Into the Crucible
The Adventures of Seeker and the Serpents, Chapter Three
This is the third 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
Go back to Chapter Two: Engagement Hyperdrive
The spikes dug deep into Opie’s back as he rolled his shoulders harder against his massage ball. It half-hurt, half-tickled. He felt as raw as his back. He couldn’t name the feelings roiling in his head besides disastrous.
He stared up at the ceiling, tracing shapes with his eyes, hoping to drive away any rational thought with the burn of the spikes against his skin. Were those stains, or some kind of intentional finish work? It didn’t matter, because it didn’t take long for the shapes to look like the people he was angry at, who had abandoned him and who made him tremble.
Opie usually avoided these kinds of memories, but they’d caught up to him today as soon as he’d consciously tried not to think about what might be happening to Harja, off with the imphi. Even ruminating on the gloomy past was better than letting his imagination run wild on that.
Because Opie had made the mistake of having his HUD look up ipmhus culture. Everything he’d found about the imphi made them out to be savage beneath an aristocratic pretense. He couldn’t help but compare the imphi to the Shihari, who could also pull off genteel while simultaneously committing acts of serious violence without pity.
Perhaps that similarity had attracted Harja to Riddle, considering she hadn’t known him for long enough to be attracted to much else about him. But it was just as likely, in Opie’s mind, that the imphus people had sent Riddle to Harja, looking for political gain or financial benefit through the harmony of two souls.
Harja, of course, thought this was a good idea for innocent reasons; of that, Opie was sure. He also knew, all too well, that Harja allowed herself to be taken advantage of. She was open, generous, accommodating, and Opie knew what that got you in life. He was determined not to let his friend fall prey to a predator.
Opie considered turning on the television and watching something trashy he couldn’t get access to on Shihari—but then the door to his hotel room flew open and Harja burst in.
She flung herself on the bed, blubbering and covering her head with both paws.
Opie leapt up, the mattress springing under his feet. “Harja, what’s wrong?” He bounded over to rest his chin on the bed next to her, licking her elbow.
Harja’s distress was muffled by the mattress. “Everything. Gods, Opie, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.”
To Opie’s shame, he felt a small sense of relief. Finally, she was talking sense.
Harja rolled over and stared at the ceiling that had just absorbed Opie. He wondered idly what shapes she saw in it.
It seemed to calm her, because she began to process aloud. “They have these trials that every imphus couple is required to go through. It’s called the Crucible of the Eternal Flame.”
“Oh, that sounds pleasant.”
Harja flipped over onto her belly. “I mean, most people just call it the Crucible.”
“Not better,” Opie said. He bit his tongue. He didn’t want to discourage Harja from speaking to her, from telling him what was really going on.
“I suppose,” Harja said with a sigh, “but it is a little romantic.”
Opie had learned a thing or two in his research. “Convince me.”
“The Crucible proves that lovers are worthy of one another,” Harja said.
“And of carrying on imphus kind,” Opie countered.
“Opie,” Harja scolded. Then she paused. “I mean, yes. It’s a combination of physical and mental trials. It’s intended to determine if both members of the couple are strong of mind, soul, and body.”
Opie lay flat on the bed, his head resting between his paws, staring at the television he’d never turned on. “Let me guess. You have no choice but to go into the Crucible.”
Harja rolled onto her side and rested her head on her crooked elbow. “Riddle and I—we’re not exactly a traditional imphus couple. They have to know for certain that if we adopt any imphus babes, we’re appropriate parents for them.” She watched Opie’s expression carefully. “And that I can be an appropriate parent for Moon.”
In turn, Opie was careful not to let his expression show too much. “So… you have no way out.”
“The coupling is ceremonial, not physical,” Harja insisted. “So yes, the tradition is demanded.”
“And what does this tradition mean? What kinds of trials are they putting you through?”
“They need to test my mind. Face my fears.”
“And… how do they know what that’s supposed to look like?”
Harja cleared her throat. “They interviewed me. They gave me a serum and made me answer questions truthfully. I did. So—I’ll probably end up having to study for some kind of test about imphus culture, or they’ll stick some kind of spiritual trap for me in the jungle. I mentioned the Serpent a few too many times, the legend I mean.”
Opie could imagine the physical realities of the trial she was casually describing: horrifying heights, monsters like the ones on Shihar or worse, hallucinations and crumbling obstacles. In his mind’s eye, Harja crumbled, sobbing as she failed impossible tests she was never supposed to pass.
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Opie said, closing his eyes to steady himself.
Harja stiffened. “Is life fair, Opie? Is a relationship fair when one partner dies, when one of them gets sick and the other has to take care of them? No. It isn’t. I understand what this means. Whether they choose to inflict extreme physical pain or the anguish of burying a child on me—perhaps all in my mind—I know I can handle it.”
Heat flashed on the left side of Opie’s face. He realized one of his thermal teeth had activated without his prompting. The teeth had a hormonal failsafe, in case he was threatened and his conscious mind didn’t realize in time what it was facing. Opie carefully turned his tooth off, asking his HUD to translate what “Crucible of the Eternal Flame” meant in the imphus language.
The answer scrolled silently across his vision. THE CRUCIBLE OF THE ETERNAL FLAME IS AN AFFECTIONATE EUPHEMISM. THIS DESCRIPTION IS KIND AND GENTLE COMPARED TO THE REALITY, A HIGH-STAKES OBSTACLE COURSE FOR THE SENTIENT EXPERIENCE.
Opie shuddered and the truth spilled out of him. “Harja, please reconsider. Is your love for Riddle truly serious enough to endure such horrors… after just a few hours together?” His tail swished hopefully across the comforter. “I’m not doubting you, little sister. I just hope you understand how much you’re worth.”
