The Felines of Pern Chapter 1

A/N
There is an intelligent species on Pern that has a bad reputation, even though we know almost nothing about them. How do they live? Why are they attacking Pern's humans and dragons? Are they just savage predators, or are they reasonable beings? This story takes place immediately after "The Skies of Pern."

o

The Ted said that this would be an easy kill for us. He was wrong. Dead wrong.

"The large bronze-colored flying one, the smaller green one, and their human friends are growing careless," he had told us. "They come and they go, they hunt and they eat, and they don't guard themselves. It will be easy to ambush them. We will need our entire hunting band to do this, because the flying ones have large teeth and claws. The humans will be easy prey unless they carry a weapon, and we have seen that they do not. We will strike quickly, fight one battle, and we'll teach them a lesson they'll never forget! Our hunting grounds will be ours and ours alone."

That was his promise. The reality was very different. We struck from ambush when we caught the flyers and the humans on the ground, and we utterly outnumbered them. But more flyers appeared out of nowhere, fighting like warriors to protect their injured friend. Worse, some of our hunters were sent flying without being touched by the enemy. This is impossible, but I felt it happen to me, and others said the same. We cannot all be wrong or lying. It could not have been the humans' doing; they have no physical powers at all. These "dragons" clearly have some kind of secret ability that they used against us.

In any event, our "easy kill" became a complete defeat for us. I was one of the lucky ones; I escaped with only bruises and a cut on my flank that soon should be completely healed. Three of our hunters died, including my older sister, and five others were so badly hurt that they would never hunt again. We gave them the hunting band's mercy, and they did not resist; they knew that the unfit must not live to weaken the group. Now it was time to settle scores with the Ted. I took the lead in confronting him.

"You have failed us," I told him flatly. "You promised us an easy kill, but it was we who were killed. We can't afford any more bad decisions from you. Your time as our leader is done."

"You can't blame me for the group's failure!" he exclaimed, with fear in his eyes. "None of us knew that the flyers could fight like that! It was nothing but bad luck. Any hunt can meet with bad luck; do you kill a hunter who brings back nothing?"

"Bringing back nothing is not what happened yesterday," I snarled. "Eight good hunters are gone now, eight from one battle that was supposed to be an easy kill! How many will die from your next bad decision? With only nine of us left, how many more can we afford to lose?" Others snarled in agreement.

"But who will lead you?" he asked desperately. The others looked to me.

"There is a pack of single males who lurk on the edges of our hunting grounds," I reminded him. "We all know about them; we've chased them away from our hunting grounds several times. One of them will make a fine Ted for us."

"We could hardly do worse!" Hunter San added. She was another one of the wounded who would recover and hunt again.

The Ted should have run. If he had turned and fled, we would have let him go. Instead, he struck a defensive posture, trying to hold onto his position. It was hopeless for him. We hunters surrounded and dispatched him in moments, then honored his memory by ceremonially consuming him. We didn't actually eat him, of course – we are civilized, not cannibals. But each of us snapped our jaws over his lifeless form, in a reenactment of how the first of us consumed the human Ted who gave us our minds. As each of us took our mock-bite, we reminded the others of good things that this Ted had done. With some Teds, this was difficult, because they did nothing good worth mentioning. This Ted, however, had been a worthy leader before he doomed himself with one fatally bad decision.

"He helped us fight off the other hunting band who came from where the sun rises."
"He replaced a Ted who was too old and feeble to lead us."
"He led us on several good hunts."
"He wasn't greedy. He never took more than his fair share of our kills."
"He killed the feathered flyer that was trying to carry off Hunter Woo's cub last year."

When it was done, the remaining hunters looked at each other. "What happens next, Hunter Rit?" one of them asked me. That was when I realized that, after all our losses, I was now the highest-ranking hunter in the band.

I stepped forward. "I'll take responsibility for contacting the band of males. They will choose among themselves who will be our next Ted."

Hunter Woo snorted. "You mean they will fight to the death for the privilege of taking our food and mating with us."

"That's what males always do," Hunter San added, her nostrils flaring.

"We expect nothing else from males, but we must have a Ted to lead us and sire our cubs," I said firmly. "In any case, I will leave the decision to the males. It will be useless to influence their thinking. Males never listen to the wise counsel of females anyway. They will decide the matter their way, and we will have a new Ted, probably within two or three days."

