Halla only shrugged, as if it didn't matter.
It was during the last hour of practice on the seventh day, only a few hours after Halla's army had won its seventh battle, that Major Anderson himself came into the video room. He handed a slip of paper to one of the commanders sitting there, and then spoke to Halla. "Princewill Beza wishes to see you in his office immediately."
Halla got up and followed Anderson through the corridors. Anderson palmed the locks that kept students out of the officers' quarters; finally they came to where Beza had taken root on a swivel chair bolted to the steel floor. His belly spilled over both armrests now, even when he sat upright. Halla tried to remember. Beza hadn't seemed particularly fat at all when Halla first met him, only four years ago. Time and ten
