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Reality Cheques - Printable Version

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Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

REALITY CHEQUES

"What is reality anyway! It's nothing but a collective hunch" - Jane Wagner

[Image: TylerSkye150.png] Chapter 1 - From Tiny Acorns

The farm house shrank slowly into the distance as the small transport lifted away from the bordering small suburb, it’s large converted barn standing out across the sea of otherwise identical building. Sat in that transport, a woman cradled her baby, resting against her husband’s shoulder. Their mood could be felt throughout the small compartment, keeping the few passengers quiet, even mournful. The couple raised their heads slightly as the Transport began to turn, keeping their view on the house. The baby stared with them, remaining still as he sensed the mood. As the house was falling from view, an explosion could be seen, engulfing it in flames. Only the couple and their baby saw this from the transport, and averted their gaze knowingly. The baby lay quiet for a minute, before crying softly.

That was Tyler Skye’s first memory. As a child he had nightmares about it, and Russell and Marie, his parents, always assured him it was only a dream, and never spoke of a life they had in that farm house. Tyler slowly came to forget all about it as he grew up and moved on, his childhood memories taking precedence over that of a dream. As a childhood, Tyler’s was perhaps the most peaceful and stable of modern families in this space-faring age. Both his parents were alive and well, and neither were risking their lives in space, away from home for weeks or months at a time.

Living in a quiet estate just outside Kinross, a large city on Planet Cambridge, Tyler’s Father ran a small planet-side storage business with a handful of depots across the city, which brought in enough money for the family to live happily off of. They were by no means rich, but wealthy enough to live without worries. With four-year-younger twin brother and sister, Jacob and Hayley, Tyler grew up as the responsible one, mediating arguments and fights between them in what was a remarkable show of maturity among siblings. As a child, he matured quickly and was incredibly enthusiastic about his Father’s work, dreaming to be a businessman like his dad. Despite being a fair Father and allowing his children to peruse their own dreams Russell’s unspoken dislike for space rubbed off on Tyler, and he barely considered leaving Planet Cambridge. His brother Jacob, on the other hand, followed the dreams of many of his childhood friends, dreaming of fighting pirates and chasing smugglers and finding his fortune there, the stories of daring and heroic pilots capturing his childhood imagination. Hayley was different again. She had no clear aim in life, and with two motivated and driven brothers, became more and more rebellious as she grew up, subconsciously jealous of the approval her brothers had, and seeking attention in her own way.

As Tyler progressed through his school life, he went from strength to strength with his studies, being one of the most promising students in his class. A school project one term sparked what was to become his life-long ambition, to set up his own business. His original plan involved simply taking what Russell had planet-side and expanding it, but Tyler’s agile mind came to realise that there was far more profit to be had in space, specifically in the movement of good as opposed to their storage. He formed loose plans for his own shipping company, aiming to undermine even the conglomerates of Borderworld Exports and Gateway with more a more personal and reassuring service to customers. On leaving school with great prospect for accounting and shipping, Tyler signed up for an apprentice position with Bowex, to learn the basics of freighter and transport piloting, the rules and regulations involved with cargo haulage and the ins and outs of piracy and insurance against it. A combination of a bursary for his promising grades and a part time job as an administrator for his Father’s business paid for his training and avoided the five-year contract the other apprentices were roped into, and come the end of the apprenticeship, Tyler had all the knowledge, skills and training he needed to chase his dream.

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

[Image: TylerSkye150.png] Chapter 2 - A Week to Remember

“Aw come off it, it’s only ten!” Tyler groggily grumbled as he rolled over dragging his covers around his shoulders.
“Yeah, and we’ve got a transport to catch. Ty, come on, you knew about this.” Marie goaded calmly from the desk chair across the room.
Glancing back over to face his Mother, Tyler slowly propped himself up against his headrest, the movement kick-starting a long overdue hangover. “Ah hell.” He paused briefly to rest his pounding head in his hand. “Yeah, alright, I’m up. I’ll be down in five.”
Marie lifted herself slowly from the chair with a knowing, mirthful sigh “OK, just mind your head!” She leant over and kissed her son on the forehead and left, closing the door softly behind her.

