Confused Scientist

It's actually a head. You just can't see the rest of it. Waiter! My soup is alternating between two bowls in a random sequence.

25. Aerobrake on an airless body. 26. Lithobrake on a gas giant. 24. Post out of order. 27. Make puns out of every Edgar Allen Poe story during a trans-TRAPPIST injection maneuver using an ion engine, because you're bored. (Quoth the raven, "Never snore!")

Now, Johnny Kash never sang about salmonella in the mess hall and they never made a prison movie about mold growing in the showers, but still Prisoner 9041 Kerman knew that this was as good as an opportunity as ever to escape. So, he got up and stepped through the threshold into the main artificial gravity centrifuge of the Bloated Wart Prison.

Take the phrase "Schrodinger's Cat," convert it to hexidecimal, subtract each bit of information from pie-7, multiply by the length of the shadow of the pyramid at Giza as measured at local midnight, and then add today's stock market opening price of grain, and you will have the combination to the lock that is secured onto this forum. Or maybe it's the price of a pepperoni and sausage pizza at Dion's, I can't remember. "Press L to unlock this thread." (////////------------------Progress: 19%--------------------------------)

Marry Move Dyslexic Milk Purple Mufflers

Chapter 23- Calling On, In Transit "It's Radio Free Kerbol!" Jeb shouted. "And we're here to remind you that if you haven't bought a pumpkin to carve yet, it's too late. Happy Halloween!" "Now," Valentina began, "we want to talk about the recent crash of the Ares spaceplane on Laythe. As you all know, the director of the Interplanetary Authority was aboard. Although the failure was put down to hydraulics, investigators have uncovered other debris that says otherwise. Now, before we delve into the facts, let's review the situation: The Administrator Nando didn't want to give the IA the massive resources to continue the manhunt for us. He felt that to do so would be unconstitutional, even though most kerbals were thirsty for blood. Now, his spaceplane goes down at just the right moment, and he is replaced by a power-hungry strategist who won't stop at anything just to blow two kerbals to smithereens. Now, here to discuss the spaceplane itself, we have Bill Kerman." "Right." Bill cleared his throat. "The Ares-IIB began its deorbit burn about half an hour before it impacted Laythe's Sunrise Beach. In between that time, something happened that caused the spaceplane to lose control in the hypersonic region of Laythe's relatively dense upper atmosphere, where it spun out of control and broke up due to aerodynamic forces. The investigators said it was a hydraulics failure, but the Ares-IIB was designed so any one failure of any system would be survivable. In the case of the hydraulics, there would have had to have been a triple failure of the main system and the backup fly-by-wire within five minutes of each other. That has never been documented before on any spacecraft, ever, and certainly not one of the finest spaceplanes ever built transporting important politicians. And it's that last part, the politicians, that make us wonder if some... 'foul play' was involved." "Instead," Bob said, "we intercepted a secret transmission from Laythe to Duna that there was evidence of a strong blast from inside the fuselage, and that the wreckage of an antimatter bomb was found inside the cargo bay. It doesn't take very much imagination to see the ob-" And then the transmission was cut off. Televisions across the solar system returned to their normal programming, and all of the lights went out aboard the Kraken's Spit. Scariest of all, Jeb, Bob, Bill, and Valentina all drifted against the rear wall of the cockpit- but the throttle was at zero. Jeb tried to fire the RCS and maneuver out of the attitude he was in- no luck. Bob tried to call someone on the radio- no luck. Bill tried to go on an EVA, but the hatch wouldn't open- no luck. Valentina took what should have been the first step and looked out the window. She was in luck. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!" she yelled. "What's wrong?" Bill said as he drifted over. Valentina only panted and pointed out the window. "What?" Bob repeated. "I don't see anything. Just black." He looked closer. "Nothing..." he said, growing pale, "but black." The stars had gone out.

