"You'll hear the whole story, if you want", Valentine said.
"Tell you what, Mister, we support some garrison militia right here in town. I'm going to hold you here for now, warm and cozy, but we have to keep you to visitors' quarters. We'll turn you over to them and they'll feed you until someone from Pacific Command can get down here. Hope that goes well for you - the alternative isn't pleasant".
* * *
After a warm disinfectant shower and a quick physical, the captain put them in a rather moldy house. They had running water, though it was cold. Tallow dips offered smelly light at night, and there were some old books to read.
The windows and door were barred from the outside. Valentine watched off-duty men inspect the autogyro, everything from the still-smelly cockpit to the tail rotor. Valentine's weapons and gear were all locked up in the "armory", what had formerly been the modest post office in the middle of town.
Gide silently fretted. Being locked up, in her experience in the Kurian Zone, meant doom.
"They're just being careful", Valentine said.
Finally a tired-looking young lieutenant driven by a heavyset sergeant with a maimed right hand pulled up in a two-horse carriage and visited the redbrick headquarters building.
In a few moments they emerged, accompanied by the mustachioed Captain Clarke and the militia staff sergeant, who inspected their lodgings daily for signs of damage or mischief.
Clarke knocked and entered without waiting for a response: "You two got a visitor. He'll figure out what the hell to make outta you".
The captain and the militia sergeant waited outside the locked door while the newly arrived lieutenant sat down and opened a folding notebook. He had ink stains on his fingers thanks to a problematic pen, and the frames of his thick glasses looked like they'd originally been intended for a woman.
"My name is Lieutenant Walker. This is Sergeant Coombs. You are ... ahh, David Valentine, I take it?" he asked, looking through the bottle-bottom lenses.
"Yes", Valentine said.
"So you're Gide. No other name?"
"I've been called lots of names", she said. "But I wouldn't want them written down".
The sergeant assisting licked his lips as he looked at her. She'd found a thick flannel shirt in one of the closets, and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, but she still exuded her aggressive sensuality.
"Have you been treated well since you arrived? You can be honest - I report to a whole separate chain of command. Plenty of food? Wash water? Medical care?"
Valentine plucked at the elastic bandage on his ankle. It had healed with its usual alacrity. "They've been generous with everything", Valentine said.
"Good. Place of birth?"
"Boundary Waters, Minnesota", Valentine said.
"Choa Flats, Arizona", Gide supplied.
"Freeborn?"
"Meaning?" Valentine asked.
"Not born into slavery, on an estate or whatever".
"No", Valentine said. " 'Freeborn.' "
"I was born in the Confederation, obviously", Gide said.
"Military experience? Someone must have taught you to fly, David. Should we start with that?"
Valentine put his hands on his knees. "Have to go back a few more years. I first joined Southern Command in May of 2061, when a Wolf patrol came through our area...".
The rest took about twenty minutes. Valentine just skimmed his wanderings after his adoption of Blake.
Lieutenant Walker's pen ran out when Valentine described the bounty he'd claimed. "Damn", he muttered. "Look, ummm, Major Valentine, this is a bit more than I expected. If I can ask you, though, sir, what did you come here to do?"