CatastrophicFailure

Have a link for that PEG add-on for MechJeb? How do you like it? Does it take a lot of fiddling to work well?

Val's face tho.

Now if I can pull that off another hundred or so times in a row, I will have achieved literary mastery! So that's probably a no, but there should be some guffaws incoming, a few gasps, couple of "awwwww's," spattering of "hah! I knew it!'s," a few "wait, did that just happen?!'s," and of course... onions for flavor.

The one who was dead shall live again, And lo, the world shall quake. The risen one shall raise hand and beckon, And call forth the end of days. Chapter 2: Rules Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . A heart monitor toned out a slow, weak rhythm. Nearby, the steady shhhhhh–pop of a ventilator kept time to the barely perceptible rise and fall beneath the blanket. In silent syncopation, an IV bag drip–dripped away. Edgas Kerman watched, unmoving, hands folded behind his back, a shadow laying upon his face in the dim room. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Before the question even formed on his tongue, he knew the answer, but such questions must be asked, as if by some cosmic diktat, "How is she, Doc?" Beside him, Doc just shook his head. He opened his mouth and drew breath, then closed it again with a sigh. He tried pursing his lips and raising a hand, but that didn't seem right either. He settled on twisting a medical mask between his fingers. "She's alive," he said, "barely." A shrug, "I still don't understand how. Nasty spiral fracture of the humerus. Dislocated shoulder, broken clavicle, broken cheekbone, broken eye orbital. The rest of her is one big bruise." His lips pursed again, "somebody beat the everloving tar out of her. I don't know how she lived through that." Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . From somewhere, Doc produced what looked like a thin sheet of rolled plastic that came alive with a touch. Pictures popped onto the screen as he held it up to Edgas, "petechial hemorrhages in the eyes, gums, nail beds. Mild frostbite at the extremities. The AutoDoc flagged diffuse alveolar bleeding. Those are signs of exposure to hard vacuum. I don't know how she lived through that." Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . He tapped the page again, "toxicology report. Boss, there's traces in her blood the AutoDoc couldn't even identify. I had to take a sample down to the machine shop and run it through an oil analysis. Dimethyl sulfoxide, ethylene glycol, methyl pentanediol. That's antifreeze! And other things I... I... I still don't know what they are. I don't know how she lived through that. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . "And as far as I can tell, all this happened within the last few hours," he turned to Edgas, "to someone who's been dead for twelve years." Edgas raised an eye... bulge, "you still think it's her?" Doc looked at the indistinct form on the gurney, surrounded by blinking machines. The barest hint of a smile touched his mouth, "oh it's her, alright. That face is burned into my memory like the rest of it, even swollen that." He rubbed at a tiny scar on his chin, "you don't?" "It's her," Edgas agreed, "which puts an even more disturbing twist on the whole thing." Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Once again, he knew the answer before he asked the question, but such things must be done, "prognosis?" Doc just frowned, and shook his head, "I've done what I can. The AutoDoc isn't equipped to handle this, either." Already, the electronic tempo from the monitor seemed to be slowing. "Boss... Ed..." Doc began, "she needs a real hospital, with real doctors. I'm... just a medic..." The shadows on Edgas's face shifted just slightly, into something that might, too, have been a hint of a smile, "you'll never be just a medic, Docmore Kerman." The two of them stared in silence for a while, neither one wanting to say what had to be said, both already knowing the answer to the unasked question. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . At length, it was Doc who spoke, not looking up, "the nearest hospital is in an Ussari outpost at the edge of the ice sheet. A snow-cat would take days. She doesn't have that long. A Skeeter might make it in time, but it doesn't have the range. And if we called for a rescue flight... in this storm..." Edgas finished the thought, his eyes not leaving the bed, "they would come. And fifty-fifty, end up splattered all over the mountains like the last one." Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . The two kept staring in the heavy silence that was broken only by the sound of the machines keeping the form under the blankets alive. Edgas already knew what he had to do. He had known, he supposed, ever since he had first laid eyes on her yesterday. Everything about this— everything!