CatastrophicFailure

She'll be back What little German I learned in college is rapidly disappearing, but, with that particular bit, best if you just take it literally and assume it refers to a rapid schnitzel delivery method.

Chapter 43: Stranger in a Strange Land Valentina stood amidst a meandering, babbling throng of people, beneath a sweltering tropical sun, her hands clutching a half-empty water bottle to keep them from trembling. After many hours, the people seemed to have finally gotten their fill of her, and were now milling about aimlessly, pointing and staring at the various sights around the Space Center. A tremendous roar went up from the crowd as an aircraft thundered past overhead, its engines shaking the ground, a thin trail of white smoke following behind. It pulled up abruptly, pirouetting about its own axis several times before flying back the way it came, inverted. "Let's get a big round of applause for Kerbonaut Jorrigh Kerman demonstrating the Krünian-built Oskar EW-5894 Fleischgewehr advanced trainer!" An announcer echoed over the loudspeakers, "but keep your cameras out, folks, we've got a big surprise coming up for you in just a few minutes!" The crowd obliged on both counts, Valentina just took a deep breath as another drop of sweat plopped into her left eye. How did these people live like this? Sure, people grumbled about the humid Ussari summers but that was nothing like this! She hadn't stopped sweating since she'd arrived, even with seemingly every building of any size having air conditioning. Which was also strange. And this sun... she could feel it searing her skin just standing here! Still... it hadn't been all bad, so far. Saying her goodbyes to Igor and Junior Lieutenant Kerman had gone fairly smoothly, even if the good Junior Lieutenant had looked as if he was about to jump ship and claim asylum for a moment. But ultimately, he had decided that several hours trapped in a confined space with an aerophobic behemoth was less daunting than pledging allegiance to a fruit-filled confection. Hmm, she was going to have to ask someone about that bit, too. The speakers echoed once more, "ladies and gentlekerbs, Kerblings of all ages! The Kerbal Space Administration is proud to bring you the shining pinnacle of aviation! Please turn your eyes skyward and welcome Captain D.N. Kerman flying the Layland L-1011 spaceplane!" A hush drew over the crowd. With everyone else, Valentina looked up, straining her keen eyes. Nothing to see but clouds and-- In an instant, something black and pointy flashed by silently overhead. The shockwave came a moment later, scattering anything not held tightly and nearly lifting Valentina clear off the ground. "How 'bout that sonic boom!" The announcer gushed. Valentina was holding her head, wondering if she had permanent hearing damage now. Bizarrely, the rest of the crowd just seemed amused. The dark, vaguely triangular shape shot up into the sky at an incredible rate of speed, long bluish trails of fire spitting from its engines. "This cutting edge design from the good folks at Layland Heavy Industries has already distinguished its self as the fastest aircraft ever made, and the first to fly into space and return in one piece. Mostly. Watch Captain D.N. as he makes a low pass over the water!" Straining to see over the other people, Valentina raised up on the tips of her toes but could see nothing but necks and hair. Was this the new KSA spacecraft? That didn't seem likely, they weren't exactly being secretive about it. "Lookit that rooster tail! The L-1011's afterburning propellium engines can send it to the edge of space and beyond on their own, but this bird is packing one extra punch over the L-1010 model!" Again the sleek form raced upwards, then circled the Space Center and turned back for another pass over the crowd. Just as it flew over the launch pad, a tremendous explosion rocked the ground, Valentina could feel the heat from the blast on her face, then she saw the aircraft shoot skyward on a pillar of fire. "It's all perfectly safe, folks, the L-1011's hypergolic rocket engine runs on fuels that are nearly harmless to Kerbals!" Valentina put a hand to her face. These people really were quite mad. At least dinner last night had been... pleasant, if a bit awkward. It had been just her and the KSA Kerbonauts, the 'cargo,' as that obnoxious PЦTIЙSКI had put it. That gorgeous, dimpled PЦTIЙSКI. Being little more than cargo, that she could relate to. But there had been no mention of the incident, just pleasant conversation she'd only struggled a little to keep up with. Edmund had regaled them with thrilling tales of his time flying rescue missions for the Kleptogart Coast Guard. Jorrigh had spoken candidly about his own time in space, and once Valentina had begun comparing notes the exchange had quickly broken down into a bizarre hodgepodge of broken languages and emphatic hand gestures that amused everyone to no end. It had been an odd path from the deserts of Gerin to the Kerbal Space Center for Jerdous, as he had explained, and