A few days previous, and a month since completing his apprenticeship, Tyler had turned eighteen, and had spent the last week celebrating all of his hard work over his life so far. While not extreme by most standards, the small group of friends Tyler kept had spent the best parts of two months’ wages in bars, clubs and on a night in with some cardamine, synthetic marijuana and girls met on the previous nights. With the quiet day of yesterday’s sobering up a pleasant unwinding finish to an unforgettable week, Tyler sported a smile from ear to ear, and pulled himself from his bed with little note to his hangover. Today was a slight return to normality, as after giving him time to celebrate his all-important eighteenth his own way, the family had arranged their celebration today. It was just a small party of the family friends, mostly from the office and depots that Tyler had worked in under his Father’s management over the last couple of years. Despite the grin, the unmistakeable face of the morning-after a few nights out greeted Tyler as he glanced at his mirror. With a quick thought back to one of the girls from the other night, laughed lightly to himself and set about getting ready.

With remarkably few complaints from Tyler’s sister, Hayley, the ‘party’ was a lovely peaceful end to what Tyler had already deduced was going to one of the best weeks of his life. The friendly and relaxed atmosphere that the office had at work made for a cheery gathering of people all enjoying themselves. Perhaps the only event that remotely dared to break that mood was when Russell hushed everyone and began what Tyler thought was going to be an over-the-top speech.
“If everyone could follow me out to the loading area please,” Russell said, leading the group through the office and heading out toward the depot, “we seem to have a comical issue with one of our storage hangars.” He continued into a well-rehearsed explanation on how Tyler had messed up an invoice, and how the goods in storage had been sitting with no owner for the last few months. Well timed with the length of the walk, as they emerged into the bright Cambridge sun, Russell was launching into another piece on responsibility, and how that now Tyler was ‘all grown up’ he had to face up to it. They stopped in front of one of the storage hangars, and brought Russell stood firmly beside his confused son, the slightest hint of a smile playing across the corner of his lips. Keeping his stern gaze carefully composed, Russell turned to Tyler and took a few steps back to join the others leaving Tyler by the Hangar door. “Now, before you go and get drunk again, I want you to sort out the mess you made with that lot in there.” The small crowd laughed cheerfully and Tyler smirked at the mention of his inebriation over the last few days.

Glancing over the small audience in front of him, Tyler’s confusion quickly turned to realisation. His Father’s wavering feint scowl , his Mothers welling eyes and pride-filled smile, and his siblings smirking at his unease told him whatever was happening was a surprise from his parents. Laughing as he turned, Tyler keyed in his code and opened the lockup. As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, Tyler was still unprepared for the looming shape he saw within. The unmistakable curve along the top, backed by a round rear and bulbous underbelly was that of something he was all too familiar with from his training. The shape was the first step of the realisation of his dream, a Clydesdale.

Tyler’s face stretched to a jaw-dropped smile as he turned back to his family, his Father now beaming from ear to ear, his Mother crying joyfully and the twins silent and still in a state of utter disbelief. With their friends clapping around them, Marie and Russell hugged their son and wished him a happy birthday.

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

[Image: TylerSkye150.png] Chapter 3 - Those First Steps

After a few cargo-less flights around the system in his new ship, named after an early 19th century Earth Cambridge graduate and Scholar of Economy, Malthus, Tyler was settled in the pilot’s seat again and ready to start off on his cosmic venture. What with the rising tensions between Bretonia and Kusari causing government military spending to increase, there was less tax money being funnelled into corporate security, and so haulage insurance increased. Instead of footing this cost themselves, the larger companies of Bowex and Gateway had begun to slowly raise their premiums on non-contract shipping to compensate, and Tyler had seen this as his golden opportunity. Offering to move one of his Father’s customers’ stockpiled industrial machinery from Rheinland directly from the depot to his small factory on Planet Leeds as and when he needed secured him his first customer for Skye Shipping.

It didn’t take long before Tyler was called on to haul the load of machinery, and with first-time eagerness, he jumped straight to it. The Cambridge sun was glistening across the fields as the morning broke through the thin shreds of clouds on the horizon, which only amplified Tyler’s mood. Over breakfast he told the family about his first job with a shared enthusiasm. As usual he took the shuttle with Russell to the office, daydreaming as the city rolled by outside. When they arrived he greeted the staff and set about reading out the loading schedule for the day. Thanks to his father’s encouragement, his ship was first on the list and due to the depot’s well practiced loading system, the Malthus was ready to fly within an hour. Saying quick goodbyes to the staff and getting a hug from Russell, Tyler climbed into his cockpit and left for the central launch pad.

Tyler’s route was only five trade lanes across two systems and knowing he’d be back for dinner with the family he was beaming from ear to ear the entire flight. While completely uneventful save a quick cargo scan from the police outside Kensington, Tyler was still thrilled by the experience when he set down on the small landing pad by the factory on Leeds. The robotic loaders set to work emptying the Malthus’ hold while Tyler chatted to the manager, sorting the paperwork and invoices for both himself and his father. Not an hour later, and Tyler was already half way home with his first pay in the bank.

Russell did everything he could for Tyler over the next few months, recommending him to customers for deliveries of stored goods, and business was booming. Tyler had flown just about everything from machinery to pharmaceuticals for various customers all across Bretonia and was starting to make a name for himself. He’d rented himself a small apartment on Planet New London where most of his customers were and was settling into his new life well. His first real contract came from a cargo salesman on Kensington Shipping Platform in shipping H-fuel from the Rheinlanders that would offload on Cambridge. He would leave his apartment first thing in the morning for Cambridge, and have the Malthus loaded and ready to fly while grabbing an early lunch with Russell, or occasionally the whole family, and get to Kensington by late afternoon. Unloaded and back to New London by the evening, he spent the rest of the day working on plans for his business, or enjoying a drink in one of the many bars London has to offer, fitting seamlessly in with the locals.

As far as the flights went, Tyler had never had a problem with pirates or such. Any time a lane went down, an Armed Forces or Police squadron would soon chase off the perpetrators. Needless to say when no patrols were around, Tyler quickly learned a quick transaction in the pirate’s direction and they’d leave him be. He never strayed from the trade lanes, and had a lucrative first year with the contracts he had made.

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

[Image: TylerSkye150.png] Chapter 4 - Space is Dangerous, Even the Safe Bits

Coming up to Kensington on one of his regular trips, Tyler was unsurprised to see Gaians suicidaly attacking the nearby Planetform base, Canterbury, yet again. Dropping out of the trade lane near to the station, he knew to keep his distance and not get involved, the local defence forces and the station turrets were more than a match for the pathetic terrorist sortie. Today was slightly different however. A Planetform transport had just left Canterbury, and the Gaians were focusing everything they had on it. They must have known they were doomed to die, as each ship veered to the transport in an attempt to take it with them when they were destroyed. Not paying specific attention, Tyler slowly moved the Malthus away from the furball, but heard the cries over the comms as the transport was struck once, and then again by two fireballs that were ex-Gaians. With only one Gaian ship left, it’s shields failing and attracting the full furry of every bolt of energy, it bobbed around the crippled transport, getting it caught in the crossfire. With one last bold move, the Gaian swung around and yelled out as he thrusted his ship toward the disintegrating transport.
“For Gai…” followed by loud, hissing static before a deadly silence as the collision tore the small fighter apart mid-scream.

With the threat eliminated, the guns fell silent, but the Planetform transport had taken a pounding. It’s cargo pods were in shards littering a trail from Canterbury’s mooring points, and flames billowed from the engines. Spark and explosions were ravenously tearing the engine to shreds and the ship was drifting uncontrollably, powered by it’s fuel cells burning at an alarming rate from the fires. It’s frame was buckled, and cockpit cracked open, atmosphere visibly venting in a pool of gas streaming from the front of the ship. Tyler knew the pilot and crew were long gone but sat staring, transfixed by what was happening. The crippled transport drifted with unprecedented speed straight toward Kensington, and it looked like it’d collide. Sure enough, it sped on, and smashed into the station’s sturdy frame head on. The front of the ship shattered and spewed the remaining atmosphere in a plume of gas that carried forwards, while the ship crumpled and slowed to a stop, wrapped around the docking arm. The fires seemed to die slightly, and the sparks dimmed as the wreckage came to a final standstill. Even through the void of space, the sigh of relief could be felt.

Then, without warning, the transport erupted in a huge inferno. The blast blinded Tyler as light engulfed the entire station. It lasted only a split second, but it took everyone by surprise. Tyler yelped aloud and could see the ships in the area manoeuvre erratically as the fireball retracted, revealing just a shape of molten hull wrapped around the station and glowing debris racing outward. The station itself seemed intact, save the ugly limpet that was the wreckage glued to it like a drop of misplaced solder.

As the commotion settled and the ships returned to their duties, a handful of police squadrons came in from the New London lane in fighters and a repair ship. The Malthus sat at it’s safe distance, and Tyler was startled when the police officer’s voice broke over the comms.
“Come in Malthus, do you read, what’s your situation over there?”
Tyler shook himself from his trance and fumbled for his comms as the officer repeated his message. Interrupting, Tyler responded. “Yeah, we’re, I mean, I’m good, fine, wha… sheesh!”
“Alright, well, straighten yourself out and move on.” The officer sounded mildly concerned, but his offhand attitude irked Tyler, who took a deep breath to calm himself before responding.
“Yeah, uh, officer, I’ve got a shipment here bound for Kensington, that alright by you?”
“No traffic to Kensington ‘till this mess is cleared I’m ‘fraid, dump it on Canterbury if you can’t wait. Either way, work something out, I got work to do, Sergeant Peer out.”

Shaken by the events that unfolded in a matter of mere minutes, Tyler took some deep breaths and shifted the Malthus toward Canterbury. After a short wait in the docking que, the Malthus set down in the safety of the station and Tyler rubbed his temples, replaying the commotion over in his head briefly before disembarking. After a brief chat with the docking official organising for a cargo transfer, and paying for overnight docking, Tyler got directions for the bar and headed off for a much needed drink while the Malthus was unloaded.

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

[Image: TylerSkye150.png] Chapter 5 - Upping the Stakes

Tyler walked into the Canterbury bar, smart shoes clanging on the metal floor as he walked. He pulled up a stool at the bar and ordered a pint of Scrumpy, a cider that he’d been drinking since before he was technically old enough. He reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out his handheld neural net interface unit and a credit card, swiping the card for the drink and powering on his handheld. He began typing out a quick message to his customer on Kensington, sure that he already knew about the commotion, but to apologise for the delay none-the-less. Tyler finished the last of his drink as he finished his message, and returned the handheld to his pocket. He lifted his glass, signalling the bartender for another, and finally relaxed to enjoy it.
“Tough day huh? Shoulda been in here twen'y minutes ago, all hell broke loose outside!” The bartender leaned on the bar and nodded toward the window, slowly turning a glass over in a cloth in his hand. “Shame about the Austell, heck, now her crew were some characters, always the way though.”
Lifting his gaze to meet the barman, Tyler smirked. “Hmpf, I was out there, came in from Cambridge just as that Transport left here. Saw the whole damned thing.” His smirk turned to a respectful smile for those lost. “My condolences if they were friends of yours.”
At this, the man raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Hmm, now you surprise me kiddo, I’d reckoned you were far to dressed up for a space farer.” He turned and reached behind the bar for a bottle and a pair of shot glasses before pouring the pair some whiskey. “T’ name’s Sam.”
“Tyler,” he responded as Sam returned the bottle and raised a glass.
“To poor sods like Becki and Greg who risk it out there and don’t got your luck.” The two toasted and drank. “Heh, or style neither, that’s some fine suit, what yah do kiddo?”

Tyler sat and chatted with Sam for a while, rapidly getting caught up in the flow of the bar as the day drew to a close and the station’s day shift clocked off and flocked in. He sat chatting to groups of them at the bar as they came in, all knowing each other. Tyler blended in well, and as the Dublin races were beginning on the monitors, he got to chatting with the mechanics in the station’s equipment dealership about the races, and betting drinks on them. Bowex ‘special delivery team’ slaughtered by the IMG chariots, and the Liberty Eagles thrashed the Bounty Hunter interceptors. By the last race, the big bets were rolling, and Tyler was slowly raising the stakes with a large man called Carl. What started as a pint here and a shot there escalated to the looser footing the winner’s bill, and not to be outdone, Tyler pushed it one higher.

The local, Carl, full of friendly competitive spirit, and other spirits too, knew that his friends would think no less of him, but stuck to his guns and went with it anyways. The big bet was on the BAF’s own Red Arrows’ against the Hood’s neigh-unbeatable Dexter’s Midnight Runners. With Tyler backing the Red Arrows, the entire bar was holding it’s breath in anticipation as the first few laps went neck and neck, just mere microns between the ships. Then things took a turn for the worse, the Arrows began to slowly fall behind and struggled to keep up with the Runners’ superior staying power. As they fell further and further behind, almost as much as a whole ring between them, things looked grim for Tyler. Carl smiled at him and offered his hand to shake.
“You play tough Ty, had me worried there.” He said, grasping Tyler’s hand with both of his and shaking it firmly.
Tyler smiled and laughed, placing his hand across his forehead as Carl released it. “Ah, yah win some and lose some, drink up mate, it won’t happen again”
Suddenly, with seconds left in the race, a huge gasp rang out from everyone in the bar and everything went silent save the race commentator. Tyler and Carl both snapped their views back to the monitor and stared wide-eyed just in time to see the Runners’ ship missing a ring. The commentary began to say something but was drowned out by the bar’s ecstatic cheering as the Red Arrow shot through the final ring.

A shocked Carl laughed and hung his head in pretence at shame, before turning to Tyler and wrapping a large arm around his shoulder. He said something, but was drowned out by the bar full of his friends cheering and laughing. Sam was right beside them behind the bar beaming from ear to ear, already eagerly pouring Tyler the first of what was going to add up to a huge bill for Carl, as the bet was paying for everyone’s drinks for the night.

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

[Image: CarlReed150.png] Chapter 6 - Paradise Exists

Carl Reed is not a man of many talents, but in this day and age you don'€™t need many. He can fly as well as your average Joe, but isn'€™t of fighting pedigree, and he'€™s no businessman either. What he is however, is a great mechanic, and the friendliest guy in Sirius. He was raised on Planet New London by his mother, his father dying in the line of duty as a police officer when he was very young. He wasn'€™t a hugely intelligent child in most respects, but as soon as he had something mechanical to fiddle with, he would take it apart and put it back together, exploring and innovating different mechanisms. As he grew up he went from fiddling with simple toys, to cheap robots and ship parts. He would spend hours on end in scrap yards searching for salvageable fragments of just about anything, and just experiment by sticking them together and seeing what happened. It was his passion, and motivation to make a living out of what he enjoyed pushed him to overcome the problems he had with conventional learning. He studied mechanics in school and college, and took every opportunity he could to get work experience with anything mechanical. Being far from a savant, he had to work harder at writing and describing his knowledge for tests than most other people, but his enthusiasm pushed him past it.

Coupled with his natural talent for anything mechanical, Carl also had his sights set on space. He admired what stories he had heard of his father, recalled by family members, and his dream as a teenager was to be an engineer aboard a huge starship, such as a battleship, exploring deep space and keeping things running smoothly while they fought off all forms of ne'€™er-do-wells. However, despite his talent, he failed to get into the Armed Forces engineering corps, primarily due to his difficulties with describing what would need doing to a team of people. He could almost always identify and fix a problem himself, but not work as a team to fix the same problem. Not to be disheartened however, he viewed that as yet more encouragement to seek something more befitting to his individual work style, working alone, as he figured he'€™d be happier like that. Not to say he was anti-social though, he loved company, just not while working on mechanics.

Working odd jobs in garages and repair shops across New London was a great middle-step for Carl, but he still couldn'€™t wait for an opportunity to get into space. Shortly after he turned twenty-five, he caught wind of a job offering from Planetform, working on Canterbury station. With increasing Gaian activity, and hence attacks on Planetform ships, more and more equipment was piling up and awaiting repairs, while ships were just sent out with replacements. He would be working by himself, in space, just fixing damaged ship equipment. This was a dream come true for Carl, and he applied instantly. He had little by the way of qualifications, but with shining references from a host of people on New London, he got the job.

Carl had a little difficulty settling in to life on the station to begin with, but persevered and soon became just one of the lads. From the dock workers, the ship fitters, the traders and even the management all grew to love Carl, but knew to leave him be when he'€™s working, and he was a common sight in the bar the rest of the time. People came and went from the station all the time, heading off to Harris or California, bringing in supplies, or just dropping by, and crew members moved on and new ones moved in, but all the time Carl was there either fixing things in his workshop, or drinking the bar dry, leading the cheers among his friends and visitors alike.

Carl was treated well by Planetform, they paid him more than fairly, and offered him promotions on an almost monthly basis. He would always turn them down, perfectly happy with the life he had, even when offered the position of the station'€™s equipment dealer. That little workshop, his average quarters and all the company he could want was his paradise.

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-26-2010

-COMPLETE RE-WRITE IN PROGRESS-

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-29-2010

-COMPLETE RE-WRITE IN PROGRESS-

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-29-2010

-COMPLETE RE-WRITE IN PROGRESS-

Reality Cheques - Jimothy - 08-29-2010

-COMPLETE RE-WRITE IN PROGRESS-