CatastrophicFailure

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So I just came across this article, that apparently Musk wants to send people to Mars in 2024! Now, unapologetic SpaceX fanboy that I am, I think that might be just a tiny bit... optimistic. Unless, as THIS article from the comments half-heartedly speculates, the person Elon will send to Mars in 2024 is... himself! It's interesting scenario to think on, if nothing else...

Wow. That thing came back extra crispy, all right. It looks like there's a pretty substantial lip around the landing surface. Maybe they figured the risk of it "walking" off the edge was pretty minimal.

---spent last hour typing out hilarious new update, bumped backspace at wrong time--

Body lift FTW. How much does that thing weigh empty? It's got no shortage of fuel, perhaps some stub wings and a lightweight jet and you could drop it right on the space center.

Twist, me? Naw, HarvesteR has me WAY beat right now, unfortunately.

Kerbaldom needs more slick black rockets. but where are the fuel tanks on that ascent module?

Chapter 61: Crash and Burn Scattered clouds dotted a vivid blue sky beneath a sweltering sun. A drop of sweat slid from the band of Valentina's wide-brimmed hat and down her neck, but she took no notice. She stood stiffly, motionlessly, fingertips touched lightly to the edge of that wide brim. She stood in a line with others, but took no notice of them, either. A few dozen people stood around a hole in the ground, surrounded by rolling, verdant hills dotted with white headstones in a mirror of the clouds overhead. Suspended over the hole rested the coffin. It was more of a formality, really. The fire had burned down to smoldering coals before the water tanker arrived. They had found just enough to be... sure. It was empty; there was no medal. No life gallantly lost in the pursuit of space, no blaze of glory breaching the unknown, just a horrible, unfortunate accident. That's what they said. The 4000 SUX was tricky at high speeds, they said. The weight of those four turboshaft engines in the back made it squirrelly, they said. Never touched his brakes, they said... The bureaucrat had just finished his speech, some nonsense about duty and courage. Duty and courage, and sad misfortune. But not duty enough to get Donald's name right, she had noted, as the functionary stumbled through his notes. With the nuisance over, he retreated to a waiting car, which did not linger as the honor guard approached the casket. They moved stiffly, mechanically, with faces like stone. Three of them took position, in their spotless white gloves and perfectly pressed tunics, raising rifles over the flag-draped vessel. At a command, three volleys of shots shattered the stagnant tropical air. Valentina jumped at each one. It was over in an instant, they said. Those four huge engines crushed the passenger compartment, they said. Folded the roof into the floor like plastic, they said. The riflemen retreated, and a single bugler stepped forward. On a brilliantly polished horn, he blew a tune she didn't know, slow and soulful like the breaking of a heart. Over in an instant, they said. Those noises, those horrible noises, just escaping gasses and melting plastic, they said. Certainly not screams, they said, no, certainly not that. When the bugler finished, he was replaced by Chadvey, dressed in garb that at any other time might have seemed absurd, but today seemed only fitting. His face looked deflated and stark, drained of its familiar mirth. Under his arm was an instrument the likes of which Valentina had never seen, its droning sound like sadness personified even as he played a joyful hymn. Just an accident, an unfortunate accident they said. Rumors that he was driving erratically moments before, well those just couldn't be true, they said. Like those that said he was despondent over something that happened earlier, they said. Never touched his brakes, they said. The guard surrounded the casket, lifting the colorful banner of Kleptogart from it and folding it with precise, mechanical motions. Now a perfect triangle, it was handed to the leading officer. D.N. Kerman was rude, egotistical, and vain. How could anyone like someone like that, how could anyone? Valentina remembered the thought plodding through her mind as she watched the officer kneel before a Kerbelle in a black veil, and hand her the flag. She struggled to accept it with the squirming Kerbling on her lap clinging so tightly to her dress, its tiny eyes wide and fearful and utterly uncomprehending. Yes, how could anyone... The memory dug into Valentina like torn and jagged metal. The officer stood, and saluted, before the honor guard withdrew. Now Gene made his way to the podium, moving slowly. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken. He looked decades older. No, he looked like a corpse. He stood there before the microphone, not quite looking up, his hands braced against the wood as if to steady himself. In the east, a noise arose. It built like thunder before a storm, rumbling, roaring. Five aircraft came into view: the dark, dagger-like shape of the Widowmaker leading an echelon of sleek fighter aircraft. As they passed over the gathered, the Widowmaker abruptly pulled up, shooting skyward like a rocket until it disappeared into a cloud. At the podium, Gene waited until the other aircraft had passed and disappeared over the far horizon, before he began to speak, his voice a taught thread about to break. "Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings..." *** Valentina jerked awake from the nightmare, a scream in her throat as her hands pawed at her neck. Her shoulders heaved as breath came in great, ragged gasps. Cold sweat plastered her hair to her face, her once smartly-pressed uniform now a disheveled, sodden mess. Still panting, she stared at her