— rekindled old feelings he didn't want drawn up. Memories dead and buried that deserved their rest. Yet somehow, some part of him had always known it was coming. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Some things... must be done. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . He turned to his crewmate, "Doc, I want you to go down to the shop and find Chief Lofan, have the crew start stripping down a pair of Skeeters so we can strap every jerry can we have to them. Oh, and find me three volunteers." "You'll only need two, Boss," Doc smiled and spun around. "And one more thing..." Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . He paused, and saw the shadows on Edgas's face seem to shift darker as he approached. "I've learned to trust my gut on things like this, and right now it's screaming at me," Edgas intoned, "whatever happens, I think it is vitally important that no one outside this station knows she's here, especially the Ussaris. At least for now. Understood?" Doc nodded gravely, "got it, Boss," and hurried off. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Edgas watched him go. He hated giving the crew busy work that wouldn't matter later, but he needed no witnesses. Just... better for everyone, this way. He shut the door to the little room with a soft click, and turned the lock. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Shadows played back and forth across his face as Edgas once more approached the gurney, and the motionless form upon it. He took a large syringe from his pocket, tapping any bubbles out with a finger. I promised myself I'd never do this... His face a blank mask, he poked the needle into a port on the IV line, and pressed the plunger. In the darkened room, the clear plastic tubing began to glow... Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . . Beep . . . . . Beep . . . . . . Beep . . . . . . . . Beep . . . . . . . *** "Good morning, sir!" the bright, smiling ticket agent said with a posh Omork accent. She glanced at the fishing pole, "ooh, catch anything?" Dilford Kerman spat a huge wad of gum out into a napkin, "no!" "Oh," the agent blinked, "terribly sorry, I've heard this was the best season in years, here." A long, breathy sigh fled from Dilford's lungs, the rest of him seeming to contract in its wake, "well, not for me, I guess." He handed her a scrap of paper with something scrawled on it, "the baggage guy with the blue kar said to give you this, he's taking my stuff around to the depot." She frowned at it, "oh, ah... we don't... have baggage handlers with blue kars..." she glanced at it again, "this even says 'ha ha I stole your luggage'..." Dilford's jaw dropped for a moment, then his entire face slowly squeezed into a wince. Without another word, he handed over his ticket. The agent's brow pinched with sympathy, "I'll call security down here right away and—— oh! You're quite late! The train is boarding already." "Um... er..." Dilford's eyes darted around, "can you rebook me?" "I'm afraid not," now her face turned to genuine pain, "everything to Kermingham is booked solid for the next two weeks... busy season and all... If you call customer service you can file a report..." The efficacy of actually doing so was plain in her voice. Dilford seemed to collapse a little more. With a sigh, he simply held out his hand. The agent stamped his ticket and passed it back. "Do hurry, you're between Platform 9 and 10," and then, futilely, offered, "have a nice... day?" Shuffling amongst the crushing mass of people going back and forth, Dilford clung to his fishing pole like a lifeline. Figures. Stupid vacation. One hand shoved more gum into his mouth as he went along. He shuffled this way, shuffled that, wound his way through the cavernous train station as quickly as he could through an ever shifting mass of bodies. As he trotted along, he looked down at his ticket once more to check the platform number. The agent had signed a little smiley face on it. That was nice. At at least he still had his prized fishing—— Oof! Crack. Dilford rubbed at the lump already rising on his forehead. He looked up at the wall he'd just run into. He looked down at the shattered bits of his pole. Once more, he sighed. He began to look forward to finding a nice, quiet seat on the train and having a good cr—— An incredible crowd was trying to cram their way into the passenger car as one. Dilford checked his ticket again. Of course, this was his car. "Aaaaaaaaaaaallllllll aboard!" As if in a dream, he moved forward into the throng, "'scuse me... 'scuse me... pardon me... 'scuse me..." and found that he didn't have room to sigh. Instead, as the train slowly lumbered ahead, he began to cough...

