Chapter 4: The Orbital Mass Accelerator (Part 2)

The ascent track extended tangentially from the outermost ground loop toward the horizon. Its vertical section was anchored to a massive mountain peak, thrusting upward for a total length of approximately eighty kilometers.

Massive reinforced concrete pillars, each taller than the last, supported the base of the climbing track like pillars of heaven. As the track inclined, the supports transitioned from vertical columns to angled struts, then to parallel pairs, and finally to triple-crossed reinforced bracing before the track finally fused with the vertical mountain face.

This design was engineered to mitigate the crushing pressure generated as the spaceplane transitioned from horizontal rotation to a vertical climb. Clearly, this long, winding curve was a path specifically forged for human safety. By extending the track and smoothing the arc, the engineers ensured that the acceleration never exceeded 6G—the maximum limit for a healthy human passenger.

In addition to the manned line, eight cargo rails flanked the central disc—four on each side. These freight tracks were far simpler in design.

Unburdened by the fragile limits of human biology, the cargo rails were shorter and divided into only two sections: a straight ground run and a sharp, upward kick. It was a philosophy of "brute force creates miracles." The cargo modules were launched like shells from an electromagnetic railgun, relying on their own internal fuel only after clearing the track to overcome atmospheric drag and adjust their final orbital insertion.

Even the shortest of these freight tracks was seven kilometers long. The varying lengths were calculated for different cargo types: the more durable the goods, the shorter the rail. A simple calculation for the 7km track suggested that cargo launched from it had to endure a staggering 450G.

While modern electromagnetic technology could easily propel a projectile at over 60,000G, a cargo pod is not a solid slug; too much force would turn the contents into scrap. To prevent the friction of such speeds from melting the craft or the rails, the entire system operated on a maglev—magnetic levitation—principle, ensuring zero physical contact during the launch.

From a distance, the four freight rails and the central manned track resembled the hand of a giant resting on the earth. Like the "Five Finger Mountain" of legend, it carried a grand, mythological weight. Of course, internet culture was less reverent; because of the prominent curve of the central track, many netizens privately referred to it as "Heaven’s Middle Finger."

Yue Yuan had scrolled past more than a few videos where the comments section dubbed the project the "Finger to the Firmament." No matter the era, the comments section remained a sanctuary for the irreverent.

A message from Zhu Peter interrupted his thoughts: the luggage was checked, and the boarding passes were ready. Yue Yuan signaled his understanding and, flanked by his two bodyguards, headed to the gate to meet his assistant.

The spaceplane’s silhouette was similar to a conventional aircraft, but to minimize drag during the high-speed launch, its wings were swept-back and retractable, folding against the fuselage like the wings of a cicada. Beneath the craft sat a specialized electromagnetic cradle, with the landing gear tucked deep into the belly. Fixed onto the rail, the spaceplane appeared to partially wrap around the track, sliding along it as if the rail pierced through its very core.

Yue Yuan took his boarding pass and stepped into the cabin.

Having booked First Class, he was spared the usual bustle. There were eight seats in the cabin, four of which were already occupied. A quick glance revealed a middle-aged married couple and a younger pair.

The husband of the older couple had a distinct 대 (dae) slicked-back hairstyle and a slight indentation on the bridge of his nose—a mark of a long-time glasses wearer. He had already removed them, following the safety regulation that prohibited glasses during the launch sequence to prevent injury. Judging by the wife’s elegant attire and their conversation, they appeared to be wealthy business travelers.

The younger couple was more striking. The man had dark, wavy hair and deep-set eyes—likely Italian. His partner was a classic Asian beauty with long, straight black hair and large, bright eyes, speaking flawless Mandarin. In an era where "Western worship" had long since flipped, seeing such a pairing was slightly unusual. Yue Yuan caught the word "Artemis" in their conversation; they were likely heading to the American lunar base.

By 2108, space travel had matured to the point where lunar and Martian bases hosted civilians, workers, and tourists alongside researchers. Since the Tiangong Space Station now served as a massive orbital hub, most passengers on these spaceplanes were merely using it as a transfer point for the long haul to the Moon or Mars.

Yue Yuan’s group remained quiet, offering only polite nods as they took their seats.

Soon, the intercom crackled to life. "Good afternoon, passengers. This is your Captain speaking. Welcome aboard Flight Shenzhou KT666."

"Our departure time is 16:30 Beijing Time. Our destination is the Tiangong Space Station. Estimated electromagnetic rail acceleration is 102 seconds, followed by 190 seconds of engine-assisted thrust. Orbital rendezvous and docking are expected in 3 hours and 40 minutes."

Because the 300km total track length wasn't quite enough to reach orbital velocity without lethal G-forces, the craft had to engage its own engines after launch while still in the upper atmosphere. Without that extra 190 seconds of thrust to reach 7.9 km/s, the craft would stall and fall back to Earth.

To reach full orbital velocity on the rails alone while staying under 6G, the track would have needed to be at least 600 kilometers long.

This highlighted the primary limitation of the Mass Accelerator. The ideal solution for mass space transit remained the Space Elevator, but until material science provided a tether strong enough to support one, the Juggernaut’s "Catapult" was the next best thing. It wasn't perfect, but compared to the chemical rockets of the previous century, it was the engine that made large-scale space construction possible.

TN: (YAP WARNING)

Basically getting stuff into orbit is VERY expensive. Getting enough thrust to escape Earth's gravity has always been the biggest challenge, and why more cheaper alternatives to get to LEO are needed in order to scale up any activity humanity wants to do in space. Rockets take a lot of time and requires a large fleet to scale. With a huge gun, the only cost is the initial up front investment and energy. No need for rocket crews, rocket recovery, or the need to rebuild them as they have a determinate lifespan. 

Space elevators essentially have two anchors, one on earth, and the other in geosynchronous orbit: an orbit that always stays in place above a certain area of land. There is a cable that connects the two, which act as the elevator, moving cargo and passengers from the anchor on land to space. The reason why material sciences is an issue is due to physics: The cable needs to be lightweight (cheap) and strong enough so that it is able to handle the tensile strength coming from the anchor in space as it acts as the 'lifter' holding the cable taut and preventing the entire thing from crashing back down to Earth.
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