The Irritable Secretary-General

Riding in a helicopter, he headed straight for the airport.

Not an airport for civilian airliners, but a newly built shuttlecraft airport.

Over a thousand shuttlecraft were parked on the open ground. They looked somewhat like fighter jets, except fighter jets rested flat on the ground while shuttlecraft stood with their noses pointed straight at the sky. Every now and then, a shuttlecraft took off, flames blasting from its rear as it soared upward like a rocket. These aircraft took off vertically.

Chen Zhao got out of the helicopter, where a marked official car was already waiting. He plopped into it and got out two minutes later. A large shuttlecraft towered before him, with Blue Star's emblem printed on its wings.

"Mr. Chen, inspections are complete. We can take off at any time." The pilot saluted.

"Fly, fly, fly. No need to be so formal." Chen Zhao returned the salute.

He climbed into the shuttlecraft, fastened his seat belt, and confirmed his identity with a palm print.

The transparent cockpit canopy slowly closed. The pilot rapidly pressed buttons, and a countdown began inside the cabin.

Unhurried, Chen Zhao put something in his mouth. It was an anti-nausea device. The shuttlecraft's acceleration during takeoff was immense, and many people occasionally vomited. Wearing one of these greatly reduced the chances of that happening.

With a thunderous roar, it felt as though a Soviet volcano had erupted beneath his ass. Sports car commercials often emphasized the "push-back feeling," but this was far beyond that. Chen Zhao felt as if he had fallen from the twentieth floor and slammed his back into the ground. Fortunately, the seat was soft enough. The instant the engines ignited, his whole body sank four inches into it.

He struggled to turn his head. The ground was dropping away