DDE

Chapter 29: Starfleet’s Finest “FAO, how’s the progress?” Gene asked, his voice weary. “78% of payload stowed, we’re on schedule.” Piraeus was due for retirement. After a year in space, all the kibbals – and, less importantly, all the Kerbal crew – were still alive and reasonably healthy, hence its mission had been a roaring success. It took only about half an hour to get the live cargo out of orbit. Then the fun began. The Hermes-Cargo ship was used as the retromotor system. After a fairly brief burn, the descent began. For Mission Control, this meant more work – they had to sequentially undock, separate and prime two Intern re-entry canisters before the comms arrays got fried. Half an hour later, the burnt, cherry-red hull of the station smashed into a random grassy hill. Several groups of looters (or reporters – it was hard to tell) were chased away by ISP Falcon jets. Gene would rarely sleep through a launch, but he was going to have a very busy week. The launch was simply an addition to the Beacon network. Two long-range communication satellites would hang just outside Minmus orbit, providing enhanced datalinks for long-range flights. The bizarre fairing design was necessitated by the 2.5 m single-piece dish. Beacon-Echo ended up having a coincidental Mun flyby. He would be around for Orion 6, though. This one was quite remarkable. The booster was an updated, fine-tuned variant, forgoing the bizarre liquid hydrogen upper stage in favour of extended Poodle tankage. Jeb watched the rocket blast off into the clouds. As it disappeared into the distance, briefly flashing as the jettisoned metal-coated SRBs tumbled wildly, he grabbed a fistful of Kerbin dirt. He wasn’t going to see it in a while. The upper stage burnt until dry, placing the spacecraft on an intercept trajectory to Jool. Orion 6 was a Mk 2 design, very heavily rebuilt for the extended mission. The CANDL upper stage was to manoeuvre it about the giant’s moons, and the probe also mounted its own auxiliary motor. It had a massive package of sensors, including cameras, a magnetometer boom, an RPWS tripod, and particle collector wafers. The power was provided by a pair of heavy-duty blutonium turbogenerators on even more extendable booms. The press conference got axed because some joker set fire to the Munie News Network van, so for Jeb and co the quarantine was uneventful. The VAB has swarms of wrench monkeys running back and forth as it was about to roll out its second-biggest launch ever. "All hands, Terra Actual, reactor transport will enter the site in two minutes. Stand by to receive hazardous cargo," Gene shouted into the PA system. The Kerbal Atomics Neptune heterogenous twisted-ribbon bimodal nuclear thermal rocket was the single most advanced and potentially the most environmentally damaging piece of technology to come out of ISP thus far. It had increased thermal output thanks to unconventional fuel element design, and mounted an electrical generator system to scavenge power from the reactor pile during the cost to Duna. Triton's major failing was its use of liquid hydrogen reaction mass – a propellant massively lacking in density, hence requiring enormous tanks. Jeb told Bill to avoid Kerbodyne like the plague, so the propulsion stage ended up very long. Launching a rocket taller than the VAB itself was an unlikely proposition, so a very unconventional approach had to be taken. The encapsulated payload was strapped to the side of three Mainsail stacks, with the autopilot automatically throttling each separate engine to keep the monster balanced and flyable. It blasted off, wiggling ever-so-slightly as the machinery tried to find the sweet spot. If only Bill had more time, he would have probably designed something more elegant and natural. But the sea-level high-performance hydrolox rocketry was out of favor with absolutely everyone, leaving no hope of a crossfeed system that would make optimal use of the nuclear motor throughout the flight. As the core stage cut off and detached, the aeroshell popped off, revealing the load-bearing fairing of the extremely long nuclear engine. In addition to siphoning fuel from the core stage, the payload stack had its own supply for its three motors, which were fired up once again for the circularization burn. The solar arrays had been extended as soon as possible, as the tug had a power-hungry refrigeration system to keep the propellant from vaporizing away, which had been acceptable for departure stages, but not for interplanetary ships. The Vulkan was rolled out onto the pad only a few hours later. “Flagship Mission Control, begin launch checkout,” Gene Kerman announced, “Booster?” “Go…” "Alright, this is what we live for..." Jeb muttered. "If we quit now, we might as well never go outdoors," Bill chimed in. The three main engines fired. Half an hour later, the still-suited crew brought their ship alongside the tug, having ditched their upper stage after the intercept burn. The Vulkan had an abundance of docking thrusters, so it was no trouble for Jeb to dock it with his eyes shut. "Capcom, Vulkan, beginning preparations for Trans-Duna Injection." As Jeb validated the life support system, Bill began to stoke up the reactor pile, and Bob unlatched the dogs on the hatch and descended into the habitation module. With a flip of the switch, the fairing slipped off the nuclear motor, and tumbled into the darkness along with the supplemental rockets. The interior seemed much smaller, now that one of the portholes had a massive camera built on top of it, with reels of oversized film stored alongside it. The trunk was stuffed with supplies, and there wasn't a single square centimetre of unused bulkhead surface. Some of the clutter would go into the return vehicle and hence the place would become easier to get around in later on. Everything seemed to be still in its proper place. "Capcom, Vulkan standing by for guidance star data," Jeb announced from his command seat. The final orbit continued. Life support hummed along, and the Geiger counter clicked faster and faster as the reactor reached its nominal operating output of 101.42%. "Vulkan, Mission Control, beginning departure go/no-go. INCO?" "Go." "FIDO? "Go." "Jets?" "Go." "GUIDO?" "Go!" "Vulkan, Capcom, confirming departure burn, Brennschluβ at 3-0-5, repeat, 3-0-5, burn in 3-5 seconds, repeat, 3-5 seconds." "Capcom, Vulkan, acknowledging burn data, preparing to execute." "Godspeed." There was silence in the cockpit. Bob strapped himself back into his seat. The turbopumps hummed way back in the tug. And with a groan and a knock, the engine fired. It wasn’t much of a kick, 0.3g at best. The RCS thrusters clicked a few times before the gimbal could autocorrect. “Cut-out in ten… Five, four, three, two, one… Cut-out confirmed.” “Reactor throttling down to standby.” “…turbopumps de-spun. Depressurizing fuel lines.” “Throttle-down confirmed. Neutron flux decreasing. Engaging dioxide cooling loop.” “Tying reactor generators to Main Bus A. Stand by for controller switch into cruise mode.” “Duna flyby in 230 days,” Bob finally chimed in. The wouldn’t be alone on their way, though. Orions 7 and 8 would arrive a week later each, with a tiny lander slapped into between the usual probe and the braking stage. The season of coincidental Munar flybys continued, it would have seemed.

