Chapter 12

Leaving from town was a minor affair, when all was said and done. The tribe had spread up and down the great valley and onto the mountains on either side. As they headed west, they observed crisscrossing the mountains the trails of shepherds and their herds of sheep and goats. As the mountains gave way to the coastal plain, the agronomist stations and experimental farms fanned out before them before they descended downward. The bright blue of the Great Sea was on the horizon, looking more alluring than Yakhir could ever have imagined.

His butt was sore and his legs ached, but he had managed to keep any complaints to himself. This was the easy part of the journey, after all. They carried just themselves and a few pack horses. Only at the final station would they pick up the wagons and their final supplies.

A dump run wasn't primarily for an archivist to play in the garbage. A dump run was for metal, plastics, machine parts and even methane gas. If a good quantity of paper was found, it was retrieved as well, to be added to the fresh pulp of the fledging paper production. The wagons were loaded with food supplies, which explorers were supposed to eat on the way out and while they dug into the dump. As the wagon emptied of food, it was filled with all of their finds. There were bonuses and incentives for particular types of finds.

The typical dangers included the usual methods of death and dismemberment by stupidity, chance, and vicious predators. Even rogue members of the Tribe had picked off the odd member of the caravan in the past, not that the murderer lived to tell the tale. The dump itself had its own hidden dangers of explosions, poisonings, and collapses. Even the way back was more difficult because the caravan had to rely on hunting and foraging to supplement their dwindling supplies.

The caravan turned north when they reached the coast. At each agricultural station, they were inundated with the same questions for news and gossip. Yakhir followed Azzi's lead and spoke of grand generalities and few comments of clan or family. The split on the council was reflected in the split between clans and one could not sure who was asking the questions. Yakhir was certain that several individuals had shied away from him after they learned of his full name. The depth of the divide between clans, even on the edge of their cultivated lands, disturbed him deeply. Luckily for him, none of the others in the caravan seemed to show the same distrust of "the other."

They pulled into to the last station around 16:00 on their next to last day in civilization. The barn that stored their caravan wagons was easy to spot because each of the six stations had looked pretty much the same, and the large structure looked far out of place. Yakhir took it all in with a glance, his bone weary body had toughened up already but he was tired of ten days of being jostled. With an unnoticed ease, he dismounted from his horse and began the deliberate process of liberating his cramped muscles from his neck down to his toes.

The usual swirl of technicians and field hands were congregating around the caravan, but he ignored them, until he heard his name being called. The voice was feminine, and familiar, and totally unexpected.

"Janina?" Yakhir called out as he craned his neck in every direction trying to catch sight of her. Between the large animals and the dust, he saw only tops of heads until he felt a body collide into him. With a large hug, the body pressed its breasts into his back.

"Janina?" Yakhir sputtered with astonishment.

"Did you miss me, little brother?" She answered as she spun him around. Instead of answering, he smothered her in his own bear hug and lifted her off of the ground. A world of weariness dropped from his shoulders.

He was bubbling with questions but she held him off as they gathered his gear and carted it off to the guest house. Other members of the caravan were shuffling in with their bags, some accompanied and others not. Azzi had beat him to the building and secured a room with a bed for each of them; an archivist got a small perk of a better room than the sleeping hall. The way some of them snored, he was grateful.

The three of them secured a table for dinner and talked into the evening. Recognizing that the two siblings wanted time to speak alone, Azzi proclaimed his exhaustion, which he may not have been fibbing, and made his goodbyes. Brother and sister stared at each other across the table, well aware that too many ears were available to discuss family business. Janina cocked her head as a signal and the two of them dropped their plates at the kitchen window and meandered out into the darkening evening. They walked to the corner of a nearby building and waited in the shadow for any would be eavesdroppers following them out of the mess.

After a span of minutes Janina led him out from the compound through the first fields into a grove of fig trees. They slipped between the trunks and disappeared into the gloom. Hand in hand they sat on the ground, heads close, so that their voices wouldn't carry.

"What has happened since the Council meeting?" Janina jabbered.

"How did you manage to get to this station?" Yakhir started at the same time. They both allowed themselves a giggle.

Janina went first, "Uncle Porat sent word to me of your caravan at one of the southern stations and I managed to locate some seedlings in the greenhouses here that I just had to have. My manager agreed; he is Al-Bashrani."

"I don't know Al-Bashrani clan," Yakhir was perplexed because he thought he knew most of the clans of the Tribe.

Janina stroked his leg trying to sooth him, "They live out here in the mountains and on the coastal plain and have little to do with town. While they have little contact with Al-Taquir they are vehemently disposed towards Shaheen clan. There was treachery over a land dispute and blood was spilt. Your two trail guides joining you tomorrow are Al-Bashrani."

Yakhir digested the information before he spoke, "There is a great divide between clans out here on the coast?"

