There wasn’t much he could do but cower. He didn’t have a gun, not even his replica Narcoject. He’d lost that to the ork gang and, with the press of events, he hadn’t gotten around to replacing it with anything more useful. Even if he’d had a gun, he wouldn’t have known how to do more than point it, pull the trigger, and then hope he hit something. It was not like he’d had firearms training; he’d never needed it.