Burdous just spent most the time pouting, when he wasn't threatening people with a soup spoon, which was also odd. Speaking of soup, the meal had been quite pleasant, too. Some things had been familiar, some things not, but Valentina had eaten heartily. She hadn't the heart to tell the chef about the borscht, though, he had obviously tried very hard. But it just wasn't the same without beets. Finally, with a full belly and feeling quite optimistic, she had retired to a room that looked very much like her room back at the Cosmodrome, and slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted. And then today happened. Above, three aircraft shrieked by in tight formation while the announcer prattled on. Valentina was used to bureaucracy, the Union ran on it, but she had expected this place to be... different, somehow. Instead, it seemed like everyone needed her to sign something here! First was the immigration and customs paperwork, then nondisclosure agreements, safety wavers, and very formal diplomatic documents that used as many words as possible to say absolutely nothing. That was all well and good, but the people! It had started last night, just the odd request here or there, but today with the crowds it had come in a torrential wave after the speeches and ceremonies. They were all very polite about it, of course, but it had been long hours of slow moving lines. Everyone wanted her to sign something, pictures of herself, mostly, but also books with lots of other signatures, a myriad of merchandise from something called a 'gift shop,' and one very odd fellow who wanted her to sign his-- Valentina shuddered, despite the baking sun. She'd been sure to wash her hands very thoroughly after that. And burnt the pen. Now, the flow seemed to have ebbed, and she found herself mostly alone and unnoticed among this jostling crowd of sweaty bodies. This whole 'open house' affair was really quite strange, its self. All these people just wandering around the Space Center with almost no supervision! The more sensitive places were simply roped off, and there didn't seem to be any crowd control squads at all, just ordinary police officers zipping about in their strange little VTOL's. And with the near-constant barrage of high-performance aircraft streaking by overhead, she thought the whole thing must be some sort of thinly veiled display of martial prowess. The doors to the familiar-looking VAB stood open, and Burdous's rocket inside, well... it just looked quite tiny in the massive building. Valentina had never had a good look at any of the Foreigners' rockets before today, all the film she had seen was grainy or blurry. Seeing it now, the same design that had launched Sir Kerman and poor Edmund... she thought it might be the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Not at all like the sleek, modern Ussari rockets. It almost looked like it had been cobbled together from junk one might find lying by the side of the road. And why would they need such a huge building to support it? The KSA was also expanding, that's what someone had said. If the Kommissar wanted her to uncover information on a new and presumably larger spacecraft, it would presumably need a larger launcher as well, she supposed. But, from what else she'd heard, the KSA wasn't having much luck with that part at all. One thing they did seem to have no trouble with, was recruiting new Kerbonauts. The lower floors of their Kerbonaut Center had been practically crawling with young, slightly bewildered faces last night, while the top ones were nearly empty. It did seem like quite the production, but what could they be up to, being so far behind the Union in actual technology? In fact-- Something tugged on her pant leg. Valentina looked down into an enormous pair of bright, intense eyes. Hiding behind the eyes was a tiny face. "Aw you da thpathekerb?" Said the face. "Um..." Valentina mumbled, trying to translate. A tiny hand tugged on her pant leg again, "my bwudda's gonna be a thpathekerb." She didn't have much experience with Kerblings, how was she supposed to respond again? "Well... isn't that..." "'E gonna go up inna thpathe an bwing me back a Münwock." The face nodded very solemnly, "'e pwomithed." What was it one was supposed to do with children again? Give them candy or some such? The Kerblet seemed to be expecting some sort of response. Valentina was saved from any further contemplation of her complete lack of maternal instinct, however, as a voice rose over the din of the crowd. "Anna? Anna?!" The horde parted before her and a figure suddenly emerged, "Anastasia Kerman!" In a single fluid motion, the figure, who sported a towering cylindrical hairdo and gaudy cat eye sunglasses nearly as wide as it was tall, swooped the little Kerbling up into her arms, "how many times have I told you not to go wandering off like that, you little dickens!" She tickled the little one's belly eliciting a happy squeal. Valentina had thought it was perhaps a trick of perspective at first, but no, the child's eyes really were that large. She