CatastrophicFailure

Ah, @Shania_L, destroying the Mün, one bit at a time! And not-wings that stick out of the fairing? Brilliant! Now that's how you think outside the box. Also, second from the last photo, how'd you make up that antenna? Looks like a telescoping 88-88?

Dragon is now the sixth spacecraft docked to the station... so are there two Progresses as well? Cygnus, pair of Soyuz's, at least one Progress...? --------- Interesting, was not aware of this. That certainly explains the snippiness between the two.

Random question if anyone's calculated it before: in 64k, what is the density of Kerbin, and how does that compare to Earth?

Wait, what? All stock? How that work??

Thanks for the update. We went out last night to wach the ISS pass over, and sure enuf there was the lil bitty Dragon dot chasing after it! Wait, west? How far out was it in the first place? And why is it in the Gulf now?

The details continue to click into place just as they're needed, while the big stuff is slowly resolving its self like a Cindy Margolis gif circa 1997 Oh dear. Oh dear dear. It seems, in my haste, I have made a horrible omission. ...or have I? naw, I just hate pickles. Exactly the question I want y'all to be asking right now.

I've been playing around with VTOL's lately. Gregford's the only guy in the group. For propriety, guess he'll have to go sleep in the rickety, dilapidated control tower. The control tower with the light on despite there being no power... Sleep well, Gregford.

Heh, good eye. In for a penny, in for a pound I s'pose. Or perhaps highly specialized custom made broken fairing lifting straps?

They're also extremely lightweight, with a huge mass-to-surface-area ratio, so once they hit air they decelerate very quickly, on the order of dozens of G's, I would assume, before they get a chance to heat up. They cost well over a million each, I think... recovery systems probably on the order of a few thousand, maybe tens of thousands for "rocket rated" stuff. But much of the advantage might simply be in speeding the turnaround between launches. Reusing a fairing is likely quicker than making a new one. For reference, here's a recovered one. Damage came from water impact. Note the lack of scorch marks on the paint (They're carbon fiber so are naturally black).

