A Voyage for the Ages

[KSK]

Forty-nine years ago, on the 21st of December, at 7:51:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, astronauts Frank Borman, Jim Lovell and Bill Anders set out on the boldest crewed spaceflight of all time. Riding the gigantic Saturn V booster into orbit and beyond, they circled the Moon, becoming the first human beings ever to see their homeworld rising over a new horizon. For the flight controllers at Mission Control this, more than any of the other Apollo flights was a voyage for the ages.

It was the height of the Space Race with the Soviet Union. The stakes were high. The risks were even higher.

The Apollo command and service module (CSM) had only flown a single crewed flight. With no lunar module to provide an emergency lifeboat, it and it alone would be responsible for getting the crew into lunar orbit - and bringing them home again. The Saturn V had only flown two uncrewed test flights, one of them plagued by pogo problems. The computer software responsible for the whole complex mission around two celestial bodies had only just been finished in time for the December launch date.

------------

The Apollo Program has been a huge influence and source of inspiration for my KSP writing. Even so, I didn't start out expecting my description of the first kerballed flight to the Mün to have quite so many parallels with the real thing, from the uncertain global situation in the background to the missing lander (albeit for budgetary rather than technical reasons). But since they are there, I consider this to be my own, very small, tribute to Apollo 8 and everyone who made it happen.

"Please be advised - there is a Santa Claus."

 

Part 1 - World on the Edge

Spoiler

 

Well now - there’s something you don’t see too often.

Dondrin stepped out from under the sheltered portico that guarded the entrance to the Capital building. Northern Wakiran ceremonial garb I would say, and very traditional it looks too. He inspected the ornate fur collar more closely. Poor fellow must be melting under all that. 

“Good afternoon, Ambassador. Dondrin Kerman, Capital News. May I have a moment of your time?”

Jerfun narrowed his eyes and kept walking. “You may not.”

Dondrin blinked. Surly fellow aren’t you.

“I have an audience with the Twelve Pillars,” Jerfun continued. “Which I intend to put on the public record. For the benefit of all news outlets,” he added sardonically. He strode towards the reception desk and, after a brief exchange with the receptionist, marched out of the lobby with Dondrin following at a discreet distance. 

As soon as he’d assured himself that the aloof ambassador was indeed heading for the Council chamber, Dondrin took off for the press gallery at a run. He burst through the door and threw himself into a chair as the Chamber doors thudded shut below. Chief Ambassador Burvis waited at the podium, the remaining Pillars sitting silently around the Council table.

“Misters President, mesdames President, honoured chief Ambassadors. We are assembled here today to grant the ancient Right of Conclave. I have answered the petitioner and I deem his request worthy and to be made in sound mind.” Burvis inclined her head towards Jerfun, standing by the door. “Let the record state that Ambassador Jerfun stands alone, and that I, Burvis Kermol, beg that the Twelve Pillars give his petition all due consideration and support.”

“I now call Jerfun Kermol to the podium.”

Burvis took her place at the table, facing the empty podium. Jerfun walked to the front of the room, bowed to the assembled Pillars and stepped up to the lectern. Burvis cleared her throat.

“Do you, Jerfun Kermol, wish to place your petition on the public record?”

“Madame President, I do.”

The twelve kerbals at the table sat up a little straighter. One or two of them exchanged brief looks. Up in the press gallery, Dondrin leaned forward intently. Burvis kept her face carefully impassive.

“By order of this Council, a petition so placed shall be deemed accurate and inviolable. Any false statement made therein, whether purposeful or inadvertent, does constitute a betrayal of these Twelve Pillars, punishable consecutively, to the fullest extent possible by law, in each of the Six Regionalities of Kerbin.”

“Does now the Petitioner, in full and complete knowledge of the consequences of his actions, wish to place his petition on the public record?”

Jerfun didn’t hesitate. “Madame President, I do.”

There was a sudden silence. Twelve pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly at Jerfun. 

Unseen beneath the table, Burvis’s hands trembled. “Then we beg the Petitioner to speak.”

Jerfun bowed. “Madame President, Mesdames President, Misters President, honoured Chief Ambassadors. I, Jerfun Kermol, thank you for granting this Right of Conclave.

He gripped the edge of the lectern. “I claim this right that I may bring the gravest of news to this Council. I For I have witnessed a breach of the sovereign borders of the Regionality of Wakira, and a breach of Grove Law.” Jerfun paused. “I refer specifically to the Law of Territory…”

—————

"... and we'll be bringing you more on this story as it develops. This is Capital News at Ten."

Jeb switched off the television and stared wide-eyed at his flight director. "So what do we do now, Genie?"

Geneney ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know," he said at last, "If this is what they think...it could get ugly, Jeb. Really, really ugly."

"And then some," said Jeb, "It'll be the end of the program if things get that bad. Who's going to care about spaceflight if their Groves are going up in flames or down with the Blight, or..." His voice tailed away.

"Oh I think plenty of people will,” said Geneney grimly. "Except that the rockets won't be going very far - and they won't have capsules on top either.”

Jeb sat bolt upright. “Well they can pillage those rockets from some other spaceship parts company,” he said flatly. “Decision made, Gene. I’ll ring Ademone now. If Rockomax are still in, we call a general meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Anybody that wants to go back to their Groves, or bail out for any other reason, goes with our sincere thanks and best wishes. If enough of the team are left - we launch. Too bad we never got to build the lander but If this ends up being our final flight, then lets give them all a glimpse of what should have been.”

 

Part 2 - Go at Thirty-Six

Spoiler

 

Apart from the last minute furore, thought Wernher, the launch preparations had been surprisingly similar to those for Kerbal 2. The lines of Kerbin Interplanetary Society members outside the warehouse to see them off; the ride to the Space Centre in Ornie’s truck; climbing onto the back of the truck out of sight of the crowds; waving to those same crowds as they drove past the stands and out to the launch pad. 

And here I am again, standing on the gantry outside a three kerbal capsule, waiting for Bob to give the word.

He stared down over the gantry rail at Pioneer 1's gleaming white flanks resplendent, as usual, with sponsor’s logos. From this height, only the chunky blue R and stylised silver engine nozzle of Rockomax’s new logo were visible, proudly emblazoned on each lateral booster. The remaining letters and the tail end of their “Think Better - Think Bigger!” slogan were hidden by perspective and distance. Far below that the engines waited.

In the distance, the Space Centre buildings stood silhouetted against the cloudless morning sky. Sunlight twinkled off the corrugated steel cladding of the Vehicle Assembly Building, squat and blocky at the end of the newly laid strip of asphalt linking it to the launch pad. The pad itself was deathly silent. By now, most of the engineers were safely ensconced within the launch bunker, and even the flocks of birds that usually made the gantries their home were nowhere to be seen, or heard.

I wonder if they know something I don’t.

The ring of work boots on steel brought him back to the present, as Bob climbed out of the hatch and joined him by the rail. The rest of the pad team stood back at a respectful distance. For a moment the two friends gazed across the deserted launch site. 

Bob cleared his throat, “Wernher?”

Wernher gestured at the nose cone far beneath them. “Three T20s, Bob. The breakthrough that launched Jeb into orbit and we’ll be discarding them less than three minutes into the flight.” The chief engineer stared down at the distant launch pad. “A single T30 is powerful enough to lift the entire Moho stack…”

Bob nodded patiently. “And Pioneer needs three of them just to get off the ground. I know, Wernher, I know.” He grinned at a sudden memory, “I’d rather be sitting on top of three T30s than one LV-15 and a pile of Trashcans though.”