One by one, the other hunters nodded. I thought it odd that no one tried to argue with me or challenge me for dominance, but I was not about to invite an argument. Perhaps it made sense that I should leave the safety of the hunting band to seek out the band of males. After all, I had no cubs this year, and most of the others did; they had more to lose than I did. I got my bearings from the sun and set out through the woodlands toward where I thought the males might be resting. I went slowly; the wound on my flank hurt slightly with each step.

It took me until nearly sunset before I heard the warning cough from the tree branch above me. I sat down so he could see that I did not mean to go any further, and said, "You are a male."

"Thank you for noticing," said the voice.

"Will you take a message to your Alpha male?"

"Why should I?" he asked insolently.

"Tell your Alpha male that my hunting band has lost its Ted and we need another," I answered, as lazily as I could, as though it was a matter of no importance. I even managed to yawn. "He will know what to do." I turned, shook my tail twice, and went back the way I had come. I knew that, as soon as I was out of sight, the watchful male would rush to the rest of the group with the news that all males hoped for. I would make sure to leave scent markers as I went, so the lucky winner of their contest would have no problem finding us. We would have our new leader soon.

"Wait," the male's voice called to me. Surprised, I stopped and turned.

The male had dropped silently from his tree branch and had followed me a few steps down the trail. This was unusual; males normally dealt with females only if they were in the same hunting band. Otherwise, they pretended that we did not exist. To do otherwise would usually arouse jealousy in the female's Ted, and that could prove fatal to the other male. This male knew that I had no Ted; was that why he was being unusually bold?

"What would be a safe way for us to choose your Ted?" he asked.

Now I was astonished. "You're a male. Why do you ask a female for advice?"

"We are a small band, and none of us is dominant," he began.

"There are at least eleven of you," I corrected him.

"That was before one of us developed the madness," he said sharply. "That one took to killing the rest of us in the night, one at a time. By the time we figured out who was the killer and gave him the hunting band's mercy, there were only four of us left. We four are equally matched in age and strength. Even a fight to first blood would weaken us. If we fight to the death, it may mean the death of all of us. I know that your band wants a strong Ted, and if we choose among ourselves in the usual way, we would offer you only a wounded Ted, weakened from multiple battles. Is there another way?"

That might have been the longest speech that a male ever spoke to a female. It also might be the first time in our kind's history that a male asked a female for guidance. I would choose my response carefully, because it might affect the selection of our band's Ted… and my next mate.

What advice should I give this male? He was a handsome cat, with clear green eyes and regular, unsmeared spots across his hide. He wasn't as big as our last Ted, but he bore no scars that I could see, and he was lean and well-muscled – a hunter, not a lazy poacher of other hunters' kills. My band could do worse than this one.

A wild idea took hold of my thinking. What if I did more than simply give him some good advice? What if I actually tried to influence the choice that the males would make? This was not the role that a female should play. But if he was going to step around the unwritten rules, then why couldn't I do the same?

I eyed him carefully. "When we females have to choose among ourselves for some reason, we don't fight. Our rule is that we go out hunting, and whoever brings back the first worthy kill is the one we choose. Perhaps you males might follow the same rule."

The male blinked twice as he considered this. "Will any kill be good enough?"

"A worthy kill must be more than a single mouthful," I answered. "One of the lizards who fly is too small. Also, we do our special hunting at night instead of in the daylight, to make it more difficult than usual. Choosing in this way should show that the winner has skill and strength, as well as good luck."

The male nodded. "I'll take this idea to the others. If they accept, then we will probably begin our hunt immediately. You will have your Ted before the sun sets tomorrow."

I was not sure how I should take that. When he said, "You will have your Ted," he said you-singular, not you-plural. His focus was on me, not on my hunting band. Granted, all of my previous mates had told me that I was a fine-looking cat. But I was probably several years older than this male, and I had borne three litters of cubs into the band. This male was unattached and had probably never mated. That would not matter if he became our Ted, of course; he would have to right to mate with all of us. Still, he was showing unusual interest in me… just as I had noticed some fine qualities in him. I made my decision.

"I wish you good hunting," I replied, using the standard words for parting with a friend. Then I added, very softly, "The hunting might be very good in this particular area." His eyes widened and his tail whipped back and forth as he grasped my meaning. I turned and walked up the path toward my band's hunting grounds. But I did not go far.

