WALKING POINT

Mark was waking point for the team. Somewhere out there XMAN23 was scouting ahead. Somwhere beyond him was the enemy. According to the abbreviated briefing, there were TU’COns and rebels. There were also beasties with fangs and claws- hostile fauna, the briefing said.

The job of the pointman was to go first, spot the enemy and traps and basically keep the team from walking into an ambush. Most of the time there wasn’t a scout and Angie might not have been expecting XMAN23 to just launch out on his own. According to the dot of light moving on the map in the corner of Mark’s visor, XMAN was a half-mile out. Mark was only 50 meters out from the rest of the team.

Mark followed a familiar pattern. Walk forward as quietly as he could. With his eyes, sweep the area from left to right. Then look up and sweep back from right to left. Look at the ground ahead. Look back to the left. Repeat. Every few minutes stop and Listen. Start walking again.

It was tiring. Mark had read about this method of walking point in a book or maybe from watching movies. There was no military in his past. Capture the flag at camp and playing games in the woods as a boy scout. Hopefully it would be enough.

It was on one of his listening pauses he heard it. To the right. A cracking branch. He didn’t want to “do a Heather” and get everybody worked up because some rodent thing stepped on a branch or squirrel climbed a branch. Mark aimed his rifle as he looked. It was the feeling that something was there. He slowly took a few sideways steps back the way he came.

There it was. Some kind of beastie. It’s motted brown fur blended very well with the log it was next to. Please, God, don’t let it be a log. Maybe it was a meter long. Maybe? What now?”

He keyed his mic. “Hold in place. I may have a fauna problem.” Fauna problem? What the hell am I saying?

“Roger scout, do you need support?”

“I’ll let you know in a second.” He looked around at his feet. That’ll do. He picked up a rock and heaved it at the beastie. If it was a log it wouldn’t move.

On the plus side, he was right and it was a beastie. On the down side he had pissed it off and now the thing was running towards him. This beastie was a meter and a half of sleek and deadly cat. Looking and acting like a panther it bounded towards him. It was only 40 feet away. The instinct to turn and run was incredibly strong. Mark fought the instinct with everything he had.

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Slowly, deliberately he raised his G78 accelerator rifle. In his mind he could hear Gunny’s southern accent whenever he thought G78 ACK-cell-er-ator rye-fffull. Just like Gunney said in the tutorial, he eased the trigger back. Three shots accelerated out of the end of his rifle. Another three followed immediately.

The first round kicked up dirt between the big cat’s legs. The second one clipped it in the jaw. The third round, and the three coming right after were dead on target. The 10mm projectiles carved up the beasties’ head into a disgusting mess.

Before the cat had fully crashed to a stop there were messages. First was over the unit intercom. “Nice shot,” Angie said. Heather sent her “way to go” through the team chat. Mike also chatted his message “Not bad, but I coulda’ done it in one shot.”

Southaven simply said “cool.” Mark didn’t know he had been added to the unit intercom channel, but it made a lot of sense.

“What the hell is going on back there? Could you make any more noise?” XMAN235 asked over the intercom. The rifles weren’t stealthy.

Mark let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Wait there,” Angie instructed over the intercom, “We’ll be there in a second.”

“Roger,” Mark replied. He scanned the area. No other threats were apparent. He took a few seconds to check the notifications. The indicator was flashing, so there was probably something important.

Congratulations, you have earned the Recon skill, level 1.

Congratulations recruit! You have been placed on the promotion list. Contact higher headquarters to receive your promotion to Private.

That’s a plus.

The rest of the team arrived. Mike toed the dead cat. ”Uh, Did you search it?”

“No,” Mark replied. Why the hell would I search a dead panther?

Mike rolled the dead cat over. Underneath was a credit chip card and a big tooth. ”’Cause where there’s death,” He tossed the tooth to Mark, “there’s loot.”

Mark snatched the tooth out of the air. He turned it over in his hands. The tooth, fang?, was four inches long with a tip as sharp as a knife point. This might have pierced his chest armour. It definitely would have ripped his throat out.

Mike looked to Angie, “standard split?” She nodded. He turned to Mark, the noob. ”That means for money and good stuff, the computer will split it up for us.”

Southaven nodded. ”Fewer arguments if we let a program do the dividing.”

Mark wondered who wrote the program, but that was a worry for later.

“You up for another turn on point?”

He held up the tooth. ”I’m your man.” He dropped the tooth into a pouch. Some other notification appeared in the corner. He ignored it.

Mark gave a small bunny hop and shake so he could adjust his gear. Apparently everything situated correctly. Then he stepped off into the forest.

“Somebody should help him fit his gear.”

“Uh, it’s funnier to watch him dance.”

“It is,” Heather agreed with a smile.