Wernher snorted. “Indeed.” He shook his head. “Dear Kerm - what were we thinking? Putting you, Bill, and Jeb inside that contraption.”

Bob squeezed his shoulder. “Or you, Lucan and Gene, for that matter.” He tapped his headset. “Jim and Sherf are all set. Time to go join them.”

In reply, Wernher handed his spacesuit helmet to Bob and strode over to the open hatch. Gripping the hand rails tightly, he swung himself down into the capsule, manoeuvring his bulky spacesuit through the narrow gap. Sherfel grinned at him through her transparent helmet. James turned his head, nodded briefly, then turned his attention back to the instrument panel.

As soon as he’d settled into his acceleration couch, Bob climbed into the capsule after him. Wernher watched him work, shifting from side to side in his seat to let him reach all the assorted ports, plugs and sockets of the life-support and communication systems. He grunted as the engineer tightened his couch harness, checking that the straps were all lying flat. 

Satisfied, Bob lifted Wernher’s helmet into place, and locked it in place against the neck ring of his suit. He rapped on the transparent bubble for luck, flashed a grin at his friend, and plugged his headset into the auxiliary comms port on the side of capsule instrument panel. “You’re looking good, folks. Wave at the Mün for me, and we’ll see you all back here next week.”

“We’ll write you a postcard,” said Sherfel cheerfully, “Can’t guarantee it’ll get to you before we get home though.”

Bob laughed. “Sending it Pioneer class will be fine,” he said, “I’m closing the hatch now. Good luck.”

The hatch swung shut and locked with a clunk. Wernher switched his headset on and surveyed the the profusion of switches, buttons, dials and other readouts laid out in front of him. He stretched his legs out, nodding in satisfaction as his boots hit the capsule bulkhead. Good legroom. Compared to Kerbal 2 at any rate. A sudden draft from the capsule fans riffled the pages of his checklist as the environmental systems kicked in, purging the cabin atmosphere and replacing it with a flight ready, oxygen-nitrogen mix. 

He clicked his microphone on. “Flight, Pioneer. Purge complete, atmosphere composition is good. Monitoring capsule pressure.”

Gene’s voice was as matter-of-fact as always. “Copy. CapSys reports clean contact on all hatch bolts - please confirm.”

Wernher’s eyes flicked to the hatch and back to the control panel. “Confirmed, Flight.”

“Thanks, Wernher. Sherfel, please go to Loop Two and give me a Go/No-Go on the SAS and guidance platform.”

At the commander’s station, set after set of warning lights flashed up on the main indicator panel. Wernher saw James’ lips moving behind his bubble helmet as he paged through his checklist. The main air to ground loop cut in with a burst of static.  “Advisory panels one through three are good, Flight. Standing by for pre-staging and abort-to-orbit checks.”

“Understood, Pioneer,” Geneney replied. “Wernher, please go to Loop Three, and confirm engine telemetry status. CapSys is on-mike.”

“Copy, Flight.”

Bob’s voice broke in over the main loop. “Capsule pressure is Go, Flight. Pad team proceeding with boost cover closure.”

“Thank you, Pad Team.”

Page by page, the Pioneer 1 commander and navigator worked though their checklists, whilst Wernher monitored the booster status indicators. The capsule was quiet, his acceleration couch had moulded itself comfortably around his suit, and the droning fans of the environmental system were almost soporific. 

Wernher shook his head sharply, hoping that Sherfel and James hadn’t seen him. I’m sure Jeb would be highly amused if I fell asleep atop of a fully fuelled Mün rocket, but I doubt that my two colleagues here would be too impressed. Nor Gene for that matter.

“Pioneer, Flight. CapSys says we’re Go for the reentry battery test.”

Wernher sighed inwardly at the undercurrent of dry amusement in Gene’s voice. “Understood,” he replied. “Buses A and B transferred to batteries. Ready for external power off.”

The fans stuttered, the capsule lighting flickering briefly before settling down again. Wernher scanned his system readouts - beside him, James and Sherfel checked their own sections of the control panel. All three kerbonauts reported a successful test.

“We see it too, Pioneer. Reconnecting external power. Guidance is ready for the SME gimbal test.”

Wernher flipped a pair of switches, disconnecting the reentry batteries from the capsule power systems, turned to the Service Module Engine panel and threw another set of switches. 

“Gimbal motors drawing power. Confirm hand controllers to TEST?”

James gripped the two controllers. “Controllers to TEST, SAS override ON”. He carefully tested their range of movement, watching his nav-ball tilt and roll in response. After each deflection, he waited whilst Pioneer 1’s onboard computer attempted to re-centre the gimbals.

“Yaw gimbal tracking confirmed… pitch tracking is good… roll tracking confirmed.” 

“Copy, Pioneer,” said Geneney. “OK guys, break until KDS confirmation from Foxham. Moving gantry systems to standby and holding countdown at T-30 minutes.”

——————

Geneney drummed his fingers on the edge of his console, willing the phone to ring. Around him, fidgeting flight controllers flicked through logbooks and swung back and forth on their chairs, sneaking surreptitious glances at his console. The open communication loop to Pioneer 1 filled the room with a faint hiss of static, the crew as quiet as their controllers. Above their heads, the countdown clock was poised at T minus thirty minutes. 

A controller coughed. Geneney paged his headset from one loop to the next, eventually settling on the public link from the KBS commentary box. Leland was busy running through the countdown, explaining the current hold to the crowds in the stands and, Geneney noted, describing the Rockomax payload as a ‘docking target.’ We did a good job keeping this flight quiet but Leland is pretty sharp. Maybe he’s just playing along. He switched over to the Life Support console.

“Life Support, Flight. Everything OK in there, Ribory?”

“They’re fine, Flight. Picking up elevated heartbeat readings for Wernher - nothing serious - but the other two could be tucked up in bed.”

“Yeah, Jim and Sherf are pretty level headed. Keep an eye on Wernher though - he’ll be fretting about his engines. Thanks, Ribory.”

“No problem, Flight.”

A shrill jangle jerked everyone’s attention back to their consoles. Heart hammering, Geneney picked up the phone. “Barkton Control. Gene here. Yes, we wondered what the delay was. No open tickets now, though? Understood - we’ll hold until then and pick up our countdown at T-30. Thanks, Nelton - Barkton Control out.”

He raised his voice above the sudden babble from the consoles. “We’re up, people! Flight Dynamics, Guidance, you’re on Loop 2 - lets get that trajectory data updated! Booster, give me a fuelling status! CapSys, we’ll be picking up RCS and SME pressurisation in twenty two minutes!”

Geneney clicked his microphone on. “Pioneer, Flight.” He paused. “KDS-1 is on orbit, and waiting for a driver. We’re Go for countdown restart at T minus thirty.”

At the life support console, Ribory watched Wernher’s pulse rate jump.

—————

“RCS and SME pressurisation confirmed, Flight!” Wernher called. “Bringing service module  batteries online.”

“Copy that. APU disconnect, Go.”

Wernher scanned his instruments and glanced up at James and Sherfel. Both nodded. “Looking good, Flight. Capsule on internal power.” 

“Pad Team, are you clear?”

“Clear, Flight. All gantry systems at launch stations.”

“Understood, Pad Team. Flight Team, status report please. FD?”

Lucan’s voice caught in his throat. “FD is Go, Flight.”

“Guidance?”

“Go, Flight!”

“Booster?”

“Ready, Flight!”

“Spacecraft?”

