Koban: The Mark of Koban (46 page)

The flyer called for any Flock mates that
might be near, but received no reply. The echo returns, jumbled as they were
with the moving herd surrounding it, still told it that it must be inside the
big nest. Just as it had suspected, after regaining full consciousness, and
buried under that sound absorbing covering all night.

These smaller herd animals, and one large one,
all carried the loud things that killed at a distance. They had him trapped inside
a strong container where they could kill him if they wanted to, and which was
no protection at all from either of the rippers. Why were the rippers not
attacking this other prey? They were calmly watching the herd. This was strange
behavior, and it had been reported by other squadrons that two rippers were
seen going in and out of the large nest, and did not kill prey from this herd,
but did kill other prey. This must be those two rippers. Whatever was going to
happen, he was not going to return to his mate, and their two pups. His mate
must think him already dead, and if she didn’t hunt for food tomorrow, the pups
would rapidly weaken. Leaving pups that young alone for that long to hunt was a
great risk.

He had no experience with predators or prey
like these, none of the Flock had. You don’t hold prey, you kill and eat it,
and he was now their prey. He believed he was doomed, and so were his pups.

He had no room to spread his wings, but if he
drew them in close to his body, he could turn around with difficulty. One
dimension of the web of hard material holding him was longer than the other,
preventing his quick reversal. However, he would bite and claw at anything that
he could reach. He would die, but he would not surrender.

He was touched from behind several times, when
his captors reached through the small gaps. As quick as he was, the confinement
prevented him from biting their probing appendages, which looked like long
toes, before they withdrew them. These smaller prey turned-into-predators were
nevertheless quicker than his Flock stories suggested from experience.

Part of his attention never left the huge rippers,
so he noticed instantly when they moved, holding very still as they both
advanced towards his container. He was afraid, but defiant, hissing at them in
a low frequency range that he knew these half-deaf animals could hear. Instead
of tearing open his container to get to him, they lay on their bellies, facing
him, massive heads resting on their front paws.

His eyes had immediately told him the rippers were
a male and female, simply from the size comparison. Scent had also confirmed
the gender identification earlier, although smell similarity revealed a close
relation, a brother and sister, not mates.

Next, the two smaller prey-turned-predators
that had captured him, placed their hands on the ripper’s necks, and reached
towards his enclosure from opposite sides. He could not face both at once, and
because they were approaching from the narrow dimension, he could not whirl
around to defend himself from attacks from two directions.

The first one to try to grab him came from the
side with the female ripper, and he snapped in that direction. As he did so, he
was touched from behind.

The pictures invading his mind were confusing,
reassuring, terrifying, comforting, threatening, and a bizarre mixture of
thoughts and images that he had never experienced. He forgot about biting, not
certain if he was safe or about to be eaten.

Abruptly, the comforting images had somehow
pushed away the terrifying images; the ones that had enjoyed his fear were gone.
He sensed he was not going to be eaten, not even hurt. Naturally, he took
advantage of this sign of weakness and snapped at the contacting appendage.

He barely missed closing on one of the two
slender “toes” placed on his rear right haunch, breaking the contact as it
withdrew, freeing his mind from the confusion. It didn’t last. A new touch on
his undefended left side poured a new and different mixture of conflicting
images into his mind.

Here the comforting and reassuring images were
much weaker than the overpowering and threating images that warned him he was
on the verge of death if he tried to bite the new “toes” touching him. Suddenly
he was able to sort out the sources of the conflicting stream of thoughts. The
female ripper would kill him, with pleasure, if he bit her smaller gentle
relative,
her brother,
now touching him. How was that small animal her brother? Her
brother was the giant ripper on the opposite side.

Despite his confusion, he clearly perceived
that his continued life depended on not attacking the animal that was touching
him. He decided that was the prudent course of action for now. Instantly, he
felt a withdrawal of the threatening presence, and a different soothing set of
images remained, curious about him, not threatening, offering safety. No matter
his instinct to take advantage of this sign of weakness, he did not snap this
time.

Suddenly the other small animal was also touching
him, and the “scent” of the mental images (he didn’t know how else to think of
them), were different. It was equally curious, and nonthreatening. In the
background was the faint “smell” of the male ripper’s thoughts, but he deliberately
held them back.

The flyer didn’t know how these thoughts
reached into his mind. He had an unexplainable belief that the rippers controlled
the images, and that the smaller animals used them. Surprisingly, an image
showing him one of the smaller animals touching the fleshy fringe on the male
rippers neck appeared in his mind, followed by an image of it not touching the
ripper. Abruptly the mind images from that animal ceased, but he felt its
continued touch on his right leg. Then the images returned, and he clearly saw
its front leg resume contact with the big ripper’s neck. The ripper was the
source of pictures when the small animal touched the ripper.

The flyer realized they had “heard” the
question he had formed in his mind, almost as if he had made a call to a
squadron mate. Wolfbats were not the top thinkers on Koban, but they were far
from stupid, and they had a rudimentary language of complex calls and signals.
They formed strategies for coordinating attacks and changing flight formations.
They had an astonishing ability to form mind pictures created from sound
echoes, which required considerable memory storage.

His high metabolism and lack of food and water
had left him shaky, particularly after a night frantically trying to escape his
hard cage, burning energy. He wanted to be free to hunt for food, to find water.

The creature paired with the male ripper
pulled away, and made calls to the other herd animals. Several left on the run,
and another went to the side of the nest area they were in, and he heard the
sound of splashing water. In a moment, a shell of water appeared next to the
trap he was in, except he couldn’t reach the fluid he desperately wanted. A
powerful image came that the shell could be placed in his container, but if he
moved even a small amount to escape or bite; the female ripper showed him an
image of his dead carcass being eaten.

