The trip from the surface to the USS Escort was a quiet one. Stauch and Broski accompanied the officers and their prisoner at the commander's request, trusting that their presence
would keep Lightnin' Liz in line. He had to admit that he would be hesitant to kill the attractive gunslinger, as would the other officers, but the commandos viewed her as only one thing, a threat.
Their would be no hesitation on their parts. To Broski, their being there was a waste of time. By the way the hickish, earth skag gawked out the view ports, you'd think she'd never seen the stars before.
"Well, I'll be derned.", she whispered catching sight of the ship.
Stauch raised a contemptuous eyebrow at her statement. "I'm sure we'll all be 'derned' soon enough.", he muttered unappreciatively.
"Gee, guys", Number Two observed placatingly, "it's her first time in space. She's just a little taken aback by it all."
"Sure", Broski remarked dryly, "imagine how awed she'll be when she sees the armory."
"That's not going to happen.", Stauch intervened, his gaze turning to meet the commander's. "At least not any time soon."
The shuttle was swallowed up by the larger ship and they set down lightly on the deck of the docking bay. The hatch opened and Broski took custody of the prisoner, her hands still restrained by stress inhibitors.
"Don't ya' think you can take these off now?", Liz said thrusting the apparatus toward the corporal's face. Broski grasped her outstretched hand and twisted lightly until Liz was on her toes.
"Gall dern!", she exclaimed in surprise, "ya don't gotta break my arm."
"That remains to be seen.", Broski retorted darkly.
