Sky-cracking Rider

"Hey, 'Rookie' little bro, come here, come here, sit down first and then we'll talk."

Big Bear pulled Chen Fei to an arm-wrestling table without a word, pushed him down into the seat opposite, and laid the pitiful-looking AK-47 across the table, saying, "We're friends alright, but today you've got to give me an explanation!"

If this were just any ordinary modern firearm, that would have been one thing, but such an original AK was already rare, and one in near-mint condition was even scarcer. Ruin one, and one less exists—a beating right then and there for the kid across from him was already Uncle Chekhov showing good temper.

"I, I—I don't know!"

Chen Fei trembled.

The gun was in such a shape, what could he possibly do?

A famed antique firearm like this, he had no idea where to find another, probably meaning he would have to pay a hefty sum.

"Listen, this AK-47 is an original piece from Izhevsk Armory a hundred years ago, the market price is 2.8 million, but I got it for only 2.3 million. I'll give you a 20% discount, rounding down, just compensate me 1.8 million and we'll call it even," Chekhov said while seriously doing the math, quoting a fair and honest number.

Antique famous firearms are non-renewable hot collectibles; their price only goes up. I bet in a few years, breaking 3 million wouldn't be impossible.

Even right now, a friendly price of 2.3 million Star Yuan isn't easy to come by.

"But I don't have any money!"

Chen Fei was as pale as a sheet, shaking his head like a rattle-drum, and while saying this, he was utterly panicked.

He was in the advanced stages of poverty, a millionaire in debt, where would he get such a sum to compensate the other, let alone 1.8 million Star Yuan? Even selling himself wouldn't cover it.

"You don't have money?"

Chekhov looked half-skeptical, half-believing. In his own view, 1.8 million Star Yuan wasn't a big deal.

The others gradually fell silent, looking at Chen Fei with some sympathy. It seemed this kid was about to get thrashed any minute now.

If anyone thought the squadron leader of "Genuine Fragrance" Combat Flight Squadron was some easy-going charitable soul, they were sorely mistaken.

A punch from Big Bear could easily put someone in bed for a good half month, at least.

Chen Fei spoke with a bitter tone, "Squadron Leader Chekhov, it's not that I don't want to compensate, but I also owe 7 million Star Yuan in debt. Not to mention 1.8 million Star Yuan, I don't even have 10,000 Star Yuan. My salary all goes to paying off the debts, how could I possibly have any money left."

Bumping into such bad luck out of the blue, it really was like the roof leaking during a rainy night, even a fart could injure his heel.

Moreover, a debt of 7 million Star Yuan accrued interest. Even if it weren't usury, an eight percent interest rate was the norm. His current salary wasn't even enough to cover the interest, but the credit company was eyeing Chen Fei's future, considering he was a university graduate preparing for advanced studies. College students these days still had some value.

If he had been some no-name community college student, the credit company wouldn't even give him the time of day.

"No money..."

Chekhov furrowed his brow, tapping his fingers on the arm-wrestling table over and over.

Lending his gun in good faith for the other to use for self-defense on the trip, he never would have guessed that a perfectly fine AK-47 automatic rifle would return in such a wretched condition. Understandably, he felt extremely frustrated.

Who knows what had happened to this antique firearm in the hands of this rookie.

The others sensed the atmosphere was a bit off, fearing that Big Bear might lose control and cause a fatality on the spot, they started to chime in with advice, several of which were pilots from the "Genuine Fragrance" squadron.

"Chekhov, don't do anything rash, he's still a newbie. Keep your cool. If Manager Morris finds out, you're in for it," they cautioned.

"Don't rush, don't rush, no one get anxious. Rookie is still young, he'll pay it off eventually. Hey, Rookie, hurry up and call your family, figure out a way to scrape up the money! You've really been too careless."

"There's always a solution, both of you don't do anything drastic!"

"Let's all think of a way to help the Rookie."

"Got it, the cafeteria's been short-handed recently, and Rookie has a racial talent for it, he could give it a try."

"Hasn't Manager Morris always been saying that he wants to find an apprentice for the old Neanderthal man to watch over the Energy Tower at night? It's still technical work, and if it's part-time, he's definitely going to earn an extra wage."

...