Aboard Pioneer 1. Wernher’s blood pounded in his ears. Sherfel lifted both hands from her couch, palms facing out. Wernher and James slapped their gloves into hers.

“GO!”

Even filtered by the radio link, the crew heard the sudden edge in Geneney’s voice. “Booster on internal power. First stage gimbals, Go. Primary and backup controllers, Go. Clear for main engine start.”

Wernher’s eyes were fixed on the engine readout panel. Ludicrously, it occurred to him that none of them had sent a launch message for the crowd. Leland will take care of it. He’s heard enough of them by now.

“Sixty seconds, Pioneer. Guidance is internal. Auto-sequencer is Go.”

Wernher swallowed hard, his mind back at the main test stand, LV-T30 fixed in place: a complex assembly of pipes, valves and turbopumps that suddenly seemed far too fragile for what was about to be asked of them.

“Forty seconds. Pioneer - you’re looking good. T minus thirty seconds and counting.”

Sweat beaded on Wernher’s brow.

“T minus twenty. Stand by for launch.”

“T minus twelve…eleven…ten…nine…eight…”

Ignition sequence starts.

“Six…five…four…!”

The six first stage engines lit with an earsplitting roar, almost drowning out Geneney’s voice. Green lights flicked on across the control panel, the entire rocket shaking with barely leashed fury.

“Two…one…and Liftoff! All engines running!”

“Clock started!”

“Tower clear!”

Pioneer 1 thundered skywards; the deep bellow of the LV-T30s beating against the higher pitched bass growl of the smaller LV-T20s. Inside the capsule, Wernher lay flat on his back, swaddled in a discordant, shrieking cocoon of sound. His head sank back into his acceleration couch, eyes still level with the control panel, which was reassuringly free of warning lights, despite the shaking.

Now this is what I call a rocket ship!

Above his head something began to rattle. The broad grin on his face slipped a notch and he reflexively searched the capsule for loose equipment. Then the engine noise abruptly shifted pitch, James's unperturbed voice clear in his ears. "Flight, Pioneer. Vehicle is supersonic, lateral boosters throttled back."

"Copy, Pioneer. We read you through max Q. Guidance is green, pitch and roll is Go."

The couch frame creaked under the strain. Wernher grunted at the growing weight on his chest, squinting at the blurred displays on the vibrating instrument panel. The flight clock clicked past the two minute mark, and he slowly lifted one arm, fighting to hold it steady against the g-forces, finger aimed at the LB-JETT button. 

"Decouplers A through C armed. Go for T20 shutdown and detach."

The LV-T20s flamed out. Wernher’s stomach lurched as the sudden drop in acceleration flung him against his harness. Three lights blinked out in front of him, a curiously muffled bang marking the departure of the lateral boosters. Relieved, Wernher let his arm drop back onto his couch. The vibrations shaking the capsule smoothed out, became a deep seated roar rather than the bone jarring discord of launch. A distant part of his mind noticed that the mysterious rattling hadn't returned, and was glad.

The velocity and altitude displays on the instrument panel raced upwards. Wernher felt his weight shift, harness straps pulling on his shoulders as Pioneer 1 gradually heeled over along its pre-programmed flight path.

"Thirty-six kilometres. Pioneer 1 - your trajectory and guidance are Go!"

If James was surprised at the unexpected altitude check, it didn't show in his voice. “Pioneer copies. Go at thirty-six.” Out of the corner of her eye, Sherfel saw Wernher's head jerk. She glanced at him and smiled at his exultant expression.

Shadows slowly drifted over Kerbal 2 as it coasted onwards, lit from beneath by the bright glow of Kerbin's atmosphere. It rocked slightly as it reached the top of its thirty-five kilometre high arc and started the long descent. Wernher listened to the gradually increasing thrumming noise from outside the capsule as it dropped back into thicker air.

“Not today we don’t!”

Wernher snapped out of his reverie, thankful that neither the rest of the crew, nor Mission Control chose to comment on his outburst. Flushing, he checked the instrument panel, nodding in satisfaction as he keyed his microphone. "Flight, Pioneer. Tank pressures nominal, upper stage chilldown started."

"Copy, Pioneer. Decoupler D armed. Go, for staging." The main engines shut down, sending waves of flame rolling up the booster. Seconds later, the spent first stage and interstage detached and tumbled slowly away.

"Second stage ignition confirmed!"

Pioneer 1 exploded out of the fire, accelerating over the horizon and onwards to space.

 

Part 3 - This One's All Yours

Spoiler

 

"KDS-1 acquired. Range five-zero dot two kilometres and closing. Requesting braking burn check."

Heart still pounding with adrenalin, Wernher forced himself to breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Raw, unfiltered sunlight washed through the capsule side window and over the legs of his spacesuit. The view through the smaller rendezvous window above his head was a uniform inky black, and for a moment he wished he was in James's seat and able to snatch a glimpse of Kerbin outside. Experimentally, he lifted an arm and grinned in delight as it hung effortlessly in front of him.

"Good burn, Pioneer. Go for plane alignment at FET five four dot three zero."

Wernher glanced at the flight clock, currently showing a flight elapsed time of just over 54 minutes. Solenoids thumped open and the sunlight drifted slowly over his legs as James manoeuvred into position. 

Pioneer 1’s thrusters spat a long burst of fire, tilting it’s orbital plane by a tiny fraction. Shorter bursts of flame tipped it back over, pointing its nose along its direction of flight and aiming it squarely at a shining point of light in the distance. The point drifted closer, becoming a disc and then gradually resolving itself into a slender, gleaming tube. The thrusters flickered again, edging the capsule into position.

“Pioneer, Flight. Go for docking.”

James nudged his hand controllers. Outside the window, the immense silver tube drifted towards them. There was a faint bump, followed by the staccato rattle of docking clamps slamming shut. Readouts lit up across the instrument panel and James sighed with relief. “Flight, Pioneer. Hard dock and connection to KDS systems confirmed.” He toggled his headset to their private communication loop.

“Okay, we’ve got two orbits in our TMI window. Plenty of time, so lets take it steady and do this right first time.”

Sherfel nodded, fingers tapping away at the flight computer keyboard. Wernher grunted in reply, already busy at the engineering station. Satisfied, James turned to his own section of the instrument panel and flipped his checklist over to the next page.

——————

Wernher looked up from his instruments and glanced at his fellow crew members. Sherfel stared straight ahead through the rendezvous windows. James glanced back at him and nodded fractionally. For a moment, there was silence, each kerbonaut all too aware of what that silence meant. Then Wernher cleared his throat.

"Everything looks good from here."

"Guidance platform is Go," replied Sherfel quietly.

James simply leaned forward and clicked a single switch. "Flight, Pioneer. Our board is green; requesting telemetry check."

The response from Mission Control was similarly subdued. "Understood, Pioneer. Stand by."

Everyone in the bunker silently watched Geneney push back his chair and beckon Jeb over to the console. He stood up, took off his headset and handed it over. "This one's all yours, Flight." Jeb raised one eyebrow. Geneney just dipped his head and deliberately stepped back from his console. Jeb nodded in thanks, and took his place. 

"Pioneer, this is Jeb. We copy your board is green. Standing by for controller checks."

Aboard, Pioneer 1, James ground his teeth in frustration. He looked over at Wernher, surprised to see the engineer staring calmly back at him. 