Hey @Just Jim, this guy's ganking your Kerbals! No really, this looks awesome. What's "cascade failure?" Sounds... entertaining...

But like... how?

The White Horse Thus was the Seal broken, And one of the four Living Beings spoke, Saying, "Come and see," and I saw, and behold: a White Horse, And he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: And he went forth conquering, and to conquer. At his back swung a brass quiver filled with poisoned arrows, And he bent his bow, and struck one-third of the people from the land. Chapter 1: Wake, O Sleeper In the Beginning, there was nothing. The heavens were without form, and darkness laid upon the face of the void. Then it was said, let there be Light! And there was Light. Flatline. Charge to 150. Ready— Clear! Let there be Light! But the Light... was not Good. Flatline. Push ten of epinephrine, charge to 180. For the Light touched something... that did not know light. Ready... clear! Let there be Light! Something beyond light... beyond darkness... beyond age or Ages... Flatline. Ok, adrenaline. How much? Um... 15... charge to 220. Something, that now knowing Light, sought to end it. Ready... clear! Let there be... Light! Flat— no, wait, v-fib... no... lost it... One more time with the adrenaline, charge to 300. Something that sought and end to all that was not It. How much adrenaline? All of it! What—? One chance! Something... Ready... clear! Let there be... LIGHT! ...that even a Kraken feared. Taching... I've got a rhythm! Adenosine, 12mg. Got it! ...and there was Light. And breath. And sensation. Stabilizing... Crap, she's waking up! Whoah! Calm down, lady, you're ok... She's gonna hurt herself! Calm down, please! Don't struggle, you'll— Gah, she's strong! Ow! You just pumped her full of adrenaline! Can you reach those restraints? (Huff) (Guh)No, not without letting go. Where's the Boss, anyway?! On his way (grunt), sent me on ahead with her (oof), wanted to secure— Aaack! Lady, please, we're trying to help—! She's getting—! There was light. And breath. And sensation. Cold flooring beneath her feet. Strange voices, alien sounds. Bizarre passages she did not know. Grab her! Careful! And fear. Towering, driving fear. All else grew pale, faded away before that fear, scourging her onward in mindless, frenzied dread. She bolted down the sterile hallways, past curved doors and thick hatches. Tripped over something, stumbled, fell against a wall and charged on. Her mind was a vast expanse of nothing. Nothing, except fear. Another corridor, and then another, stretching out into a maze. A scream built in her lungs. Doors. Nothing but closed doors. Behind them, voices. Taunting. Pleading. Condemning. A billion tongues in a trillion voices. Behind her, the horrors grew, stretching out like shadows, creeping along the walls. Fear. Nothing but fear. Her foot slipped. She stumbled left, pivoted, right, and— BLAM! "Ooooff!!" Reeling from the impact, she sat down hard on the floor, just across from... "Yyoouu..." "IIkknnoowwyyoouu..." "II kknnooww yyoouu..." "Yyoouu..." "Yyoouuaarree..." "Valentina Kermanova!" "The gas man!" The other Kerbal sprawled on the floor blinked, "um, what?" The unfamiliar words... name... called to her... but were quickly eclipsed by the growing chill in her posterior that announced that she was, unfortunately, stark naked. Her mind struggled with the concept. It seemed important, but in a distant, dreamy way. So she did the only sensible thing she could do in that situation. "Ow!" the other yelped, clutching his face, "what was that for?! I didn't..." She didn't wait. Panic struck at her like a stalking beast. She pushed back, tried to rise but one arm simply folded in half as if boneless, sending her sprawling. Somehow she found her feet, bounded down the hall as it lurched and twisted around her. Darkness... from everywhere, darkness moved in to swallow her. She burst through a door into a small room, and froze, eyes wide. Outside beyond the window, illuminated by floodlights piercing the purple twilight, snow billowed and churned in raging wind. "I am... home..." she said, as the darkness swallowed her, and the first star fell from the sky. *** Dilford Kerman sat on what once might have been a dock, head resting on his hand, a straw hat pulled down over his eyes. He let out a long sigh, and gave the rotted timber below him a languid kick. Before him, the brownish river muddled along with vague indifference. He sighed once more, swapped his fishing pole to his right hand and his head to his left. All around in the dense mash of woods and vines, insects buzzed or clicked away. The place was so overgrown, he couldn't even make out the far bank, only a gradual change from turbid brown water to green swamp. Figures. Years slaving away, and he finally decided to take a real vacation. Sat on a train for hours. Even bought a new pole. Now he'd spent every day of the last week in this literal backwater, that the guy at the bait shop had raved about when Dilford slipped him an extra bill. And all he had to show for it was... He lifted his pole, and looked at the worm hanging from the hook. It looked back at him, arms crossed, silently judging him. Which was a bit odd, since Worms don't generally have arms. But then, it was said all sorts of odd things lived in these waters. Like the one on the rusted old warning sign he'd passed on the weed-strewn trail down here. It had looked sort of like a fish. But also like a rat. And also like a squirrel. Which was very odd indeed. But, he suspected, it was just another way the locals toyed with naive tourists such as himself. Like the stuffed jackalope the guy at the bait shop had tried to sell him. Maybe he should have just bought it. At least then he'd have something to bring back. The worm went from glaring to tapping a finger, and Dilford sighed once more. He laid the pole down and set about packing up his tackle. This was pointless. He wasn't going to catch anything here— Nearby, something broke the surface. Dilford frowned. He watched the waters for a moment, and was just about to give up when it happened again. This time, he saw a vague, dark form just below the surface. It didn't look very large, but maybe there was something to be found here. He leaned in. There it was again, quite close this time. It actually seemed to be coming nearer. He leaned over a little more. That's odd, it looks like it's coming right this— Splash. Mmmpgprh!!

