"I'll show you. Talk to me about speed," he says again, because that's where the real tactical edge comes in, maneuvering and out-maneuvering.

He pulls what looks like an empty hilt from his belt, a beautiful swept basket hilt, with scrollwork engraving on the grip and pommel. He angles it carefully away from both of them, and then ignites the blade, a vivid sweep of orange light, tiny numbers flowing in the center of the beam.

"Don't touch, it slices through living tissue like it's nothing, but it won't damage the barge itself. And -" he flicks it into lance mode: the beam leaps forward, trebling in length until it his the wall and stops, a silent gleaming barrier across the room.