CatastrophicFailure

Dagnabbit. According to This, launch pushed back to Thursday again. Someone please prove me wrong.

Quite. @KSK is amusingly intuitive, tho: (Actual mostly irrelevant spoilers ahead) Well, someone on another thread challenged me about overly long gags, so... you've likely not seen the end of that one. Sadly, however, any hopes I had of regaining my traditional chapter-a-week frequency are probably off in that land of ultra-mega-high-energy yoctometer-wavelength purely theoretical nonsense, likely having a drink with Edgas's face and ruminating over old times. Next chapter is underway but I've got many months of two useless days a week ahead. Guess I'll have to aim for quality over quantity.

I would assume they’ll cut it, but we’ll at least get glorious full-screen coverage of the booster landing. Then again, maybe the fairing will pop open revealing a Dragon 2 and they’ll be all like

I thought Baba Yaga was an old hag with one leg?

...right? @Just Jim yoink. added to my list of awesome stuff I totally have to use but promptly forgot. Wait, what? Where’d I mention the personal exoskeletons? I didn’t think I’d got to the personal exoskeletons yet? Well they are doing fascinating things with genetics these days... Just need a dance number to the funk of 40,000 years. and now to forget that song for another 11 months...

So, @Kryten, could you maybe officially change the name of the thread to “The Second Electron has Arrived at the Launch Site?”

Interesting... how do you say this in Russian?

Such shiny... much wow...

Year 7, Day 318... With Lodvin once again tied up and sedated in the back recovering from his little prophetic out-of-mind excursion, the crew leaves the high dunes behind and heads back toward the sea. They only venture as far as the unexplored Riverlands, though, not quite low enough to open the windows again. Haylotte is crushed I am not! Maybe it's time for the science team to begin working on that long-range one-Kerbal interplanetary mission. Sooner or later, probably through force of pure will and spite, Triti is going to make it back here... Vlad my need a long vacation. And the distraction would benefit us as well...

