Cain nods in understanding. The slang is a little difficult to keep up with - he's reminded of Zemelda in a way, and her odd local colloquialisms - but he manages with some mental displacement.

"Well, you can hardly blame them for subcontracting. Can you imagine some aspiring Administratum pencil pusher fully kitted out with a meltagun and a squad of his office storming an industrial manufactora?" He snorts at the mental image. "Perish the thought."