Trouble never comes alone.
Before he could even figure out his "Phantosmia," another pica popped up, threatening to carry him off this mortal coil.
But the examination results let Chen Fei breathe a sigh of relief—no one wants a pile of steel inside their stomach.
Illusions are still better than pica, but he didn't dare to eat anything odd again—after all, he wasn't an Iron-eating Beast. Better stick to bread!
Returning to Hangar 1, Chen Fei quickly forgot about accidentally swallowing a No. 22 spline shaft key as he refocused on the technical manual E. After all, studying was the most important thing at the moment. Once his part-time position in the "Genuine Fragrance" Combat Flight Squadron was confirmed, it would inevitably take up the time he spent with the maintenance crew.
The afternoon passed in a flash.
Per usual, he dealt with dinner using a single piece of bread. After a shower back in the dorm, Chen Fei went to the interview location for the "Genuine Fragrance" Combat Flight Squadron, with his clingy little bird, Xiao Jiu, on his shoulder.
The area where the pilots waited on standby in Hangar 1 wasn't the Combat Flight Squadron's domain. "Genuine Fragrance" Squadron had its own territory, housed within a three-story building next to two hangars, which also served as the pilots' dormitory area.
The ground crew's departments and the pilots' dormitory areas were separate, with the pilots' quarters adjacent to the hangars.
Tactically, this allowed pilots to rush to the hangars and board their aircraft at the first sign of trouble. It also prevented them from being wiped out in a single strike if the enemy attacked. If the hangars were leveled to the ground, it didn't matter much if there were still living pilots—planes intact, pilots alive; planes destroyed, pilots perished. That was the general idea.
Seeing the "Genuine Fragrance" sign at the entrance, Chen Fei was about to step inside when he was unexpectedly bumped into and nearly lost his balance.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, kid!"
A dark-skinned fellow shouldered his way past Chen Fei, giving him a scornful look before strutting triumphantly into the three-story building and disappearing from Chen Fei's sight.
The air was thick with the strong scent of curry, and something else that smelled rather foul.
Dammit, a heretic!
The startled Xiao Jiu circled around Chen Fei before settling back on his shoulder, chirping incessantly as if protesting the other person's rudeness.
Chen Fei shook his head and then stepped into the building.
When he arrived at the small conference room where the interview was taking place, Major Chekhov Leonidovich Ivanov, Squadron Leader of the Aircrew Base's in-house recruitment program, the HR manager Takar, and several pilots were already sitting behind a long conference table, with two chairs placed not far across from them.
The dark-skinned, curry-reeking individual who had jostled Chen Fei was sitting in one of the chairs, flirting with HR manager Takar. There seemed to be some under-the-table dealings between them.
Chen Fei, who already had a low opinion of the dodgy HR manager, now found his sentiments even less favorable, mumbling to himself about how Takar's kin were as ubiquitous as cockroaches.
With no family planning policy in place, both the poor and the rich kept breeding without restraint. Despite the ballooning population numbers, limited by resources and hygiene conditions and adept at courting death, they soon hit the population equilibrium.
With high birth rates came high death rates, and the count hovered around 1.5 billion, unable to surpass the 2 billion mark of widespread global distribution of the race. Apart from grinding his teeth, there was little else one could do.
Chen Fei's gaze fell on Chekhov in the center, which caught him off guard. Despite only a night having passed, the man looked bruised and swollen-faced, his expression stern but failing to hide his disheveled state.
Chen Fei wondered if he'd gotten drunk the night before and beaten up this Big Bear by mistake.
Felling Chen Fei appraising him with a puzzled look, Squadron Leader Chekhov cleared his throat irritably and said discontentedly, "Ahem! Hey, what's-his-name, control your bird. Don't bring it in here; throw it far away."
There was no pilot who didn't dread birds, especially when in the sky. The sight of them caused immediate retreat; steer clear at all cost!
This guy was clearly well-prepared.
HR manager Takar tried to hide his own ulterior motives in an exaggerated manner and said, "Little Chen, what about you?"
"I only have a car driver's license, C2. I just finished reading the technical manuals ABCDE, five volumes in total, for the A-39B 'Big Mouth Monster' light turboprop attack aircraft. I have no flying experience, no toy aircraft, and I've never played flying games. The only thing I have related to flying is this, Xiao Jiu!"
Chen Fei held up the little bird as an example, feeling as if he wasn't so much being forced to mount a shelf like a duck but a barbecue rack, which was quite unfair to anyone.
The bird sensibly chirped, tilting its head as it sized up the several fools opposite.
"Chirp!"
Birds are natural flying experts, undeniably No. 1, and even humans have to learn from them.
...
"Pfft!~~"
"Hahahaha!"
The pilots present could no longer contain themselves and burst into laughter.
HR manager Takar, not wanting to be too obvious with his laughter in front of everyone, twisted his face slightly, clearly struggling to hold back.
Chekhov helplessly rubbed his head.
"Kid, are you serious? Hahahaha..."
The competitor Sanjani couldn't hold back anymore and broke into hearty laughter, feeling like he had won another point, a victory without honor!
Chekhov suddenly said, "No! You do have twenty minutes of real combat flight experience, with a score of one Metallic Dragon."
His words made the competitor Sanjani, who had been laughing nonstop, suddenly go silent as if a rooster had been strangled mid-crow.
Bang!
"Shit!"
The HR manager Takar finally remembered such an incident and, frustrated, fiercely slapped the table.
What good is being an aviation enthusiast, a game expert, possessing an RPL beginner's pilot license, and having 30 hours of flying experience when twenty minutes facing a Metallic Dragon outclasses all of them, not to mention the actual combat kill recorded? It was almost like the difference between an amateur and a professional player.
The next second, the HR manager quickly noticed that Chekhov and the pilots had stopped laughing and were looking over with displeased expressions.
Damn it, this is the "Genuine Fragrance" Squadron's turf— who dares to slam the table here, and what do you mean by that?!
"What you lookin' at?"
Good lord! The words had barely left his mouth when he quickly covered his troublemaking mouth.
Survival rule from Takar's homeland: Acting meek is the way to prevail.
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