And whosoever shall be found Without the soul for getting down Must stand and face the hounds of Hell And rot... inside a corpse’s shell. Chapter 12: Questionable Tastes Snow swirled in a perpetual twilight of velvety indigo. Shapes... figures... seemed to coalesce and writhe, before breaking up and reforming in an unending dance. She... she could almost see... something... stalking out there among the ever-changing drifts. But just like her memories, every time she tried to look at it, it shattered and blew away. The hallway groaned as a blast of wind shook it, and she turned from the small, round window. "Does it ever stop snowing here?" "Well, it’s probably not actually snowing," Edgas peeked out the window, "rarely snows at all, here. But it never goes above freezing, either, so what’s already here just piles up and when the wind gets to blowing—" She frowned at him. "Er, well, yeah, this storm is unusually long," she saw a hint of color touch his cheeks, "never seen anything like it, myself." As if in answer, another gust of wind shook the structure. Should... should she tell him about the shapes she probably didn’t see, out there in the snow? Her eyes wandered to the low, curved ceiling in thought. No, probably just her mind playing tricks... although... "Why... why does this place look like space station?" she didn’t know how she knew that, and yet... "Well, 'cause it is. Sort of." "What?" He gave an awkward grin, "we don’t get much of a budget. Nearly all of the base is leftovers from the actual space program. Structural test articles, functional mockups, some spare modules that just never flew... Took some wrangling to get it all together, had to pull a few strings, but it actually works well. The modules are already well insulated and easy to transport, and the coolant loops work just as good for keeping things warm.” “I... see...” That would explain all the tiny round windows at awkward heights even for her, but... how did she know that? She looked out the window one more time, and could almost swear she saw something moving beyond a floodlight. She opened her mouth to speak, but— “The equipment hangar is the only part of the base that was built on-site, but even that was leftovers from an orbital drydock that got cancelled. Always cold in there, though. You’ll need more than just, well...” he glanced at her, and the color flared in his cheeks again. She felt her own flush a bit, too. Now she was clad in a bright red onesie. More of Lemcott’s handiwork. She felt quite ridiculous, but at least it wasn’t pink, and it was deliciously warm. If just a bit itchy. But... his cheeks... she could almost... no, that's ridiculous. “Erm,” Edgas coughed, “I think you’d just swim in a parka, that would be overkill anyways. In the cold, not sweating is just as important as staying warm, and—“ “Yes, this I know,” she offered helpfully, right before that train of thought came to a screeching halt. How... did she know that? "Well, I think I’ve got something that might fit you," he finally said, "I just have to dig through my closet." "If you insist. Is awful lot of trouble, the cold never bothered me anyway." A little one-sided grin flashed on his face for just an instant, “trust me.” She took a breath, and adjusted the cane in her hand. Like the walker, it was printed, and just the perfect height. Far easier to get around with, too. She still felt... unsteady, had to think about what she did before she did it. The boots helped. Oddly enough, they fit her perfectly. Made of tough suede and lined with fur, they seemed so familiar, but like with everything else she couldn’t explain why. Edgas said they were from some Ussari trading post, just at the edge of the ice cap. She followed beside him, softly thumping along, minding her feet more than anything. At the end of the short corridor, Edgas turned left and opened a large square hatch to another module. “Come in, if you want,” he said, “though I’m a bit short on seating.” She cautiously stepped over a high threshold into a space not much bigger than a closet. A large closet, though. It was tidy and organized, with a shelf here, a small sink over there, and all sorts of space memorabilia plastering the walls. A big, comfy chair took one corner, with one of those little padded stools people called Turks before it. Or was that an Ottoman? “This’ll just take a sec,” he mumbled from an actual closet. She leaned on the cane and shifted her weight, looking over the small space. She... seemed to feel the strangest sensation washing over her. It was as if... the pain in her joints, the aches deep in her bones the medications could never quite touch... as if all of it were somehow muted, like shadows on a grey day. She wondered if, perhaps, it was simply this bit of mild exercise doing her good, working the kinks out and what not. But... it seemed... just a bit brighter in here... a bit warmer... She blinked the thought away. It was Edgas’s, the Commander's, personal quarters, he probably just had the heat turned up. "Hey, here it— nope, that’s not it..." he mumbled. Her eyes wandered around the room again. On one wall, there was a large display filled with official-looking photos of Kerbonauts. A small brass plaque over it read, AD ASTRA PER— She quickly tore her eyes away. Warm fuzzy feeling or not, something deep in her mind was screaming that she did not want to look at that. Not... not yet. Just above that, high on the wall, was