Some were pulling Chekhov aside for work, others were persuading Chen Fei, and some were blindly making suggestions, everyone talking over each other and creating a mess.

"Enough noise, enough noise."

With a wave of his arms, Chekhov once again quieted everyone down and glared at Chen Fei, "Rookie, does your family not have any money either?"

"My elder brother just bought a house to get married, and after paying the down payment and for the wedding banquet, everyone's salary goes to the mortgage; there's hardly any left over."

Chen Fei helplessly spread his hands.

He alone shouldered the debt from the credit company and didn't have to share the burden of his brother's mortgage anymore, but after deducting his debt, the meager remaining bits of his salary were barely enough for daily expenses.

At this point, despite being furious over the Chen Family's predicament, especially the huge mess his foolish younger sister Chen Meng had caused, the girl's family still went through with the marriage, helping with the mortgage payments. It must be said that Elder Brother Chen had good judgment; his girlfriend came from a decent family and didn't just cut her losses in time.

Even if she had broken off the engagement, the Chen Family wouldn't have been able to complain or blame others.

"Rookie, you only have one option now."

Big Bear glared across the arm-wrestling table at Chen Fei.

"You, you say!"

Chen Fei was in a panic, thinking to himself, I may sell my talent but not my body, I'm a tool-man but still have human rights, I'd rather be direct and straightforward than sneaky, a 24K pure straight guy through and through.

"Join the 'Genuine Fragrance' Flyers, stick with me, and use your flight allowance to pay off the debt."

Chekhov pointed at himself with his thumb, looking both arrogant and domineering.

This was probably the only solution without a choice.

However, the pay in the Combat Flight Squadron was always generous and definitely ranked among the top of the Aircrew Base. As long as he could fly for ten or eight years, he would surely be able to pay off the AK-47's debt.

"That's not going to work, not going to work; I don't know how to fly a plane."

Chen Fei shook his head rapidly, Big Bear's suggestion was outright coercion.

Even though Chekhov had previously mentioned joining the Combat Flight Squadron, Chen Fei had no intention of agreeing.

Chen Fei had barely accumulated a full month's time in the aircraft maintenance crew, and he hadn't even fully understood the structure of the A-39B "Big Mouth Monster" light turboprop attack aircraft, let alone flying it – he was virtually a blank slate on that matter.

Moreover, the last time Chekhov forcefully dragged Chen Fei into the cockpit without a word and clashed directly with Metallic Dragons, it was like fighting the ultimate boss right after entering a beginner's village in a game; now he even had psychological trauma from almost losing his life on his first flight, on top of a new debt of 2 million Star Yuan.

To go through that a second, a third time... was it even possible to live like that? That's just setting someone up for failure.

Flying was out of the question, he would never do it in this lifetime; at most, he would just take commercial flights.

Big Bear slammed the table between them forcefully, threatening with a ferocious look, "Not possible? Then pay up, either a brand-new, original AK or 1.8 million Star Yuan, not a penny less."

You can't escape whether you're a person or money; none will get away.

"Rookie, just give in!"

"Yeah, yeah, Major Chekhov is only thinking of your best interest."

"Squadron Leader, talk nicely, you're scaring the rookie."

The crowd once again started persuading, not voicing their own opinions this time but unifying their stance, together coaxing Chen Fei to join Major Chekhov's 'Genuine Fragrance' Combat Flight Squadron.

"..."

Chen Fei became a picture of helplessness and pity.

Being poor meant having no say; his element was lacking Gold, blame fate then!

"I'll say it one more time, after dinner tomorrow, come to the 'Genuine Fragrance' Squadron's dormitory meeting room for the interview. If you don't come, huh!"

Chekhov clenched his fist, making crackling noises, looking every bit the part of a gangster boss.

Most of the employees at the 911 Aircrew Base were tool-men, even executive manager Morris Morgan was no exception, yet the people in the Combat Flight Squadron were different.

As a high-skill profession where experience was measured by flying hours, they could find work and get by anywhere; the pay wasn't bad, and the job itself was easy. Even after hitting the age limit and retiring, one could still become a flight instructor or, if good with writing, help compose a few flight manuals to earn some manuscript fees, ensuring a comfortable retirement life.

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