Engagement Hyperdrive
The Adventures of Seeker and the Serpents, Chapter Two
This is the second chapter of my serial sci-fi adventure story, The Adventures of Seeker and the Serpents. The story picks up where my novella SEEKER leaves off. It should read well as a stand-alone story, but you can get a free copy of SEEKER by subscribing to my mailing list! (You’ll get a link in the welcome mail.)
Start with Chapter One: Déjà Vu Dinner
Opie stared at Harja, frozen by the magnitude of her proclamation.
Harja wrung her paws, fidgeting under Riddle’s hands. There was a hopeful glint in her eye, tempered by self-consciousness.
Fear flooded Opie’s nervous system. He couldn’t lose Harja. She was the glue that held the Serpents together; they and Opie might have liked each other well enough, but they would never have loved each other without Harja.
Opie wanted Harja to comfort him, to make sure he was eating enough, to tuck his tail over his nose at night. He was terrified to lose her to true love.
The longer it took for Opie to respond, the more Harja’s expression sank. She turned slightly into her fiancé’s chest, and he wrapped one of his arm-wings around her and pulled her close. It was a strangely familiar, intimate gesture.
It sent another twinge through Opie. He couldn’t understand why Harja didn’t look purely happy about something so momentous as this.
The heads-up display that showed in Opie’s mind’s eye keyed off his sentiment of “I have no idea what to do” and engaged a program that served up rapid-fire word association. This engagement was LIKE A RACE. This engagement was A FOOL’S ERRAND. This engagement was ON HYPERDRIVE.
But as Harja’s eyes gleamed sadly, Opie remembered: to the Shihari, Harja was unmarriageable. He recalled how Harja had hugged herself and looked into the distance, trying not to be emotional, as she’d told him this sad truth about herself.
Clarity sharpened Opie’s thoughts. Maybe that was why Harja was doing this. If she could never be with her own kind in this way, it made sense that she turned outward, to someone who would still accept her and feel lucky to have her.
Which made Opie realize that he should stop thinking only of himself fast, because losing half of Harja to someone else would be better than losing her entirely. She needed to be reminded that she was already loved and wanted, in case this engagement was for the wrong reasons or generally a terrible idea.
The silence dragged out so long that Riddle reached out with his free hand-wing. “It is good to make your acquaintance.” Then he hooted softly and quickly withdrew, looking away from Opie as if he’d made an error in judgment. “Oh, I am very sorry. I meant nothing by that.”
Opie realized that Riddle’s sensitivity was about commanding a dog. He tried to lighten the mood by laughing and offering a paw. “No worries. Shaking isn’t a bad thing for dogs. Just don’t tell me to do it.”
Riddle took Opie’s paw gratefully, his handshake light and timid.
Opie sized Riddle up thoughtfully, engaging his HATI spy training. He needed to better understand what motivated Riddle, to suss out the imphus’s values.
Opie dropped his paw forcefully. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Riddle. I’m Opie, four-legged enforcer of this band of soldiers. What brings you to a Fable Freight award dinner?”
Riddle relaxed visibly. “I was sent to represent my planet in some trade negotiations which would need Fable’s support to execute on the transportation. But I am also here for a personal reason. I am looking for a mother for my son, Moon.”
A child. There were plenty of implications from that: another partner, a reason that partner and Riddle were not together anymore. Opie quickly cautioned himself against swift judgment. For all he knew, the partner had passed away.
Of course, for all Opie knew, Riddle had murdered his past wife. Opie made a mental note to ask about the story later. Out loud, he asked, “Harja, how did you and Riddle meet?”
“More importantly,” Dax said, speaking for the first time since Harja’s proclamation, “how did you become betrothed?” His brow crinkled with concern, but in his usual cool, unengaged way, as if he was hoping not to scare Harja off.
Opie wondered if Dax had had similar conversations with his daughter, when she first succumbed to the draw of drugs. Perhaps that was why Dax and his daughter never spoke anymore—and why he was being so careful with Harja now.
For the first time since Harja said she was betrothed, Opie eyed the Serpents. Hlana had her arms folded across her burly chest, her brow lifted almost comically. Meras stared openly at Riddle, as if trying to understand what Harja saw in him. And Dax adjusted his shoulders imperceptibly.
Harja twisted her paws and kept her eyes trained on the ground, as if she couldn’t bear to see their reactions. “Ah—you’re gonna laugh at me, Ope. I went over to get some oree hand pies, and Riddle was getting some, too. He said he wished he knew how to make hand pies, and I said I’d just learned how to make them last year but never had access to oree. And Riddle said, ‘well, there’s plenty on Imphus III,’ and that started us really talking.” She tipped her head back to look up at Riddle. “It was obvious very quickly how much we align, especially in what we want out of a marriage.”