Jeb gazed slowly around Mission Control, locking eyes briefly with each controller. One by one, each of them raised a thumb. He braced himself, made a note on Geneney's flight log, and clicked his microphone on. "OK, Pioneer, I've got a roomful of kerbals here telling me you're looking good." Jeb paused, shifting into Geneney's formal flight director’s tones.  "Pioneer 1, you are Go for TMI."

“Pioneer copies, Go for TMI. KDS ignition in twelve minutes and counting."

Jeb began to work the flight director's console, pulling up engine telemetry in preparation for the long burn out of Kerbin orbit. Behind him, Geneney wasn't at all surprised by the two ink-rimmed blotches spattered across the page of his logbook.

-------------

"Eight dot two kps. KDS tank pressures holding steady, guidance is nominal. Clear telemetry links through primary and backup channels."

"Pioneer copies, Flight."

Fercan looked up from her terminal, frowned and returned to the lines of code filling the screen. She tapped a key, waited a moment for the compiler to run, and then swore under her breath at the screenful of error messages. It'd be quicker to re-write the wretched thing myself than spend any more time untangling this mess. Yeah, yeah,  keep it compact, but overflow loops in this day and age? Give me strength! Someone should tell Corvan to comment this junk, too.

"Ten dot one kps. Ten dot two, Ten dot... and shutdown! We're running the numbers, Pioneer but that looks like a good burn.”

Fercan's head jerked towards the radio. Ten point two kilometres per second? What the…?  Her fingers rattled across the keyboard, clearing the compiler report and starting up an orbit analysis program. Okay, assume a circular starting orbit, call it three hundred kilometres…final velocity, ten thousand two hundred metres per second…Her eyes widened. That can't be right. That would put them way beyond...Oh sweet Kerm above… She grabbed the phone and dialled a number, fingers stumbling over each other in her haste.

“Beta Station. Corvan here.”

“Corvan - it’s Fercan! Are you following this?”

“Fraid not,” said Corvan glumly, “Yeh know how it works during a flight - tracking stations are full of Rockomax or KIS controllers.”

“Have you not got a radio?”

“Aye, but I switched it off. Sounded like that KBS fella had it right - just another docking and rendezvous practice.”

“Corvan - I think they finally got around to joining stuff to the capsules in orbit.”

Corvan’s voice was suddenly, studiously casual. “Oh aye? What d’yeh reckon they stuck on it?”

“A booster stage,” said Fercan simply, “Unless you can think of any other way they could get up to 10 kps.”

“What?!”

“No joke,” said Fercan, “I’m going to rough out a trajectory before calling it in but I think the Director needs to know about this.”

“Och, come on,” said Corvan, “There’s only one place they’re going.”

“I know,” said Fercan softly, “Still want the rough numbers before going to Lodan though. We’ve got  their final speed, launch time, and when they started the burn. That should be enough to tell us whether we’re both reading too much into this.”

“Hmph. Time to call in that favour from Germore’s team I reckon. A bit of time on their dish should help you firm up those numbers.”

——————

Fercan stared at the plots on her screen. Too many unknowns for a proper calculation, but yeah - there’s only one place they’re going. She grinned, as she picked up the phone and started to dial. And I’ve wanted to do this for a long, long time!

The phone rang.

“Lodan.”

“Fercan here, Director. We’re tracking an outbound spacecraft from low Kerbin orbit.”

Lodan sat up straight. “Outbound?”

“Yessir. Trans-Munar trajectory.” A pause. “We’re picking up voice comms, sir - it’s Pioneer 1.”

Lodan took a deep breath. “Thank you, Fercan. I shall be down at Tracking shortly. Please keep me informed of any developments in the meantime.”

“Absolutely, sir!”

The phone dropped onto its cradle with a faint click. Lodan looked at it curiously for a second then slammed both fists down onto his desk.

Dammit, Ademone! I gave you that funding to keep those interplanetary idiots in check: stop them pulling any more damn-fool stunts!  The waste paper basket ricocheted off the wall, scattering its contents across the carpet. Lodan threw himself back in his chair, making it creak in protest. I hope to all the Kerm that you bring your ship of fools home in one piece! Kerbin needs this program - it doesn’t need three corpses around the blighted Mun!

——————

Leland frowned. Why switch flight directors before a burn? That doesn’t make any sense. He watched all the controllers slowly give Jeb the thumbs up. And neither does that. What on Kerbin is going on here?

“Pioneer 1, you are Go for TMI."

Leland frowned. Something about that sounded familiar. Then his jaw dropped. He shoved his microphone at his astonished camera operator and bolted for the press room door. 

“Get this, Don! If you love your job, get every last minute of this!”

The press room was empty: no smell of day old coffee from the stove, nobody asleep on the threadbare couches, nobody on the phones or sitting writing up their articles. Leland hurled himself across the room, grabbed the nearest phone and punched in a number.

The phone rang.

“KBS News. Jonbo here.”

“Jon - it’s Leland! No time to talk - need to get back to Mission Control, but I’m gonna need a second crew here! And send another one over to Foxham - get them to Rockomax before anybody else does! And a research team on those kerbonauts - we’ll want the family interest angle!”

Jonbo’s voice sounded dangerously calm. “And why would I want to do that, Leland? You don’t think that maybe, just maybe, we’ve got other news to cover right now?”

“Jon - have you been watching my broadcast? Didn’t you hear what Jeb said?!” Leland’s voice cracked. “We’ve got a hero story here, Jon - and that’s exactly what everyone needs right now!”

Jonbo sighed. “I’m watching you, Leland, but just for one moment, try and pretend that I haven’t been following the space program, and that I have no idea what Jebediah was talking about. It shouldn’t be too hard. Now for the love of your mother’s Grove, will you please tell me what on Kerbin is going on?”

“That’s just the point, Jon. This isn’t about Kerbin.” Leland paused. “TMI. Trans-munar injection. The Mün, Jon - they’re going to the Mün.”

 

Part 4: Beacons

Spoiler

 

Flight Elapsed Time: 2 days, 6 hours, 22 minutes.
274,000 kilometres from Kerbin.
On board Pioneer 1.

Wernher tapped the gauge. "Secondary evaporators holding," he reported. "Coolant flow through main evaporator A stopped. Thanks, Flight - looks like that's fixed it."

"Understood, Pioneer. Please give me a reserve coolant level check."

“I’m seeing a 20 percent margin, Flight."

In the couch beside him, Sherfel wiped her forehead and grinned. Over at the commander's station, James's face remained carefully impassive, but even in zero-gravity, the set of his shoulders told their own story. The drop in tension over the air to ground loop was palpable. 

"That's about what we're seeing too, Pioneer." Geneney paused, and Wernher heard a mutter of background conversation. "OK, team, the bad news is that CapSys isn't too happy about that leaked coolant."

"And the good news, Flight?" said James quietly.

"Is that the Systems team have just dropped the answer off at my console. It's a bit… homely, but it should do the job. Wernher, I want you to head down into the lower bay and retrieve that roll of sealant tape. Jim, Sherf, we're going to need the covers from your checklists and a couple of empty ration packs - the cleaner the better."

"On it, Flight." Wernher eased himself over the edge of his couch and swung himself gingerly into the space under the crew seating. Small and cramped back on Kerbin, the lower equipment bay felt much roomier in free-fall. Wernher squeezed past the sanitation facility and twisted round to face the tool storage bin. Contents may have shifted in transit. Carefully, he slid it open, retrieved a roll of silvery tape, and just as carefully, slid it closed.

"Got the tape, Flight."

"Good. Pass it up to Sherf. CapSys is coming on loop to take her and Jim through the next part. In the meantime, I want you to unscrew the main hose from the sanitation bowl. Sherf - please confirm waste valves A and B are closed."

