During the 710s, Kingdom of Sheval was embroiled in a civil war that pitted the royalist forces loyal to King Michael II against republican rebels aiming to topple the monarch and set up a democratic republic in Sheval. The royalist forces, backed by the Nordenfeld Empire, enjoyed military aid and assistance from its superpower neighbor and received a number of state-of-the-art equipment including tanks, aircrafts, and military supplies such as fuel and ammunitions.

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The Goshawk kicked up a cloud of dust as I settled the venerable biplane down on the strip at Balico. Rows of olive trees adorned the hills surrounding the airfield, showing the land’s heritage as an old countryside orchard while disguising some of our flak batteries. A pockmarked brick tower next to the dirt strip bore witness to so many violent takeovers of the land between the republican and royalist forces, as did the crater riddled surface of the ramp.

I did my best to steer around the craters and picked a parking spot not too far away from the tower. There, a group of people were waiting for my arrival – Three men, saddled atop their jorks, shielded themselves from the scorching sun under the shade of a fig tree. Their leader, a dark-skinned terran, whipped his reptilian steed to spur the beast out of the comfort of the shade.

“Greetings, miestre kapitan,” the man said as he approached my ticking hot flying machine, “good weather for flying, yes?”

“good weather, indeed,” I replied, trying to unfasten the cumbersome parachute pack from my back. The terran was quick to offer his helping hand, “oof, thanks Tamuj, what do you have for us today, my friend?”

“Finest supplies from the farms, miestre; wines, cheese, olives – oranges are in season lately, sweet and moist.”

People like Tamuj were common fixtures around royalist bases where military supplies were always in abundance. Leaded gas, spare parts, ammunition; all circulated freely courtesy of our – clandestine – overseas benefactors. Everything else, however, always seems to be in short supply, a demand that enterprising people like Tamuj were more than happy to fulfill.

“Bring me two cases of wine, a crate of jork eggs, and a block of cheese as usual – I’ll give the oranges a try too, make that a crate or two” I gave the biplane behind us a quick glance, “Think we can make out a deal?”

My terran companion smiled and signalled his men to get working, one started siphoning the gas off of Goshawk’s auxiliary tank, while the other unfastened a small panel in front of the cockpit and extracted a link of 7,7 millimeter balls from the magazine. Like a pair of trained mechanics, everything was done cleanly within a blink of an eye. “Of course, miestre, my men will deliver the requested goods shortly”

“Thank you Tamuj,” I gave him a firm handshake and a pat on the back, “pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise, miestre – oh, one more thing” he noted before leaving with his jork, “Helen is available for tonight, shall I tell her to come over with a complimentary bottle of wine?”

“I don’t see why not,” I rubbed my chin imagining the curvaceous figure of the mature vixen, “I could use some company tonight.”

“Of course, miestre, I’ll inform her to come visit after nightfall.”

With that, Tamuj bowed his head and went on with his supply-laden men. Meanwhile, out of the brick tower appeared the squadron’s adjutant with a clipboard in his hand, he eyed the band of gunrunners – for the lack of better words – and kept them always at arms length.

“Good hunting it appears to be, sir?”

“Indeed, sergeant,” the adjutant scribbled on his note diligently, “Spotted and strafed republican holdout twenty miles west of wadi zayan, expended two hundred and thirty rounds of ammunition. Auxiliary tank damaged and leaking from heavy return fire”

“Very well, sir, is there anything else?”

“Please tell the mess officer to prepare his kitchen,” I said, handing my parachute pack over to the sergeant as I made headway to the officer’s mess, “we have fresh supplies coming in tonight.”