LOST REVENGE by Hao Yang

By
Hao Yang
     
    Copyright ©2016 by Hao Yang
    All Rights Reserved
     
    The book is a work of fiction. All names,
characters, locations and invents are products of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to actual incidents, persons or locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of the book can be used or distributed or reproduced in any manner
(electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of the author.
     
    Head pain wakes me
up, but I don’t want to open my eyes. I remember my astronaut training and it
says if you just wake up from a coma, you should execute a quick playback to
see whether you suffer any memory loss. So here is my playback.
    I was born in Dallas
Texas in 2015 and lived there until I enrolled in University of Houston. Around
that time I made up my mind to become a pilot and astronaut. After college I
joined the air force and became a fighter pilot. When I was promoted to
captain, I started applying for astronaut program. After 13 years of sending
resumes, I got accepted and I did know why. NASA mistook my name with someone
else and they were too embarrassed to correct it. Anyway, I went through all
tests, trainings and evaluations, ending up as a Mission Commander but with no
one to give order. At that point, human had touched down on Mars and Luna
station was just completed on the moon. Suddenly, for no reason, NASA and ESA
decided to go to Jupiter as if we are on a rescue mission for Optimus Prime. Everything
was in a rush and they didn’t even say the mission objective. All they could
tell me was “We will let you know when you reach Jupiter.” It’s just like that
and now we are on the way with my crew of nine astronauts.
    No memory loss. This
is a good sign.
    Listening to the
peaceful humming of equipment, I know at least Achilles is still functioning.
It is the most expensive spaceship with a price tag of 400 billion US dollars.
It is designed to go deep, very deep, into Jupiter.
    Taking a deep breath,
I suddenly recall the three levels of fucked up. First, you know you are fucked
up. Second, someone tells you that you are fucked up. Third, everyone knows you
are fucked up. Right now I am at level one and I remember how I ended up here,
lying on the bed with head pain. I was in the kitchen with my fiancée Lily and
there came a strong shake. I dashed forward and grabbed the edge of the table.
Then everything went inverted. While I was holding on to the table, a sharp
pain struck the back of my head and that was it.
    “Lily!”
    Opening my eyes, I
slowly sit up in my cabin. As the Commander, I have my own room, even though
it’s only big enough for a small table, a chair and a bed.
    I rub the back of my
head. Some swelling but no blood. The pain feels like something is drilling in
my brain.
    “Commander, are you
there?” A sweet female voice flies out from the intercom.
    “Yes.”
    “How do you feel?”
    “Head pain, but I am
all right. Bertha, what happened?”
    “You had an
accident.”
    “How about everyone
else? Are they alright?” Actually I am only thinking about Lily.
    “Ah, actually—”
    “What is it?”
    “Maybe we can talk
about it in the bridge?”
    “On my way.”
    I get off my bed and
walk out of my cabin. Thanks to artificial gravity, we no longer need the
rotating carrousel used in the trips to Mars.
    In the corridor, Bud,
our communication officer, is checking something on a panel. The name Bud is a
short version of his first name Budhpreetayana. He is an Indian, 30 something,
short, bald, dark skin and a little different from the rest of the crew. That
means his shape requires a special spacesuit. He always has a friendly smile on
his face and he smells like curry most of time.
    “I thought we lost
you there, Commander.” Bud walks to me and pats my shoulder.
    “It won’t be that
easy. Everyone is alright? Nobody else is hurt, right?” I am sweating.
    “Yea, pretty much.”
Bud’s face