’t show it, not here… not at the company his mother founded. “Shhh…” Deborah’s whisper penetrated. “It’s okay… let it go.” He suddenly knew where the animal noise came from: it was him… and he felt it coming, gurgling from the bottomless pit where darkness reigned and shooting up through the esophagus into his throat. He felt Deborah’s hands pull him tighter and his knees on the tan carpeted floor. For one brief moment, he heard himself scream. “NO!” And Deborah’s whispering voice, soothing him. Her hands, brushing through his hair, her body firm against his, rocking him. “It’s okay… it’s okay, Cody. You’re home… you’re home now. That’s all that matters.” Breaking down in tears, Cody covered his eyes. Images of his mother: a sharp-jawed financial wizard who would take him to the Port County Fair and buy him the taffy foam, stealing a bit for herself. The tall, guant engineer with criss-crossed eyes who sat his son on the other side of the shuttlecraft in the garage they were rebuilding, to suddenly lean back and slide him a beer. The races… the demon wind storms that chained the house, the roasted smell of coffee in the aftershave, the pearl earrings, the hint of a smile on his mother’s lips, the barking laugh his father made… It all came roaring back as David cried into the stranger’s shoulder. He hated showing emotion. “I’m sorry,” Deborah’s voice came. He felt her lips against his cheek, soft, wet, comforting and warm. Things he hadn’t know for the past ten years. “I’m sorry you had to come home to this…”
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