Finally, Otta's shift was over. Her legs were still going strong, but her back slumped, her rifle sagged in her arms, and her mind was numb from the silence. On treks, at least, she always had someone to listen to.
She had to keep reminding herself that it was officially four in the morning. The angle of the sun looked like a Kazakh evening, and the air was cool to match. It was crisp, with just the right amount of moisture. Only the mosquitoes in the air, the rainforest in the distance and the hazy sky reminded her which planet she was on.
Otta sat down on the bench outside the police station, waving absently to her partner before he disappeared indoors.
Otta felt the need for prayer. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and addressed God. She spoke in Russian, letting the smooth, clear-cut consonants roll off her tongue one at a time. "Heavenly Father, thank you for delivering me here. Thank you for allowing me to meet my new friends. I will miss the other trekkers, but I am blessed that the people of this town have welcomed me. I have done my best to see you in them and treat them like the sisters and brethren they are. After what happened back at Akhtahir, I am scared, but it is natural to be scared, and no matter what happens, I know I will have friends at my side and you at my back. Thank you, Lord. And please, let Zoltán find what he was looking for. Amen." For a minute, she sat still and let her feelings flow between herself and God.
"What kind of language was that?" said a male voice.
Otta looked up. Morgan walked up to her, alone and dressed in an outfit she had never seen before. A sleeveless shirt, a few sizes too small, clung to his chest, showing the muscular contours of his stomach. His shorts ended high, giving a pleasing view of his fit, shapely legs.
"Morgan?" Otta bolted to her feet. "You're alone? What happened?"
"Nothing," said Morgan, with a little laugh. "Don't worry, nothing's wrong. And I had company most of the way here. I only wanted to talk to you."
Otta's nerves cooled. "Come, sit down."
The two sat together. "We're not going to school anymore," said Morgan ruefully.
"It is true, we are not."
"We're doing six-hour shifts every day, and my partner says we'll need to do more. My parents are training to join the force now, and someone even said that Mari Maldashi is hiring mercenaries. Everyone keeps saying that things are going to get worse, but I haven't heard anything about when they'll get better."
"You're scared too?"
"I just feel like life is short." His voice caught. "I've got... I've got something to ask. Do you have any free time?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, if the pay doesn't come, I'll need to take a job. But for now, the patrol is all I have to do."
"I was wondering something. Will you go out with me?"
Otta started. "Me? Of course, I would love to."
"Great! When?"
Otta scrambled. "This evening? I need to sleep, but I can be up by seven tonight."
"I'm free then. Do you like salads?"
"I don't know if I've ever..."
"How about soup?"
Her heart perked. "I love soup! Tomato soup! Do they have that?"
"They have it at Mangwe's Kitchen. Let's go at eight."
"It's a date."
Otta relaxed, realizing what she had just done. Morgan quietly exhaled, letting out tension that mirrored her own.
