The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,3
about the Kindred’s menageries—private clubs that re-created different time periods from Earth—where they dropped the emotional cloak they wore in public to let their pent-up emotions run wild. Less-desirable humans were kept there as servants and oddities for entertainment. Cassian had taken her to one to warn her about what happened to children who disobeyed. It had been called the Temple, an artificial Greek palace where drugged children in togas were made to perform tricks.
Why human places, human times? she had asked him.
There is no society, nor habitat, better suited for the cultivation of experiences than the human world, he had answered.
Now, she narrowed her eyes. “Putting me in a menagerie is hardly a second chance. It’s further punishment.”
“I have little choice. The Intelligence Council cannot learn of your escape attempt. Fian convinced them that your enclosure failed due to technical difficulties, and that the remaining wards should be transferred to alternative facilities. Only Fian, Tessela, and Serassi know the truth.” He paused. “I have made an arrangement with Serassi in return for her silence. Fortunately, Fian and Tessela have always been sympathetic to our cause.”
“Our cause?” Cora shook her head. “I don’t have anything to do with whatever you’re planning.” Her mouth felt very dry, and she started to turn toward the water spout, but he rested a hand against her shoulder.
His eyes, black as they were, seemed to reach all the way into her head. “You have everything to do with our plan. A plan that has been in the works for nearly six hundred rotations—almost twenty human years. We call it the Fifth of Five, because if we are successful, humanity will ascend to the fifth intelligent race.” He ran a hand over the back of his glove, changing a setting, and then traced something onto the table. Two intersecting lines appeared, like a double helix, with five dots in the center. Whatever substance he was writing with only lingered a few seconds before disappearing.
“This is the covert symbol of the Fifth of Five. The first four points represent the current intelligent species: Kindred, Mosca, Axion, and Gatherers. The last one represents humanity. But we cannot raise humanity’s position without you. I am not the first leader of the Fifth of Five initiative. Nor are you the first human we have set our hopes upon. Hundreds of Kindred have been involved in the clandestine effort to declare humanity’s intelligence, spanning back generations. The irony is that you cannot even see that we are attempting to help you.”
She paced tightly. “Helping us? If you want to help, why don’t you try finding out if Earth still exists.”
“The stock algorithm predicted POD98.6. That stands for Probability of Destruction ninety-eight point six percent—”
“Yeah, I know, chances are humans have destroyed Earth. But even if there’s a tiny chance it’s still there, it could mean everything to us. Our homes. Our families. Our entire world.”
He looked at her with eyes that revealed no emotion. “This is your world now.” He paused long enough to pick up the dress. “Take this. You will need it.”
HE LED HER THROUGH the austere hallways that formed the public world of the Kindred’s station. They passed walls that glowed with starry light, and a few open nodes like the one they had once used to board a transport, and then there was a rush of air and chatter as the ceiling opened into a three-story-high marketplace. Cora’s feet slowed. She had been here before—to this very market, or one like it. It was mostly filled with Kindred vendors offering artifacts—human and otherwise—and a few hunchbacked Mosca traders with their eerie breathing masks and red jumpsuits. There was even a sole Gatherer, one of the willowy, monk-like eight-foot-tall creatures Cassian had once warned her never to look at directly.
Her eyes settled on a raised platform. It was a stage of sorts, maybe for auctioneering, about four feet off the ground. If she could distract Cassian, she could climb up there and hold a demonstration of her psychic abilities. Books and utensils from the market stalls would levitate at her command. Kindred would gasp. Fingers would point at her. And then they would have to reluctantly admit that she and all humans were just as capable as they were, and that they would never be able to cage her again—
Cassian stopped.
“You forget that I can read what you are thinking,” he said. “A public demonstration of your telepathic abilities is not the way to achieve your goals.”
He motioned