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.“You see, my friend! Wheels still have some advantages over wings,” said Malkasar, taking another sizeable chunk of bread.He chuckled into his moustache as he watched Aiden’s expression.It was true.With a full fuel load, the Iolaire could only really haul ten or eleven tonnes of cargo – Malkasar’s wagons could probably total over a hundred tonnes.Though the aircraft could travel faster and therefore theoretically make more runs in a given time, this wasn’t practically how it worked.More runs meant more fuel expenses, more airframe and engine wear; any parts that couldn’t be beaten into shape in a backstreet forge were expensive.There was also a considerable turnaround time for an aircraft: unloading, refuelling, reloading and, if you were as disorganised as Fredrick and Aiden, shopping around for new cargo to haul.It did work, and work well, for some people.People who had the process down and the markets figured.But the crew of the Iolaire wasn’t quite there yet.And neither were they likely to be there in the near future, thanks to the events at Sevastopol.Aiden was pushing oil around on his plate with a sodden piece of bread, lost in thought.Maybe mercenary work was just the best way to make money with an aircraft.It was a conclusion he had been trying to avoid, ever since he’d seen hiring posters pinned to the noticeboard at Pivdenna docks months before.Looking for pilots, gunners, engineers and aircraft owners to join the Black Sea Corps, effectively an air force-for-hire, specialising in shipping protection and feud resolution.At best, it was morally dubious, but as Aiden had passed the sign countless times after barely scraping even, it had become more and more attractive.It wasn’t long after that the Gilgamesh rolled in like an angry thundercloud over the Crimea, and violently put an end to such ventures.With it hanging in the sky above, there was suddenly no such thing as small-time piracy.By controlling the Crimea, it controlled the Black Sea.Its reach was long.“What would be expected of me?” asked Aiden.“To protect the caravan, of course.Vehicle maintenance while on the road, peace-keeping between the various private merchants.If you have the right skills, scouting ahead of the convoy.It might sound like a lot, but if you watch my men you won’t see too much activity.I pay them so that they are there when they are needed.Other than that, I only ask that they stay alert.”It was sounding like a better and better deal.It would mean giving up flying, though.Maybe even selling his half of the Iolaire.Not only that, but Fredrick and him were close friends now.It’d be hard to break that up.“I don’t suppose you’d have much use for a crewed mercantile aircraft?” ventured Aiden hopefully.“We’re a little out of work at the moment.Prefer to stay away from the Black Sea if possible.”Malkasar laughed heartily at that.“I won’t ask why you’d rather stay away,” he said, still chuckling, “but I will think on it.Nothing springs to mind immediately though, so don’t count on it.”Ileana had been sitting watching the exchange.Finished eating, she stood up brusquely and climbed back into the wagon.Aiden watched her go.“Any other children?” he asked.“I mentioned my son, he owns a merchant ship on the Black Sea.He is the eldest, obviously.Ileana is with me because she wants to learn the trade.There are no others that I am aware of.” Malkasar snorted quietly.“My wife lives in Bucharest.I keep her rich and fat, and she leaves me alone.It is a good arrangement.”Aiden smiled at that.Malkasar seemed to find favourable deals in all walks of life.Aiden sensed he could learn a lot from the old man.They sat in amiable silence for a few moments, before Ileana opened the door to the wagon and spoke to her father in a language Aiden didn’t understand.Malkasar replied and waved her back into the cab.“Good,” he said.“The scouts have reported in.No obstacles, the way into the hills is clear.A two-hour haul and we’ll stop for the night.”Malkasar stood and a helper thus far unseen came to clear away the table.The merchant turned to his followers and shouted.“We leave in five minutes! Be ready or be left behind!”People all around the semi-circle of vehicles stood and stretched, stubbed out cigarettes and quickly finished meals.Doors and bonnets slammed, engines started.The smell of ‘nol filled the air.The lead vehicle, a four-by-four carrying a trio of caravan guards, left the semi-circle first and took its position on the crumbling highway.It had a heavy machine gun mounted on a ring on its roof, manned by one of the guards.He lifted the lid of his ammo box, seemed satisfied with what he saw, and cranked a round into the chamber.To Aiden, standing in the middle of it all, it didn’t feel like a trading caravan preparing to move [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]