The tribal was sharpening his knife. It was a crude blade, clearly made from a piece of scrap metal with a handle wrapped with animal tendon. He sat on an equally crude wooden stool. He ran the jagged edge over the whetstone, spat on the stone, spread the saliva with his thumb and scraped the blade over the stone again.

Ajax lifted his head from his scope. He could see Captain Miller and the rest of the ten man squad slowly crawling along the edge of the hill. He went back to his scope and paned around the nomad's camp. It consisted of seven tent, some made from Brahmin skin some were patched up prewar structures. They were arranged in a circle around a large fire in the center of the camp. Over the fire was a large slab of meat that two women were turning. A small heard of Brahmin were picketed of to the side of the camp.

Ajax raised his head from his scope again. He could, ever so faintly, see the Rangers position in a semi-circle around the edge of the camp. The nomads had decided to bed down in a hollow guarded on three sides by hills. But what had given them protection from the wind and far off eyes now raised their death above them. Ajax's head lowered to his rife. He adjusted the stock into his shoulder checked for the tenth time that his safety was off and focused his cross hairs on the man sharpening the knife.

It was early in the morning and most of the nomads were still sleeping, about ten of the thirty they had been tracking were outside of their tents. Ajax stated his breathing. In…out…in…out…slow regulated breaths to try and steady his shaking hands. He heard a Burrowing Owl hoot three times. That was the signal, he breathed in and half way out.

A shrill whistle shattered the morning silence. The man with the knife's head shot up, half a second later thunder boomed. Ajax's rifle cracked adding its voice to the storm, the .270 bullet traveled the sixty yards in a millisecond.

Blood painted the sun cracked dirt and the man fell of his stool and onto the ground. Ajax grabbed the bolt of his rifle: up, back, forward, down. The shell casing spun into the grass beside him, nearly hitting his ally laying prone next to him. Ajax panned around the camp, bodies were everywhere, the two women who were cooking lay dead, one had fallen into the fire and was burning.

A middle age man came out of a tent, Ajax instantly moved his cross hairs to the man but before he could fire the nomad's head exploded. A younger man tripped over the body of his fellow as he scrambled from the same tent. He barely managed to keep his feet and stated to sprint out of the camp. Ajax's rife tracked the running man. The man vanished behind one of the tents, Ajax kept moving his gun at the same pace. The man reappeared on the other side of the tent at the same instant as Ajax's cross hairs did. Ajax did not give him a second chance to hide. His rife roared and the man crumpled to the ground, rolled once and lay still. Ajax cycled the action of his rife a second time and returned his scope to the center of the camp. It was crowded with people. It was then that he noticed the silence. There was no more gunfire or yelling. The bodies that he was seeing were all still.

He glanced over to the man lying beside him, the grizzled Ranger looked at him and gave him a broken smile.

"Got them" said Gus as he sat up.

Ajax followed suit not really sure what to do now. He was willing to bet that as long as he mirrored the man to his right he would be fine.

Gus was old for a Ranger, easily in his fifties, and not of any rank, but he was respected by all. Even Captain Miller had asked Gus what he thought of the plan as explained it to the squad as they broke camp that morning.

Gus reached to his right and started to pick his brass out of the dirt. Ajax seeing this did the same, retrieving his casings and placing them in his pocket. Gus stood slung his rife, drew his pistol and stated to make his way down the hill toward the camp. Ajax followed closely.

When the two of them reached the center of the camp the rest of the squad was busy herding the surviving nomads together. As Ajax approached the fire a hand grabbed his foot. He jumped wrenching his boot free and aimed his pistol at the ground.

"Help me" croaked the woman.

She was old, her skin was browned and cracked by the sun and time. The bullet that had downed her had been low catching her in the stomach. The dirt was already soaked red with her blood. Ajax looked at Gus. The Ranger shrugged and said "Don't waste a bullet" then strode off leaving Ajax alone with the dying woman.

Ajax holstered his pistol and drew his knife. He kneeled next to the dying woman she clutched at his shirt as he moved the blade to her throat. He placed his left hand on her shoulder breathed in.

"Pl.." she started to say but his knife silenced her.

