Scotty’s gun went empty. “Reload,” he said, voice still a little shaky.

“Sorry, Scotty,” Helen said, taking the empty gun and discarding it. “But I need to slow this down.” She grabbed the man around the neck in a choke hold, putting her gun up to his head. “Nothing personal.”

Scotty gasped. “What?”

“Don’t move, behemoth! I’ve got your commander. If you come any closer, I’ll blow his head off.”

The machine froze, ancient mechanisms racing through logic and situation analysis.

“What’s it gonna be?” Helen asked. “His brains or my freedom?”

“Unsatisfactory,” it said, and took another step forward.