I found a resting spot on top of a flat rock, and rested until the sun was fully down and the sounds of the night creatures filled the forest. Then I set out in search of prey. This hunt would be different from all the other hunting I had ever done, for this time, I would not be trying to feed myself or a cub. This time, I would be meddling in the affairs of a band of males. Males do not like it when females presume to meddle in their affairs. I was alone in the forest, with no Ted to protect me or avenge me. Was I losing my mind? Was this an early sign of the madness? Or was I simply taking advantage of a remarkable opportunity that arose from being in the right place at the right time?

I walked slowly, deliberately, choosing each footfall to achieve perfect silence. My breathing was slow and even, and my senses were fully alert. Night hunting is not how our kind prefers to find food, but I had done it before and I knew I could do it again. I could hear several flying creatures in the air above me, but they sounded too small to be of interest. Something scurried across the path in front of me and disappeared into the thick greenery. It, too, sounded too small to serve my purpose.

Then I heard the wing-beats of one of the medium-sized flyers, zigzagging through the trees in search of large flying insects. Yes, that one would be big enough. I hated to give up a kill like that; the medium flyers are exceptionally tasty. But my greater goal forced my decision. I froze and remained motionless as the flyer drew closer. Almost… but then it veered away. Had it smelled my presence? It continued its pursuit of a meal, not knowing how close it was to becoming a meal itself.

Then it turned again and came straight toward me. I waited until it was nearly over my head, then leaped straight up and swung one foreleg as hard as I could. My dam had taught me that trick, and she taught me well; I made solid contact and knocked the flyer to the ground. Success! I followed smell and sound until I found the creature, bleeding and senseless, but still alive. Good; the honor of the males might require a kill, not merely a successful hunt. I picked it up in my jaws, carried it to the path, and dropped it there. Then I let out the high double-cough that meant a successful hunt, and turned and left. It would be a long journey back to my band's hunting grounds. I might have heard soft footsteps on the trail behind me, but I was not sure and I didn't think it wise to find out.

When I returned home, it took me a few minutes to find the other hunters. They all wanted to know whether I had found success. I told them that I had met a male and told him that we needed a Ted, but I said nothing about my own scheme to help choose that Ted. They were satisfied. We found our resting places and settled down for the night.

o

What did you learn?

F'lessan wanted to run out and tell Golanth everything he'd discovered in the AIVAS facility. But his leg was still fearfully injured, and even walking with crutches was painful. Golanth couldn't fit inside the human building, of course, so he waited outside while his human partner used the computers to do some research.

"I learned that it used to be a lot easier to just walk in here and talk to AIVAS than it is now, doing all the work myself. I learned that I can't type on these keyboards very fast, and I re-learned that I can't take a step without it hurting like fire." He steeled himself, slowly rose from his chair, took one step, and stopped until the pain faded. At this rate, it might take him half an hour to walk out of the facility.

I mean, what did you learn about the felines that attacked us?

"I knew that!" F'lessan smiled. Even through all his discomfort, he still felt the need to tease his huge friend now and then. He took another step.

"Okay, here's what I really learned. The felines aren't native to Pern; the colonists brought some basic versions of them when they arrived here. A man named Ted Tubberman tried to make them smarter, by giving them the same substance that made the first dragons and the shipfish – I mean the doll-fins smarter. No one knows why; Tubberman was supposed to be a plant expert, not an animal expert. Anyway, his experiment backfired. The felines got smart, but they also got uncontrollable, and they killed him and escaped into the wild. They were forgotten when people left this continent. They've been a menace to livestock ever since people returned to Southern, but their attack on you and me was too much. There are now plans to reduce their numbers by leaving dead animals in their hunting areas, laced with a substance that will keep them from breeding."

Does any of that matter?

"It might matter," F'lessan nodded, and took another step. "It's the link to the dragons and the doll-fins that I'm curious about. The dragons are smart, they like people, and we can talk to them. The doll-fins are also smart, they like people, and we can talk to them. The felines are probably as smart as the doll-fins, but they don't like people. My leg is the proof of that." He took another pained step.

"What I want to know is, can we talk to them?"

o

A/N
The "medium-sized flyer" that Hunter Rit catches is called a whersport in one of the other Pern books.