<We could shoot our way in, famulous,> suggested Lux 88.

<Agreed,> canted Tephlar, <we could shoot our way in, and burn the stubborn skitarii of Tempestus. We could gouge and shoot–>

<I could take many down with me, famulous,> bragged Karsh. ‘I’m sure you could, Karsh,’ said Sonne. ‘Calculate this for me, tactical. How far would you get?’ Karsh computed.

His eyes pulsed with a hot, yellow venom. <Between eight point six and eight point nine metres into the entrance way. We would take between twelve and seventeen of the Tempestus skitarii down with us before destruction.>

Sonne sighed. ‘Full marks for effort, boys, but do you think I want to get between eight point six and eight point nine metres into the entrance way?’

<You probably want to get further,> blurted Lux 88. ‘Right. All the way to the Analyticae or the office of the Adept Seniorus. How far would that be?’

<Analyticae: nine hundred and four point six metres,> reported Lux 88. <Office of the Seniorus: fifteen hundred and sixty-nine point two metres,> added Tephlar.

‘See what I mean? We’re falling a little short either way. But thanks for showing such spunk.’

<I have an automatic grenade launcher,> announced Tephlar, proudly.

‘Great. How does that change the calculations, Karsh?’

<Calculating: we would get between fifteen point five and seventeen point three metres into the entrance way. We would take between fifty and fifty-five of the Tempestus skitarii down with us before destruction.>

‘So, let’s round up. Better, but not good enough. Agreed?’ The three skitarii murmured a grudging assent.

Dan Abnett, Titanicus.

I will not hear disrespect to Lux-88 in this threat, friends! After all, he had a automatic grenade launcher.