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"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.
"You travel at night?" Valentine asked.
"We don't go fast enough so it's dangerous", Walker said.
"I take it the Reapers don't get this far into the mountains, then?"
"No. We give them too much to worry about in the basin. The tower's men are the ones who fear the night. Not us".
Valentine couldn't tell if this was just rear-area bravado, propaganda, or confidence born of experience.
"I don't suppose I can have my carbine back".
"Sergeant Coombs, what do you think?"
"If he's who he says he is, he doesn't need a gun to kill us".
Walker giggled. "The sergeant has a dark streak like the Columbia River. But let me keep the hardware for now. It'll save questions at the stops, as you don't have so much as a militia cap".
Their gear stowed beneath the seats, Valentine helped Gide up into the open carriage, then climbed up himself. It had iron-rimmed wheels and a camouflage-netting top.
"Sorry for the rickety transport", Walker said. "As a lowly lieutenant, I don't rate a gasoline ration for my duties. Our supply line for fossils stretches way up into Canada, and it's not altogether reliable". He took off his glasses and nodded to the sergeant, who set off.
They stopped three times on the journey, twice at checkpoints outside of settlements and once for an exchange of horses. Passwords were swapped and orders and identification examined. The fresh horses made a difference, and they creaked and rattled on the iron rims into an electrically lit military camp a good half hour before the lieutenant's prediction.
Gide sneezed a few times on the ride.
The sign read camp dew, and the town looked to be built around an old high school. There was a hospital just down the highway, and many of the houses had electrical lights.
"Back to civilization", Walker said. "We'll put you in the Lodge-pole Motel for now. I'm afraid you'll have to stay under guard".
"For the gal's cold", Sergeant Coombs said, slipping a flattened bottle into Valentine's pocket as he waved over help with the horses and luggage.