I'm convinced there's some parasitic... thing that neither Amp Year or Kerbalism are picking up in their estimates. There's plenty of juice on the sun side, but I can never seem to bring enough batteries. And don't even get me started on Kerbalism's background calculations (there's a reason my space station is still empty). Unfortunately, proper RTGs are still a few tech levels away. Fortunately, I finally broke down and installed Near Future power, so... When in doubt... plutonium.

Eh, far better than most of the drivel floating around the pop stations these days. By light years.

I've just started tackling this myself. Fuel cells can work, but you need to set them up with the built in script so they only operate at night, and you use plentiful solar power during the day to electrolyze water into the hydrogen you need to last the night. Or, take the easy route and use Near Future nuclear reactors.

Maybe that's a career path you should consider, then. You've obviously got the drive for it. The field's only going to expand...

So why haven't you submitted your resume to NASA, then? SpaceX? ULA? That other rich guy? They have peeps who are paid to do exactly that.

@sevenperforce: maf make brain hurt!

The downtime is due to the USAF closing the entire eastern range for maintenance, nothing SpaceX can do about it. Hopefully they'll put it to good use. Also, I wonder if maybe the Air Force is taking steps to integrate that new automated FTS system that promises quicker turn arounds...

Next chapter is off to editing, with the understanding that it might be a bit. Chapter 2 is well underway and should follow much more quickly.

Year 6, day 86... The day came sooner than I expected. I had to tell Vlad to put poor Lodvin down. Why Vlad was carrying him around, I'm still not sure, and Lodvin didn't actually seem to mind, but there's just something not right with that boy. Lodvin is pretty strange, too. But anyways, the big day has finally come! Time to slip the surly bonds of Gael and take our first steps toward another world! IOTA-DUMMY 1 TRITI - NEGY - PETER Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a very large rock and hide under it.

Slight? It's more like 23 degrees. Which yes, is much cheaper with your apoapse as high as you can possibly get it. That's probably where much of the delta-V savings is coming from from the higher orbit. Also, due to LOX boiloff, batteries, and and comm limits, the F9 upper stage can't relight at GS altitude, so everything it's gotta give has to be given down low, and soon after liftoff.

Well, that sure went better than the last guy who tried it, at least in our universe. I know, I know, bad zombie post! No cookie!

What about cookies? Is SSTU gonna have cookies? I'd really like cookies...

Awwww man, I liked that lil' rover. Reminded me of WALL-E. ROV-E?

"Hi, Intelsat? This is Elon. I'm not sure how to tell you this, it seems our second stage was a bit peppier than we thought and we just sent your satellite to the Moon. But if you give Jeff Bezos a call he might want to buy it at a fair price."

Also, can we just get a round of grins for the fact that SpaceX just launched three rockets in twelve days? May not be a record, but it's the first time it's happened in my useful memory at least. Which is, admittedly, rather short, despite being an old... er, what was I saying?

Re: that "flimsy" paper-thin engine bell: There's a long metal dingus that goes up inside the second stage engine, possibly a separation pusher someone said. Seems likely to damage that fragile engine bell if there were a torque on the booster at exactly the wrong moment during staging. If the bell did get torn, what would realistically happen? Would it rip itself apart or could the upper stage potentially limp into space?

Aaaaand right here is where I run out of likes for the day.

Aaaaaand of course, this time I missed it. Curse you, Seattle traffic!!! I would have said that anyway today, but still.