Wernher heard shuffling overhead.

"Closed, Flight."

The sanitation facility was designed to be repairable in flight. Wernher braced himself awkwardly against the bulkhead and fumbled with the first of two large butterfly nuts securing the outflow hose to the bowl. Above his head he could hear ripping noises and the squeaky rasp of sealant tape peeling off its roll. Grunting with effort, he leaned on the nut as best he could, and felt it shift slightly in his hands. 

Must remember...to tell the capsule team... to grease these things before flight.

Muttering under his breath, Wernher managed to loosen the first nut. The second one was more tractable. He spun it free, carefully leaving it on its bolt and easing the two halves of the locking clamp apart. Holding his breath he tugged the outflow hose off its mount.

"Hose is free, Flight."

"Good work. Now I need you to tape the nozzle to the open end."

Sherfel popped her head over the edge of her couch and passed him the roll of tape and a creased cardboard cone, a ragged fringe of plastic bag poking from one end. "Tape the liner to the hose first, " she said, "Then push the nozzle over the top, and tape that on too." She watched Wernher tear off a length of tape. "Here - I'll do that if you stick our space-grade vacuum cleaner together."

-----------

Wernher and Sherfel surveyed their handiwork with pride. 

"Couldn't have done better if we'd brought the parts with us, Flight," Sherfel said happily. "What's next?"

"Stow the nozzle in the bowl and strap in for the ullage burns," said Geneney. "FD has the attitude numbers.”

Wernher nodded. "Good," he said. "Better than chasing the stuff all over the equipment bay.”

"That's what we thought," said Geneney, "We'll try and put it all in range of your hose too."

Wernher waited until Sherfel was back in her own couch before pulling himself into his seat and strapping in. James glanced over at them, nodded, and took hold of the RCS controls.

"Yaw then roll, Flight?"

"That's affirmative, Jim. Yaw, negative-y translation pulse, roll, plus-z translation pulse.”

James worked the controls. Wernher felt Pioneer 1 shift around him, nudged by the fleeting bursts of thrust.

“Manoeuvre completed, Flight.”

Wernher was already unbuckling his harness. “Access panel one, Flight?” he asked.

“Access panel one,” said Geneney.

Wernher twisted four restraining latches out of the way, and lifted a square metal panel from its frame in the bulkhead. Working slowly in the confined space, he slipped the panel between the panel and the sanitation bowl, and peered inside the maintenance compartment.  Shimmering, oily globs of coolant quivered near the bulkhead, but as far as he could see, there weren’t any other spills trapped in the maze of plumbing and wiring looms. The globs quivered, rainbows of refracted light scurrying over their translucent surfaces.  

“The ullage manoeuvre worked, Flight,” he called. “Unstowing suction nozzle.” He retrieved the hose and poked it cautiously towards the floating coolant. “Ready.”

Sherfel flipped a switch. “Waste valve A open,” she reported. 

Wernher reached around the edge of the bulkhead, fingers probing for the waste disposal controls. The button slid into its housing with a firm clunk, followed by a whirr of fans starting up. The quivering mass of liquid trembled, stretched and ruptured into a shower of smaller globules which shot towards the makeshift suction nozzle. Most of them slipped neatly inside, others splashed off the surface, fracturing into yet smaller droplets. Wernher chased them down, gently squeezing the cardboard cone to keep it open.

The last rainbow droplet disappeared up the hose. Wernher waited for thirty seconds before switching off the fans. Instantly, Sherfel toggled both switches on her console.

“Waste valve A closed. Venting through waste valve B.” She glanced through the side window and was rewarded by the sight of a shower of silvery droplets streaming out into space.

“Venting completed. Closing waste valve B.”

“Copy, Pioneer. Good work.”

Under the couches, Wernher was busy replacing the access panel and reconnecting the suction hose. He stowed the stained and oily cardboard nozzle in a storage bin and pulled himself back into into his couch.

“Pioneer 1, Flight. FD advises that you may want to check your velocity.”

All three kerbonauts automatically turned to the computer readout on the central control panel. 

Wernher’s eyes shone as the velocity display quivered before clicking upward. James smiled faintly. “We see it, Flight,” he said. “What’s our free return status?”

“Free return is Go, Pioneer. Flight dynamics are running the numbers for platform realignment, star sighting checks and MOI. Guidance are prepping your burn data for midcourse correction two.”

“Understood. Standing by.”

———————

The RCS valves thumped shut. James released the controls and keyed his microphone. “Flight, Pioneer. Midcourse two executed. Board is green.”

“Confirmed, Pioneer. Give us another ten for MOI burn data.”

Wernher glanced out of the rendezvous window above his head and abruptly stiffened. “Oh my…” 

Sherfel glanced at him curiously, eyebrows lifting as she followed his gaze. “Ohhh. Jim, pull your head out of that checklist for a moment and look.

James looked up irritably. Then he caught a glimpse of blue out of the corner of his eye, and snapped his head round reflexively. His frown softened.  “Doesn’t look like much from out here, does it?” he said wonderingly.

“Lonely, and terribly, terribly fragile,” agreed Sherfel. She clicked her microphone on. “Flight, Pioneer. Be advised that we have a visual on you - and you’re looking awfully pretty, but awfully lonely out there.”

“Say again, Pioneer?”

“We’ve got Kerbin, Flight,” said Sherfel quietly. “The whole planet framed in one rendezvous window.”

There was silence from Mission Control, then Geneney pulled himself together with an audible effort. “You might want to get a picture of that, Pioneer,” he said, “I think everyone back here could use a reminder of what they’re squabbling over.”

Sherfel sighed. “Still no news from the Twelve Pillars then?”

“Not since their appeal for calm,” replied Geneney, “But that’s not stopping every politician and pundit on Kerbin from weighing in with their opinion. The journalists are having a field day.”

“I can imagine,” said Sherfel heavily, “Some heated opinions too, I bet.”

“Just a few,” said Geneney dryly. “Although you’ll be happy to know that KBS are running stories on three kerbals who are - and I quote - a shining example of kerbalkind at its best, carrying the light of hope for us all, in this darkest of hours.”

“Sounds like somebody is doing a decent job anyway,” said James, “Who are they?”

Geneney chuckled. “I’m talking to them right now,” he said, “How does it feel to be a beacon of the kerbal spirit?”

Wernher choked. James merely blinked. “Seriously?” he said.

“Seriously,” said Geneney, “I’m guessing Leland found a friendly ear somewhere because KBS are suddenly running a lot of stuff on the space program, and especially on you three.”

“The right stuff, I hope?” said Sherfel lightly.

“Let’s put it this way,” said Geneney, “Until yesterday, I’d never seen Jeb blush before.”

“That takes some doing,” said Wernher. “Hope somebody managed to record that?”

“We did,” said Geneney, “as well as the ‘Engines and Engineers’ interview with Hanbal and Ornie.”

James’s mouth twitched. He struggled for a moment and then burst out laughing. “They managed to interview Hanbal?”

“And they’ll be interviewing him again if Ademone has any say in it,” said Geneney. “Once somebody at KBS had the bright idea of putting him in front of a chalkboard, he stole the show! The interviewer got so caught up asking his own questions that he barely had time for his script.”

“Ademone had better hope the Institute doesn’t try to lure him away from Rockomax,” laughed Sherfel.

“Funny you should say that,” Geneney replied. “Jeb sent them a recording of the interview, marked ‘lecturer training material.’ “ He paused. “Anyway - back to business, team. I’ve got the platform realignment numbers from FD and then we have a service module engine to check over."

