"I'm told it's a very painful way to die," said Polly.
"Who by?" said Tonker.
Occasionally the sounds of battle filtered through the narrow window. Mostly it was yells; often it was screams. Fun was being had.
Igorina sat staring at her hands. "What's wrong with these?" she said. "Didn't I do a good job on that arm? But no, they're afraid I might touch their privates."
"Perhaps you could have promised to operate only on officers," said Tonker. No one laughed, and probably no one would have bothered to run for it if the door had swung open. It was a proud and noble thing to escape from the enemy, but if you were escaping from your own side, where would you escape to?
On one of the bunks, Wazzer slept like a hibernating bear. You had to watch her for some time to see her breathe.
"What can they do to us?" said Shufti nervously. "You know... really do to us?"
"We were wearing men's clothes," said Polly.
"But that's only a beating."
"Oh, they'll find some other stuff, believe you me," said Tonker. "Besides, who knows we're here?"
"But we got them out of prison! Our side!"
Polly sighed. "That's why, Shufti. No one wants to know that a bunch of girls dressed up as soldiers and broke into a big fort and let out half an army. Everyone knows females can't do that. Neither side wants us here, understand?"
"On a battlefield like this, who'll worry about a few more bodies?" said Tonker.
"Don't say that! Lieutenant Blouse spoke up for us," said Shufti.
"What, Daphne?" said Tonker. "Hah! Just another body. They've probably locked him up somewhere, just like us."
There was a distant cheering, which went on for some time.
"Sounds like they've got the building," said Polly.
"Hooray for us," said Tonker, and spat.
After a while, a small hatch was opened in the door and a silent man handed through a big can of scubbo and a tray of horse-bread. It wasn't bad scubbo or, at least, not bad scubbo by the standards of bad scubbo. There was some discussion about whether being fed meant you weren't going to be executed, until someone pointed out the tradition of the Last Hearty Meal.
Igorina gave it as her cultural opinion that the stew was not only hearty but lungy and livery too. But at least it was hot.
A couple of hours later a can of saloop was handed through, with some mugs. This time, the guard winked.
An hour after that, the door was unlocked. A young man in a major's uniform stepped inside.
Oh well, let's go on as we started, Polly thought. She leapt to her feet. "Squaddd... tennn... hut!"
With reasonable speed, the squad at least managed to stand up straight and in a line. The major acknowledged her by tapping the peak of his cap with a stick. It was definitely thinner than an inch.
"Stand easy... corporal, isn't it?" he said.
"Yessir." That sounded promising.
"I am Major Clogston, of the Provost's office," said the major. "And I'd like you to tell me all about it. About everything. I will make notes, if you don't mind."
"What's this about?" said Tonker.
"Ah, you'd be... Private Halter," said Clogston. "I've already spoken at length to Lieutenant Blouse." He turned, nodded at the guard hovering in the doorway, and shut the door. He also closed the hatch.
"You are going to be tried," he said, sitting down on the spare bunk. "The politicos want you to be tried by a full Nugganatic court, but that would be tricky here, and no one wants this to go on for any longer than it has to. Besides, there has been an... unusual event. Someone has sent a communique to General Froc asking about you all by name. At least," he added, "by your surnames."