Koban Universe 1 (8 page)

Flock Leader traveled perhaps a hundred feet and landed on a large tree root, and looked back to the pack, the lightweight screamer noisily dangling from his relatively loose jaws. Initially a number of larger screamers ran after him, but assumed the pack member was lost to them, and would remain out of reach as it was killed and eaten
in a treetop. They had halted their pursuit.

Seeing that the victim was still alive, and his captor had landed where they could reac
h him, the entire pack entered the chase. Flock Leader let them close to within thirty feet, then leaped into the air and climbed to perhaps ten feet, just above the pack’s frequently observed best possible leaps, and flew slowly, with the squawker still raising hell in his jaws.

It was hard to fly properly, because Flock Leader kept his head rotated to the side so that there was no sharp crimp placed on the neck of his captive. The entire plan would be a waste if he accidentally killed his lure. The pack was actually closing the gap, so he put on a bit of additional speed. They all continued to follow, perhaps thinking his prey was too heavy for him, or the wolfbat was hurt in some way.

The pack had entered their normal prey-tracking mode, which was free of screams, despite the fact that Flock Leader clearly knew they were following, and the sound would not alert him more than he already was.

Except for the incessant
croaks of his unwilling “passenger,” the drove of pigs would not hear a large pack of screamers closing with them. Ahead, he could see the shaking of some of the tall ferns where the pigs were still rooting for tubers or grubs. Now he was undecided. Should he fly over and draw the pack with him or land and release their annoying little ungrateful pack mate, and hope they would see or hear the pigs and attack.

He landed, and released his captive
unharmed when the pack was again thirty feet away, and he flapped directly towards the pigs, a short distance away in the ferns. His now released screamer raced towards the pack, but the dominate pack members in the lead of the chase went right past it, to make certain the wolfbat didn’t turn back, or perhaps was injured and unable to escape for some reason.

Flock Leader passed a few feet above the pigs and they instantly
squealed an alarm at sight of him, calling drove members to cluster together for defense, as usual. What he did that was not usual as he passed over, was to suddenly dip down and rake his jaws and claws along one side and flank of an old sow. He had identified her as the probable weakest member of the drove from his previous scouting. She obligingly squealed loudly, and bolted a few feet from the edge of the group.

No matter if
the screamers were merely still in pursuit of Flock Leader, or had zeroed in on the scent and sounds of the pigs, the result was a sudden burst of the pigs from their fern cover, with the pack in close pursuit. The chase would not last long, because the screamers would soon realize they probably could not isolate one of the much larger pigs if they stayed clustered and ran as a tight group. However, Flock Leader turned and came at the same sow from the front and this time bit and clawed her other flank and side in passing. She was not seriously injured, but the sight of blood would definitely draw the screamers attention, and the sow lost close contact for a moment with her group as she recoiled again from the attack.

A
dozen of the screamers leaped between the sow and the drove, which caused her to veer farther from her group protection. Flock Leader made a low frequency scream she would clearly hear as he again dove directly at her face. She pulled up her run just a moment before he climbed back up, which allowed most of the other screamers to catch up to her, and suddenly the bleeding sow was surrounded, at a standstill and watching her only protection recede into the trees.

Her
snorts and squeals of terror had caught the attention of several of the other pigs, one a large tusked boar that seemed to be the dominate male, and he and two other male pigs were slowing, looking back. Flock Leader quickly dove at them to distract them, then pulled up and chased after some of the now exposed piglets, which were normally hemmed in by the protective adult pigs. They squealed in fear as he screamed loudly at them and bit one in passing. The boar’s choice became one of returning to defend the surrounded old sow, or to go protect the future of the drove. The future won, and the pigs soon vanished into the underbrush.

The screamers
began their task of wearing the sow down, with simultaneous bites coming from all sides, and leaping up to come down with their middle toe claw raking her sides, drawing more blood. It wasn’t going to be a quick end for the big sow, not with attackers a small fraction of her size. Even a squadron of wolfbats would have had to exhaust the large animal gradually. This was larger prey than either set of predators would normally have tackled alone. None of them had the bite force to clamp jaws on her thick short throat to close her windpipe to suffocate her, or jaws large enough to cover her mouth and muzzle for the same sort of faster kill.

Climbing above the trees, Flock Leader called for two squadrons he saw circling near the
distant home plateau to join him. This prey would be far more meat than the screamer’s entire pack could consume in days. He suddenly heard loud screaming from the pack, down below the obscuring tree crowns. Had the drove of pigs returned after they saw the wolfbat depart?

Confident his two squadron leaders and the Flight Leader had seen him with their sharp eyes, and marked his location, Flock Leader dove back down through the overhanging branches, twisting and turning to get
below their multilayered cover.

It wasn’t the return of the pigs that had the pack screeching, it
was a large spotted feline thief that had arrived to claim the weakened sow as its own, a leopard analogue on this part of Koban. At roughly half the size of a female ripper, the light teal and deep blue spotted cat was still eight or nine times the mass of a wolfbat, and over fifty times the mass of an individual screamer.

The screamers had backed away from the much larger predator, which appeared to have
already injured two members of the pack, seen limping out of range of another swat of those sharp claws. The sow, already wobbly on its thick stubby legs, and in no condition to run, couldn’t catch a break. One predator after another had her marked for a meal. The cat could easily bowl the tired unstable prey onto her side if it leaped and shoved her, but the task of suffocating it would take time. With its jaws on the pig’s throat, the cat would be vulnerable to darting attacks from the screamers.

