He was already bracing himself for the blow when it came. Protesting was unthinkable, wouldn't have accomplished anything but getting him and possibly his companion into deeper trouble. When it came, the hit was hard enough to send him staggering, ears ringing, trying to shake his head to clear it. But he could tell, after a moment's self-assessment, that it had done no more than bruise.

Yet, in that moment, there was no immediate way to tell that he'd gotten off easily. He shouldn't have - by rights, the hit should have drawn blood. But it hadn't. That had to be deliberate.

He looked at the Soldier for only a second. He gave no acknowledgement of that small mercy, because to do so would have been to invite further punishment for them both. Yet for just a moment, there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, meant only for the other weapon, and fortunately seen by no other.

All that done, he dropped his eyes docilely down to the floor, otherwise standing at attention and ready to be directed. The doctors were pleased by these twin displays of obedience, and he was ordered out without any further difficulties.

The next time they encountered one another would be over either side of a comm line.