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into the water tentatively. He turned back around and gave a thumbs up to Oren, his white smile flashing widely. "Cool and perfect!" he called before wading in.
    Oren slipped his shirt off, breathing a sigh of relief to finally be free of the clinging material. He now fully understood why Kirk preferred loose flowing layers to anything that stuck to your body in the incredible heat. As he peeled off the tight cloth, he felt as if his skin was coming off with it. His skin and several inches of pure grit.
    He next kicked off his shoes and began pulling on his pants zipper. He looked up then and found Kirk standing up to his knees in the pool's water, grinning at him. The pilot raised his eyebrows slightly as if in a challenge. Oren met his gaze and slid off his ripped and dirty pants without breaking eye contact.
    The sexual tension was thick in the air, and Oren’s pulse was racing off the charts. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such an intense connection with another man.
    "The water is great," Kirk said moving backwards slowly, breaking the spell. "Come join me."
    Oren didn't need another invitation. He sloshed into the water, sighing as the coolness washed over him. "Holy shit, this is great."
    But while Kirk had seemingly teased him when they got undressed, he now appeared content to stay some yards away. Kirk dunked his head quickly, washing all of the dust off. As he emerged again, Oren watched the water roll off his muscled body. The water certainly was nice, but he had to admit the show was even better.
    Grumbling slightly in disappointment, Oren also began to dedicate himself to getting washed up. He scrubbed his hands along his arms, aghast at the grit his fingernails were scraping off. "I'm disgusting," he said out loud, grimacing.
    Kirk looked like he was about to respond, but instead, his mouth hung open and he eyes locked behind Oren. A chill went up Oren's spine as he saw fear flicker across Kirk's face.
    The last thing Oren wanted to do was turn around. They were finally having a moment of happiness after what was quite easily the worst week of his life. And now there was something behind him that was no doubt going to make his heart stutter.
    "Yep, things keep getting better," he whispered, willing his body to turn slowly.
    Behind him stood a group of five men. They all wore loose white robes that stopped just inches above the ground and wrapped around their head and neck were dark green scarves. Several had knives strapped to their sides, and at least one seemed to be holding a gun.
    From the back of the group stepped an older man with a well-trimmed white beard. His face was gaunt, and his left eye was covered by an eye-patch. His expression was calm, and he looked over Kirk and Oren with an air of authority.
    After taking his time to inspect them, he shouted out a phase in a language Oren didn't understand. However, Kirk quickly responded, his voice differential and polite. The newcomers rapidly whispered together, and Oren held his breath.
    Then the old man broke into a wide smile and began to speak rapidly. The tension in the air melted away, and the group of men relaxed their stances behind their leader.
    Well, this is off to a better start than I would have guessed , Oren thought to himself. Maybe something will finally go our way.

Chapter 8
    " H ello ," Kirk called to the new arrivals. "We have been lost in the desert for several days and are seeking help."
    It had been a long time since he spoke the language of the nomads, but he hoped they would understand his pleas for assistance. His father had drilled him on it as a child, saying it was a necessary skill to survive in the desert. Kirk had always thought his father was speaking in hyperbole, but apparently there was more truth in the sentiment than his father let on.
    The men looked carefully at Kirk and Oren, then murmured quietly among themselves. Finally, the old man grinned and threw out his arms in welcome. "We are sorry to