M'kay, opened file, closed file, did something else completely but very related: http://imgur.com/exu0Wck

Religious fanaticism. Fwoosh! @Jonfliesgoats, aircraft carrier carriers will be back. The Soviets used the Combined Dive Bomber (TB-3 with a pair of I-16s) in WWII with some success. They considered flying two Su-27s off an An-225 thirty years later in order to cover the approach from the Arctic. And with DARPA looking into drones and aerial rearmament systems...

@MarkWatney, are you really, really sure? Anyway, I've got a thesis deadline coming up, and instead am suffering from heavy addiction to Fallout 4. Don't expect me to be around for another week. But, after that... it's a manned Duna mission!

Problem is, this would apply to a tiny minority of the population. If you use that as a political ideology, the only natural outcome is for the terrestrial population to exterminate the spacers, and ban space travel forever more because of its "harmful" psychological effects.

They didn't do much back when the oil was at $100+. All of the Mars missions ended in disaster, and everything else was on paper. Many of the institutional problems persist. Harsh as it may sound, I have zero confidence in my country's space agency being able to undertake a large-scale, novel project.

@Streetwind, it may be even worse. Roscosmos may be upholding the Soviet practice of deliberately misleading fuel names: UDMH becomes "heptyl," N2O4 becomes "amine", IRFNA-27I becomes "mélange"...

Alright, I've been reading the annual reports of the Salavat chemical plant, which is Russia's sole source of unsymmetrical dymethylhydrazine (do not ask me why I did that). And I've found a pretty expensive refit programme being run by XIth Department of Spetsstroi to adapt the plant to produce "napthyl". What is that? I don't know, that's why I'm asking. All I know is that, according to mainstream Russian media and with no details provided whatsoever, napthyl is going to be used as a drop-in replacement for RP-1 at Vostochny. Those who heard of "syntin" (1-methyl-1,2-dicyclopropylcyclopropane) may be suffering from deja vu.

Stock footage.

@Tex_NL @p1t1o Here's something to get your blood boiling: each missile packs 518 km/s dV and a megaton-class non-nuclear warhead. Source dead, quoted here: http://www.imfdb.org/wiki/Elysium_(2013)#4Sure_Ballistics_Missile_Launcher Hard sci-fi much?

It's called Hammerspace. Also known as TARDIS pockets.

So... they don't except when they do. The EU has double-handwaved it: shields, and apparently even the flimsy cockpit of a TIE can survive reentry plasma head-on.

