"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?"
"I want our side to win", Valentine said. "Your general's fame has crossed the mountains".
"He doesn't claim any rank, actually", Walker said. "Technically, he's still a civilian. But he's kind of like the president to us. Sometimes he's called the Old Man".
"Just say ol' Adler and everyone knows who you're talking about", Sergeant Coombs added.
Walker fiddled with his pen and inkwell. "I'm going to have to refer your case to higher command. Do you want to stay here, or come back with me to my station?"
"If that would save travel time", Valentine said.
"We'll try to accommodate you", Walker said, looking over his shoulder at the sergeant, who straightened up a little in his lean against the wall.
Walker turned up a new page. "Now, Gide, are you going to tell me you sank the Eisenhower Floating Fortress?"
She was looking fixedly at Valentine, as if trying to decide what the symptoms of delusions of grandeur looked like.
"No. I can ride. I can shoot. I'm healthy", she said.
" 'Can shoot' doesn't do it justice", Valentine said.
Walker spent some time questioning Gide, but Valentine could see he was preoccupied. He was a good interrogator, and for all Valentine knew, the thick glasses and cranky pen were props to put people off their guard. He was good at an interrogator's first job, which was just to get people talking by asking questions that were pleasant to answer.
What assistance Sergeant Coombs offered wasn't clear to Valentine. Maybe he just had a good eye for liars.
They broke for lunch, a mutton stew and applesauce. Then the militiamen packed up a box of wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches and thermoses.
"We'll be there by midnight or so if we get moving", Walker said. He wrote out an order sheet for the gyrocopter to be moved, and handed it to the captain.