trembling hands in the darkness. So real... it had seemed so real... The clock on the table read just after midnight. The funeral had concluded hours ago, she must have fallen right into bed when she returned. She took several moments to catch her breath before leaning over to pick her hat up off the floor. She frowned. Must have stepped on it, too. That wouldn't be simple to fix. Valentina set the hat on the table and stripped out of her rumpled uniform. At least the dry cleaning was competent enough here. She stepped to the mirror over her room's small sink, flicked on the light, saw her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and pale skin. Death warmed over, that's what they said here. Fitting enough. She felt like she'd been trapped in nightmares for hours. She splashed cool water over her face, sending chills down her spine in a delightfully refreshing way. Her hair was soaked through with sweat, thick and oily. A long shower would be welcome right now, and-- She sniffed. Sniffed again. A familiar, acrid smell seemed to be creeping into the room. Cautiously, she reached to the doorknob, and pulled it open slightly... Thick, grainy smoke roiled in and began spreading over the ceiling like a black tide. Fire! Not thinking, Valentina grabbed a towel from the rack and pressed it over her mouth as she bolted into the hall. "Fire!" She screamed, "there is fire!" She slammed the heel of her fist against the first door she found, smoke churning all along the ceiling just above her head, "fire!" Her lungs heaved with every caustic breath, drawing the the odor deep into her chest. She pressed the rag harder over her mouth, coughing against it. "Fire!" She went down the row of doors, pounding on each one. Smoke boiled and billowed. Nothing made a sound in the shadowy hall. That smell... she could feel it, taste it in her throat. Like kerosene and... meat. "FIRE!" At last she came to the alarm, and yanked down the handle. Nothing. No sound. No lights. Nothing changed but the swirling smoke above. Valentina crossed to the other door, slammed her hand against it... and recoiled. Warm. Warm to the touch. Her eyes fell on the nameplate in the center. D.N. Kerman No... She knew it was coming, she knew it, and then it did... that thin, reedy cry of anguish from the other side. No...! Letting the rag drop from her face, coughing and retching, she sprinted back to the extinguisher case. She pulled at the door but it wouldn't budge. Tore at it again. Nothing. Sobbing in frustration, she slammed her fist against it. Glass, bone, and skin broke. She ignored the pain, pulled the extinguisher from its mount. Moving back to the door, she braced herself, and slammed the metal cylinder against it. Thud. Thud! THUD! CRACK! The door flew open, the inferno beyond forcing Valentina back. She raised a hand against the heat, tried to see into the blaze... that noise... that scream... it only grew louder. She pulled the pin on the extinguisher, pointed it... but knew it wouldn't spray. Nothing happened as she squeezed the handle. Just... nothing. Beyond, in the sea of flames, a shape arose. Twisted and broken, it moved with a halting, spasmic gait. It reached for her with a skeletal hand that rained blobs of melting flesh. "Burn..." No... "Burn!" "No!" "You let me... burn!" "I... I didn't... I couldn't..." "Flames around me! Flames! Nothing but flames! Burning my flesh!" Back into the hall she cowered as the abomination reached for her, and found an old, familiar nightmare waiting there too. "I burned... I buuuuuurned! I burned because of you!" "No... please..." "I buuuuuuuuurned!" "Go away!" "You made me burn!" "You let me burn!" "NOOOO!" She backed down the hall, hands raised in futile defense. Each pair of doors she passed swung open, more grotesque, fiery horrors spilling out, reaching, accusing, condemning... "Buuuuuurn!" "BUUUUUUUUUURN!" "We all burn!" Valentina turned to flee, but found only the clouded, glassy eyes of the Dead Girl before her. "Do not think on such things too hard. You may not like what it is you find," blood burbled from the ruined neck with each word, as cold hands closed around her own. *** Valentina jerked awake from the nightmare, a scream in her throat as her hands pawed at her neck. Her shoulders heaved as breath came in great, ragged gasps. Cold sweat plastered her hair to her face, her once smartly-pressed uniform now a disheveled, sodden mess. Still panting, she stared at her trembling hands in the darkness. So real... it had seemed so real... The clock on the table read just after midnight. Picking her hat up from the floor, she set it on the table and stripped out of her rumpled uniform. She stepped to the mirror over her room's small sink, flicked on the light, and saw Jerdous behind her, grinning fiercely as he dragged the knife across her neck. *** Valentina jerked awake, gagging, clawing at her throat, icy fire tearing at her skin. She pulled and yanked, feeling the cold burn on her fingers, the back of her neck, but the chain refused to break. She screamed with effort, pulled the Münstone over her head and threw it across the bed. Panting, she could only stare in awe, one hand feeling the cold, frostbitten line below her chin. The glow was slowly fading from the stone, and frozen sweat covered the metal chain, whisps of vapor trailing off of it. Any further thought was instantly halted when a spike of bright, searing pain and insistent pressure knifed into her mind. It was all she could do to press her hands against her head and scream at the invasion of something... other. HIDE BEHIND YOUR TRINKETS IF YOU WILL. I AM THE LORD OF THE NIGHT, YOUR DREAMS WILL ALWAYS BELONG TO ME! As quickly as it arrived, the pain vanished, leaving Valentina sobbing with exhaustion. Nearby, crimson light flooded in from the window, and the clock showed just before sunset.

