The following story is rated T for Teen due to violence and adult situations.

It took a long, long time coming, but folks are finally pulling together and building real communities. Over in Hood, it's strictly Humans. In other towns like Arena and Smokey, all sorts of species live together who came from many worlds through the breaches. The Civilized Lands are starting to look a mite civilized again, and this time, we know better than to grow soft.

Don't forget the third rule of the Code of the West.

Thou shall take pride in thine work.

The scout had deduced the identity of the shooter, 402. She had also called it short. The shooter answered in her same language but with a terrible accent. It said to her, “Your analysis is accurate, but your expectation of my stature is irrelevant. I kept you alive to provide data.”

She told him, “It was a lousy ambush. Effective, but it lacked creativity. It lacked art. I pushed the others into this raid. We wouldn't have fallen for it had we not been hungry. You brought me down with a lucky shot, you old tin chastity belt.”

“Your insult is also irrelevant. That is not the data I require.”

“Who hired you to take us out? Was another Raider, maybe the Big Claw clan? Was it the Resistance? I bet those alien-hating cowards paid a lot for you to fight their battle for them.”

“Incorrect assumption, you are not my target. You will tell me where to find the Reptilian Raider designated as Gorgon.”

“Chief Gorgon? I won't tell you, and you will never find him. He changes his name every season and changes his crew, blending in and out of the Raiders. Any random Raider you meet on the trail might be him or not. I could be Gorgon, and a stupid machine like you would never know.”

“Solution: I will kill every Raider in the Civilized Lands.”

The scout shouted, “Liar!”

402 told her, “I have already killed three squads of Raiders including your own. The previous squads did not have the data I required. If you intend to spare your race from genocide, provide me the data I require to find and eliminate my target.”

The scout screamed more in frustration than pain. Then, she told him, “No one knows where Gorgon is headed next. I haven't seen him for two days. You're wasting your time and bullets, you monster.”

“Relevant, my ammunition is limited, but my time is unlimited. You will tell me how many Raiders were traveling with Gorgon.

“Like the trees.”

“You will tell me how many trapcats travel with Gorgon.”

“Like the grass.”

“Relevant, your programming lacks basic mathematics. You will tell me where you saw Gorgon two days ago.”

The scout spat out a little blood before answering, “I saw him on the trail. He was headed for the Stump, and he was traveling alone. Don't kill anyone else."

“Relevant, I thank you for your data.”

“Machine man, if you are not going to give me a warrior's mercy killing, at least let my trapcat go.”

“Relevant, eliminating you would waste a valuable bullet. Your animal, however, is a hazard. Trapcats are known to stalk their prey and return with greater numbers. I should track and eliminate all trapcats from the vicinity before I continue to the Stump.”

The scout reached out and grabbed a metal leg. She said, “No Machine Man! I will hire you. I can pay you to kill me. I have coins in my pouch. They are old Earth coins from the Golden Age, still shiny.”

“Your payment is accepted.”

“Really? I thought you were going to turn me down. I honestly have nothing that you couldn't have looted.”

“Irrelevant, I was going to loot anyway, but a paying client should not be refused so long as his interests do not conflict with self-interest or prior arrangements. This unit operates at a highly professional degree.”

A few minutes later, buzzards began to gather over the farm. 402 stood in the bright sunline and talked to itself. “Begin audio log. Coordinates: 32-0-90 by 10-0-84 in the Civilized Lands. Date: Irrelevant. The ambush as the proved successful. I uncovered data which identifies the last known location of the target: Gorgon. The data has questionable reliability."

"Expenses: farm clothes, six rounds of pistol ammunition, one round of sniper rifle ammunition, two wire traps, one pound of C-4 explosive, beans. Salvage: one revolving firearm with three bullets, five trapcat saddles, various archaic weapons of wooden and bronze construction but not worth the effort to carry away, six coins of silver composition which may be melted to provide excellent wiring. This unit will require assistance before reaching the Stump. This unit continues to operate at a highly professional degree. End audio log.”