a picture of... Wait, what? "Er... Mister G— Edgas..?" "Mmmph?" something in the closet went thud. "Ow." "Why... do you have photo on wall of... big rock wearing bowtie?" A head appeared, "huh?" She pointed. "Oh, that’s the President." Oh, of course. It was just the— "Wait, what?" The face appeared again, "the President of Kleptogart. Well, the last one." For a moment, she could only stare. She opened her mouth... no. Then she tried again... no, not right either. She opened her mouth one last time, then gave up trying to find the words and rubbed her temples, "forgive me, Kerblish has always been a bit... fuzzy, to me..." He raised an eye... bulge at that. "...Perhaps I am mistranslating... do you really mean to tell me the President of Kleptogart is a big rock in a bowtie?" "Giant Meteor, actually. That picture doesn’t really show the scale." Ah yes, that made perfect— Wait, what?? She pointed at him. Pointed at the wall. Pointed at him. Pointed at the wall. Tried unsuccessfully to form syllables into words, "eeeh aaah, ooh ah-ah?" An awkward little smile bloomed on Edgas’s face, "yeah, um... that whole election went a bit... fluffy. All the candidates were so bad they just called the whole thing off and swore in a giant meteor for six years instead. Was never much of a public speaker but it really conveyed the weight of the office, y’know?” He forced a helpful grin. The edge of one lip curled up just slightly, while the opposite eyelid began to twitch. She had the strange, and oddly familiar sensation, that now she had finally gone quite mad. She reached a hand to her head again, “you people are so strange...” then winced, “ow, my head...” Edgas frowned, “maybe we should put this off another day. I don’t want to overtax you.” “No, I need to see it,” she squeezed her eyes shut against the noise of her mental gears grinding, “I need to see this thing you found me in.” “Well, ok,” he turned, “I think I just saw what I was looking for.” “I will be fine, really...” “Trust me, it’s freezing in the hangar.” She rolled her eyes and gave a huff, trying awkwardly to cross her arms while holding a cane. But... Well, it was a nice gesture that he— Her mind jumped at least three gears at once, not bothering with the clutch, "where did you get this?!" a trembling finger stuck out toward a display case hanging on the other wall, "you... you cannot have this! You... you cannot! Do you have any idea what they would do to you if they caught you with this?!" She clumped over to him and grabbed a fistful of shirt, "you must get rid of it right away!" Edgas blinked at her. Another couple of gears rattled and cranked as not fear, or even confusion spread across his face, but... embarrassment? "Yeah, um..." his face squeezed into a wince, "that’s... mine." Her jaw fell open with a shudder as her mind kicked itself out of gear so hard it probably stripped a few teeth. “Um... see for yourself...” he offered another helpful, hapless grin. Shifting around in her head trying desperately to find a gear that still worked, she settled on ‘Reverse’ for lack of options, and backed up to the case. She read, “FOR HIS CONTINUING ACTIONS RENDERED IN SERVICE OF THE GLORIOUS IMPERIOUS UNION OF USSARI STATES, THE GRAND HIGH IMPERIUM, ON BEHALF OF HER IMPERIAL MAJESTY ALEXANDRA II, AND OF A GRATEFUL NATION, DOES HEREBY BESTOW UPON ONE EDGAS J KERMAN THE TITLE OF HERO OF THE USSARI UNION, AND ALL THE PRIVILEGE THAT—“ With a dying groan, her mental transmission puked its ruined internals out in a sulfurous hail of shattered gears, broken bearings, chunky 80w-90, and one mangled snap ring that danced around in a circle on the floor before finally coming to rest. Metaphorically speaking. She gaped at Edgas, mouth agog, the corner of one eye twitching just slightly. "Um... er..," he raised a finger, "hey, you remembered something!" And just like that her brain was back in gear, but firmly stuck in ‘Frustration,’ "but I... I... I do not! I do not even know what this is!" she waved a hand at the medal, "I do not know what an Imperium is, only that it is something you should be very, very afraid of." Her hand went to her temples again. "Well," he took a step toward her, "that’s still something." He thought for a minute, "that seems like a powerful memory. Maybe that’s the key to unlocking all the others." "I do not... for a moment it was... ugh!" she turned away, scowling. Something... had been there, but... As her mind wandered, back in Neutral again, she saw a clear sheet of plastic draped over the arm of the comfy chair before her. She picked it up, not quite thinking. It seemed to go... taught in her hand, an opaque screen appearing covered in rows of stylized little pictures. "What is this thing, anyway?" she mumbled to herself. "Um, it’s just a tablet..." “Why do I not know what this is?" she brandished the illuminated plastic sheet "that is chair... that is window... closet, book, floor and ceiling. Why do I not know what this is?" "Because it was invented after you left." She felt her teeth grind, “yes, I know this. I have been missing for twelve years. So you keep saying. As if that should make me feel...” her eyes squeezed shut to match. “Look, we’ll—“ With a grunt, she waved a hand at him. As her eyes opened again, they found a little picture on the device that looked like a musical note. Seeking anything to focus on, she touched it... and gasped as a soulful piano melody seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Some say love, it is a river That drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor That leaves your soul to bleed. Frustration momentarily forgotten, her lip rose in that little twitching curl that seemed so popular today as she gaped back at Edgas. Some say love, it is a hunger An endless aching need. I say, love, it is a flower And you its only seed. “A-henh... a-henh-henh...” a dizzying array of looks washed over Edgas’s face, “gee, um... how’d that get there? Thought I’d deleted it years ago! Must be some stray bytes, just some unparsed extemporaneous data. Might’ve been a bad torrent, I’ve really got to watch my IP’s better. Probably should run a virus scan...” He cautiously reached out, eyes fixed on the tablet She stepped back, “I know what all of those words mean yet I have absolutely no idea what you just said.” On this day of strange sensations, now she felt... fear. No, not fear... more like... when she had found herself wearing the ridiculous pink unicorn thing in the medbay... But... I am not embarrassed... She saw the color bloom in Edgas’s cheeks. Curiosity piqued her, and she tapped again... I can see a new horizon underneath the blazing sky, I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher! Gonna be your man in motion, All I need is a pair of wheels. Take me where the future's lying St. Elmo's fire. She looked at him. He looked at her. "Um... um... must be some ad-ware! Maybe you’ve hit a pop-under... or one of those annoying auto-plays..!" "What are you talking about?" That curiosity pulled at her... and something deeper, and just a bit... impish. She could feel the edge of her mouth draw into the shadow of a smirk. She tapped. Somewhere out there, Beneath the pale moonlight, Someone’s thinking of me, And loving me tonight. He gave her a flat look, despite the drop of sweat that rolled down his temple, "um... that’s not mine. I was just holding it for a friend." Fear notched upward toward panic. Him. It's coming from him... And yet... something in her wanted to poke at that fear, not from malice but... Tap. Here I go again on my own, Goin' down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone, And I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time. Edgas’s eyes darted about. The edges of his mouth curled up in a double sneer. He started to lunge— Whoosh. Without looking, she swung the cane up, which just touched his chest, keeping him out of reach. He gawked down at it as if not quite knowing where it came from. Tap. I want to know what love is, I want you to show me. I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me. "Um... um... um... I... I’ve been hacked!" he squealed, "it must’ve been the Ussaris!" Her face whipped around, then twisted up into a scowl. Somewhere in her mind, curiosity and... prankishness chased each other. Two... two different currents... two streams... I am not about to panic, it is— The scowl softened... yet the catharsis that was pushing her frustration away drove her on. Tap. And I ran, I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day, I couldn't get away. Tap. Once upon a time I was falling in love, But now I'm only falling apart. And there's nothing I can do, A total eclipse of the heart. Tap. Don't you, forget about me, Don't, don't, don't, don't! Don't you, forget about me. Tap. Islands in the stream, that is what we are... Tap. Oh, I wanna dance with somebody! Tap. All night long (all night)... Tap. Who’s gonna drive you home... The bizarre mix of sensations in her had slammed together at once, I am... feeling what he is feeling... his emotions... Edgas’s voice rose to a screech, "hey Siri, stop the music!" "Okay, I’ll stop the music," came a pleasant female voice. The cane clattered to the floor. Her own epiphany was washed away by a foggy but powerful tide of fractured memory, "it talks..." she gripped the slim plastic tablet with both hands and screamed at it, her mischievousness forgotten, “you, thing! Machine! What did he call it? Siri! Hey Siri! I must speak to Ivan!” “I’m sorry, I don’t know Yvonne.” “No, not Yvonne, Ivan!” “There is no Yvonne in your contact list.” “No, you stupid thing!” all the frustration from a moment ago came crashing back into her, bringing with it a new sense of fear that was, most certainly, hers, ”Ivan, with an ‘I!’” “Here’s What I found on the web for ‘even with an eye...’” “No, Ivan, I...” she curled over into a ball as her voice broke, “I must speak to Ivan... I need Ivan...” The tablet dropped back to the chair. A soft, calm voice came from behind her, “who’s Ivan?” “I do not know!” sobs not quite allowed to form racked her shoulders in muted waves. She felt like a prisoner in her own mind, peering out through the keyhole and catching confused glimpses of someone who was once her. Or who she once was. Yet she remained trapped inside, hopeless, helpless, and utterly— A strong hand gripped her quaking shoulder, "you’re not alone." Her eyes drew slowly open. It seemed to steady her, draw her back, "I... don’t claim to have the answers. But I’m not giving up, and I won’t let you, either. We’ll figure this out, chase it as far as it takes. We can start in the hangar." And then, much to her own surprise, she felt her own hand rising unbidden, and just for a moment squeezing back the hand that steadied her shoulder. “C’mon,” Edgas half-pulled her up, “let’s go take a look at that capsule.” He handed her something