"Shaheen and their allies seek to divide and conquer. Nowhere is particularly safe these days. I transferred from the northern fields of the rift valley to the coastal plain where I knew we had more numerous allies. I am more at ease in the bosom of Al-Bashrani."

Yakhir heard the undertones in her last sentence, "What is his name?"

"You don't need a name yet because we haven't done anything; but he is the manager's son and he has broad shoulders and a cute butt."

Yakhir allowed himself a quiet snort of derision at her coyness; a trait she had not shown before. He launched into a small recitation of his life and as he spoke, Janina continued to stroke his leg. He came to a stopping point and realized that he had an erection in his pants.

As he lapsed into silence, he felt Janina's hand creep up and grasp his member. He realized that she had been trying to subtly stimulate him for some time.

"Janina," he protested, "I'm almost married."

She gave him a squeeze, "I haven't had a good fuck in a long time; there are few enough that I trust."

Yakhir felt his willpower melting, "It's too dangerous out here in the fields. We could get caught."

"No one else is out here, brother. I'm begging you for a mercy fuck. Please don't make me grovel," Janina wheedled.

Yakhir let his hand drop onto her knee. She murmured her thanks and reached over to undo his trousers. Yakhir pointed out that they needed to be quick and quiet as both of them stood and dropped their pants. Each clasped the other's genitals and began to stroke. Yakhir spread her budding wetness up the entire length of her slit while Janina rubbed the drops of liquid that emerged at his tip into the skin of his cock.

"Nothing pretty," Janina suggested. "I don't need pretty; I need good and hard." Her voice was slightly ragged.

Yakhir pressed her down to the ground and mounted her. She drew her legs up to greet him, welcoming him to her intimacy. He tried to thrust gently but she urged him to take her harder. Ten days on the road had beaten down his resolve and he jumped to the task with abandon. Janina, wound up as she was, tore at him with a lusty ferocity.

Both of them wrapped their legs against each other as they tried to ground out their own passion. This joining wasn't about love, but fear and loneliness, selfish need and pity. They fed on each other's furtive energy and as the inevitable peaks ratcheted forward, they fought each other with their limbs, each trying to pin the other until each one found release. Yakhir ejaculated fiercely, firing like a cannon with salvo after salvo. Janina met his orgasm with a long careening crash of her own.

They lay sweaty and panting beneath the fig tree. The night creatures stirred around them but the world was silent otherwise. Yakhir picked his bruised body off of the ground and lent a hand to his sister who raised herself with an unsteady gentleness. They limped to one of the irrigation streams and washed themselves, knees, elbows and genitals. In the moonlight they straightened and tucked in their clothes.

They walked back slowly, talking of family, clan, and themselves. Signals were arranged and possible meetings discussed. Janina would not be at this camp when Yakhir returned unless she could guarantee her safety; the caravan's guides had escorted her yesterday, which was the only reason she had been able to come. This night on the edge of civilization was their only chance to talk face to face and the reminder of that loss of daily contact scored the spirit of their words. Exhaustion finally forced them to turn in for sleep.

The next morning was an early breakfast. Everyone in the caravan had preparation duties and Janina had an escort eager to leave southward. They hugged with a fear that they would not see each other for a long, long time and parted with the formal kisses on both cheeks. Even Azzi had to wipe the tears from his eyes.

The caravan rolled out the next morning. The trailmaster preferred the relative speed of mules to the plodding pace of oxen, even if the tradeoff was less weight. Speed meant a longer time at the dump and a faster return. Besides, the bonuses were not for extra weight but for sophisticated machinery.

The first afternoon they passed the field where the remote vehicle had burned. The burn was easy to spot amongst the green of the season, but it was not overly large. Certainly there had been no wave of flame scorching the reaches of the valley. 'More Shaheen treachery, ' Yakhir said only to himself but he also noticed the two guides giving the area a more detailed survey as well. The trailmaster urged them forward.

They passed over a small mountain chain and dropped down upon another broad coastal plain. The land was fertile, with tall grasses and clumps of trees that ran towards the eastern mountains in the distance. With a spyglass, one could see trees on the nearest foothills; they were huge around, soared into the sky and their trunks appeared to be a dull red. None of the caravan could remember seeing such trees before and curiosity ignited a desire to dispatch a small party to check them out. The trailmaster squelched any further discussion and bent the caravan to the task of moving northward.

Two days later, Yakhir's world turned dangerous again. Everyone riding a horse was required to carry a rifle and to take turns riding alongside the wagons. The wild lands had been repopulated with large cats seeking out the herds of antelope and deer of the plains, and stalking the ibex and wild goats in the mountains. Wild pigs with their tusks and ostriches had returned, and they were, each and everyone, tasty to cat and man. Usually the caravan hands such as Azzi rode point in front of the caravan, keeping an eye on the terrain and the guides who were further ahead. The trailmaster rode beside the first wagon, dropping back as necessary or even tying his horse to the wagon and riding up front. Lookouts sat on top of the wagons, scanning the landscape.