They can run faster? asked Tardma.
Not juicy enough, more likely, replied Varian.
Protected by the adults? asked Paskutti. You remember that the smallest ones ran in the centre of the herd when we first encountered this species.
I'd still like to know why . . .
We may find out now. said Paskutti, pointing below.
At the furthest edge of the rain forest, one of the herbivores had stopped eating and had stretched itself up on its hindlegs, its crested head pointing steadily north. It dropped suddenly, wheeling, emitting a snorting kind of whistle as it began to run due south. Another beast, not alarmed by the departure of the first, seemed to catch the same scent. It too, whistled, dropped to all fours and began to trundle south. One by one, independently, the herbivores moved away, the smaller ones following the elders, and gradually overtaking them. The whistles grew more noisy, frightened.
We wait? asked Tardma, her blunt fingers twitching on the controls.
Yes, we wait, said Varian, uncomfortably aware of the suppressed eagerness in Tardma's manner.
They didn't have long to wait. They heard the crashing approach some seconds before seeing it, a pacing creature, head low, short forepaws extended as it ran, its thick heavy tail counterbalancing the heavy body. The big jawed mouth was open, saliva foaming through but not obscuring the rows of spikey teeth. As it ran past the hovering sled, Varian saw its eyes, the hungry little eyes, the vicious eyes of the predator.
Are we following? asked Tardma, her voice curiously breathy.
Yes.
To stop the ecological balance? asked Puskutti.
Balance? What that creature does is not balance, That's not killing for need: that's maiming for pleasure.
Varian felt herself inwardly shaking with the force of her words. She ought not to get so upset.
Perhaps, perhaps not, said Paskutti and started the drive, to follow the predator.
Though it was not always in the scope, its course was easily followed by the broken or shaking trees, the sudden flurries of avian life forms or the startled scampering of small ground creatures. Its speed was considerably more than the lumbering herbivores and it was only a matter of time before it overcame the distance between them. If Varian found herself responding to the chase stimulus with quickened breath, dry throat and internal quivering, she was astounded by the metamorphosic of the heavy-worlders. For the first time since she had worked with them, they were displaying emotion: their faces contorted with an excitement, a lust, an avidity that had nothing to do with civilized reactions.
Varian was appalled and had she been at the controls instead of Paskutti, she would have veered away from the finale of this chase. That, in itself, would have been an act to undermine her authority over the heavy-worlders. They were tolerant of light gravity physical limitations, but they would have been contemptuous of moral cowardice. She had, after all, Varian realized, organized this expedition to discover how dangerous the predator was to the herbivores and to secondary camps. She couldn't turn aside because of squeamishness. And she didn't understand her own reactions. She'd seen more hideous forms of death, worse battles of animal against animal.
The predator had caught up with the main herd. It singled out one beast, pursuing the terrified animal into a culde-sac caused by fallen trees. Frantic, the herbivore tried to climb the trunks but it had ineffectual forefeet for such exercise and too much bulk for the logs to sustain. Bleating and whistling, it slid into its predator's grasp. With one mighty blow of a hindleg, the carnivore downed the fright-paralyzed herbivore. The predator measured a distance on the quivering flank; its front paws, far smaller than the massive hindlegs, were almost obscene in this gesture. The herbivore screamed as the predator's teeth sank into the flank and ripped off a hideous mouthful. Varian wanted to retch.
Frighten that horror away, Paskutti. Kill it!
You can't rescue all the herbivores on this world by killing one predator, said Paskutti, his eyes on the scene below, shining with what Varian recognized as a blood lust.
I'm not rescuing all of them, just this one, she cried, reaching for the controls.
Paskutti, his face once more settling into the more farniliar, emotionless lines, switched the sled to full power and dove at the carnivore which was settling itself for a second rending bite. As the sled's exhaust singed it head skin, it roared. Rearing up, counterbalanced by the huge tail, it tried to grab at the sled.
Again, Paskutti.
I know what I'm doing, said Paskutti in a flat, dangerous voice.
Varian looked at Tardma, but she, too, had eyes for nothing but this curious battle. Why, thought Varian, appalled, he's playing with the predator!
This time Paskutti caught the predator off-balance. To keep upright, it had to release the herbivore.
Get up, you silly creature. Get up and run, cried Varian as the whistling, bleating grass-eater remained where it had fallen, blood oozing from the bitten flank.
It hasn't wit enough to know it's free, replied Tardma, her tone even but scornful.
Drive the carnivore back, Paskutti.
Varian needn't have spoken for that was what the heavy-worlder was doing. The predator, now recognizing an enemy above it, attempted to bat the menace from the sky with its forelegs and massive head. Instead, it was driven, back, back, away from the herbivore.
Paskutti played with the creature who impotently tried to, defend itself. Before Varian realized what Paskutti intended, the man swung the sled and let a full blast of its jets into the predator's head. A bellow of pain assailed their ears as the sled accelerated violently forward, throwing Tardma and Varian against their straps. They were thrust in the other direction as Paskutti veered back to survey the effect of his chastisement.
The carnivore was trying to get its forepaws to its face, now blackened and bleeding from the jet blast. It rolled its head in agony as it lurched blindly about.
Now let us see if it has learned a lesson, Paskutti said and drove the sled back towards the beast.
It heard the sled, roared and stumbled wildly in the opposite direction.
There, Varian. It has learned that a sled means pain. That one won't bother any area where it hears sleds.
That wasn't what I was trying to do, Paskutti.
You xenobs get soft-hearted. It's tough, that killer. It'll recover. You will want to tend the wounded herbivore?
Controlling her sudden revulsion of Paskutti with a tremendous effort, Varian nodded and busied herself with her veterinary supplies. The herbivore was still on its side, too terrified to right itself and run. Its injured limb twitched and the exposed muscles rippled, each time causing the herbivore to whistle and bleat in pain. Varian ordered Paskutti to hover the sled directly over the creature which was oblivious to anything except its terror and pain. It was simpler to sprinkle over an antibiotic and spray the seal on from above. They continued to hover, at a higher altitude, until the beast realized that it was no longer in any danger and struggled to its feet. Then it sniffed about and, reassured, shook, bellowing as the reflex action caused discomfort in the leg. Abruptly it snatched at a hanging frond and munched. It looked for more food, turning about and then finally began to wander away from the trap, sniffing occasionally at the wind, bleating and whistling when it remembered it was wounded.
Varian felt Paskutti watching her. She didn't want to meet his eyes for fear he would see her revulsion of him.
All right, let's extend our search in this area. We'll want to know what other life forms live in these foothills before the geologists can safely work here.
Paskutti nodded and swung the sled towards the north-east again. They encountered and tagged three more herding types. Varian, still numbed by the earlier incident, gradually woke up to the fact that each of the new species must have had some common ancestor before evolutionary differences developed to put them into a sub-grouping.