soft and grey. “What is..?” She held the thing up. It was... an old hooded sweatshirt. Worn letters faded to near illegibility proclaimed it the PROPERTY OF KERBAL SPACE ADMINISTRATION XXL. She raised an eye... bulge at him. That familiar hint of red bloomed on his face, “um... that old thing’s been in the closet forever. Hasn’t fit me in years but I think it’ll be just right for you.” She flashed a fragile smile, then turned and picked up the tablet, “you, er, have most interesting taste in music...” As she handed it to him, her thumb brushed the screen... I like big butts and I cannot lie! You otha brothas can’t deny, When a girl walks in wit a itty-bitty waist And a round thing in your face, you get— Edgas’s face didn’t just go red, it barreled straight past red, shoved aside infrared, sent microwaves sprawling, smashed the old Kerborola with foil on the antenna playing easy listening in rural Loneankopa to bits, then turned around and ran back the way it had just come, trampling microwaves while it was still down, slapping infrared upside the head, giving visible light a swift punch in the nose, kicking the ultraviolet square in the fork, squashing soft X-rays, shattering hard X-rays, and rocketing past an absolutely flabbergasted gamma rays, still accelerating, whilst waving its arms over its head and screaming “I’m an Oscar Meyer Wiener!” before disappearing off into the land of ultra-mega-high-energy yoctometer-wavelength purely theoretical nonsense, where it was never heard from again. Metaphorically speaking, of course. ———————————— “Ugh, I hate that song,” Megselle Kerman reached up and switched off the music, “well, at least traffic is moving again.” She paused, “that means you can pull up.” “Huh? What? Oh,” P. Kerman stopped fiddling with his coat pocket, and glided forward another karlength. Meg squinted ahead, “I wonder why traffic’s been so bad...” “Eh, it’s a busy border. I guess coming through in the middle of the night wasn’t such a good idea after all," now he squinted ahead, "maybe we should turn on our phones. Or check the actual radio—" "Oh, no!" she rounded on him, "this was your idea, remember? No phones, no distractions. No EgoBook, no Blabber, no Boaster, no OgleMe, no SlapChat, no InstaPrattle, no Imjrr, no iEats, no Feed. Just you and me for once, right?" A hint of pleading crept into her voice. "Of course, Fluffernutter!" he gave a big, bright smile, "just you and me." She eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer, then squealed with joy and slapped her knees, rat-tat-tat, “oh, I can’t believe we’re finally going!” “I told you I’d make it up to you,” he smiled. She smirked back, “only took you a dozen years.” “But Lovechunks, I really don’t remember anything!” he pleaded. “You showed up on our doorstep in a crate,” her arms crossed her chest, “again,” then more softly, “I had to sell my kar to pay the freight charge before they repossessed you.” “But... but I bought you a new kar...” “Which you wrecked.” “But... I bought you a new new kar...” “Which you also wrecked.” “But... but I bought you a new new new kar. Just like you always wanted, with the Electro-Glide-Drive™ and the Mün roof and the heated posterior butt warmers! You love the heated posterior butt warmers...” She shifted in her seat, “and which you’re now driving. Again. Because you wrecked your kar. Again.” "I swear, Cheese-Dibbles, I never saw that bus!" "It was three meters wide, four meters high, painted reflective white and covered in flashing lights." "Yeah... But... there was a guy on the side of the road selling kittens... fluffy kittens..." Meg reached out, and not-quite-touched a bandage on his face, "which scratched the ever-living crap out of you, and I had to take you to the clinic in the middle of the night to get a shot." She playfully booped his... not-quite-nose. Then she leaned back, still looking nonplussed, but the edges of her lips curling up into that disarming smile that always made him feel as if he were about to break into song, or vomit, or occasionally both at once, “although... it was nice getting to relax and just enjoy the scenery. It was such a pretty drive, down through the mountains from the east. Though... it’s strange that the leaves were changing, it’s not even fall yet.” "I think it’s one of those off weather cycles this year, il bambino or something. It’s been cool like that all summer,” he offered a helpful grin. An irate horn sounded behind them, “you can pull up again, P.” “Huh? What? Oh,” once again, he patted at his coat pocket before doing so. A border guard dressed in simple fatigues approached the vehicle ahead of them, giving it a cursory check with his flashlight before talking to the driver. P. looked over, “Hey, um—“ Another excited squeal cut him off, “we’re next! Oh, I can’t believe this is really happening, we’ve been talking about it for years. I can’t wait to see the Børknflügel!" "And the Junkenjård!" he added happily. "And Flürgen Domkyrka!" "And... and... the ABBAmuseet!" "Oh, and we have to go feed the ducks at the Kvakenvaddle!" "And see the statue of Hans-Kristoff-Anna-Svengoolie at Isfjell square!" "And get lutefisk onna stick at the Jørkenbørk!" "Oh, then we have to eat at Nom-a, I hear the chef is incredible!" Meg giggled, then sighed, "we should go see the Küngliga Operanbørk, too. Too bad it’s impossible to get tickets but maybe they give tours of the building or something during off hours." At this