Query: How do you destroy an auto-turret well-armored enough to shrug off a round from a panzer’s main gun? You take out the intelligence controlling the turret, that’s how—at least that’s the way Argent approached the problem. Our recon and Lynne’s intelligence both confirmed that the auto-turrets themselves were too small to fit anything but the Requiter miniguns, which means the gunners have to be elsewhere. And who would those gunners be? Riggers, priyatel, slags like Raven, jacked into the fire-control radar and the servos that manage the guns themselves. Sitting in revetments too well-hardened to be cracked by anything less than a tac-nuke, but with nice fiber-optic cables running directly into their skulls.