Chapter One The Obsidian Workshops-1 was the first large passenger plane that the airlines bought and flew around the country. It was based off of a modified Knat-47 airframe, and it had the distinctive dual-propeller and tail-dragger characteristics of that bomber. The OW-1 was so large that those of us who had gotten into the new industry of flight called it the COW-1 because of its sheer mass; we joked that it "flew like a cow." It could hold thirty kerbals on a journey about a quarter of the way across the country. It was about half the size of a modern short-range airliner. Because of all of my training on the Knat-47, I started flying the COW right away, in the left-hand seat. On my first flight, I stood by the cockpit door as the passengers got in through the rear hatch and climbed uphill to their seats. They were dressed in suits and dresses, and each carried one suitcase. Every single one was smiling, looking forward to when they would become the lucky one percent and take to the skies. "Please fasten your seatbelt when you sit down," I said, noticing how most of the passengers just peered quizzically at their safety belt, "and please do not smoke on this aircraft." A chorus of moans chased me back into the cockpit as I sat down and began to start the engines. "What in kraken's name is that!" one ignorant passenger yelled as the propellers began turning. "Trans-Pan flight 0003, please taxi to runway 043, northeast facing," the controller called. My copilot replied, "Roger, northeast on runway 043," as the engineer checked the hydraulic pressure on the flaps. I turned and started the long, five-minute taxi to the other side of the airfield where the appropriate runway was. We had to wait for a minute as a crop-duster landed on a runway we needed to cross, and then we joined a long line for Runway 043, the only one that could handle the COW. We were fifth in line, but there were also three planes on approach to the runway. Nearly ten minutes later, we were second in line, but the passengers were getting restless. "Why are you just sitting here?" one lady yelled through the door. "We paid two months' salary for this!" "Ma'am, return to your seat," I heard the steward say. The lady cursed. "You don't have to sit down on the bus. Why do you have to sit down here? And I want to smoke! Why can't I smoke?" "If you don't return to your seat we will not be able to take off and you will be removed from the airplane." That kerbal was removed from the airplane, swearing and threatening to sue as she was dragged out the door. That delayed our takeoff by another twenty minutes. Then I turned out onto the runway, gunned the engines, (passengers yelled about how they "couldn't hear themselves think") and climbed to our cruising altitude of four kilometers. Then I left the cockpit and looked out at the passengers. They argued among themselves. They jostled for a view out the window. They complained about the noise of the propellers. "Attention, everybody!" I yelled. All at once nobody spoke. The drone of the engines was the only sound. "We have reached our cruising altitude of four kilometers. None of you have been so high up in your life. This machine is traveling at over half the speed of sound. You took off from Nendo City at 7:43, and you will land in Jendo's Crossroads at 10:02." Years later, I would fly the same route in under an hour. "This machine is the most expensive thing you've ever seen in your life. You will probably never fly on an airplane again." After I made the record run from Nendo City to Jendo's Crossroads, a study was published showing every kerbal in the country had flown at least twice. "Look at that window while you can- and try to enjoy it." I smiled. "And thank you for flying Trans-Pan Airlines." I retreated back into the cockpit, and for the rest of the flight I never heard the noise of the passengers again. We landed at Jendo's Crossroads and the passengers disembarked- at least, that's the official word. Then they put some more fuel in the airplane, and a new set of passengers, and we took off into a new era of travel.

I don't really do images. It makes my words a lot stronger, when each and every reader has a mental picture of what's going on, instead of being force-fed one.

