Otta stood at Morgan's front door, suddenly unsure of herself. Morgan had wanted her to walk him home last time, but did he want company getting to the practice range today? He hadn't mentioned what he would do next time, but then again, of course he hadn't. It wasn't her business.
For Morgan to go alone was out of the question. Otta's friend Disasi had told her that there had been three muggings in the last two days alone. All the crime was vagrant against vagrant, but it was only a matter of time before someone grew bold and came after a native.
Otta had to know that Morgan would be safe. She knocked.
Moments later, it clicked open to reveal a man who looked like Morgan, but two decades older, with world-wise eyes and the same light-copper skin and beautiful black hair. "Yes?" he said.
Five years ago, Otta would have blushed, mumbled something incomprehensible and skittered away. Now she only stepped back a little. "Oh," she said, "I was looking for Morgan. Is this his house?"
"Morgan's gone to play basketball with his friends."
"Already? With who?"
The man raised an eyebrow.
"I am sorry," she said. "I did not introduce myself; I am Otta. I walked Morgan home last time, and I thought he might want me to walk with him again. Is he safe?"
"Yes, he is."
"I should go, then." She stopped herself and extended her hand. "You are Morgan's father? It's a pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine." He shook with a warm, soft hand. "Now if you want to catch him, you'd better hurry. Morgan left a while ago, and he likes to run."
"Goodbye, sir." With that, she took a moment to remember where the meeting place was, then jogged for it at a pace never could have kept up back on Earth.
Minutes later, the half-finished building appeared ahead, with the rest of the militia standing around a tall woman in a navy-blue uniform-- a policewoman. Next to her stood a young woman Otta had never seen before.
"Otta!" Morgan called. "Come look! We've got another joiner!"
"It's true," said Mapula, through a smile. "Now you're not alone."
"Otta," said the policewoman. "I'd like you to meet Nakasi Alafi." She gestured to the newcomer next to her.
Nakasi was a tall one, even taller than Zanele. She sported only an inch or three of hair slicked back against her skull, and her skin stretched tight over her thin, frowning mouth. Her figure was willowy but rugged, accentuated by her green jungle-camouflage pants. She wore so many belts around her tight stomach that Otta could barely see the cloth beneath the frayed black straps.
But her most striking feature was the tool she carried. It was a red and silver arc three feet long and made of what looked like metal. Each end held a pulley, with a network of strings running between them. Just above the handle on the center of the arc was a scope with an adjustment knob. Otta wondered what the device was, but did not ask. She had the feeling she would find out soon.
"Well, Nakasi?" said the policewoman, giving her a needless thump to the back. "Introduce yourself."
"I'm Nakasi," said the newcomer. "I was living southwest until I lost Mom and Dad. Only a few of us were left. My sisters wanted me gone, so I came north until I got here."
"Southwest?" Morgan gasped."You're from the equator?"
Nakasi faced him and did not look at all surprised to see a man on the militia. "Yeah. The government's been telling you the equator's not livable yet, but it is. There's wetlands there now."