I wonder if, without the pork-spreading, this will turn out to be cheaper than using Orion in the midterm... We still don't know how the Lunar mission stack will look. They could go the way of PTK-Z.

Hm. If I'm seeing it right, the Junior has nothing on the rear end of the adapter. Have you ever fancied putting the docking port there and not a Mk 2 inline? It would be more Kliper than Dyna Soar.

Hello, everyone. I have a Watsonian announcement to make.

@Codraroll Asimov attributes the anti-science attitude to chemical weapons. And the rest is anti-elitism.

Chapter 28: Atomic Gardyloo “Any regrets? Changed your mind about ever leaving Kerbin again, perhaps?” one of the reporters asked, grinning. “Nope,” Bill sneered. “Nah,” Bob added. “Hell no!” Jeb snarled. “We’re still go for the Vulkan mission to Duna in one year. The actual flag-planting mission ship is, as of now, at napkin stage,” Jeb continued. “The Eve missions – Orion 4 and 5 – are blasting off this week. 3 arrives at Moho two weeks before they start the arrival manoeuvres, so this is going to be a very exciting month for us. In the long term, we’re working on the Orpheus family and Orion Mk 2. “The Orpheus program is a two-parter. We’re already working on the Duna lander, and it’s definitely going to be ready for deployment in the same window as Vulkan – we’ve used the existing probe bus and stage to support the lander in transfer. The actual Orpheus bus would be a dramatic improvement over the first Orions, and it’s probably going to handle the first Eve landings. “Now, Orion Mk 2 is also a dramatic refit. “We’re gunning for Jool with that one.” “And the Mun colony?” Dammit, Jeb thought, it seemed that someone cured all those reporters of their attention deficit disorder while they were away. Nasty. “Get the film, Bill,” he said quietly. Bill stared back, and Jeb nodded. Bill turned off the lights and fired up the projector. The film depicted an innocent-looking shed. For ten seconds, nothing happened; then the shed vanished in a flash. It took three seconds for the blast wave to shake the camera. “It’s a work in progress,” Jeb announced, “There is no point setting it up unless we have lightweight chemical reactor solutions. Constantly shipping raw resources from Kerbin would be a major expenditure, so we won’t be bothering that rock until we can really… sink our teeth into it.” ---------- Heimdall, with its nuclear reactor idling at full power, had spent a full year in orbit. Finally, it was time to take inventory of the result. That meant the reactor jockeys of Team Heimdall were being sent up in a Hermes. Rookie crew as it may have been, the ascent went on as normal, followed by intercepting the reactor in its 1000 km orbit. “One millikievert per hour and counting,” Tragela Kerman noted, holding up the Keiger counter to the viewport, “Looks like the reactor is still hot. Pat, rush the docking, will you?” Patgar failed to answer. The Hermes slipped into position at the wider end of the craft, near the cherry-red ceramic heat radiators. “One hundred millikieverts. Pat!” The thrusters finally began to click as the ship reached the docking axis, behind the propellant tank forming an impromptu shield. “One hundred microkieverts, going down.” The docking ports locked together. As Patgar sent the command for retraction of one of the radiator panels, Tragela opened the two hatches. The odour inside the tiny trunk was vomit-inducing, so she hurriedly began to retrieve the materials samples from deeper within the craft, already quite convinced that the odour is at least partly due to lengthy radiation exposure. It was disturbingly similar to that metallic taste in the mouth that victims of acute radiation poisoning reported shortly before death… Which was a distinct possibility for the other engineer, Melsy, who was shaking like a leaf. Trag locked the hatches, and pulled her helmet on. The vacuum pumps began to remove the air from the command pod. Melsy opened the door, and got out. He pushed off the pod’s rails. The radiation counter began to wail immediately. He wasn’t going to waste time; snap to position one, three shots of the lower turbomachine assembly, three clicks of thruster fire to position two... The bucket-sized reactor pressure vessel glared at him from underneath the parachute compartment. He was done in under two minutes and rushed back behind the tank/shield; he shouldn’t have taken more than one full kievert in the process. Patgar didn’t wait on the pod to repressurize as he pulled away from the reactor craft. Heimdall proper waited for another six hours before firing its thrusters for one last time. It entered atmosphere at a steep angle, and jettisoned the reactor assembly. ---------- Gene Kerman’s frown typically terrified the console monkeys. And frowning he was. He needed a ground team to cordon off and babysit the landed reactor for a month or so. And he also faced perhaps the worst body in the Kerbol system from the astrodynamics standpoint: Orion 3 was coming in on its target. The optical sensors tracked the hot silicate rocks on Moho’s dayside as the radiators worked furiously to keep the probe from sharing their fate. Almost as soon as the encounter began, the probe flipped over, and injected water into the RTG mounted at the bottom of the thruster bus. The injection burn began a dozen planetary radii away. KSC received weak telemetry via the omnidirectional antenna as the burn continued into Moho’s shadow. After another fifteen minutes, the probe reported successful engine cut-off. Gene briefly fiddled with his slide rule. “Prograde, 200, ASAP!” he yelled snappishly at INCO. INCO, in turn, keeled over and disappeared under the console. “Medic!” Gene barked as he got behind the keyboard himself and pulled out the thousand-page operating manual for the STEADLER RC-001S RGU. That final kick settled the probe into a highly elliptical orbit with a period of several days, which allowed a few adjustment burns before the final 250 km polar orbit and propulsion stage jettison. Orion 3 was stripped so badly that it was restricted to optical sensors and some jury-rigged proxy detectors for things like hull ionization. Of course, for Moho, a mosaic of surface imagery was quite sufficient for a decent planetwide survey. The next target was a different story. ---------- The two next Orions were sneaking upon Eve. Gene had spent the day trying to keep his FIDO from breaking down in the face of conflicting mas and radius estimates coming from Science’s data. While he was catching a snooze in the break room, Orion 4 executed the final course correction. The next few hours it drifted towards the burn point, still on the dark side of the planet; the burn would have to be pre-programmed and executed autonomously. Linus was in the amphitheatre, rubbing his eyes, having neglected his station for the last few days. “Funnily enough,” the science officer called out, “the magnetic field isn’t just huge. It’s so huge there are no radiation belts.” “And the atmosphere?” “Occultation scans are reading CO2, methane, water and hydrogen sulphide, of all things.” “So, I’d say the planet is… rotten.” “Among its other failings. Greenhouse effect down there is crazy.” The flyby continued, with the illuminated crescent growing larger. The reflectivity spikes smack in the visible spectrum, leading to an opaque atmosphere. Orion 4 slipped into the radio shadow. Half an hour later ISP’s radio telescope picked up the weak confirmation signal from its omnidirectional antenna. After a handshake, it spat out the navigational telemetry cache. “Whoa, that wobble got nasty,” Gene observed, pointing to the hundreds of RCS thruster firings. “Drop the retrostage and deploy the sensors,” Jeb quietly instructed from the comfy armchair in the dark corner of the room, sipping koffee. This was where the on-board surface-scan radar factored in. Orion 5 repeated the procedure a day later. By then Orion 4 transmitted a decent portion of its own map. “So, you really do think those are oceans?” Jeb asked. “At this amount of pressure, there’s going to be an ocean of something,” Bob responded.