Sunny: The Memoirs of an Airline Pilot When I came to Kerbspoke Air Force Base, I wanted to fly planes in the war. We were in the thick of it back then, with old fighters and bombers going out every day to the Kerbaic Ocean to fight the enemy, and we knew that the struggle wouldn't be over for a few more years. So, my choice was simple: either fight in the war, or tolerate "Loose Lips Sink Ships" posters for the rest of our time fighting. And so, I found myself walking to the airfield, with my medical information in hand, ready to stick it to The Man overseas. What was I thinking? I had only ever been in an airplane once before, and it was parked on the tarmac for the little kids to see at the Kerbspoke Air Show during the Depression. I had only ever seen an airplane fly a few times before, and now here I was, ready to put my life in the hands of someone who knew nothing about flying- my hands. My ignorance of flight. The general was happy for the new recruit- but, darn it, he was a general, and he had to be tough. "Sunny," he grunted, "you've got basic training for three months, and then you ship out to Kambodia. You're in barracks 12; you'll find your uniform on your bunk." I nodded. "THAT'S YES, SIR!" he bellowed. "YES, SIR!" I replied, and saluted. Then I spun around on my heels, and marched to my barracks. I was already getting the hang of this. I went up in an old crop-duster for the first time the next day. My instructor showed me how to start the engine, move the rudder pedals to taxi out to the runway, and then he performed the takeoff with his own set of controls in his seat. Then, once we were at altitude, he said, "Turn onto a southern heading." I contemplated the stick and the rudder pedals, and deftly stepped on the latter. The plane lurched sickeningly as we jolted broadside to the slipstream. "Sunny Kerman, what do you think you're doing?" The instructor arrested our sideslip and rolled the plane onto its side before pitching up. "When you're in an airplane, you don't turn, you bank." The rest of the three months processed like that, with me graduating to bigger and bigger craft, until finally I was at the controls of a Knat-27 bomber, practicing touch-and-go on the old dusty runway. After one of our landings, I pulled back on the stick and only a few seconds later, I felt a vibration shudder through the entire aircraft. "Engines two, three, and four are down," the engineer said. "I think we've hit some birds." Without even thinking, she feathered the engines and I turned around and landed back at the base. Thus I had handled the first in-flight emergency of my long career. Next time, however, there would be dozens of passengers counting on me to get them down to a runway intact. I climbed out of the bomber, and then the general delivered some bad news. "Sunny- you're not shipping out." "What?" I cried. I couldn't think of what I'd done wrong. "Apparently the scientists down in Las Kruces, or Kalamagordo, or some place in some desert were working on a super-bomb. The war in the Kerbaic is over." I was stunned. I had spent three months preparing to fly, wanting to fly, and I would fly. "Sir," I said, "I'm in the top of my class. Talent like this doesn't come along often. What can I do now?" He thought for a minute. "Well..." he muttered, "wherever kerbals go, destruction will follow. There will be another war soon." I was ignorant and naive, and I didn't think there would be another war for a long time. Later, when I was older and wiser, I knew that the wars would never end. But I was still young and stupid, and back then, there was one mother and one father and one son and one daughter in every family, plus a dog, and people drank alcohol from glasses that could hold a lot more bourbon and ice than they put in, and there wasn't any security at the airports, and people were too busy smiling and generally eating the spam-in-a-can that suburbia served then to fight in another war. So I said, "I don't really want to wait around for that, sir." "Well, then that reduces your options. You know some people are starting to use the airplane to get from one place to another? You know, like a train." I said I did know. "In that case, I heard Trans-Pan Airlines is looking for pilots. Go there, Sunny, and you'll be a rich kerbal." And so I left Kerbspoke Air Force Base, and I went to Kerbspoke Airport, and I said, "Gimme a job. I'll fly for fifty years." And in the end, it was actually sixty.

I run a few great mods that aren't very well known but I highly recommend (and work well together): NOTE: Cold War Progression is fully functional in 1.3 (and probably 1.3.1)

I have a former base on the Mun with around 400 parts within physics range.

shots fired Actually, all of the SSTOs are from YouTubers... but that one's definitely my favorite.