Harja reached out and rubbed the base of Opie’s ear between two of her fingers. “Opie, I appreciate how protective you are. But yes—it is worth it. And no, I can’t explain myself.”
Opie leaned into the ear scratch, then nosed her ankle, begging her silently to go on. Harja kept her mouth shut. Carefully, Opie said, “It’s not your commitment I’m questioning, Harja. It’s whether or not those imphi have your best interests at heart. I do. I may not know what the hells I’m doing, but I care about what’s best for you.”
Harja sighed and sat up, crossing her legs and hunching over them. She drew little circles on the comforter with her finger, careful not to look at Opie. “I feel out of place everywhere, Opie. Even with you and the Serpents. I don’t belong among a set of super-soldiers. I’m not even supposed to be alive. That’s why I’m not fit to be a Shihari mother. My genetics will never be what they need to be; I can’t pass on health and long life, and that’s what our species needs.”
Harja reached over to ruffle Opie between the ears. “Look, the Serpents rejected Riddle. That much was clear. I chose Riddle, and they’re supposed to trust me… and they didn’t. They judged me for what I’d chosen.”
Opie tilted his head. “But the imphi frown on you as an outsider, too. Is that better?”
Harja looked him dead in the eyes and set her jaw. “At least it’s honest.”
A desperate fear rose like bile in Opie’s throat. “I know how this goes,” he said. “I looked into their media, the stuff in their native tongue. They look at outsiders like you as people who want to lay claim to the imphus culture. They think you want to commandeer them for your own purposes. Political? Capital? Social? It doesn’t really matter to them. They know you’re not here for their good.”
Harja reached her hand out and rested it halfway between them. Opie could tell she was hoping he would place his paw on hers. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but please listen to me. This is the first time in my life that, instead of simply frowning on me for who I was, someone offered me something I could do about it if I wanted to change.”
Opie did not put his paw on hers.
“This is an affirmation, Opie,” Harja went on. “This lets me be me, by my own merit. Not because of who I am, or how I was born, but because of what I do and how hard I work. That matters to me, Opie.”
“Harja, I know you,” Opie insisted, intending to launch into how he knew her.
But she withdrew her hand, shaking her head harder. “No, you don’t. If you did, you’d know that it mattered to me that you listen to what I have to say about myself, and not assume you knew what was best for me.”
Opie scrambled, knowing he might hurt her, but desperate to hang on. “But how could anyone value you after just a few minutes? Will Riddle ever accept you for anything but an outsider?”
At last, it seemed he’d snapped something in Harja. Her shoulders softened and she sighed. She reached out and took one side of Opie’s cheek fluff in each hand. “Opie. I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me. But… tradition is tradition, and I can’t get away from that. That’s why I can’t be a Shihari mother. If I’m gonna get to be a mom, it’ll be here, with these people, through their ways, their traditions. And science indicates I’ll be able to carry on the line. There are ways to make my body be a host.”
Opie startled, horrified by the idea of Harja violating her body to become a host for a creature she wasn’t supposed to carry within her. She let go of his face. “I’m going to go through with this promise I’ve made,” she said, “because I can. I can be part of continuing something.”
Opie let out a single warning bark, leaping to his feet and towering over Harja. The mattress springs squealed in protest. “I’m trying to help you,” Opie said. “You shouldn’t be held to something if you didn’t understand what you were promising. You don’t have to keep a promise like that.”
Bravely, Harja stared him down, bringing him back to his belly with just her eyes and the force of her truth. “Opie, no. I am unmarriageable among my own people, but I want to be that kind of companion for someone. That was a cruel and unnecessary judgment by the Shihari. They didn’t need to put that restriction on me—but they did. That is how they keep our people from dying out. I don’t get to choose that, not because of myself or my selfishness… but I do get to choose this. I’m capable of being a mother in many, many ways. Just because I’m not physically capable of it for my own kind doesn’t mean I can’t find a way to be that for someone.”
Harja took a deep, shuddering breath. “Opie, I was just told I’m capable of carrying on a line, of having children. I can be not only the partner I know I can be, but I can also be a real mother. What would you do if your own people considered you an outsider, huh? Even your own mother.”
Mother brought up painful memories for Opie. His mother had never really seen who he became, not after he turned nine, when she and his father had become addicted to their drug and stopped trying as parents and as human beings.
“I’ll be honest with you, Harja,” Opie said shakily, “I don’t really understand what it means to have a mother.”
Harja stroked the fur between his eyes, running her finger down the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Ope. I forgot.
“What’s it like having a mother care about you?” Opie pressed, because it suddenly seemed important to understand what it was Harja wanted.
She smiled sadly, but there was a softness to her smile and it was a welcome look on her. “It means there’s somebody who knows exactly where you came from. That no matter what you do, there’s somebody who understands how you got there and why, and at the end of the day she doesn’t judge you for it, because she was part of it. Who you are wasn’t just you—that was both of you, and you’re in that together, forever.”
Her lilting explanation brought Opie a reluctant sense of peace. Harja seemed to know that she wouldn’t love everything about her decision, but she did understand what it meant… and Opie knew it was hers to make.
“I believe you know what you want,” he said, “and I’ll support you in that. That’s who I should be.”
Harja put her hand over his paw. “I’m sorry I was harsh.”
Opie nosed the back of her hand. “Me, too.”
There was a sharp rap at the door. Harja sprang off the bed and held out a hand to stop Opie from joining her. “Stay. Wait.”
When Harja opened the door, a silent imphus stood there, wearing a dark, threatening blue suit. He silently handed a rolled-up document to Harja.
Harja opened her mouth to ask something, but the imphus turned on a heel and walked away.
Harja closed the door. She opened the document and turned pale.