When Deng Shiyang walked out of Maun Airport with his luggage, it was just past nine in the morning. He quickly spotted Harobi's man at the entrance.

The person responsible for picking him up was a sun-tanned white man. He stood about six feet eight inches tall, very lean, with long limbs that made his shoulders look narrow. Combined with his long neck and gaunt face, he brought to mind the alien race known as "Skinnies" from the science fiction novel *Starship Troopers*.

As soon as they met, the "Skinny" man put away a sign that read "Josh Bockman Deylek," stepped forward, and extended his hand, saying, "I'm Stuart Harris, the A.F.S. representative in Botswana. Mr. Harobi called me the day before yesterday and asked me to assist you in every way possible."

Deng shook his hand and replied, "I appreciate your help."

"Mm," Harris replied formally, then turned and pointed to a Land Rover Defender parked nearby, saying, "I'll take you to the training camp now."

The two got into the vehicle, and the Defender drove through the city, heading east along the A3 highway in the suburbs.

"Your people have already arrived," Harris said as they made their way to the camp. "They flew in on a DC-6 transport from Soyo yesterday."

"Harobi works fast," Deng nodded, then asked, "How are they?"

"Not bad, but I think many of them got airsick from being stuck in the cargo hold too long."

"Did Semler come too?"

"The German guy was the worst off," Harris said with barely concealed mockery. "He vomited all over the cabin—almost caused the charter company to complain to me."

Deng found this comment somewhat unpleasant but still defended Semler, "That old man is getting on in years, his stamina can't compare to those young black guys."

About an hour later, the Defender turned onto a road heading south, then crossed a concrete bridge built on a dried-up riverbed, entering the small town of Motopi.

Harris pulled into the town's only gas station. He opened the car door, got out, and exchanged a few casual words in Tswana with two local workers, then jogged into the adjacent grocery store.

After more than an hour of driving, the thin seats of the Defender were making Deng's back feel sore. He took the opportunity to get out of the car while refueling and began to stretch.

Harris soon returned with two bottles of cold beer. He twisted off one of the caps with a "pssh" sound and handed a bottle to Deng.

"Thanks," Deng said, accepting it, and curiously looked around the small town.

"Our camp is to the south, about an hour's drive from here. The road ahead is a bit rough, so let's take a break here first." Harris pointed west. "There's another town over there called 'Makalamabedi,' or something like that—it's several times larger than here. Supplies for the camp come from there." He paused and pointed northeast. "There's a small airstrip across the river. If you need anything that can't be found here, we can have it flown in from abroad."

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Deng's curiosity was piqued by this information. He took a sip of the beer and asked, "How's the camp?"

"Pretty good," Harris replied. "We started setting it up two weeks ago. Housing, food, and water are no problem, but we don't have enough bathrooms and toilets. We ordered a batch of portable toilets from Gaborone, and they should arrive in a few days."

"That's not a big deal," Deng nodded, then asked, "How many people are there?"

"In addition to your group, there's another batch of trainees," Harris said. "Including the instructors and staff, there are about 170 or 180 people now."

Refueling didn't take long, and the Defender soon left Motopi, heading into the grasslands to the south of the town.

Two parallel tracks formed a long, straight dirt path across the grasslands, but this makeshift road was quite bumpy. For a non-independent suspension off-road vehicle like the Defender, it made the ride even rougher.

Deng had always been confident in his ability to handle car rides, but he hadn't factored in two things: first, he'd just been on a plane for over thirty hours, and second, he hadn't eaten anything since last night. After ten minutes, he found himself talking less; after twenty minutes, his face started turning pale; and after that, he felt his stomach churning, barely managing to hold back his urge to retch.

After enduring the torment of motion sickness and the bumpy ride for more than an hour, they finally reached a camp built in the grasslands at a quarter to twelve. By then, Deng was drenched in cold sweat, his polo shirt soaked through. As the car drove onto a leveled clearing, he stuck his head out of the window, taking in deep gulps of fresh air.

The camp was quite large, covering around 200 acres, with its main structures being two sections of fiberglass prefabricated buildings with blue roofs and white walls. On the eastern side, there were three two-story buildings connected in a square "U" shape. Behind these prefabricated buildings was a structure made of connected shipping containers. In the distance, an orange bulldozer could be seen parked near the edge of the camp.

"The two-story ones are the office buildings, which also serve as dorms for the instructors and staff. The structure at the back is the armory where all the weapons and ammunition are stored." Harris turned the steering wheel as he spoke, and the Defender made a semi-circle on the clearing, heading to a cluster of over a dozen one-story prefabricated buildings to the west of the clearing.

"The two large ones are the mess halls, and the smaller ones are the trainees' dormitories." He paused and added, "Your people are staying in the dormitory farthest away, separated from the first batch of trainees. Also, I built a large prefab building specifically as their dining hall."

"Good,"Deng Shiyang nodded and praised: "You've done well."

Harris smiled, parking the vehicle in front of the two-story prefabricated buildings. He got out and led Deng upstairs, stopping in front of the southernmost room.

"This is your room. Semler is staying next door." He took out a key, unlocked the door, and gestured for Deng to enter.

The room was small and simply furnished. Against the far wall was a single bed that occupied almost a third of the room. Mounted on the wall opposite the bed was a split-unit air conditioner, the only appliance other than the overhead fluorescent light. The room had three pieces of furniture: a small multipurpose folding table, a gray-blue plastic chair with a backrest, and a portable wardrobe assembled from an aluminum frame and plastic sheeting.

Deng glanced around the room, then placed his luggage on the table and asked, "Is there internet access here?"

"Yes," Harris said, putting the room key on the table. "The camp has a BGAN system and a wireless router. I'll bring you a laptop later."

"Thanks," Deng nodded. He turned and looked out the window before saying, "If possible, I'd like you to take me to see Semler now."