Standing amidst the shattered bodies of the enemy Alfus saw hand signals flickering around the platoon again. The Lieutenant had ordered kalm only, blur off, form perimeter, hold position, await thunderhawks. Alfus slipped off his mask as everything slowed down. Too much blur and you burned up. How much was too much was an imperial secret.
He nudged his mate, "What do you reckon they are, twists?" He pointed at the shattered armoured suits scattered around."
"Do you reckon we should do a Yarrick now we're finished with gun-babies?"
"Why not," Athelwist replied. "What about that over there, that smart expensive looking box?"
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