The broadcast continued to drone over the cabin speakers.
"During this flight, we are committed to providing you with premium service. Our crew will do their utmost to ensure a comfortable travel experience... The cabin is equipped with ergonomic shock-absorbing seats and high-definition displays... On behalf of the entire crew, I wish you a pleasant journey. Thank you!"
A brief silence followed the Captain’s address before the safety checklist began.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Shenzhou spaceplane has been pushed back and is entering the electromagnetic glide phase. Please follow the flight instructions: remove all sharp jewelry, power down electronic devices, and toggle the button at the base of your seat to the 'Blue' position... Place your feet firmly on the footrests, don your shock-absorbing helmets, and pull down the safety dampening harness until it is secured to your chest..."
It would take eighteen minutes to reach orbit and enter a state of weightlessness. This was longer than the ascent of a traditional chemical rocket, but anyone familiar with orbital mechanics knew why: the time was spent on the gradual acceleration of the electromagnetic track, ensuring passengers weren't crushed by extreme G-forces. The subsequent four-hour window for docking with the Tiangong Space Station was, by modern standards, incredibly efficient.
The safety announcement repeated three times. While it played, the "Space Stewards"—the spaceplane’s specialized crew—patrolled the aisle, meticulously checking each passenger’s harness. Once the checks were complete, they returned to their own seats and strapped in.
The final broadcast crackled to life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Shenzhou spaceplane is cleared for launch. We wish you a pleasant journey. Thank you!"
A massive surge of pressure slammed Yue Yuan into his seat. Flight KT666 had engaged. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mountain landscape blur into a streak of grey and green.
As the first straight cargo rail flashed past the viewing window, the direction of the thrust began to shift downward. Yue Yuan, a veteran of several Mass Accelerator launches, knew the plane was now hitting the incline. The spaceplane’s nose was gradually pitching up, keeping the force centered against the passengers' backs rather than pulling at their stomachs.
The second cargo rail blurred past. Then the third. Then the fourth.
Driven by the second strongest fundamental force in the universe, Flight KT666 became a literal electromagnetic projectile. It tore through the atmosphere, shattering the shackles of gravity, and surged into the heavens.
Then, suddenly, the pressure vanished. The sudden onset of weightlessness signaled their arrival in Low Earth Orbit (LEO).
First-time travelers pressed their faces against the windows, captivated by the vastness of the void and the terrifying beauty of Mother Earth. From the cabin walls, the HD screens extended to begin the in-flight entertainment, designed to kill the three-hour docking phase.
Another announcement played, detailing the protocols for living in a microgravity environment. The silence of the cabin broke as passengers began to chatter, some bragging about how well they handled the 6G acceleration, others simply whispering in awe at the view.
Yue Yuan remained silent. He felt the recycled air of the life-support system brushing against his skin and turned his gaze to the window.
Below him lay a brilliant blue arc. Beyond that arc was the absolute, crushing black of the deep. Within the blue, wisps of white—the clouds—drifted like pulled silk over the jagged, clearly visible textures of mountain ranges. At this altitude, the ocean's waves were invisible, replaced by a deep, tranquil sapphire.
He stared at the planet until the blue faded into the dark of the Earth's shadow, and the lights of civilization began to twinkle like a carpet of fallen stars.
He didn't know when he would see them again.
The cabin's voice pulled him back to reality.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have safely arrived at our destination: the Tiangong Space Station. Please remain in your seats until the safety light is extinguished. Do not use mobile devices until the hatch is fully opened..."
"Upon exiting, please utilize the guide bars and move through the docking hub in an orderly fashion. Ensure you have all personal belongings..."
"Passengers transferring to other stations, please proceed to the designated modules. Passengers for Guanghan Palace (Moon), please use Channel 3 to the Jiuge Module. Passengers for the Artemis Base (Moon), use Channel 4 to the Yunmengze Module. Passengers for the Irun-Kuh United Base (Moon)..."
As the voice continued, the docking hub illuminated with numbered signs for the various transfer channels. Yue Yuan’s group followed the prompts, grabbing the guide bars with practiced ease and floating toward Channel 3.
The Infrastructure Juggernaut had fundamentally changed the nature of space stations. Because the Mass Accelerator had slashed the cost of lifting materials into orbit, and modular construction in microgravity had matured, the Tiangong Space Station was no longer a collection of cramped tin cans. It was a city.
The Jiuge Module (named after the "Nine Songs" of ancient poetry) was indicative of this new scale. The interior was four meters wide, over two meters high, and twelve meters long. Equipment and life-support systems were embedded seamlessly into the walls, creating a clean, organized living space.
The entire station was a modular jigsaw. Modules the size of the Jiuge were considered "medium-sized," and there were ninety-eight of them. Larger modules existed, though they were half as numerous.
Not counting transient travelers like Yue Yuan, the station maintained a permanent population of roughly 7,500 people. With multiple soft-docking berths providing constant resupply for transport craft, it had become the primary gateway between Earth and the deep black.
It was a celestial metropolis. The name Tiangong—Heavenly Palace—had never been more literal.
Every ethnicity and profession could be found here—traders exchanging goods, engineers maintaining the hull, and scientists staring at data. Yue Yuan wouldn't have minded staying for a few days to take in the atmosphere, but his schedule was rigid.
After completing the transfer formalities in the Jiuge Module, he skipped the civilian flights. Instead, he boarded a "specialized transport"—essentially a government shuttle.
These shuttles were the workhorses of the Earth-Moon line. Larger versions handled the Mars run, while the massive "Transport Ships" handled the long-range trip to Callisto. Publicly, the government called them "Modified Civilian Transports" to avoid triggering a space arms race, but everyone knew they were the backbone of China's reach.
The shuttle was pushed out of its berth. Once it reached a safe distance and oriented its nose, the propulsion system roared to life. Mature fission engines began to glow as they expelled reaction mass—the byproducts of the fission process—generating the steady, powerful thrust needed to bridge the gap to the Moon.
Fission tech had allowed humanity to walk through the solar system, but it carried the constant risk of radiation. Because of this, Controllable Nuclear Fusion remained the only true path to the deep stars.
From what Yue Yuan knew, the labs in Beijing were on the verge of a breakthrough. The final piece of the puzzle—room-temperature superconductivity—was estimated to be only two or three years away.
If those estimates held, fusion propulsion would be a reality within five or six years. It was the kind of news that made the long, cold trip to the outer moons feel like the start of something legendary.
TN:
In Chinese mythology, Tiangong is the official residence of the Jade Emperor (Yù Huáng), the supreme ruler of Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld.
It is depicted as a place of absolute order, blinding gold architecture, and eternal mist—a "perfect" version of a royal court where the gods and celestial officials manage the laws of the universe.
(YAP WARNING)
Beside radiation, there are a lot of other reasons why nuclear fusion is needed for space travel. Mostly, ubiquity of fuel. About 99.9% of all matter in the universe is made from hydrogen. As propellent it's exponentially easier to procure hydrogen from stars or gas giants compared to mining uranium which requires prospecting asteroids or planets and the establishing an excavation process.
Why room-temperature superconductivity is relevant:
For a nuclear fusion reaction to take place, hydrogen atoms need to be superheated into plasma and then push the hydrogen atoms together for the process. Magnets are used to suspend the plasma. Those magnets require superconductors which need a tremendous amount of energy to keep cool, much more energy than what the fusion process generates. With those room-temperature superconductors, less energy is needed to maintain the magnets, meaning the reactor can be much smaller, cheaper, and feasible for fusion to occur.
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