A hesitation, and then Byerly leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice is a little slow, a little reluctant, when he responds, "Yes." A sigh. "But that doesn't make me useful. I have no facility for killing. Especially not with this barbaric weaponry. A stunner's all well and good, but a sword? I'm not strong, I'm not fast, and the smell of blood turns my stomach." He purses his lips, shakes his head. "It sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn't it? What do you call a Vorrutyer who faints at the sight of blood?"