[u]Qiyun Woo[/u]

Today has not been a good day for you. First of all, it started off poorly. You slept weird and your neck hurt waking up. Your older half sister had been telling you this was going to happen for the better part of ten years, but you had scoffed at her when you were twenty and told her that nothing bad would ever happen to you because you practiced martial arts everyday and the elements of forests of Sandrea were in fact the perfect way to refine your qi to give you permanent youthful vigor. Then ten years passed and your neck started hurting and your sister has never stopped laughing about that one time where she asked you to pick up a heavy box of soil for her and you had to say you couldn't because your neck hurt too much. 

Second off, Sandrea was attacked from an angle outside of your caravan and therefore freaked out and veered off course for the first time in basically forever (it's not actually forever, her course has deviations, but this is the largest one on record based on the books that your scribes have brought with them and for obviously good reason). This meant that you had to make the difficult judgment to completely reroute the entire caravan, including all the burden beasts and carts, sending a pair of runners back behind you to get within radio range and alert the further settlements of the change so they could try to figure out a route to relieve you. Then you just had to hope you'd end up somewhere with enough clear terrain to move all the carts, or else call it with them only halfway filled up with planting and send them back. 

Third, there's now been a rocket explosion in the middle of your camp, you're pretty sure Xiao Wei is dead and some other people might be hurt, and you're calling up emergency plans for small arms defense that you haven't had to practice in years while thanking some lucky stars that Zhou Zhou at least has enough fun with that military stuff to insist that everybody practice it sometimes. 

You therefore decide to channel the entirety of your sour mood into your rifle shots, and take great delight in the fact that even though every shot is mildly aggravating your neck, you are still one of the best sharpshooters in Sandrea Caravans and you've already taken two marauders off their mounts with grim satisfaction. 

You are, however, entirely at a loss as to this mechanical creature screaming what appears to be old-fashioned machine errors from some of the more complex computers still around. So, you do the most sensible thing possible and try to shoot it before it gets any closer.