Pyp tipped his hat up and forward, scratched his stubbled head. "Easily done. We've got a friendly field in northern Utah".
"Thanks".
"You'll find a little gratitude goes a long way", Pyp said. "We'll put you in the VIP jet if you like".
"Throw in some flying lessons and we'll call it a deal", Valentine said.
"Not sure a man who turns down mint gold should be working a stick and rudder, but we'll oblige", Pyp said. "Horny, you tell Alvarez to arrange some privates".
"I'll take him up myself", Hornbreed said, setting down his almost-empty quart of milk. "The wing's going to be down for a while anyway".
"That's the other thing", Pyp said. "We're going to have to dummy up for a week or so and make you look operational. There's a purification drive".
"Huff..". Hornbreed lost some of his color. "Oh hell".
Valentine wanted to ask what a "purification drive" was, but Hornbreed read his face. "Looks like you haven't spent much time in the Confederation".
"They could show any day", Pyp said.
Hornbreed swung his legs out of the bed, took a deep, wheezy breath. "Get my boots, huh?"
* * *
They put Valentine in a comfortable little house in a no-man's-land of fencing that wasn't on the airfield, but rather grew out beside the main gate in a dogleg shape. More houses, a little school with thick bars around it, and some rows of two-story apartments surrounded an empty pool that someone had turned into the world's biggest sandbox for the kids. A driving range/putting green ran in a green carpet out to the fencing. As if to make up for the missing pool, housing management
turned a big sprinkler on every afternoon, watering the putting green, and the base kids shrieked as they ran in and out of it.
Runoff fed a vegetable garden, and served as a birdbath. The birds looked every bit as happy as the kids.
Skinny, shoeless, half-naked kids watched from the other side of the wire, sticking their arms through the fencing and begging food, alternating pleas in Spanish and English.
Valentine took a short joyride his first evening. A young instructor named Starguide offered him the chance to watch a sunset from just beneath the clouds. Valentine gazed down on the rooftops of Yuma, spotted a few antlike vehicles on the wide roads, saw the Colorado and Yuma rivers running muddily beneath, along with the old, perforated border fences and trenches dividing Arizona from Mexico. And of course the sun, turning everything shades of red and copper.
/ see why, Dad. But how did you ever give this up?
"Ready to take over?" Starguide asked
Valentine wiped the tears out of his eyes.
"Like with most everything, first time's the best", Starguide said. "Pick a spot on the horizon and keep her level. Don't be afraid... I'm here. Small, gentle movements. You'll just have her for a few minutes - it's getting dark".
Valentine took the controls. The plane waggled a little and settled down.
"You've got good hands for this, Argent", Starguide said.
"I bet you say that to all the boys", Valentine said.
"Dude, don't even joke about it. You don't want a rep as a rainbow chaser. Pilot culture is muy macho".
After the exhilaration of a night landing, with the airfield lights changing speed and perspective until they touched down with the softest of bumps, Starguide filled out some paperwork. He then took Valentine toward Yuma on a spring-worn shuttle bus. They stopped well outside of town at a cavernous wooden restaurant, where Hornbreed watched while some musicians set up. A petite, caramel-skinned woman with cheekbones and jawline as sharp as a hunting arrow sat
beside Hornbreed, resting her hand on his arm, loving but not overly demonstrative.
"Any news?" Starguide asked.
"No sign of 'em yet", Hornbreed said. "Maybe they'll skip us and concentrate on the out-there".
Starguide didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His face said "That'll be the day".