Opie could see the truth of what Harja said on her face, and how much she wanted this whirlwind romance to be real. It pained Opie to think of having Harja around less often, but the seed of hope had planted itself in his heart, too, and he nurtured it for her.
Hlana, on the other hand, grunted crudely. “And what’s that—sex?”
Harja startled, clutching her hands into fists by her side.
“I’m just saying.” Hlana raised an eyebrow as if Harja had just made her point. “The last time you were in love, Harja, you were humping like rabbits.”
Harja put her paws over her face in embarrassment. Riddle leaned forward, trying to offer a wry, calming comment. “I fear that such things are not quite for us what they would be for you… any of you,” he said with a gesture at Opie.
It had the opposite effect as intended. All of the Serpents looked displeased.
“Oh, so no sex is what you’re getting out of this marriage,” Hlana said. “Somehow… that does make sense.”
Harja waved Hlana’s words aside with both paws earnestly. “No, no. We want someone to be there for us. We want someone who doesn’t plan to go away for any reason. Someone who knows how to love simply, and who appreciates the other.” Her brow creased. “Things I’ve never found among the Shihari, mind you. But with Riddle…”
There was clearly a spark of attraction between Harja and Riddle, but Opie could tell that there were obligations holding Harja back from pure joy. It was impossible for him to know if they were Riddle’s obligations, or if they were Harja’s herself—or if the obligations belonged to both of them.
But Opie knew Harja, and he knew she wasn’t comfortable skirting her obligations. She was always true to her word. It made Opie angry, thinking how many opportunities Harja had missed in order to keep promises she didn’t understand.
To keep his thermal teeth from subconsciously activating, Opie pressed for more details. “So, Riddle, what does imphus marriage look like? How do you go about it?”
Riddle dropped into a tour guide voice. “Well, there are some qualifications required for both parties, terms to be set by the families. And we always make sure to include as many of our kind as we can in the ceremony. It is good luck, to have the community behind you.” He gestured with easy, practiced motions, illustrating his words.
Opie realized there might be some cultural significance to the way Riddle was moving, because it looked almost like a dance. His cybernetic enhancements informed him that he was correct, after the HUD conducted a brief search of the database stored in his skull.
“The larger the flock, the greater the walk,” Riddle added with a bit of a wink.
Hlana rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s a clever one.”
Dax leaned forward, both paws on the table, and glared at Riddle. “Who would I speak to, Riddle, about such traditions, and how an outsider is supposed to participate in them?”
Nothing was calming the Serpents or preventing them from making their own assumptions. Opie could tell Dax was worried and wondered if he should say something, if he was being a bad friend if he didn’t. Who knew how much time the Serpents had left with Harja, if she was about to be wed?
But then Meras cleared his throat. “Harja, I want to tell you congratulations,” he said, in a tiny voice. “But I’m not sure what exactly I’m telling you congratulations for. This is very sudden. Are you sure? Do you understand what is being asked of you?”
“Yes, Meras, I’m sure.” Harja’s voice trembled. “Look, do none of you believe me? I take everything seriously. Why would this be any different?”
Dax was unmoved. “Because love makes you do stupid shit.”
“And some of us end up with that stupid shit forever,” Hlana sliced at Dax.
Every Serpent’s head popped up sharply at the reference to Dax’s daughter.
“Uncalled for, Hlana,” Dax said, turning his glare on her.
Hlana smirked and settled back in her chair. “Sorry, Dax.”
Harja shrank into herself as her squad members spoke. She locked eyes with Opie, looking distressed. “I—maybe I shouldn’t have brought him over,” she whimpered softly.
Opie’s heart squeezed. He didn’t want to do this to her. He wanted to be her friend, her brother, her supporter. “Harja,” he started, “I’m happy—”
But then seven more imphi marched up to the table, surrounding Riddle like a military formation. The imphus in front had deep purple plumage and a golden crest. He put his hand-wings on his hips and stared at Riddle and Harja.
“Well, Riddle, I didn’t suspect we would find you here in such a position with an… alien,” he said in a nasally voice. “But if this is how it will be —” He gestured the other six imphi forward, and they flanked Harja and Riddle.
Dax and Hlana both rose up in their chairs.
“Let’s go,” the purple imphus said, pointedly placing himself between the Shihari and the betrothed couple. “Both of you. We have important preparations to make.”