 

Part 5 - Mün

Spoiler

 

“Platform reference set for MOI. Attitude is green, SME is good.”

James glanced over at Wernher, who responded with a terse nod.

“Copy, Flight. Burn program loaded, SAS to AUTO. Tank pressures nominal, all valve controllers drawing power.”

“We see them, Pioneer. Three minutes to loss of signal.”

“Confirm MOI at LOS plus twelve, Flight?”

“That’s confirmed, Pioneer. Ignition at FET six eight dot two zero dash one five.”

The three kerbonauts checked their instruments. Wernher wriggled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the droplets of cold sweat gathering at the base of his neck. He rolled his head to one side. “Hey - I’ve got nothing out here. No stars, just blackness!”

“Copy that,” Geneney said calmly, “Looks like you found the Mün. One minute to loss of signal, all systems, Go.”

“Thanks, Flight.” replied James, “We’ll see you right back here in a couple of hours.”

“We’ll hold you to that, Pioneer. Twenty seconds.”

Wernher clenched his jaw as Geneney counted down the last few seconds. He sensed Sherfel restlessly scanning the navigation panel beside him.

“Three…two…one…"

The air to ground loop faded into static. James switched off the radio. “Right on time,” he said with satisfaction. “Twelve minutes to get squared away for Munar orbit insertion.” 

Wernher fought to keep the impatience out of his voice as he read off the engine settings for the third time.  Beside him, Sherfel checked and rechecked the navigation panel, fingers shaking on the keyboard.

“Three minutes to ignition. Crew strapped in for burn?”

“Navigation station ready.”

“Engineering station ready.”

At sixty seconds, a blue light started flashing on Sherfel’s panel. She took a deep breath, held it,  and pushed the PROCEED button. Beside her, James watched the mission clock intently, hand hovering over the manual ignition controls. The clock clicked over from nineteen to twenty minutes.

‘Fifteen seconds.”

“Ten seconds.”

“Five…four…three…two…”

The service module engine lit. The capsule shuddered briefly and Wernher glanced nervously at the engine displays. James lifted his hand away from the manual controls, slowly and deliberately resting it on the side of his couch. “Forty seconds in. How are we looking, Wernher?”

“Looking okay. Tank pressures holding, helium drop is on the curve.”

“Not getting any more shaking anyway,” said Sherfel. 

“No,” said James, “Gimbal settings from the ground weren’t quite right is all. Nothing the computer couldn’t handle. Two minutes in.”

“Longest two minutes of my life,” said Sherfel. She grunted. “Heaviest too.”

“Only point three two gee,” said James. “Three minutes in.”

Pioneer 1 soared into the Munar dawn, engine bell glowing a baleful red in the vacuum. Grey light spilled through the capsule windows, adding a ghostly overlay to the cabin lights. Wernher kept his eyes firmly on the engine readouts. “Minor fluctuations in helium pressure. Propellant levels good.”

James reached for the engine shutdown button. “Thirty seconds to go. Twenty…”

Three pairs of eyes watched the mission clock tick upwards.

“Three…two…one…”

“Shutdown!”

Sherfel’s fingers raced over her computer keyboard. “Delta-v within predicted limits…” A broad smile lit up her face. “…and we have a periapsis! Two two five by one six two!”

James blew out his cheeks. “Made it,” he murmured, “we actually made it.” He shook his head. “Time to safe the SME, then we can take a look outside.” He smiled. “Our good flight director has given us the traditional KIS sightseeing orbit, but after that we’ve got a lot of photography to fit in.”

——————

Pioneer 1 drifted along its calculated path, a tiny, twinkling outpost flying over the slate grey plains and shadowed craters of the Mün; its wide eyed crew pressed up against the spacecraft windows, gaping at a vista both familiar and utterly alien.

Viewed from low orbit, Kerbin’s ancient satellite was pockmarked with thousands upon thousands of craters; from barely visible cosmic pinpricks, to colossal scars gouged out of the surface and surrounded by great rays of ejecta blasted out from deep within the Munar crust. The landscape was brutally sharp, with no atmosphere to wear down the mountains, blunt the crater rims, or shroud them both behind a blurred veil of gases. Suddenly, a glimmer of azure light broke the unrelenting grey horizon. A small blue-green marble climbed into the sky, a radiant jewel hanging in the infinite midnight. Girt with snowy white clouds and cloaked in soft, diffuse sunlight, Kerbin slowly rose over the Munar mountains.

Click…click…click…click…

Geneney sat helplessly at the flight director’s console. The flight dynamics team were gathered around Lucan’s console studying the data from the abandoned Kerbin departure stage. The other controllers stared at blank displays or screens full of static. The main tracking screen showed a stylised image of the Mün, sitting in one loop of a dotted figure-eight.

Jeb paced up and down behind him, alternately staring at his boots and scowling at the mission clock. At the back of the control room, Leland tapped his microphone, the faint clicking of fingernail on steel a tinny counterpoint to Jeb’s footsteps. Don fiddled half-heartedly with his camera, his gaze also fixed on the mission clock. 

A muttered word from Lucan sent the rest of his team back to their console. He pulled on his headphones, his microphone picking up the faint rasp of the headset rubbing against his scalp, and broadcasting it throughout the room.

“Flight, FD.”

“Go ahead, FD.”

“Five minutes to prime reacquisition, Flight.”

“Copy, FD.”

Geneney picked up his coffee cup, and promptly set it down again. Leland noticed his fidgeting, put two and two together, and handed his microphone to Don. He disappeared into the Press Room, returning with a steaming mug of thick, elderly coffee. Noses twitched around the room, as he carried it over to the flight director’s console and set it down within easy reach. Geneney gave him a grateful thumbs up and turned his attention back to the screens. 

“One minute to prime, Flight.”

“Thank you, FD.”

The seconds trickled away. Then every console in Mission Control lit up amidst a clamour of voices.

“Flight, FD. We have telemetry!”

“CapSys here - they’re back, Flight!”

“…best view from Wernher’s window. Can you roll…”

“This is Propulsion - receiving engine status!”

“…Kerm but that’s pretty! One for Jeb’s wall…”

“Flight, Pioneer. We’re getting a lot of comm noise here.”

Geneney leapt to his feet and punched the air. Unnoticed, his headset cord ripped free of the console, flapping around his neck like a high-tech cravat. He grabbed his mug and hoisted it in a toast to the flight controllers, an ear-to-ear smile lighting up his face. A huge cheer went up as Jeb bounded forward and pulled the flight director into a great bear hug.

Aboard Pioneer 1, a series of pops and crackles echoed across the air to ground loop, followed by Geneney’s cheerful tones.

“Pioneer 1, Flight. Welcome back guys - how does the Mün look from up there?!”

“Big, grey, and beautiful, Flight,” Sherfel called out. “Especially with old Kerbin on the horizon over there!”

“Wish I could see that, Pioneer!”

“Wernher’s taking the holiday snaps as we speak. We’ll make sure to keep one for you!”

“Better make that two - Jeb’s already jabbering on about his office wall.”

Sherfel grinned. “Copy that, Flight.”

“Make that three, Pioneer - KBS are looking excited too.”

“I’m pretty sure we can get a couple more on the next orbit,” said James dryly. “Flight - what’s our SME status?”

“Propulsion team are looking over your telemetry as we speak, James,” answered Geneney. “Flight dynamics are checking your TKI update - we’ll send you the comparison data once we have it.“

“Any updates to MOI-2?”