Outside of law orbit, at small distances and in the short term, orbital mechanics don't matter that much. Just be sure to get back into a stable orbit once you complete your evasion maneuvers!

Newtonian physics and space made of WD40, not orbital mechanics. They use hovering tech to make orbital mechanics go away.

So, this 1200-page monster covering Soviet rocketry from 1941 to late 1980s is actually available in English! http://history.nasa.gov/SP-4110/vol1.pdf http://history.nasa.gov/SP-4110/vol2.pdf http://history.nasa.gov/SP-4110/vol3.pdf http://history.nasa.gov/SP-4110/vol4.pdf

@p1t1o @Aperture Science I am sincerely shocked. I have encountered evidence that WWII-era US fighters developed the Frolov chakra:

I propose a rarer photograph for the Buran, Energiya and the "grasshopper" transporter-erector: When you thought the undertones could not get any more obscene...

The problem I see is that US spacecraft shapes are a lot more fitting when it comes to this game, which is basically Space Lego. It's a lot easier to run around with nothing but cones and cylinders, in terms of building and in terms of defining collider models.

A few franchises (off the top of my head, Mass Effect) have that as a very gimmicky kind of propulsion, but none of them exploit it for a reaction motor. There have been attempts to ensure these systems comply with conservation of momentum. Javik doesn't need oxygen like the inferior races do! Most of sci-fi authors failed Physics 101. I think if they tried to comply with orbital mechanics, it would have been worse. You wish. Star Trek battles are more like pre-Roman galley battles in terms of range and intensity of maneuvering.

They had gun ports. Gun ports. Episode VI at least left room for a Battle of Jutland-level distances early in the battle. You are really overthinking it. Some of these "ion" engines have a jet engine spin-up sound.