Chapter 51: The Cheeseburger Valentina made her way down through the halls of the Kerbonaut complex, eyes wide and unseeing. Or, perhaps, seeing again and again. She wandered into the cafeteria, plodded through the slow moving line, past banks of heat lamps watching over red-tinged, foil-wrapped food. That, at least seemed to be universal. She distantly wondered if institutional cafeterias were the same the world over. The dishes might be different, but-- Actually they might not be. Generic, carelessly prepared meals gradually lost distinction the longer they sat. Maybe this all had once been Cosmodrome borscht... or would be in the future. A vast conspiracy of comestibles, reaching to the highest levels! Maybe even-- Valentina let out a long breath. ЬЯЗZHЙЭVS SHФЗ, she really was hungry! Something plopped onto her tray. A foiled lump and side of the ubiquitous soggy deep-fried potato slices that came with every meal. She frowned, looked up... and started back a step. This scowling lunch lady could give the Imperium themselves lessons on facial hair. Just one mole could give them lessons on facial hair! Valentina smiled awkwardly, took her tray, and slinked out. She found a seat at a long table off in the corner. The room was quite empty, most people seemed to have battened down in their own quarters for the duration of the storm. That was logical, she thought, as she watched an errant frog hop across the floor. At least the windows were amphibian proof. She poked at the lump on her tray again, half expecting it to poke back. What had the tag said it was again? "You look like you've seen a ghost." The sudden voice made her jump as if she had more than seen. Valentina blinked, "mister Jerdous? You do not look so well yourself..." "Haven't been sleeping," he sighed, "plus, I took a frog to the face earlier and that just sort of spoils your whole day." He glared at the one on the floor. It waggled its gullet defiantly. Indeed, he looked quite pale, with dark bags under his eyes Valentina hadn't noticed before. She motioned to the seat next to her. Jerdous smiled and sat with his own tray, "so what's your excuse?" "Bad dreams. And also, golf balls. Is very strange weather here." "Been pretty mild this winter, actually," he shrugged, "last year was pretty bad, it rained jellyfish at one point. I'd happily take the frog, instead. I've heard it's rained sharks before, too, but that just sounds ridiculous." She gaped at him, then frowned, "now, you are making fun of me." "Honest truth," he returned, raising a hand, "I can personally guarantee the jellyfish." Then he shuddered. "How is even possible?! Frogs? Sharks falling from sky? Sound like bad movie." She thought for a moment, "very bad movie." "Perfectly rational explanation," winked Jerdous, "these big storms tend to spawn funnel clouds. They suck up whatever they touch and dump it somewhere else." He watched the frog on the floor hurk up a golf ball, which bounced away down the aisle. "Hmm, this one must have passed over the golf course next to the swamp." Valentina put a hand to her face, "why you no launch weather satellite to monitor such storm?" "We tried," Jerdous said sheepishly, "they blew up." A subtle tremor in the floor announced yet another breakthrough at the research center. "You have many things blow up here," Valentina frowned. "Can't argue that point," Jerdous sighed, looking more tired than ever, "now even my flight's in jeopardy." "What? Yours? Since when? Is only few weeks from now." "Couple of days," he shrugged, "neither rain nor sleet nor batrachian air assault will keep the Board from its meetings. A couple of them have completely lost faith in Rockomax, more will probably follow. With no replacement for the Orbit capsules, there's rumblings they might shut the whole thing down." She turned to him, "you were once at, how you say? Cutting edge. Only months ago. Why all this now?" Jerdous leaned back, stretched at a knot in his shoulder, "I wish I knew. We have a replacement ship, even if DUOS is just a small step. Not much life to it in the best case, crew of two, three or four days' endurance, already obsolete thanks to you folks. There's three of them sitting in storage, flight test articles. But Rockomax can't come through with a booster." "Well..." She thought for a moment, "um, pragmatically, are there no other options?" His eyes flicked to her, "Layland keeps pushing their products. And the Board is finally starting to listen. It's..." He sighed, "complicated." "Much here is, it seems," Valentina said softly, "in my country, things are simple." Jerdous eyed her again, nodding, "there's a lot of sentiment involved. Loyalty to Rockomax, if you could call it that. And resistance to Layland." "Politics?" She asked. "Politics," he spat. "I hate politics!" they said together, and laughed. The two sat in silence for a time, considering their trays of institutional fortitude, the world moving obliviously around them. "Aaaaaah! I slipped on a golf ball!" <thud> Jerdous rubbed his bulging, red-rimmed eyes, then moved on to his temples. "You really do not look well," Valentina observed, "perhaps you should see doctor?" "Oh, I'll be fine," he said, with just a bit too much effort, "the darkness makes it worse. The weather will clear up in a day or two, and I'll be right as--" He glanced at the frog, "er, better. Just tired. I have nightmares a lot. The golf balls don't help." He moved his jaw in wide circles, as if trying to make his ears pop. "Indeed, I do know what you mean. The bad dreams, they come to me, too. Old memories, things long past," she tried to give a comforting look, "what troubles you so?" "You know," he chuckled, "as a scientist you're always supposed to have a sort of detachment, not let your work get personal. You once said I study dead people. Well, that does put a certain light on it." He turned, and suddenly looked into her eyes with great intensity, "tell me... do you... have you... ever felt like you've been privy to something no one else knows? No one else in the world?" With effort, Valentina kept her face neutral, wondering if he had noticed the slight widening of her own eyes, "what... do you mean?" Jerdous turned away, looked down at the table, but she thought he wasn't seeing anything at all, now, "like... a secret. Something deep, even arcane. Do you know what I mean?" The Münstone grew cold once more, but Valentina didn't notice. Could he know? The voice... the feeling... the not-rightness... No, no, surely she was misinterpreting. Missing something in the translation, that must be it. Jerdous continued, almost trance-like, "as an anthropologist, you're supposed to be detached, objective. You read some awful things, but you just chalk it up to a primitive society's tool for coping with what they can't understand." "Ribbit," said the frog, as it hopped obliviously along the floor. "You don't talk about it, not if you want get past your first fellowship. Not if you want any respect in the field. But... some part of you... always wonders..." His eyes were glassy, unblinking, staring through the table... the floor... the globe.., "wonder. Curiosity. You have to have those, comes with the territory, part of the job, but always kept in check. But... what if... one of those long dead people was right? Their dreams, their fears... what if some of it might be true? In digging after them, what if you've dug too deep yourself... and found the Balrog?" "M... mister Jerdous?" Valentina said, growing unease enveloping her like a shadow. Slowly, she reached out a hand. "I've seen... so many things... so many things, now... I've seen... I've seen..." "...mister..?" "...One culture..." he stared obliviously as a tear slipped down his cheek, "they believe, if you ever saw the real face of the Creator, you would surely die. But... what if the opposite is true? What if you saw the real face of the Devourer... and wanted to die..." Then he turned to her with hollow, desolate eyes, "...but couldn't?" "...Jerdous?" Her hand touched his shoulder; as if burned, he recoiled and screamed, drawing stern looks from the sparse spattering of other diners. His head jerked this way and that, gasping, his uncomprehending, panicked eyes seemed to be seeking... For a moment, they fell on Valentina, and he drew back again in fear, then his countenance suddenly shifted. "Hah! Hahahah!" A forced smile split his face, "really had you there for a moment, hahah! Just some architect humor for you there, hahah. Anthropologist. Hah. Hahah!" He ran his hands over his sweat-streaked face, burying it in them for a moment, "hah... hahah...hahahohboyI'vegottagetsomesleephahah... hah..." Valentina narrowed her eyes, "are you... all right?" "Who, me? Never better!" He exclaimed with that same strained grin, "just tired, that's all. Hahah. Never do well when I don't sleep. Hah." His eyes darted around, "oh, hey! You haven't even touched your food! Better eat up before it gets cold." Then flatly, "not that it would detract from it that much." Valentina looked at him a moment longer, then sighed. Her belly grumbled in agreement. She really was quite hungry. Must be throwing her perceptions off. After all, she'd seen also just seen a singing-- She shuddered, and turned to her plate. Hmm. A stubby finger poked at the foil. Cautiously, she peeled it open, alert for any sign of resistance. Curious. Some sort of sandwich. Ok. She gingerly peeled back the layers one by one. Bread, stale. Covered in some kind of seeds. Not that unusual. Ketchup and mustard. Fair enough, they put ketchup and mustard on everything here. She was starting to gain a taste for the stuff. Squishy, uneven tomato slice. Far past its prime, but not that bad. You could get tomatoes back home even, if you knew the right people. Lettuce, limp. Not unexpected on a sandwich. But now... what's this? What is this? Under a slice of semicongealed cheese so rubbery it could be used for tire tread was a flat lump of... Sausage? Squashed meatball? She poked at it hesitantly again, "what is...? "It's a cheeseburger," came Jerdous's flat response. Valentina gave him a sidelong look, then picked the 'cheeseburger' up. Well, it certainly wasn't borscht, or even onna stick, but it couldn't really be that bad, could it? Deciding the risk was preferable to further hunger-driven visions, she closed her eyes, took a bite... And instantly, visions exploded across her mind! Grand, sweeping vistas of... of... a white-headed bird of prey soaring over pale yellow fields of wheat! Spacious skies and majestic purple mountains towering over fruited plains! And.... and.... She chewed some more... A... guy with false teeth... and a really bad wig... <chew> standing in the front of a boat... while his <chew chew> buddies row him across the river... in winter? <chew> No, late fall... Valentina's brow pinched. This was certainly an odd and very... specific vision... But she shrugged, and kept on chewing. It distracted her from thinking about what she had just seen in Jerdous's eyes. Mmmmmm, cheeseburger!

