Much as Harvin wanted to contribute to the Kroot's fight against the insane captain, he was pretty sure he'd be rent apart if he tried to get up close with the chainswords, and having established that every gun on him except the explosive bolt carbine was too weak to reasonably damage the man's power armour, he simply did his best to remain relatively quiet and avoid notice after having flung himself out of the psychopath's path, rolling to minimise any potential harm. Fortunately, the xeno creature's weapon seemed to be far more than strong enough to seriously wound the man, and it didn't take long before he resorted to actually throwing the power sword, the blade embedding hilt-deep into the floor some distance away as the Kroot dodged it, and then to insults, before finally being put out of his misery. The last significant threat to the mercenaries dealt with- manageable, rather, Harvin knowing what he did- the Kroot took that time to check its injuries and resling its rifle, whilst Harvin took a moment to calm himself. As calm as he could get, anyway.

When he opened his eyes, the xeno was looking at him. What, did it want to eat him now or something? Was that why it was looking at him?! Probably not, but he knew they did that sometimes. Still, it was another mercenary, so he figured he should at least give it fair warning of the impending doom that was soon to be upon them. And this other guy... oh, hey, it was the guy from before, with the turned-off power sword in hand, coming up toward the Kroot.

'Alright, so here's me,' the man began in a somewhat annoyed tone, 'just walking round the facility, trying to find more pirates, and then somebody flings an Emperor-damned power sword about two feet in front of me. I grab it, turn it off, walk over here, and who do I see but fucking robo-arm and an alien with a pulse rifle. What the hell is going on?'

'Okay, look,' Harvin started, rising to his feet and trotting over to the two, 'that guy you-' he pointed to the alien- 'just shot did something, right? And, er, he's gone and guffed up the power reactors or something. They're gonna blow up, and we need to leave, uh, probably now, really.' "Guff", again, was another bit of Slomian slang along the lines of smeg, albeit with greater meaning, implying something being ruined; he wondered briefly after the fact whether the xeno, or even the jackass, would actually recognise the comparison with more contemporary Low Gothic words, but shortly stopped caring so as to make sure it didn't abruptly turn on him. That'd suck butts.

'Wait, it's gonna blow up?! Then we need to get out of-' the other human began, only to gasp long and loud and fall to his knees at the sight of the dead man's clothing. 'Holy shit, that's fucking power armour! That's [i]so[/i] good- and I can't loot it because the place is going to explode! That's not ff- HHRRRRRMMMM... yeah, good job on that, asshat,' he concluded, directing his frustration at Harvin as he knelt down and fiddled with whatever kept the sword's sheath attached to the captain's body, some sort of looped belt.

'Oi, what did [i]I[/i] do?!' Harvin retorted angrily. 'He already set them off before I got there, what am I going to do-'

'Turn them off, maybe?'

'HOW?!' By now, the belt had come free, and the looter reattached it around his own waist before sliding the sword into the sheath. 'Whatever, I'm getting out of here, you can stay and die if you want,' the mercenary concluded, rising into a run back toward where the drop pods had landed (or so Harvin presumed) with a passing farewell of 'So long, idiots!' Much as Harvin wanted to chase after him, he figured it wouldn't be particularly fruitful. It wasn't like he needed a power sword anyway, since he couldn't really work it into his arm safely, though anyone who did would probably have just a few seconds to either start chasing after the guy or shoot him down from a distance before he vanished into the corridors of the facility with his prize.