Narrator: The mercenaries' terashuttle. Think of it as an airtight box with life-support and no tv.
Kevyn: Captain's orders, Elf. I'm taking Der Trihs' armor command until he can return to duty.
Elf: Fine. Command. But let us use our tanks!
Kevyn: Ennesby already 'ported them out of the system. This platoon is shuttling back to the ship with me. Besides, with those feet, you won't fit in a minitank anymore.
Elf: Hey, the oversized feet are your doing.
Kevyn: Oh, and your tank got blown up.
Elf: Yeah, like that's a reason to ground me.
Legs:
Tchukk:
Chelle: