Naturally, Yue Yuan had left plenty of serum samples at the capital’s laboratories for research.
He wasn't opposed to it. Since the unknown substance was now extinct, studying the recipients was the only logical path forward, and there was still hope of deciphering its secrets. In a way, the seven of them were now more precious than giant pandas—it was no wonder Zhu Peter was being so cautious.
Strictly speaking, Yue Yuan should have remained in the capital for his own safety. However, the physiological changes in all seven subjects were identical, and the Callisto Base truly couldn't function without him. Furthermore, he had grown accustomed to his life and work on the Jovian moon. Ultimately, he chose to return.
After a quick shower, Yue Yuan settled in to review the files Peter had brought. They contained profiles on various experts currently stationed at the Yinghuo Base on Mars.
On this trip back to Callisto, Yue Yuan wasn't just "poaching" one expert from Guanghan Palace; he intended to secure one from the Mars base as well. Since five of his best specialists were stuck on Earth being poked and prodded, he needed fresh blood to keep the mission on track.
The high command had been surprisingly efficient, granting his request without hesitation. They had even assigned a suite of state-of-the-art equipment to the Callisto Base for genetic research. The intent was clear: Yue Yuan was to spearhead the project on his end, providing a vital data set to compare against the experiments being conducted in Earth's environment.
While Yue Yuan wasn't a primary researcher, he possessed the scientific literacy required for his rank. He was a generalist—a leader who truly understood the underlying theory and technology, even if he wasn't the one calibrating the microscopes.
The equipment had been shipped ahead of him; by his estimates, the cargo should have already crossed the Martian orbit.
Putting the files aside, Yue Yuan finally drifted into a deep sleep.
The Vast Sea stretches roughly a thousand kilometers from east to west. At the cruise ship's pace, the journey took about twenty-eight hours.
When he woke the next morning, he followed his routine: hygiene, a workout, and breakfast. By the time he finished, it was already noon.
As the ship docked, Yue Yuan packed his few personal essentials and headed for the pier. His heavier luggage and supplies would be handled by his staff. For this return trip, he was bringing back a mountain of Earth specialties—rare fruits, fresh vegetables, and premium meats—items that were worth their weight in gold back at the Callisto Base.
As the passengers disembarked, Yue Yuan blended in with the crowd. He reflected on his own stubbornness; he could have taken a private government jet, but he had insisted on the "scenic route" through Tibet by ship.
"Hey! What a coincidence! Isn't it... Yue something-or-other?"
Just as he stepped onto the dock, a familiar voice called out. He looked toward the source and saw a woman waving at him through the bustling crowd.
Yue Yuan’s eyesight was exceptional. Even at a distance, he could see the shallow dimples framing her smile. It was Xu Yanqi, the girl from the deck. She was standing next to a slightly taller girl wearing glasses—likely the classmate she had mentioned.
"What a coincidence indeed," Yue Yuan said, carrying his small suitcase as he walked over to greet them. He offered a smile. "Waiting for someone?"
"Yeah, waiting for a handsome guy like you..." Xu Yanqi’s eyes danced with mischief, but she immediately let out a laugh. "Haha! Just kidding, just kidding. We're waiting for our other classmates."
That's not a joke you should be making, Yue Yuan thought. He noticed Zhu Peter, standing a few paces to his right, instinctively adjust the brim of his hat.
They exchanged a few more minutes of pleasantries before Yue Yuan bid the energetic girl farewell, citing his travel schedule. Under different circumstances, he wouldn't have minded chatting longer, but his current status made "casual" talk difficult. Moreover, his whim to take the water route had already put immense pressure on Peter and the rest of his security detail.
Yue Yuan was a leader who looked out for his subordinates—a trait that had earned him deep loyalty.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. The party of four boarded a vehicle Peter had arranged, transitioning from water to land as they drove toward the site of the Orbital Mass Accelerator.
The Orbital Mass Accelerator was essentially a giant electromagnetic catapult—or, more accurately, a massive railgun for spacecraft.
The principle was simple: use electromagnetic interaction to accelerate a craft to first cosmic velocity and launch it into the sky. In practice, however, atmospheric drag makes it nearly impossible to hit that velocity while still on the rails. Consequently, the craft ignites its own engines after clearing the track to break Earth's gravity. Once in space, it uses its internal propulsion for orbital maneuvering and docking with the Tiangong Space Station.
Compared to traditional chemical rockets, the Mass Accelerator offered nothing but advantages. Launch costs were plummeted; once built, the facility was a "set-it-and-forget-it" piece of infrastructure.
Furthermore, the launch vehicles—spaceplanes rather than traditional capsules—were fully reusable. Unlike a return capsule, a spaceplane could glide back to Earth and land like an oversized aircraft. This combination made round-trips to orbit affordable and allowed for scheduled "flights," creating a convenient bridge between the ground and the Tiangong station.
It was this technology that allowed humanity to build increasingly massive structures in Low Earth Orbit (LEO).
Initially, China had considered building a space elevator, but material science hadn't quite caught up. They settled for the Mass Accelerator—a technology they had already mastered. Since the turn of the century, China's electromagnetic railgun tech had been world-leading, and their work on High-Speed Rail had provided decades of expertise in track materials.
The construction of the accelerator wasn't a fluke or "alien tech"; it was the result of a century of industrial evolution.
What was surprising, however, was its location. Initial plans favored low-latitude regions to take advantage of the Earth’s rotation and save energy. But the massive power requirements ultimately pushed the project to the Plateau Region.
The reason was simple: the power was there.
The ten hydroelectric stations built along the Hanhai project utilized the massive elevation drops to generate staggering amounts of electricity. Combined with the plateau’s abundant solar and wind resources, the region provided a guaranteed energy surplus for the accelerator.
Compared to the nightmare of rerouting the national grid or building thousands of miles of new transmission lines elsewhere, this was the logical choice. Additionally, the high altitude meant thinner air and less atmospheric drag for the launches.
The Hanhai project itself also played a role. By turning the desert basins into navigable waterways, bulk cargo could now be shipped deep inland by boat, further reducing the logistical costs of the facility.
Of course, a project of this scale wasn't a solo endeavor. While the Hanhai project was a domestic feat, the Orbital Mass Accelerator became a massive international collaboration. Traditional space powers like the U.S., Europe, and Russia invested heavily. Other nations—India, the UK, Japan, Korea, Brazil, Egypt, and various Middle Eastern states—didn't miss the chance to join in.
The Chinese welcomed them all. A landmark project of this magnitude, essential for the future of human space exploration, couldn't be kept for one nation alone. Besides, with so many partners clamoring to join, funding was never an issue. It was a "win-win"... or rather, a "multi-win."
As he arrived at the site, Yue Yuan was once again struck by the sheer scale of the engineering.
Amidst a sprawling network of support buildings, the electromagnetic track rose like a slide toward the heavens. From his vantage point, the ground-level section of the accelerator looked like a gargantuan disc. The tracks spiraled outward like the coils of a mosquito incense burner, with the ground-loop sections alone spanning a total length of over 220 kilometers.
In terms of footprint, this spiral was the largest part of the entire machine.
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