“Negative. We’re still aiming for circularisation on orbit three. The rest of the flight plan is unchanged: press interview on orbit two, photo-reconnaissance on orbits three through five, TKI on orbit six.”

“Understood, Flight. Tell KBS we’re sorry about the TV camera.”

“Not your fault, Pioneer. We’ll have a look at it once you get home.”

———————

After the first leisurely orbit of the Mün, the Pioneer 1 crew settled into a steady routine of monitoring the capsule systems, surface observations, and photography. Looking back on their journey, Wernher would remember their one meal break as ‘the most surreal picnic of his life’, bobbing against the capsule window, ration pack in one hand, staring out at the Munar surface. James would talk about the relief of completing every orbit with a systems check from Mission Control. 

Sherfel’s lasting memory was of the far side. On one side of the Mün, three kerbals in their own tiny world. On the other, and hundreds of thousands of kilometres away, everything and everyone else that she’d ever known.

But all of them spoke of the engine. As Wernher would put it many years later. “None of us ever mentioned it on the flight. Me least of all - I mean, I designed the thing, and helped to build it. What could I say after that? Besides, there wasn’t any point - if it fired, it fired. If it didn’t, we had our backup options, and if they failed too, then that was it. I don’t think that stopped us thinking about it though, and I know I was always pretty relieved to get a good telemetry check from Gene on each orbit. I guess I don’t need to say that I was even more relieved when we didn’t need the backup options on orbit six…”

 

Part 6 - Launch Vehicle 1

Spoiler

 

James squeezed the last of the creva stew out of his ration pack and chewed it thoughtfully. He glanced at the comms panel, checking that the air to ground loop with Mission Control was switched off, then turned to face his crew.

“Wernher,” he said at last. “Now that we’ve finally got some downtime, perhaps you could answer a question for me?”

Wernher looked at him quizzically. “I can try,” he replied. “What is it?”

“TMI,” said James slowly, “I saw your face when Jeb came on-loop — it looked like you were expecting it?”

Wernher shrugged. “I wasn’t told either,” he said, “but Jeb’s been working towards this flight since he was a student at the Institute. If he wasn’t up here himself, not a single kerbal in the KIS would have begrudged him the flight director’s seat, Gene least of all.”

Sherfel blinked. “How old is Jeb?” she asked.

“He was nearly nine years out of the Institute when we launched Kerbal 1,” Wernher said quietly, “and that wasn’t yesterday.”

For the first time that Wernher could remember, James looked genuinely impressed. “That’s a long time,” he said softly. “And when his dream flight came up, he still didn’t pull the boss slot.”

“No,” said Wernher. “We would have given it to him, but Jeb’s always been scrupulous about fair crew selection. You wouldn’t have guessed it from my tutorial group, but he’s grown up to be one fine leader. I doubt anybody else could have kept us going long enough to see Kerbal 1 fly.”

“You were Jeb’s tutor?” exclaimed Sherfel.

Wernher nodded. “And supervisor for his final year project.”

Sherfel caught the shift in his voice. “Sounds like there’s a story there,” she said, checking the flight clock. “And we’ve got a couple of hours before the next systems check. I could use something to pass the time.”

—————

The canteen doors swung shut. Wernher looked curiously at Jeb Kerman, sitting alone at a nearby table, prodding an unappetising mush of tubers, beans and greens around his plate. He walked over and sat down by the younger kerbal.

“Mind if I join you, Jeb?”

Jeb laughed hollowly, “Sure. There might even be some stew left if you’re unlucky.”

Wernher’s face fell as he took in the empty canteen. “Oh well, “ he said, “Looks like sandwiches again. Anyhow – what’s up, Jeb? Not like you to be sitting here on your own.”

Jeb looked moodily at his tutor. “Final year project.” he said briefly, “Still can’t think of anything to do.”

“I thought you were helping Bill with his stability augmentation system?”

“Yeah, I thought about that,” said Jeb, “but I want to build something, Wernher. Not a mockup for a wind tunnel, not a chunk of circuitry to plug into a test sim – I want to take something outside and see it fly.

“Ahh,” said Wernher carefully, “I think I see the problem.”

Jeb pushed his plate away. “Yeah. I don’t think a hobby shop plane is really going to cut it.” What about you Wernher? How are the jet intakes working?”

Wernher glanced around. “Variable geometry pre-cooling intakes,” he said absently, “Theory looks sound, if I can build a light enough heat exchanger.” He looked at Jeb. “I’ve been working on a side project though…” He got to his feet.  “C’mon. I think you need to see this.”

The two kerbals crossed the main quadrangle of the Kerbin Aeronautical Research Institute and headed for the large blocky building of the Jet Propulsion Department. As they walked, Jeb tried to keep up with Wernher’s muttered monologue.

“So anyway, I figured that if you can’t get enough air through the intake at that altitude, then why not store it onboard. Or if not air, then something that would do the same job. Then I realised that you could power the whole aircraft like that – and with a much simpler engine. Just a pair of turbopumps, a combustion chamber and a nozzle really, although getting the details right was tricky. I thought about solids for a bit but they’re not very controllable.”

Jeb choked. “You seriously thought about propelling an aircraft with fireworks?” he spluttered.

Wernher looked around frantically. “Shhhhh,” he whispered, “Yes, fireworks basically, but a bit more refined.” He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked a side door to the JPD. They hurried down the corridor to Wernher’s workshop.

“What’s all this whispering and secrecy for?” asked Jeb.

Wernher gave him a sidelong look. “Well partly it’s because I’m not really ready to show this to anyone yet,” he said, “but also, I’ve ummm borrowed one or two things from the lab to build the D1.”

“D1?”

“Demo 1” said Wernher, stuffing equipment into two large bags. Jeb spotted a pair of gas cylinders and what looked like a tripod stand. “Not a very original name I admit, but nice and anonymous. OK, that’s everything – let’s go!”

Jeb wiped the sweat from his forehead. The Institute buildings were safely out of sight, hidden by the hillside and a small copse of trees. The ground underfoot was hard packed and rocky and Wernher was having trouble setting up his tripod. “Ooof, OK that’s far enough. Test rig next.”

Jeb looked at the spindly contraption. “Hold on.” he said slowly. “Isn’t that…”

“Borrowed!” said Wernher, “and I haven’t done anything to it. Well, nothing that I can’t undo anyway. Right – propellant tanks next.” He hung the gas cylinders on the makeshift test stand. Jeb raised his eyebrows as he recognised the name of a well known brand of camping gas stencilled on the side of one of them.

“Stove gas?”

“Yes, yes, stove gas and nitrous oxide. OK, propellant lines are secure, just need to plug in the control box…” 

Jeb eyed the finished article skeptically. The D1 seemed to consist of an oddly shaped nozzle attached to a metal ball which was studded with bits and pieces of equipment. Two thin hoses connected the ball to the gas cylinders, and the whole unlikely contrivance hung from the tripod on a rather expensive set of strain gauges. Cables trailed from various points into the control box in Wernher’s hands.

“Are you sure about this, Wernher?”

“Perfectly sure. Here we go.”

Both kerbals retreated to a discreet distance. Jeb glanced around for the nearest rock to hide behind as Wernher started mumbling to himself.  “Valves open….gas generator on…” A small flame appeared at the tip of a tube. “Pumps spinning up… and ignition!”

Jeb heard a sharp metallic clicking from the depths of Wernher’s contraption, jumping backwards as a gust of flame shot out of the nozzle with a whump of exploding gas. With a steadily building roar, the gust quickly focused into a bright blue flame. He laughed. “It even sounds like a camping stove, Wernher.”

