Bringing his pistols up the Technist pointed them straight out from his sides, he did not aim, not in the normal sense of the word at least. If any had been able to see him it would seem his arms were moving of their own accord. Thump-thump, his heart beat steadily, dead-dead, two bugs dropped, thump-thump, two more, his wrists shifted and he leaned slightly to the left, thump-thump, drop-drop. A bug moved to spear him with a fore-leg, his left arm shot around to his front, thump, drop. Another, to his rear. Right arm snapped back, thump-drop. He took a step froward, allowing his body to drop further into a stance, one that looked impossible, and indeed was if not for the increased mobility in his joints thanks to the nanite reconstructions. His right elbow actually pivoted backwards for a moment, thump-drop. His left shot straight forward twisting to hold the gun sideways, thump-drop. And then, for a heart beat there was nothing, the suits senors picked up only the wind and obediently transmitted it directly to the part of his brain that cared about such things.
In ages past, firearms that could select fire had to be set manually, but that time it took to flick a selector with one’s thumb, that was an eternity to a combat technician, no, he simply willed it to happen, and the suit, faster than thought sent the message to its gloves and through the connectors into the guns and a small plasmatic relay switched to automatic.
Twisting his body on one heel, he spun around carving a radius around him with rapid fire, at one point he allowed his arms to cross, pointing both pistols straight ahead towards the center of the bug horde cutting a path of broken chitinous bodies.