Chapter 22- Hit the Road, Jeb (Reprise) "Before you leave," Germbob told Jeb, Bill, Bob, and Val, "you have your choice of whatever spacecraft you want to take to Laythe." The Kraken's Spit crew looked at each other. None of them wanted to give up their spacecraft, but it wasn't the most up-to-date model. And besides, they all wanted to be rid of Germbob. "First, we have this stylish tilt-wing SSTO," he said, gesturing to a massive spaceplane in the Jackalope's underground hangar. "Built for VTOL operation from Kerbin to Laythe and back, it has plenty of fuel for-" "Uh, Germbob," Bob interrupted, "this thing barely has enough delta-v to get into orbit. It can't even lift its own weight." "Okay, then." Germbob moved over to the next vehicle. "This SSTO, built to outrun and outwit the Flat Kerbin Party, is capable of traveling to Eeloo in an eight-ton package." "Komrade," Valentina said, "that will take over two hundred years. It can't take off from Duna and- I don't see a cockpit. Do you guys?" Jeb, Bill, and Bob shifted uncomfortably. "Well, if you don't like that, how about this triple-wide SSTO, capable of taking two hundred Kerbals to Eeloo from Kerbin? The RAPIERs will probably break down in the first two weeks in orbit, but... how about it?" "Uhhh..." "I see. Well, that just leaves your old spacecraft, the new, improved, Kraken's Spit. Good luck! Don't die! But if you don't, do you think you could you bring me back a Laythe martini?" __________________________________________________________________________________________ "It's right through here," a nameless Jackalope engineer said. "We've got a new weapons module, some engine and landing gear upgrades, a fly-by-wire backup, and..." She flipped the lights on in the hangar. "...We touched up the paint." Jeb, Bill, and Bob gawked at the revamped color scheme. All of the old, faded details were back, along with a new green racing stripe down the side. The ship's name was painted over the hatchway in bold black paint ink again, just like it was years ago. The Kraken's Spit was state-of-the-art again. "It's beautiful," gasped Bill. "It's just like it was when we did our first drop mission." Jeb nodded. "It really is something. The aging was even worse than normal because we were docked next to Station One's acid exhaust port." "Acid exhaust por-" began the engineer. "Long story," Jeb interrupted. "Look, the point is, we're grateful." And then, turning to his crew, he said, "Let's fly." __________________________________________________________________________________________ The Kraken's Spit left Jackalope among a cloud of mist and steam and red dust. "Twelve NERVs at a hundred," Valentina said. Within two minutes the ship was out of the atmosphere and already on an escape trajectory. "Right now four IA satellites have a lock on our location," Bob announced. Nobody seemed worried, and a few seconds later he said "They've gone below the horizon." Right away Jeb and Valentina rotated the Kraken's Spit through a hundred and eighty degrees and hit full throttle. "We'll be back at Jackalope in ten minutes," Bill said. The Kraken's Spit made her second descent through the Dunian atmosphere, and set down perfectly in the Jackalope landing bay. There she was refueled, and without even opening the hatch the crew strapped back into their seats, and returned to space. "Looks like the IA has sent out some ships to intercept us on the other trajectory," Jeb said. "That was a brilliant idea, Val." "Thanks, Komrade. I practiced it in the war- but that was with normal airplanes. Now, let's go get tans on an extraplanetary beach." And with that, they began their long journey to Laythe.

Probably @KSK. @tater comes in at second.

Uhhhh.... I believe there's an emoji for that! It's like trying to use a GPS to get through a vacation to London- from America.

It would fly over the true north pole. Interestingly, after the Vandenberg polar STS launch facilities were discontinued due to Challenger, NASA could have extended the SRBs to allow the shuttle to fly a "dog-leg" trajectory into a polar orbit from the KSC while avoiding the endangerment of people below the flight path. The extended SRBs would have also eliminated the potential need for an RTLS or TAL abort.

My best guess is that MechJeb is already updated for KSP 1.3 or 1.3.1 and that is what you have installed by accident. On Curse you can install previous versions by clicking on "files".

I drove 100 kilometers on the Mun and 100 kilometers on Duna with a rover a lot like yours. One of the best things I've ever done in KSP. Nice job!