He rose to his feet the woman gurgled and convulsed for a moment then was still. He closed his eyes took a few deep breathes and then continued forward. The rest of the Rangers had already separated the surviving eleven nomads into three groups. The first of the groups consisted of three small children. A girl no more than six was holding an infant and a toddler held onto her crying. The second group was older children between eight and twelve. There were four of them shivering and terrified, a few had blood on them even though they were unharmed. The third group was the oldest: two teenagers, an old man and a woman in her twenties. Behind each of them stood a ranger. The Captain nodded to the rangers standing behind them.

Ajax knew what was coming next and wanted to look away but he could not tear his gaze from the young woman. She was staring at him, pleading with her eyes. He tried to look away he knew it was the rules that when you take captives you kill the older ones. The ones who might try to hunt you down later for revenge. You send the children packing, even if the desert does not kill them they will be too young and terrified to do anything and you take the youngest to be raised back at the Colony.

He knew this, he had sworn to do this and yet when the Rangers force the adults onto their knees he could not help but have second thoughts. The Rangers drew their knives and in unison slit the captive's throats. The blood squirted into the dirt, Ajax looked at the children, they all stared at the scene of violence before them muted by terror. The Rangers let go of the bodies and they thudded to the ground. That was when the screaming started. Captain Miller turned to the second group.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP" he roared.

Miller was a large man six four and two hundred pounds. He carried the squads only .50 Cal and had been known to kill a man by ripping his jaw off. He had a scar that ran across his face nearly claiming his left eye. If you believed the story he had gotten it when fighting a Deathclaw with his knife. Most people were inclined to believe the story because around his neck Miller wore a necklace made from the claws of a Deathclaw and he had knocked a man out in a single punch when he had called the captain a liar.

The children stared stupefied at the Captain. He raised his hand and pointed to the south.

"Walk that way and we will never meet again" he said calmly.

The children turned looked off into the distance and started running.

Ajax moved to the edge of the camp where he had made his first kill. The man was younger than he had thought, he was probably still in his teens. He crouched down next to the body. It had been a perfect shot, the bullet had hit him at the base of the skull severing the spinal cord. Ajax looked into the man's eyes, they were still open and seemed to follow him as he moved. Ajax reached forward with his arm and carefully closed the man's eyes.

He started to search the man. Rangers were issued standard equipment when they gave their oaths: a bolt action rifle with a simple glass, a fixed blade knife and a 9mm or .45 Cal semiautomatic pistol. But they were allowed the first pick of weapons and supplies that they looted on missions. A man like Gus would have had thousands of kills and in turn thousands of opportunities to improve his arsenal. Gus no longer had a bolt-action, his gun was an M-14 with an infrared scope.

Ajax's hands soon fell upon a revolver. The gun was mostly hidden, tucked inside of the man's shirt, and for good reason. These nomads were usually pretty poor when it came to weapons. A gun of any worth would have been taken and given to the chief or best warrior. And this was a good weapon, .44 magnum six shot. The gun was in amazing condition the wood and metal was unscratched. When Ajax opened the action it was smooth and sharp. He looked at the man, where had he gotten this? Ajax pushed aside these thoughts, the only person who could answer them was dead and they would need to heading back to the Colony soon. Ajax's continued search turned up some rounds for the pistol and a strange gold coin. He mindlessly stuffed the supplies in his pack and moved on.

The second man he had shot had not been as clean of a kill. The round had punched through his chest sideways. There was blood splattered in front of the man's mouth, Ajax could envision himself lying there drowning on his own blood. A search of the man revealed nothing of use, he had probably been sleeping when the attack began.

Ajax returned to the center of the camp. The other Rangers were busy looting corpses and tents. The meat over the fire was burned and the woman that had fallen in was mostly gone. Ajax looked at the meat and then around the camp, he spotted two tanning racks with Brahmin skin stretched over them. If these people had just left their herds alone they would still be alive. But the Colony had no tolerance for thieves.

Captain Miller walked up next to him.

"Find anything good boy" he inquired.

Ajax pulled the revolver from his pack and mutely handed it to the bear of a man. The Captain took it, turned it over in his hands grunted in approval and handed it back.

"Cheer up boy, we fucked those thieving bastards and we did it without a single man getting injured, today was a good day" the Captain emphasized his words of wisdom with a pat on Ajax's back. The blow nearly sent him to the ground.

Ajax recovered and looked at Miller, the man had already started to walk away and was yelling at a pair of Rangers to load up the Brahmin. Ajax looked at the ground, the four nomads that they had executed were lying there in pools of their own blood. He doubted that they thought it was a good day.