THE GAUNTLET.
Cora raised an eyebrow at the word Cassian had just spoken. “Why does that sound suspiciously like something that’s going to get me killed?”
Cassian motioned for her to follow him into the alcove, where they could speak privately. Through the wooden screen she could still hear the music and feel the breeze, but they were alone.
“The Gauntlet,” he said, “is a series of tests used to rate species on four categories of intelligence. It is run by the Stock Algorithm, which serves as an impartial third party. Because it is a computer program, it cannot be influenced by any outside factors.”
“And what does it have to do with me?”
The expression on his face softened. “Everything. It is humanity’s chance to prove its value, and thus gain freedom.” He paused. “However, it is true that the Gauntlet’s puzzles are challenging, even dangerous. If the test were easy, it would serve no purpose. It was originally established a million and a half rotations ago, when there were only two intelligent species: the Gatherers and the Axion. The Gatherers had taken my people under their guidance long before, and taught us to improve our minds and bodies over generations, until we had mastered the essential abilities. They wanted to admit us into intelligent society, but the Axion questioned our qualifications. They are an ancient species, but secretive and suspicious. And so the Gauntlet was created to prove our worth. That is how the Kindred became the third intelligent species.”
“I’m guessing that means the Mosca were the fourth. Did they beat the Gauntlet too?”
Cassian recoiled slightly at mention of the Mosca, like he had smelled something rotten. “Eventually, yes. For all their faults, the Mosca have incredible perceptive abilities. But they struggled with the morality puzzles. It took them nine tries until one of them could manage to curb his innate inclination to steal long enough to pass the test. Other species have not been as successful. The Conmarines. The Scoates. A half dozen others, in sectors very far from here. Even a chimpanzee tried to run it once—the Axion had experimented on it to give it higher intelligence. But they all failed the perceptive puzzles.”
He removed a device from his pocket and twisted the end. “This is how it works.” Lines of light spilled out from the device, stacking on top of each other with startling speed on the table surface to form intricate shapes. “The Gauntlet is a governance module. It is its own ship, just as our markets and research centers and private chambers are independent, interlocking ships. It travels from station to station, planet to planet, to ensure that all the lesser species through the known galaxies have a fair chance to run it. That is why it only docks at this particular station every six hundredth rotation—there are many other galaxies very far away that it must also visit. It is composed of four categories of puzzles with three rounds each. Twelve puzzles in all.” The lines of light kept connecting, building, until they took shape as rooms and chambers. Cora realized she was looking at three-dimensional blueprints. She reached out to touch the image, expecting to feel only the warmth of holographic projections, but her fingers grazed a rigid surface. She pulled back her hand in surprise.
“This is a rendering of the Gauntlet itself. Note the twelve chambers. A candidate must traverse each chamber in order. Once one puzzle is complete, the chamber will allow access to the next puzzle. Naturally, they get increasingly difficult.”
She leaned closer. She couldn’t help but be intrigued, both by the structure of pulsing light and by what it signified—a chance, a purpose. As she watched, a small holographic figure no bigger than her thumbnail appeared in the first chamber, which started glowing a soft red. The figure moved to the next chamber, which glowed green.
“The colors represent the type of puzzle in each chamber,” he continued. “The first represents a perceptive puzzle, red. Then intellectual, green. Then physical, yellow. And moral, blue.” They watched as the figure moved through all twelve chambers, each lighting up with one of the four colors. “What you see here is the previous Gauntlet’s schematic. It occurred here six hundred rotations ago—about twenty years. Four humans and two Scoates ran it, all unsuccessfully. Each time, the puzzles within the Gauntlet change. We will not know ahead of time the order of puzzles or what specific skills each puzzle will test.”
Beyond the alcove screen, the sound of another hunt announcement began. Cora threw a look toward the screen, where she could just barely make out the sounds of the blond bartender speaking. “It isn’t sounding any less dangerous.”
“That is why I placed a variety of puzzles in your previous enclosure. You did not realize it at the time, but I was preparing each of you. The Gauntlet’s intellectual puzzles could take the form of anagram puzzles like in the candy shop, or the number games in the toy store. The physical puzzles might be climbing, like in the forest. Or balance, like in the sledding course.” He paused. “But there is a key difference. In your previous enclosure, you were always safe. If you fell in the forest’s treetop puzzle, you would only land on soft pine needles. If you got lost in the desert’s maze, there was ample water and shade. But those were merely training modules. In the real Gauntlet, there will be no safety nets. If you fall, you fall.”
Cora’s stomach tightened. “And you really think those puzzles trained me well enough?”
“We will have to hope so.” At the look of apprehension that crossed her face, he added, “I would not have chosen you, or any of the other potential candidates, if you hadn’t already shown exceptional abilities. Humans are already quite advanced in physical, intellectual, and moral development. It is the perception category that will require further training. We have just over two rotations until the Gauntlet module arrives. There is a docking procedure that takes one-tenth of a rotation, about three days. All in all, we have roughly thirty days to prepare.” He pressed the device again, and the blueprints folded back up into it and flickered off.
Cora blinked at the bare table. There was something about it all that made her skin tingle in an exciting way, urging her to take this chance—but then she saw that same flash of excitement on Cassian’s face too, and it killed hers.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I don’t need to know how, because I’m not going to run it. It’s just a game to you, moving us around like chess pieces.”
“You don’t understand what is at stake. By the next Gauntlet, enough time will have passed that humanity’s evolution will be obvious. But instead of supporting it, the Intelligence Council will suppress it. We must do this before they understand your potential, while they think it is still harmless to let you run. It must be now. It must be this Gauntlet. You must have a sponsor; naturally, that will be me. That is how all of this will be possible.”
She crossed her arms tight, trying to act indifferent, though the allure of the Gauntlet was still fresh in her mind. “Then find a different girl to run.”
“There have been other candidates—Anya, for one—but none of them worked out. Even if another human displayed potential at this point, that human would not be able to sufficiently develop his or her abilities in time. It must be you.” He paused. “I want it to be you, Cora.”
At the sound of her name, spoken not in his monotone voice but like that day on the beach, standing in the surf, her skin started to tingle in that dangerous way.
She turned away sharply. “I don’t need puzzles or bureaucrats or scorecards to tell me humans are intelligent.” She slid open the alcove screen. Beyond, the hunt ceremony had ended. A girl with dark-brown skin was onstage, tap-dancing to music, a bandage around one knee, dressed in a gown like Cora’s but knee length. The girl flinched every time she had to bend her hurt knee. Cora started to step into the lodge, but Cassian slid the alcove screen shut again.
He leaned in, not stiffly anymore, the patient look gone from his eyes. “I cannot force you to run the Gauntlet, but take time to think it through before you make up your mind.” And then his expression eased, and he took her hand, weaving his fingers between hers, turning her palm upward. “It isn’t a game,” he said. “It never has been.”
With her palm toward the ceiling, the markings were an even greater reminder that she was, and would always be, a prisoner.
She pulled her hand back, trying to ignore the tingling sensation. “I’d rather take my chances with the wild animals.”
Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t entirely true.
The definition of stubborn, Charlie’s voice echoed, is to know what the right thing to do is, but not to do it anyway just to prove a point.
She snatched up the dress angrily.
Shut up, Charlie, she thought silently, glad that a memory couldn’t answer back.