Granted, provided you use your first wish to make an evil duplicate of you- which, being a duplicate, also has unlimited wishes. For further information, please consult Calvin but not Hobbes. I wish for an outfit that always blends in with whatever type of dog hair might be stuck on it.

What do you mean? That dog appears to be a chihuahua. They're always shivering, even when they're in a sweater in their stroller. So, no, it's not hot. Waiter! There's a paradox in my soup!

Oh, er, no problem, er, ah, sir. I've been takin' orders since me young'n days! Jest let me put on me glasses... "Thelma, this gentleman wants a pen with parmesan!" "He wants what now?" "He wants a hen and Louie's arm!" "What you say he want?" "He wants yen and the 'Louie, Louie' song!" "Oh, er, okey there. One yen and Louie, Louie, coming right up!" I'll let your imagination figure out how those two are going to be served. I'd like a grilled cheese (served by a different waiter than the last one).

Can't we just decide to Lock all of the Incredibly Can't even believe it Krazy threads like this one?

I, personally, enjoy the two-screen/switching animation system, and think one screen would be very cluttered.

You'll find out the next time you're on a transatlantic flight where the engineers decided to include glide in their range calculations. Hope you're a strong swimmer.

Chapter 21- Stranger Things (Have Come to Be) "...And quadrant R-2 is free of crash debris," Valentina said. "I believe that concludes our search of the Torus crash site?" "Yep," a Jackalope engineer said. "Okay, load up the debris and take it back to base. Once we're there, reverse engineer everything. We need to figure out better ways to fight these things, because they're just going to keep coming." As the team of engineers walked back to the rover that had brought them to the Torus crash site a few kilometers from Jackalope crater, Valentina returned to the Roadrunner Jeb was sitting in. "Let's do a loop of the area on our way out and make sure we didn't miss anything," she said. Jeb tilted the engines to their vertical position and added ten percent thrust. "Jackalope Control, I am making a loop around sector 9A, over." Jackalope Control's answer squaked in their helmets for a second and then the only noise was the distant hum of the engines. "So," Jeb said, attempting to break the silence, "the Laythe launch window opens in four days. How soon can we launch?" Valentina replied as she peered out the canopy at the passing terrain. "Currently, the weapons and fuel module is being installed where we used to have the docking adapter. That will be installed in a week, and then we'll have another two days while we get a glass cockpit and-" "Tell them I don't want a glass cockpit. More susceptible to EMP." "Okay. Well, in that case you'll be happy to hear that the fly-by-wire system they're installing is just a backup. The hydraulics will still be fully functional. Apart from that... uh..." "What?" Jeb asked. "Do you see that?" Valentina asked. Jeb turned in his seat and looked out of the cockpit. "I don't see..." His gaze settled on a large black slab sticking out of the Dunian sand. "Uh-oh. That looks just like something I saw on Eve!" The Roadrunner set down a few hundred meters from the monolith's edge. "I don't know what it is," Jeb said as he climbed out of the cockpit. "It was just... there. Jet black, and one meter by four meters by nine meters. I couldn't find any trace of any electromagnetic, ultrasonic, or radioactive disturbance." They paused in front of the tablet. "Do you think whoever made it is still alive?" Valentina asked. "And do you think they might come back someday?" "Good questions," Jeb replied, "that no one can answer." They stood silently and stared with their necks craned upwards. "Jeb..." Valentina whispered. "Please tell me you don't see what I see..." "Yes?" "When you look at the edge of the monolith, does it look... purple?" "Uh..." "And can I see... Kerbol's disc?" Jeb looked at the image of Kerbol at the edge of the monolith, and then he twirled around and stared at the image of Kerbol setting in the other sideof the sky. "Holy kraken..." He fiddled around with his smartwatch and brought up the feed from a camera he had left on Eve, pointed at the monolith there. He focused on the edge. "It looks..." he said. "It looks..." "Red," they finished together.