Or just paint the rocket black.

And I'm out of likes. Beat me to it.

Clouds, I'm guessing. Or they accidentally launched retrograde.

And then the fun of clearing your email inbox of a couple hundred reply notifications...

Is it just me or did the second stage seem to drift waaaaay off attitude before it ignited?

Stuck in a doctors office with kidney stones. Watching anyway.

You see, Ivan, when astronaut sit on lap is half mass and twice fun! no but seriously, um.... Where is your VAB in that last one??

It's not just on the forum, I've seen the same odd behavior on videos posted on the dev blog page. Seems Safari-related.

You all think you know the Kraken. You have not BEGUN to know the Kraken! To know the Kraken, is to know madness. But I will say: Autocorrect. The only thing in reality more insidious than the Kraken. (to know this is ALSO to know madness.)

I watched this video on my iPad, at first. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why the heck you posted it, especially after some discussions here & on the other SpaceX thread. Then I pulled the thread up on my PC, and had a good laugh. For some reason, HERE is the video I was seeing on mobile.

Kerfucius say: Every Kerb wrestle with own Kraken. Every Kerb win, and, every Kerb loose.

Perhaps wise to let actual crewmen sit this part out...

Chapter 60: Girl, On Fire "You don't have to do this." "Yes. Yes, I do." "There are other ways..." "Time grows short." "You have diplomatic immunity. You don't have to do it our way." "This is why I must do it your way." "Their judgement is final, and strict. Your status won't help you. Once you go in there... I can't help you anymore, either." "I understand." "I wish you would reconsider." "I have. Have considered much. Sacrifice... must be made." "They're ready for you, now," said a large, gruff-looking Kerbal in a crisp uniform. Gene pursed his lips as he held out a hand, "you're a brave Kerbelle, Valentina Kermanova. Good luck. One way or another, I'll see you on the other side." She smiled and shook his hand. His grip felt weak and sickly. But that was a concern for later. For now... Valentina squinted against the light beyond, and stepped forward... ...the assault began immediately. A thundering rush of screams, whistles, and cat-calls. The cold sweat of a moment before became flowing rivulets as the harsh spotlights seemed to burn her flesh. She crept out, half blind, raising a hand against the glare. "That's right, ladies and germs... you know what time it is!" Boom-boom thud. Boom-boom thud. Boom-boom thud. Boom-boom thud. The percussion beat at Valentina like blast waves. In front, she could just make out a couple of onlookers slapping bottles against their open palms in time to the beat. Trial by fire! Trial by fire! Trial by fire! Trial by fire! Trial by fire! Had... had it been this loud before? She could feel the sound pushing her back like a physical thing. It was like leaning into a hurricane. "Our victim tonight needs noooooooooo introduction... but I'ma do it anyway!" The chant shattered into a thousand, thousand screaming, calling voices. "All the way Kermangrad, Ussari, put your hands together for Valentina Kermanova!" Louder, ever louder the uproar grew. Whistles, shrieks, and some things that sounded quite crude even if she had no idea what the words meant. With hands that felt weak and trembling like Gene's only moments before, she took the microphone from its stand, nearly dropping it. She had faced down plenty of things that could kill her. There had been no fear then. Once you were dead, it was over with. She had faced clicking cameras and obnoxious reporters, even cheering crowds, but nothing... nothing could stand to this. It took a conscious effort to keep her knees from knocking together. Her bladder felt suddenly full. Maybe she should have skipped that last-- At once, the noise died away. PЦTIЙ, that's the cue! Valentina lifted a microphone that felt like lead... and began to whistle... *** The last few notes rang to silence, Valentina held her own a breath longer. A drop of sweat rolled into her eye, stinging like fire. That infuriating bit of hair was plastered to the skin between them. Yet despite her sopping face, her mouth felt like she'd been eating crackers and sand. Her throat was a desiccated waste, her larynx a little ball of pure pain. Shoulders heaving, her arm dropped away, the microphone barely remaining in her grip. If it were lead before, it was something far heavier now. Degenerate matter, perhaps. If her mind were still capable of conscious thought, it would have been amazed she was still upright. Beyond the stage, hundreds of pairs of unblinking eyes bore down upon her. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. Only tiny motes of dust danced back and forth in the blinding glare of the lights. Heart pounding in her ears, Valentina could only stand there as time stretched on, and await the inevitable. Someone in the back coughed. Someone sniffed. So did someone else. "That..." said a fragile voice in the front row. "That was bloody brilliant." "Hell yeah it was," said another. "Mate!" "Bro!" "Let's never quarrel again!" "I love you, man!" Two Kerbals in the front embraced, and the crowd... well, to say it exploded would be like saying the sun's nuclear fire was warm. The wave of cheers would have blown Valentina clear off her feet and some distance backstage if they had not rushed the stage at the very same time. She found herself hoisted on shoulders to whoops and whistles, applause and exaltations. All around the bar-goers hugged, or shook or slapped hands, all to cries of-- "Peace!" "Love!" "Understanding!" "Free drinks!" The hullabaloo instantly stopped, and all eyes turned to Ol' Sam... "Not bloody likely, yah cheap bunch o' reprobates!" The crowd let out a collective "awwwwwwww" before returning to their revelry. A thought fought for attention in Valentina's mind, but was constantly shoved out of the way as she tried with only moderate success to avoid the decorations hanging from the ceiling. A new chant slowly emerged from the fray... One of us! One of us! One of us! One of us! The celebrations of new-found fraternity continued long into the night, which was a bit odd as everyone generally got on pretty well even before then. No one would say it out loud, if they acknowledged the thought at all, but an excuse to party seemed quite welcome just at the moment. *** Some time later, Valentina stumbled out into the cool night air, while the noises of carousel continued inside. She bounded along, occasionally skipping and twirling, feeling very much unlike herself. She wondered for the umpteenth time what it was Ol' Sam put in those drinks. She felt fuzzy and light and so very much alive. A thick full Mün hung low in the sky, bloated and pallid and casting a sickly pale light. Valentina paused to stick her tongue out at it. No, not even the Mün could spoil her mood tonight! She did it! She finally did it! One of us.... Valentina trotted along, not really caring where she was going, a long, disfigured shadow trailing out beside her. She had faced the Foreigners on their own terms, and won their respect. She left the bar not as an exotic outsider, but as one of us... ...right? And best of all, she had finally stuck it to that obnoxious PЦTIЙSКI Dean, and-- Donald. She stopped. His name was Donald. Why did everyone call him Dean? She trotted on again. They probably just didn't like him. Not that she could blame them, how could anyone like someone like-- She stopped again. Only... that wasn't right... was it? Valentina moved on, with perhaps a bit less trot in her step. She wouldn't let the odd thoughts spoil her mood. She felt on top of the world! That was quite the odd phrase, really. She'd grown up not that far from the top of the world. It was all ice and snow and whumpers up there, hardly seemed like the place a happy person would want to be. Anyway, Dean- Donald- was stubborn enough, he'd get over this. And besides, her time here was growing short now. She needed to think of some gifts. Wouldn't do to be a rude guest, if maybe she could return some day. She might have to make a few phone calls, and-- Some distance away, just past the east fence, a police VTOL streaked by, lights on and siren screaming. Hmmm. That wasn't good. That was never good. That meant someone was having a bad night. She hoped it got better for them, whoever they were. No one should be having a bad night, not tonight. Yes, it would be all right. These were strong people. Stubborn, and strange, but strong. They would find a way to keep this space program going. All those tankers, after all. Must be a need. What else ran on propellium? Not all these ridiculous kars, they just used standard jet fuel. If not for the space program, why else-- A sudden rush nearly knocked her off her feet. A fire department VTOL shrieked past just overhead, flanked by two more police cruisers. For