“AmerIndian 2192” by J. Scott Garibay
“The Injuns will catch you while crossing the Plains. They'll kill you, and scalp you, and beat out your brains. Uncle Sam ought to throw them all over the fence, so there'll be no Red Injuns a hundred years hence.”
A popular settler campfire refrain, nineteenth century, Earth.
1972 - The Black Hills of South Dakota
John “Bear” Vajo opened the lid of the army green case. He brushed away straw and pulled one of the six M-16's out of the case, inspected it. The slide of the fully automatic weapon moved with a smooth, fluid action. Smacking a full magazine into the M-16, he walked to the spot he had prepared for testing the weapon. At one hundred meters he sent three tin cans spinning off a low sitting boulder. The weapon's report rang clear and loud over the dry, hard packed hills and echoed back. This did not worry Bear. The only people who might hear the noise would certainly not call local law enforcement.
“Never been fired. They were one truck away from getting shipped to ‘Nam.” The thin sallow man flicked a butt and let the smoke roll out of his mouth as he talked. “Three grand, cash, right now for this case. I can supply one case every three weeks.”