The small animal that brought the water placed
some new “skin” over its front “toes” and did something to the side of the
enclosure.

“Ethan, I have the gloves on so I’ll put the
bowl inside, but I don’t want Kit to kill him if he tries to get out. We have a
dozen jazzers in here. We can stun it if it gets out. Right Mr. Rigson?”

“Lads, you two boys have done a good job so
far, and from what you’ve told us, the bat can sense and respond to
instructions, and now has asked for food and water. That is communication, and
cooperation. I would not dream of preventing this unless it attacks one of you
kids. I have my own jazzer ready, so the rest of you keep yours holstered. I
don’t want half my students stunned by reckless shooting. Carson, open a corner
just enough to put the bowl inside at the far end. Ethan, you keep it reassured
and calm with Kit.”

“Yes Sir, but I think Kit already has it
convinced not to move. I’m sure it doesn’t want to be a lunch snack.”

The other kids giggled. They were familiar
with the intimidating kinds of thoughts the rippers could send. Of course, for
them it was always non-gory play-acting. It wasn’t “play” when she sent her
thought image to the wolfbat.

As Carson raised the corner, warping the lid
enough to slip the small bowl under, Kobalt raised up to look down over his
shoulder. The wolfbat didn’t wiggle so much as one of its sensitive muzzle
whiskers. At least until the lid was refastened, and Ethan gave it permission
to move. The twenty-pound bat quickly crawled to the bowl and lapped at the
water until it was gone. A girl had a cup handy to pour more in without
reopening the lid. The bat drank only half of the replacement water. Frequent
drinks were preferred over the flight weight of too much water.

The classroom doors burst open as two boys and
a girl ran in, each with pieces of raw meat from the kitchen. They were out of
breath, so they had probably ran the twenty fights down and back up, to avoid
waiting for an elevator to make several stops, due to adults aboard.

Rigson grinned and shook his head. He had all the
mods, as did all of the former Flight of Fancy crew by now, but he couldn’t
match the energy of the SG kids. It wasn’t only age, he suspected, it was
probably mental. These kids didn’t have a memory of old limitations, and didn’t
expect
to be tired, as did the older generation did when they surpassed
the limits of their former capability.

As the kids drew close to the cage with the
gazelle meat, the wolfbat’s nose rose and sniffed the air, obviously
interested. Ethan, who had resumed contact, felt how ravenous the animal was.

“Colby, Arlene, Biz, don’t try to feed it by
hand. It’s too hungry. It might bite you in its hurry. Just drop one piece at a
time through the top.”

They did that, and it devoured the first four
large chunks in gulping bites, hardly chewing more than to smash them enough to
go down its gullet. They kept dropping in the smaller pieces they had, but
noticed it had changed its eating style. It dipped its head without really
chewing as it swallowed, then raised its head and shook it side to side in a
twisting motion.

Arlene noticed the lump first. She pointed to
its neck the next time it raised its head and twisted. “He’s got the meat stuck
in his throat, stop feeding him. He’ll choke!”

Mr. Rigson calmed her worry. “Arlene, you made
a good observation, but have the wrong interpretation. Wolfbats have an
internal pouch for carrying food back to their dens, or nests, which ever you
chose to call their homes. That food can be for their own consumption later, or
to feed to a mate and pups.” It was time to expand the lesson to more of the kids
in the class.

“Ethan, Carson, we all thank you for this
opportunity to learn more about one of our commonly seen, but little understood
local predators and frequent pests. I’d like all of the class to have a chance
to frill the cats as they touch the wolfbat, so long as it stays cooperative.
Everyone gets one minute each for contact, no interruptions from anyone. Then after
all of you have taken a turn, we will talk about what each of you sensed. I’ll
go last so I know some of what you will discuss. Arlene, you go first, chose
your cat.”

She picked Kit, as did most of the girls, and
most of the boys picked Kobalt. This was a long ago noticed preference pattern of
the kids for the cats. Much like boys more often chose traditional “male”
oriented interests and girls chose “female” interests. Not universally, but it
was common. On academic school subjects like math and science, society had
removed those distinctions hundreds of years in the past. Males and females
excelled equally overall, but certain fields drew more of one gender or the
other.

The eternal pattern of human sexual
differences extended into mental processes as well as the physical dimorphisms.
The girls liked the life viewpoint offered by Kit; the boys were drawn to Kobalt
for his more aggressive attitude. However, physically for the SG kids, the
girls were as good with a gun as the boys, and except for slight differences in
strength, girls were as physically adept as boys were. At least for now, before
hormones bulked the boys up as they matured.

Amused at his own preference, despite the
clinical analysis he used as he watched the kids, Rigson touched Kobalt’s frill
and experienced the usual impressions he’d feel from the cat, and stuck a
finger through the mesh to touch the wolfbat’s back leg. By now, the bat
accepted the contact without even the appearance of discomfort. Apparently, the
general feeling of good will towards it had eased its fear and distrust.

However, Rigson immediately sensed urgency on
the bat’s part. It wanted to fly. That wasn’t surprising coming from a flier
such as this, but it was a more desperate feeling than a mere desire for flight.
It seemed a life or death matter. He sent a comforting image that they were not
going to harm him. The mix of images Kobalt fed back to him was fast and a bit
confusing. With less exposure, he wasn’t as adept as the children were or even as
the cat’s parents, at understanding and interpreting the mental pictures.

Breaking contact with both the bat and Kobalt,
he smiled inwardly when he realized that it was Kobalt that “told” him about
his “parents” understanding of the mental pictures. Family was how the cats
thought of the humans that had raised them, and some other humans were
relatives, or friends. The rest were either simply part of the pride, or a
neighbor pride.