P. Kerman’s eyes popped wide, before slinking down into a sly, roguish leer. He fiddled about in his pocket again and eventually produced an envelope. She took it with hesitation, as if afraid it might bite. Or worse. Then her own eyes swelled until they practically bulged from their sockets. Well, more so than usual. "Front row tickets to opening night of Baroness Hilde von Keepsemfromfloppen in Der Flederkrake at the Küngliga Operanbørk?!?" Meg shrieked, "how did youget these?!" her wide eyes darted around, "what did you do?" then flatly, "who did you kill?" Grinning from ear to ear, P. Kerman opened his mouth... only to have Meg reach over and shut it for him. "On second thought," she said, "I don’t want to know. I’m sure whoever it was had it coming." He blinked. Meg leaned back, regarding him in an oddly thoughtful way, “ok, I’ve gotta hand it to you this time, P., you’ve really pulled this one off.” “I told you I would, Pumpkin Spice,” he grinned. “Indeed,” she continued watching him a bit longer with that considering look, “oh, this is us! You’ve got the passports, right?” a hint of panic crept into her voice. It spread over P. Kerman’s face for an instant too, as he frantically searched his pockets before finding the proper documents. Meg nodded, “I just hope there’s no trouble getting across.” “Don’t worry, Squooshyface, I’ve double-checked all the papers,” he grinned, “besides, the Nefcarkalandern are universally hailed as a warm and welcoming people.” P. Kerman lowered the window as the car softly whrrrred up to the lone border guard. Who stared with a face that looked like it had never ever laughed before. Probably because it never leaned how. Off in the distance, a radio was playing, something about seeing the sign. Of which there were many around the gated crossing. A long stream of oncoming headlights stretched away beyond the border fence, and they seemed... to be moving rather quickly. “Passpørts pljease, børkbørk,” the guard monotoned, holding a gloved hand out. “Hi!” P. Kerman gave his winningest smile as he handed them over, “lovely evening, isn’t it?” The guard stared at him until he sort of melted down into his seat, before flicking open Meg’s passport. Across from the page with an actual photograph, a sheet of clear plastic came to life. Personal details streamed past as a 3-D image of her looked left, looked right, up and down. “Megselle M. Kjerman?” The guard raised an eye... bulge. Meg leaned over in her seat flashing a pretty smile... which quickly vanished into confused blinking as the guard shined his flashlight in her eyes. He nodded, and switched to the other passport... then his eyes shot open. He looked at P., looked at the page. Looked at P., looked at the page. Turned the document this way and that. Finally he unfolded another page from inside... and then another. “Ådbåld-Kerthøny-JøhnGerbøNeilert-Hergun-Gilvin-Jerrighørdred-MerlenRøddin-Cørwin-Sønert-HånyPhilvånFredbålRøner-Chådåld-DølåsHålnie-Thømped-Newski-Desley-Mitsen-Billy-Bøbvey-Bårgel-MålbårtHådethMåtlån-ShergunTømrim P. Kjerman?” “That’s me!” The guard stared at him. Then rolled his eyes, and just as he was about to hand the passports back, someone who was quite obviously an officer stalked up to him. Salutes were exchanged, followed by a heated, and mostly one-way, conversation in Nefcarkalandish. Lots of ø’s and j’s and ü’s. Then the officer handed him a rifle, and a combat helmet with a huge pair of horns jutting up. More salutes followed. He turned back to the car and handed over the passports, “ja, før shøre, yøu be makings de Ü-turn nøw.” “WW-ww-wwhhaatt??!!” “De børder’s cløsed, børk.” As they watched, another guard in a silly helmet slid a rattling chainlink gate across the threshold. Followed one of wrought-iron that squeaked and squealed. Followed by a lumbering plate steel wall that groaned as if it hadn’t been moved in decades. Through the chainlink to either side, however, they could see the line of oncoming headlights become a parade of trucks of every shape and size rumbling down the frontage road: troop carriers, rocket launchers, and flatbed after flatbed carrying enormous tanks... each with its own set of horns. P. Kerman turned his attention back to the stony-faced guard, stammering for words, “but... but... but... we’ve got reservations! We’ve got tickets!” The guard stared. “We’ve got papers! Look! Red papers! Blue papers! Papers with very official stamps on them!” he waved the papers out the window. The guard didn’t blink, “ja, før shøre, yøu be makings de Ü-turn now, or I be makings de bången-bången.” The rifle’s bolt slid home. P. Kerman only gaped at it a moment, “we’re going. We’re going.” He ground the transmission into gear, an impressive feat considering the electric kar had no transmission, “we’re going!” To a jerky cacophony of bangs and chirping tires, the vehicle pirouetted around and headed off south down an empty road. “What just happened?” Meg said to no one in particular, “I mean, what the flarp just happened?!?” “Uh... Meg..?” “Don’t scold me about my language now!” she snapped, jumping up and looking back over the seats, “they... they can’t do this! Our vacation! Baroness von Keepsemfromfloppen!” “Meg..?” She fiddled her phone out, “I know, I’ll call our lawyer!” “Meg...” “No, I’ll call the consulate!” “Meg...” “No, I’ll call the flarping President!” “Meg!” “What?!?” P. Kerman pointed ahead, his face ashen, “why is the sky all red?”