There's a certain "might as well"-ness to the whole fairing recovery thing, since they already do survive re-entry and even splashdown for the most part. No shielding necessary, just a simple, lightweight cold gas RCS tank, maybe off-the-shelf parachute. Also, I finally got home & got a chance to check out all the footage on a decent screen. Well done, SpaceX, well done. Now hurry up & make it boring.

So no more plans to use a re-used booster for the flight abort test?

Yup, same here. After today, I wonder how many others will be... ( •_•) ( •_•)>⌐■-■ (⌐■_■) ...on the same boat!

Well in all fairness, you are a mad rocket scientist. Now to clean out a couple hundred forum emails...

Naw, if anything they're going more Kerbal. They'll start crashing things on other planets now.

And now to await the day when the above is so commonplace no one cares anymore.

That looked pretty iffy for a moment there

They did it? THEY DID IT!

You would jiggle too, under the same conditions. Breifly.

Lookit dat view of the cape dropping below

GO GO GO GO!

Oooooooo love dem airbags! Dey bounce like <insert sufficiently bouncy celebrity>!

better acronym decoding than me, Google just sent me back to this page. And thanks. We are always our own toughest critic, but I remain convinced I have somehow channeled some tiny speck of the late Terry Pratchett. the "ch" indicates a Greek origin, I think, but according to my autocorrect, you are correct. Im on a new work schedule now that looks like I'll have a lot more time during the day. Next chapter should be up tomorrow. Maybe.

SOP for a space station launch.