“Here, take this one.” I tossed a Bryar pistol, still in its holster, to my Sorrusian companion. We were inside the Hell’s Call, going through my considerable onboard armory. He caught it, looked it over curiously for a moment, then began to connect the holster to his belt. “It’s a modified Bryar rifle, sawn off to be a pistol in size. It packs a punch that can tear through a stormtrooper’s armor with ease.” He looked at the weapon again. “And have you considered getting in by stealth?” He nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” “You’ve gotta be kidding me; isn’t a sawn-off rifle enough?”