Wait a minute, those are animations, aren’t they? How’s you tap into those? ...always thought Walt needed a shave...

@vossiewulf the multiple grabbers actually work for you? Last time I tried to Klaw something with multiple Klaws at once, it summoned up a whole family of krakens who were none too pleased at having their quality time interrupted by one such as I... Eye Candy notwithstanding, is there a real-life analog to such shiny goodness?

How’s TWR looking with the stock aerospike? Loaded mass? Delta-V?

Year 7, Day 316... Out of the gloom and clouds it materializes, like... some gloomy, materializing thing. At this altitude, the ever-present clouds are a constant annoyance. Wait, that's a bit redundant, isn't it? Anyways, it's the mysterious Ancient City. Somebody grabbed Lodvin, right...?

Great flarping flocks of fluffernutters, that’s what I get for taking the day off!

Priorities. *thumbsup*

There... there can be only one?

My opinion may be, ahem, just a tiny bit biased, but... ...I do so love a good Kraken trouncing.

Psst, @ZooNamedGames... Click.

Interesting. The article @tater linked to mentions that the engine blew up before it was supposed to be ignited, something about a LOX leak test. Let’s hope this isn’t more troubles for SpaceX with their LOX systems...

“Heavens! Mind out..!”

Bleh, they’re just trying to copy Blue Origin. Seriously, tho, “latest in a string of problems?” Really? Who’s writing this drivel??

He said “Lo-xatstake.” Probably something like “xylyls.” Or maybe “syzygy.” Or even @qzgy. Also, CLICK. ಠ_ಠ

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRAP! Daphbelle's face doe...

There are some configs for SSTU that make it a little more friendly with upscaled systems, kinda similar to SMURFF. It’s in the thread somewhere, if not I’m using one at 6.4 scale (that was meant for 10x scale) I can post.