a moment, brilliant red strobes cast twisted shadows on the ground. That... certainly wasn't good. Maybe just something minor, a kitten in a tree perhaps? Or maybe-- Something else nearly knocked her over, or rather someone. Valentina watched the dark figure sprint in the direction of the emergency vehicles. A night breeze caught her neck just so, sending a chill down her spine. Yes, that was all... just a breeze... certainly not the rising cloud of inky black smoke in the distance, silhouetted by the Mün and lit from below by a deep orange glow. Another person ran past, then another and another. A vast stampede of bodies swept Valentina off her feet, carried her along amidst cries and yells. What happened? Where? Just outside the fence! It's a fire! No, an, explosion! No, a crash! How? Who? The throng broke against the perimeter fence like a vast wave, somehow depositing Valentina at the very front. All around people jockeyed for position, crushed her as the fence groaned in protest. An ashen-faced police officer, his face streaked with soot, tried impotently to wave the crowd back, "go on, back up! You'll take the whole fence down, there's razor wire up there!" His voice was weak and breaking. Valentina tried to push back, make a space for herself, bathed in infernal crimson light. Not far away, one of the stunted, ubiquitous palm trees that surrounded the space center was ablaze. Thick, oily smoke rose up from it, flames danced around its waving fronds. There, at the base, a twisted form embraced the trunk like a lover. A trail of ruin led from it back to a curve in the perimeter road. Valentina could feel the heat searing her skin. From somewhere, a sound, thin and reedy like... like a... "Why don't they do something? Why are they just standing around?!" The firefighters seemed to mill about aimlessly. Two of them half dragged one of their comrades back, a large extinguisher in his hands. Turning away from the conflagration, he threw it angrily to the ground where it bounced with a hollow ring. The police officer raised placating hands to the crowd, "move back, you lot! Off the fence!" Wide, darting eyes betrayed mounting panic beneath. "Why don't they DO something?!" "Th... there's no hydrant out here! The tanker apparatus is on its way, but they're having trouble--" "Do something!" "DO something!" He began to shrink back, looking this way and that as if about to flee from the throng. "Randall! Randall, it's me, Fredsby!" Yelled someone next to Valentina, as he tried to reach a hand though the fence, "c'mon, Kerb, you know me! Our kerblings to to school together!" "...know?" confusion flashed in Randall's face, then he and everyone else jumped as another gout of fire erupted from the wreckage, sending bits of flaming metal high into the air. The inferno roared like a thing alive, boasting, gloating. It roared... and whispered... "Randall, what happened?" Screamed Fredsby. "Yeah, what happened?!" "Tell us!" "Tell us!" That horrible, horrible thin reedy sound droned on again. All around, people clasped hands to their ears to block it out. Then a loud crack, and another. Orange-white sparks exploded into the night air, carried upward by the breath of the pyre, as the base of the tree ripped in half. With a slow, guttural creaking, the blazing palm toppled over and smashed into the burning hulk beneath it, scattering fiery debris all around. Demonic shadows danced and writhed and cavorted from the perverted light. Randall lifted his face from where he'd been hiding it in his hands, smeared with ash and soot and sweat and tears. "It's Dean," he croaked. "Dean's dead."

Yes. Well with all these stones flying about, we have met someone who does live in a glass house... shhhhh... was hoping to get this next chapter up much sooner, but life conspired against me. Should be going up once I get home, now. Just filler & fluff and absolutely nothing integral to the plot...

How'd you connect both "frame rails" to the rear mk2 parts? Also, what contract mod?

Also handy for automatic ullage when staging, if you remember to turn RCS on. That rocket comparison is awesome! Did you put that together yourself or is it part of KVV now?

Yup that's MechJeb, it will treat rear firing RCS as throttlable engines when RCS is activated but no other engines are. Quite useful as very-low-power propulsion for prescision orbit tweaking or conserving ignitions, or main power on tiny probes. You can turn it off under the "Smart RCS" MJ menu.