Translator: CKtalon Editor: CKtalon
Tang Yue and Tomcat sat opposite each other. Between them were pen and paper.
The dim lights shone from above, illuminating the duo’s faces. Tang Yue wore a solemn expression, but not as solemn as Tomcat’s.
“Completely eliminate the intermediary orbit and abandon the 280 kilometers orbit. We accelerate only once and let the Eagle go from a parking orbit straight into the space station’s orbit for the rendezvous and docking. Would that work?”
“Yes, but the risks are great.”
“How great?”
“Going from a height of 280 kilometers to 380 kilometers, it requires one acceleration and one deceleration. It uses up large amounts of propellant.”
“How many rendezvous attempts do we have left with the remaining propellant?”
“None.”
“This means that no matter which strategy we use, there’s only one chance for a rendezvous?”
“Yes.”
“Then, which strategy results in more remnant propellant?”
“I need to do the calculations.”
Tomcat sat on the chair and closed its eyes as though it was in meditation.
Following that, fumes emitted from its orifices.
Half a minute later, Tomcat opened its eyes and took the pen and paper. It began writing and drawing. “If we give up the plan of having two intermediary orbits with two orbital maneuvers, and use the strategy of directly jumping into the space station’s orbit, we will be able to save 10% of the propellant, as well as four hours… But the maneuvering required from jumping into the space station’s orbit is much more difficult. It needs the Kunlun Station’s remote guidance.”
“It saves 10% of the propellant?”
“10%.”
Tang Yue slammed the table. “That’s it! That’s our Plan B! Let the lander directly jump over! Let’s not waste even a second! We won’t even burn a gram of propellant! Tomcat, you will be in charge of the guidance! I’ll be in charge of getting you that signal!”
Tang Yue felt an unfounded sense of confidence. He had decisively chosen the plan, leaving Tomcat stunned. When did this wimp find his guts? It didn’t know how Tang Yue had roused himself. He was jaded and depressed just minutes ago.
“We are already dead,” Tang Yue said.
Tomcat was taken aback, confused as to what he meant.
“We are already dead,” Tang Yue repeated. “The launch of the Eagle is already a failure. Mai Dong is definitely dead… but the heavens have given us a 2.477% chance. Can you understand what that means?”
Tomcat immediately understood what Tang Yue meant.
They had never been forced into a corner.
They had always been in a perilous situation! From the moment Earth vanished, Tang Yue and Tomcat already had all means of retreat cut off.
The failure of the Eagle’s orbit entry should have been a guaranteed failure, a situation where death was certain, but a strong rocket engine had hoisted up that last sliver of hope for them.
Desperate times called for desperate solutions.
“When is the nearest orbital maneuver window?” Tang Yue asked.
“The nearest one was five minutes ago.” Tomcat looked at the time. “The next one is in seventy-five minutes.”
Tang Yue turned around and dragged the Radiant Armor EVA suit. “I’ll go set up the antenna. Leave the signal problem to me. I’ll definitely allow you to connect to the lander before the next orbital maneuver window! Go drive that powerful Russian space tractor and let it do a super drift at the apoapsis! I believe in your driving skills… You are Mt. Akina’s 1 pram racing god!
“Don’t worry! I’ll make sure to drive the tractor like it’s a Lamborghini! Watch me perfectly reverse into position!” Tomcat raised its paw’s thumb. “Good luck!”
Tang Yue donned the Radiant Armor, lifted the antenna, and walked out with wide strides. He roared, “Dear Comrade RD-0172! Russia is vast but there is nowhere to retreat. It’s Moscow behind us! Hurrah—!”
Tomcat watched as Tang Yue bent his back to enter the airlock. Suddenly, it felt that there was nothing wrong with Tang Yue’s back looking like a bear. Not only was he a bear, but he was a polar bear.
Tang Yue’s baffling sense of confidence might not have come from an enlightenment on the brink of death, but from the Russian written on the RD-0172 engine.
Right on the heels of that, the airlock produced a boisterous roar.
“Vodka! Forward, Comrades—!”
…
“Dear Father and Mother, I’m Mai Dong. I’m currently writing you this letter on the Mars United Space Station. I’m doing fine here…”
Mai Dong was taken aback as she pressed the “Backspace” key and deleted all the text.
“Dear Father and Mother, I’m Mai Dong. When I wrote this letter, the sun had just risen from the other end of Mars. The golden sunlight has illuminated half the Crystal module. The scenery here is truly beautiful…”
Mai Dong shook her head and deleted everything she had written.
“Dear Father and Mother, I’m Mai Dong. How are you? I’m about to die…”
Delete.
“Dear Father and Mother, I’m Mai Dong. I’m about to join you…”
Delete.
Mai Dong repeatedly typed and deleted. She felt that every word she left behind was unsuitable. Nothing was right from beginning to end.
The girl’s slender fingers finally stopped over the keyboard. She fell into a prolonged silence as her brain was filled with words she wanted to say, but when she actually started writing, she was lost as to how to pen it. It was akin to wishing to pour out all sorts of pent up thoughts to someone, only to look up and realize that the world was empty and that you were alone.
Mai Dong sat on a chair her seatbelt buckled. She stared at the computer screen as the cursor blinked every second.
From a young age, Mai Dong had written many essays. She had always been good at writing, but she had never written a will, nor had she ever attempted writing a will as a living person to the deceased. The Earth had already vanished. Her parents, relatives, friends, and colleagues were no longer around. Who was she writing the will for?
However, she still wished to leave something behind for the world.
Mai Dong didn’t know if Tang Yue and Tomcat would succeed in delivering the Eagle’s supplies. But at that moment, Kunlun Station was in the midst of a sandstorm and connections had been severed. Even though Mai Dong wasn’t a professional flight expert, she knew the difficulty involved and that chances were slim. If the Eagle’s docking with the United Space Station failed, she was doomed.
Mai Dong had to use the last bit of strength she had to finish writing that letter—a task she wanted to complete.
But where was she to send the letter after she was done writing it?
Mai Dong cast her gaze on the console, where there was a dense array of knobs and switches.
Using the space station’s communication systems to transform the letter into a digital signal to send out into the vast cosmos?
Like the final cry for help in the Universe, Mai Dong didn’t know how far the radio wave would go. Due to the existence of interstellar extinction, the bulk of interstellar dust absorbed and radiated electromagnetic waves, causing radio waves to weaken with distance. Finally, the radio wave would be weakened to the point of not carrying any information.
But this distance was a very, very long one. A lone radio wave, carrying the last words of a girl, traveling across the vast vacuum for billions of years.
She was lonely just thinking about it.
If asked what was the loneliest thing in the world, it would be the final radio wave sent by humanity. It carried a language no one else in the Universe could understand, from birth to death, heading straight for a distance without end.
Then, was she to leave the letter on the space station?
A few years after she died, when the United Space Station’s lifespan came to an end and plummeted into the Martian atmosphere, the letter would burn up along with the space station. It would then be scattered across the vast plains of Mars as ashes?
Mai Dong sighed silently as she hugged herself tightly.
As the last person in the United Space Station, she wished to write a letter, but she didn’t know who to write it to.
Although the Universe was large, there was no place to ensconce the letter.
