"Three day stopping of liquor ration and assignment to the next offensive patrol," Katia said, signing the paperwork with a flourish. The soldier, a scruffy looking corporal who had been involved in a brawl which had left one civilian dead and a guardsman in the infirmary, looked relieved as he was escorted out of Katia's impromptu office. She sighed and winced as her muscles clenched, reminding her of the several pieces of shrapnel she had taken to the thigh and lower chest. The thick Commissariat great coat had taken the worst of it, but the medicae had still insisted she remain off her feet as much as possible. In truth the medicae had told her she should be in bed for a week, but that wasn't feasible. She pulled irritably at the IV in her arm to free up some space for her left hand.  

"Next," she said, dismissing the corporal with a nod of her chin. The corporal braced to attention and departed, flanked by two of the survivors of Zeb's little command. They had been acting as aides for Katia while she was laid up and had already earned the nickname 'The Firing Party' for their pains. Not that Katia had needed to have anyone shot just yet. In truth the handful of offenders had been given relatively light punishments, Katia having realized that every trained man was invaluable, and that no punishment she could dream up was likely to be that much worse than being cut to pieces by ravening orks.

Her office was located in what had been a primary scholam, but had been converted to military use when the routing PDF troops had fallen back here, crashing into some guardsmen who stiffened them enough to dig in. The office had been a classroom and was still adorned with festive children's art depicting burning heretics. A particularly striking poster advertised 'Our Friend Promethum!' with a number of facts about the fluid written underneath it with childish illustrations. The Firing Party had set up cots and a card table in the coat room, and were serving as aides and runners.

"Trooper Kalth of the 122nd Catachan," Paget, her vox operator announced as a bulky muscular man with an insouciant grin was escorted in between two of her troopers.

"Charges?" Katia asked, for effect, having already reviewed the slate.

"Killed a PDF trooper who woke him for watch," Paget informed her.

"Anything to say for yourself Kalth?" Katia asked, effecting bored indifference.

"He shouldn't have touched my boots, could have been anything bout to grab me," Kalth glowered. This was a sticker subject than it appeared. Katia had been asked to take over discipline of the Imperial forces currently under siege including temporary authority over other regiments, but it made for a sticky mix of conflicting agendas. Kalth was a good soldier and if he were executed the Catachan's would be resentful. On the other hand if he were let off the PDF, the vast majority of troops would be upset. They might even try to get some kind of street justice, which would be both ill advised and unsurvivable.  Worse yet it might lead to a street fight between the militia and the regulars that they could not afford.

"Two weeks KP, somewhere the PDF can see, no patrol duty," Katia declared, signing the slate.

"You can't have me peeling tubers while there are oks need killin'!" Kalth blustered. Katia put down her pen and looked up at him with cold eyes, made tired by the drugs being dripped into her system.

"Skald," she told one of the members of The Firing Party who was sitting on his cot eating something from a can. "If Trooper Kalth prefers, take him out to the playground and shoot him." She arched an eyebrow at the Catachan who met her eyes for a moment before dropping his in surrender.

"Very good. Next," she called as Skald was lead back towards the kitchens, a series of refitted restaurants around an Administratum food dispensary. 

"Skald, spread some rumors among the PDF that Kalth is going to be transferred to a penal legion will you, that should keep anyone from getting their fatigues in a bunch. Skald grinned around a mouthful of reprocessed meat and he tapped his forehead in salute.

"Ma'am, the Colonel has asked to see you," Paget reported before the next offender could be brought in. Katia considered it.

"Alright, send the rest back to lockup for today, we can finish tomorrow," she decided.

"Hey Zeb!" Someone called from the anteroom and the men were suddenly a buzz with good humor at the Sargent's return.