The sow weighed perhaps two times the mass of the leopard, an animal
slightly larger than the cat would normally try to kill if it was with its drove. This was an opportunity for theft of more than a week’s worth of meat, which seldom presented itself. However, it had a problem. There were no low trees below the light blocking towering forest giants, where it could climb above the screamers with this heavy prize, particularly if it were still alive and kicking.

Closer to the river,
over a mile away, there was open sky along the banks and many smaller tree varieties grew there. Except the cat couldn’t carry the pig that mile, not with forty or so screamers biting at his haunches when his jaws were occupied.

Then his luck grew worse, as he caught sight of the wolfbat dropping down through the
highest tree branches. He was more than a match for a thirty to forty pound wolfbat, but an entire squadron would be able to drive him from this prey. There was a “V” shaped cleft, formed by two above ground massive roots, which led to the base of the nearest tree from the leopard, only twenty feet away. It suddenly lunged for the front lower left leg of the sow and jerked it off its feet, and pulled with all of its strength to drag the fallen pig quickly towards the cleft. The huge roots rose over five feet high right where they merged into the tree’s trunk, with relatively smooth and vertically planar sides sloping up to the tree.

As the
space between the high roots narrowed as the cat backed into the cleft, his flanks were protected from side attacks, and it only needed to release the pig’s leg three times to defend itself. Twice to bite and paw swipe at screamers that came too close, and once it leaped and nearly raked its claws along the leathery membrane of Flock Leader’s right wing. That would probably have proven fatal for the bat if he were injured and flightless, located where the screamers or the cat could reach him.

The leopard backed
deeper into the narrow juncture at the base of the tree, its haunches touching the thick high roots on either side, its tail touching the trunk. The wiggling pig providing protection from screamers that could only reach him by climbing over the pig. One enterprising, but not terribly bright little screamer, worked its way up the narrow crest of one of the long sloping roots, and poised itself above the leopard. It belatedly realized that alone, it would be suicidal to leap down onto the cat. Its precarious position nearly proved fatal anyway, when the cat leaped up after the poor planner. It was a narrow escape as it dropped down the opposite side of the root, the leopard’s claws sweeping the air where it had just been.

The cat pulled
sideways on the pig’s leg to turn it fully onto its back, exposing its throat. With a glance at the screamers, and the circling wolfbat, it knew it could bite down on the sow’s windpipe and still keep both eyes on potential threats, positioned as it was between the walls formed by the roots. It clamped its jaws on the grunting animal’s throat, and pressed its neck frill down against the pig.

A significant part of the joy of the
kill for any of Koban’s cats was to use their contact telepathic ability to experience their prey’s fear of them, and receiving their last thoughts and images. The leopard pressed the soft, organic superconducting nerve filled neck frill against the pig, as it clamped its jaws tight and shut off the flow of air.

The pigs fear of dying, and the savage images sent from the cat’s mind triggered a delectable “flavor” of mental terror from the sow,
which produced the sense of dominance that all felines of Koban had evolved to relish. One byproduct of what humans called frilling was the enhanced communication this telepathic ability provided between cats of the same species, and between different varieties of cats, with the means to pass on learning to their young, experience, and facilitating peaceful social interactions.

Flock Leader, having shared thoughts directly with rippers, at first with humans
acting as intermediaries between them and the feared rippers, was experienced enough to know what to expect. When the pig’s life started to fade, the cat would be mentally distracted despite its open eyes. Just as humans could act as a filtered, slightly insulated two-way conduit for thoughts between a ripper and a wolfbat, the pig, while still alive could do the same. Any of Koban’s life forms, with their universal superconducting nerves, could link a cat’s mind to any other creature touching the same animal that the cat frilled. That would permit shared images and emotions between all three creatures. In this case, the pig’s thoughts were irrelevant.

This was a moment where
Flock Leader had to take a risk if he hoped to form the hunting partnership he’d wanted to forge. He’d done this sort of link with humans and rippers many times, but never with a wild feline who had never shared a wolfbat’s thoughts, and probably never had a peaceful meeting of the minds with another species. He would have to risk turning his back on the screamer pack, and place himself in dangerous proximity with the leopard.

The two squadrons he’d summoned would be here soon, but he couldn’t wait
for the reinforcements. The weakened pig would probably be dead by then, and the cat would break the link when it released the sow’s throat. The Flock would flourish better here, as they did at home, if he could make the cat understand the advantages of cooperation in hunts.

Swooping down
silently, he passed over the heads of the forward edge of the largest and most dominate pack members, squawking and stamping their small feet in agitation in the wider part of the root cleft. The screamers had largely ignored the wolfbat after the leopard arrived. Startled, they pulled well back from the pig as he swept over them, wings rustling for air braking as he landed. His recent snatching of one of them was made fresh in their thoughts by this close passage.

Using the pig’s thick
bulk for cover, Flock Leader crawled low to reach the animal’s hindquarters. Closer to the head would strengthen the mental connection, but that would provoke an attack from the cat. The ass end would have to do.

As he placed his muzzle on the
sow’s nerve dense genitalia region, the frill link was established. Two years of practice with humans and rippers had taught Flock Leader how to withhold transmitting its own mental images. That was a learned tactic, to withhold information in order to negotiate the size of a food reward for scouting reports for humans. Unlike rippers, humans always offered less than he considered a fair payment in meat cubes, and he learned to withhold his mental images until he received more than was offered.