He could try to snag something off of a guard now, but if he's trapped in this base, he doesn't need the Cetagandans wary of him and knowing he has firearms training. Trapped between a rock and a hard place. What else is new in his life, he thinks wearily.

"I don't think our hosts will care if we're caught in the crossfire." Cetaganda's plasma blasts on one side and arrows from the other. It's the odds that make him frown as his attention turns to finding somewhere they could duck behind. If only Cetaganda didn't insist on having artful form and function in their military installations.

"We have better chances for survival if we make for cover."