Wernher’s only response was to point at the strain gauge readout. Jeb leaned forward. “Hey… not bad.” Then a thought struck him. “You designed this for high altitude flight right? How high is high exactly?”

Wernher shrugged. “Whatever you like, provided there’s still enough air for the wings.”

“What about a vacuum?” Jeb raised his hand. “Yeah, yeah, can’t fly in a vacuum I know – but the engine should still work right?”

“Get the nozzle right and it would probably work better in a vacuum,” said Wernher slowly. “but why a… oh you can’t be serious, Jeb?”

Jeb’s eyes gleamed. “Oh yes I can, Wernher. I think we need to give your camping stove a new name and I’m thinking that LV-1 has a nice ring to it.”

“LV-1?” 

“Launch Vehicle One, Wernher. Launch. Vehicle. One!”

—————

Wernher unclipped his water bottle and took a long drink. “And that’s how it all started,” he said. “By the time Jeb finished his final year project, he’d already founded the Kerbin Interplanetary Society and started work on a new LV-2 engine. He even put together a relatively conservative research proposal - complete with a raft of anticipated benefits for other Institute research programs - for a sounding rocket based on it. Unfortunately, the KIS also had a tendency to be… vocal about critics of our spaceflight ambitions, which the Institute rather took exception to. Eventually of course, we were kicked out for wasting Institute time and resources on “overgrown toys and ridiculous flights of fancy.”

“But you kept going?” said Sherfel quietly.

“We did,” said Wernher. “We pooled all our money to start up the junkyard business, partly to fund our experiments, and partly to get hold of some parts and raw materials.” He grinned. “Geneney had the bright idea of bidding on the Institute’s recycling contract. I’m sure at least one of the senior professors was highly amused to see us reduced to hauling Institute scrap, but most of our best early stock - including our first pressure suits - was basically recovered from Institute dumpsters.”

James shook his head. “And you managed to build a crewed sub-orbital spacecraft out of it.”

“It took a lot longer than we expected,” said Wernher ruefully. “Not surprising really, given what we had to work with. But we made it. Kerbal 1 was a success, Bill had the presence of mind to take his camera, and the rest you know about.” He rolled his shoulders. “Anyway, enough storytelling - we should probably check in with Mission Control.”

——————

“You’re flying straight through the window, Pioneer. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Flight. Hope the service module is flying through a different one.”

“That’s confirmed, Pioneer. No need to check your mirrors.”

Pioneer 1 sped towards Kerbin. Shorn of the Kerbin departure stage which had launched it towards the Mün and the service module which had launched it home, kerbalkind’s first ever Mün ship was reduced to its barest essence - a small conical capsule and its three crew. Inside, Wernher stared back at the thin sliver of Mün still visible through the rendezvous window, the steadily increasing glow from Kerbin’s atmosphere making it harder and harder to see.

Odd colour though, I expected it to be bluer somehow. 

Sherfel’s urgent voice broke into his thoughts. “Jim - we’re getting plasma!”

“Already?” James looked up from his instruments. “Kerm! Hang on to your seats - this could get rough!”

The glow intensified. A faint, high pitched scream at the edge of hearing scraped across Wernher’s nerves. Pioneer 1 plunged onwards, carving a luminous tunnel through the first wispy traces of Kerbin’s atmosphere.

The capsule creaked and rattled, the contents of various storage lockers shifting under the building g-forces. Outside, the glowing plasma started to take on a yellowy orange tint. Wernher grunted at the unaccustomed pressure pressing him into his couch. Oof - only point two gee. Remember the centrifuge, Wernher - remember the centrifuge!

After nearly a week in serene silence, the roar of capsule slamming into atmosphere was painfully loud. Wernher narrowed his eyes and focused on his breathing, shock-heated air casting a ruddy orange glare over the capsule interior. The capsule itself twisted and turned in a precise, computer controlled ballet, lifting slightly to ease the forces crushing the kerbonauts into their couches, then dipping back into the rapidly thickening air. Flames shot past the window, riven with incandescent flakes and chunks of burning heat shield. James glanced at them uneasily, cold sweat pooling under his arms. The capsule shook, blurring his view of the instrument panel, and the angry hiss of static filled his ears.

The reentry fires began to recede, fading to a dull orange, shot through with occasional bursts of flame. Wernher watched the altimeter unwinding at tremendous speed as Pioneer 1 plummeted through the sky. The static in his ears began to fade, replaced by James’s voice.

“Flight, Pioneer 1. Come in, Flight.”

“Flight, Pioneer 1. Come in, Flight.”

Wernher’s headphones crackled, broken snatches of words chasing their way through the static, accompanied by what sounded like distant cheering.

“Flight, Pioneer 1. Come in, Flight.”

“Pioneer 1, Flight! We’re reading you loud and we’re reading you clear!”

“We read you too, Flight. Standing by for drogues.”

With a loud crack, the altimeter slowed its frantic spinning, the capsule twisting slowly from side to side. Then a heavy thump signalled the release of the main chutes. Pioneer 1 jerked and swayed, slowing to a graceful descent as the parachutes unfurled. A huge, unabashed smile of relief spread over Wernher’s face at the familiar, but never more welcome, announcement from Mission Control.

“Flight, Pioneer 1. We read you on the mains. Welcome home.”

 

 

Edited December 22, 2017 by KSK

[Just Jim]

Ohhhhh... something new!!  

[KSK]

 

What's old is new again. Although I've taken the opportunity to try and tighten it up a bit.

[CatastrophicFailure]

On 12/22/2017 at 2:25 PM, KSK said:

What's old is new again.

And what a blast from the past.  The level of detail you put into these sequences never ceased to amaze me. How much is borrowed from actual Apollo procedures?

[KSK]

1 hour ago, CatastrophicFailure said:

And what a blast from the past.  The level of detail you put into these sequences never ceased to amaze me. How much is borrowed from actual Apollo procedures?

Almost all of the technical stuff, particularly launch and Munar orbit insertion. However,  my version is to the real thing what fruit juice is to fruit. Hopefully it's retained most of the flavour but it's become rather compressed and somewhat mangled in the process.  

In general the Apollo flight journals were an utterly invaluable resource for writing about the Pioneer program (and a fascinating read in their own right), especially the journal for Apollo 10 (aka Pioneer 3) which had a pretty complicated flight plan. The wonderful thing about playing KSP though is that I could read the flight journal and actually have this mental picture of what was going on and what all the various burns were doing. Likewise there's a bit of the next chapter where I used KSP as a research tool - the procedure described was (fortunately) never carried out during Apollo, although it was planned for and I found a reference to those plans. However, I obviously didn't have a detailed primary reference to refer to, so II cobbled together a quick spacecraft in KSP, sent it out to the Mun and spent some time playing with maneuver nodes till I had an idea of what burns would be needed and how they would affect the spacecraft attitude.

The whole "Pioneer 1, your trajectory and guidance are Go" line is lifted wholesale from the Apollo 8 flight journal and it's still one of my favourite lines. Just the right level of technospeak combined with the implication that these sort of guidance and trajectory requirements are still far from routine.

Sherf and Wernher's "space-grade vacuum cleaner" is fairly obviously inspired by the DIY air filtration unit that the Apollo 13 crew had to build. But again, there was no direct source to rely on, so I had to figure out the details of that particular procedure for myself.  

 

 

 

Edited December 25, 2017 by KSK