Tail Wagging

[Cassie Granger 0]

Tail Wagging

by PFC Daniel Souter, SFMC FORECON

 

“Danny.”

 

Souter turned his head toward the tree he was leaning against and casually pressed his ear bud. “Yeah, Boss.”

 

“You got eyes on?”

 

His response was drawn out and carried the hint of laughter as he tossed a grin toward a passing child. “Yeah, mid-city near the market. He’s sleeping,” he said as he pushed himself away from the tree trunk and shifted the straw he was chewing from from one side to the other, “or at least he’s trying to look like it. Giving me a chance to check out the local wildlife, gather some intel. Weird planet, I’ll give you that. Weirder population. Feel like I been dropped into an old-time video game.” The snort was just short of derisive.

 

“Different, Danny. The word is ‘different.’”

 

“If you say so, Boss. Want me to blend?”

 

“Stay put. Let them come to you. Midday should bring out most of the population. Move when he does, and stay obvious. You’re probably not the only one who’s watching.”

 

“Gotcha, Boss.”

 

The connection closed and Danny returned his attention to the crowd. Creek’s helmsman seemed relaxed, oblivious to the potential danger in the market place. A lone stranger, unarmed, sitting under a tree in the open market? Didn’t matter how polite the population acted, there was always a hidden element waiting for an opportune moment to take whatever advantage they could. Dan’s job was to tail him, to be sure nothing happened.

 

Right.

 

Now, there are several ways to do a tail. One is to stay hidden. You try not to let your package know you’re tailing and you only interfere if need be, the top of the list for ‘need be’ meaning direct physical protection. Overwatch without the rifle.

 

If you want to tail and protect at the same time, you don’t sneak around, you’re obvious. You let everyone around you know that you’re with that guy, that the person who looks alone is not really alone. This option was usually the best because what looked like a lone target became a duo and anyone wanting to take advantage of one might think twice about two. At least that’s what the head shed* decided, and they had exactly the right person for it: Danny Souter, PFC.

 

The platoon called him ‘the blender’ - not the type you fix food with, but the one who can blend into a role like he was born to it. To begin with, he was pretty nondescript. At 5’6” he was pretty short for a Marine, but short did have its advantages. Put that with brown hair, brown eyes, and a casual manner and you have the perfect recon specialist.

 

But wait! There’s more! Growing up in rural Montana gave him a lot of experience in hiding and blending in: in a group of buddies to get away from a certain female who wouldn’t leave him alone, in town when the carnival arrived and he was supposed to be working in the field, and in the Rockies dodging black bear who’d tired of berries and put fresh meat on the menu.

 

And he had a lot of experience playing the ‘unwanted friend’ or, in the case of his childhood, the ‘unwanted tail-along younger brother.’ He could pout, hang his head, look really, really sad (a favorite ice-breaker for his buddies ), and feign a lot of other things that would make any mother believe it wasn’t his fault.

 

Except for his own mother, but that’s another story.

 

Anyway, today Danny was playing the ‘unwanted friend.’ Dressed as a disheveled farm boy, the antithesis of Shalin’s middle class, every time Shalin looked in his direction or dodged out of sight, Danny would flash the most pathetic expression he could muster and run clumsily after him, giving an occasional limp or stumble for good measure. By the looks of the townspeople it worked; he’d seen several glance from him to his package and some even looked like they took pity... well, as much pity as the upper-class gentry could on a hick farm boy.

 

So Danny stayed put, back against a tree, .38 tucked in his trousers just beneath his tunic, occasionally glancing toward Shalin and sinking to the ground to mimic his ‘friend’ who had ‘disowned him’ for some reason.

 

And he watched.

 

==========

*Either senior command or the officer(s) in charge on the ground.