pointed a tiny finger at Valentina now. "Thpathekerb, mummy!" "Who? Oh. Oh! Oh!" The mother clapped the unoccupied hand to her cheek, "ohmigarsh it really is you! Oh my, oh my, such an honor miss Kermaniva!" Kermaniva? Valentina smiled warmly, and opened her mouth to reply, but the strange lady spun around and emitted a sound that could challenge a Converter in both volume and shrillness, "Herb? Herb?! Herb! Get over here! It's her!" "Coming dumpling," came a weak, placating voice. The crowd parted again and another figure emerged. Only a moment ago, Valentina had thought this lady's voice was the only thing that could rival a Converter for loudness, but this fellow's shirt would have far exceeded that, the grotesque jumble of colors likely would have burned the eyes right out of her sockets had it not been mostly covered by enough camera equipment to survey a small planet. "Yes, pumpkin?" The owner of the unfortunate shirt said. "Look, Herb, it's her, that Ooski spacekerb lady, get a picture!" She of the tall hair and hideous sunglasses pronounced in a slightly less shrill tone. "Well Illbedarned, so it is!" He raised the monstrosity around his neck, which revealed its self to be but a single camera sprouting lenses and flashes like black plastic tentacles, "say cheeeeeeeeeesedoodles!" The mother sidled up next to Valentina and held the child up between them. "Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesedoodles!" Valentina was never quite sure exactly what happened next. She thought she might have witnessed the birth of a new star or perhaps a the death of an old one. The entire world disappeared into brilliant, blinding light in a cacophony of clicks and pops. As the light faded, afterimages of strange colors and shapes remained burned into her retinas as the bizarre family continued their exchange oblivious to her blind groping. "Herb, have you seen the boys lately?" "Gosh, Schnookums, no, not since Ed said they they were going to take that load of bags from the gift shop back to their room." "Blah, all the way back to that Kerbonaut building? I 'spose we should we go find them, then, it's stickier than a RatSquirrelFish's tush out here, dontchaknow!" "Right you are, Loviedumplins!" "Come on sweetie, let's go find your big brother." "Biwwy!" The voices soon disappeared back into the greater bedlam, leaving Valentina to rub her aching eyes and contemplate her likely permanent blindness alone. Her eyesight returned in time, mostly, annoying electric floaters still persisting everywhere she looked. Somehow, she had blundered along to a large roped off area just in front of the VAB. A growing press behind her stalled any thought of going elsewhere, as the loudspeakers once again echoed to life. "We'd like to thank all you folks for coming out here today to welcome our incoming class of Kerbonauts and to see all that the KSC has to offer. For our grand finale, please give a warm round of applause for world-famous daredevil Ebil Kerneival performing his signature stunt: skydiving without a parachute!" Wait, what?! The crowd sent up a tremendous cheer as high above a small plane droned into view. As Valentina watched, a small, Kerbal-shaped form fell from it in a frilly white suit. A drumroll thudded out from the speakers, and the the cheer became a hush, the form plunging toward the heat-shimmers of the concrete below. Valentina stood transfixed, unable to look away from the tragedy about to unfold. The figure foundered, tumbled for a moment, then landed squarely on its helmeted head and bounced. She gasped. The white-clad figure landed again, and was still. Murmurs began to ripple through the spectators. Then the figure popped up and waved, albeit a bit unsteadily. "I'm ok!" It said in an equally unsteady voice, and the crowd exploded into cheers. "Never underestimate the impact tolerance of the Kerbal head! Ebil Kerneival, everyone! Thanks again for coming out to see us and everyone have a safe drive home!" Valentina stood in the roaring crowd, feeling quite dazed herself. These people weren't just mad, they were positively crazy!

Yup, worked like a charm, launched a 300 ton rocket with no issues, thanx!

Totally digging the mellow sciency blue there.

RE: Ch. 49, Lightning Whoah. That was kind of intense.

Beautiful, thank you. The RCS thing was just becoming a little too frustrating.

*patient encouragement intensifies* That seems odd that the forum keeps logging you out like that. Isn't there a "keep me logged in" option somewhere?

Quick question. I'm playing with the 64 bit hack, and one of the known bugs in an inability to upgrade facilities like the launch pad without hacking the save file. Sooooooo... how do I go about doing this with the extra launchpads that KCT now enables? I promise to dutifully deduct the cost from my funds while I'm hacking.

Ahhh, finally! The story is officially un-derped from the forum change and I've put up a proper chapter list. That was not fun.

I know I saw this somewhere in the thread recently, but I can't find it now. Is there someway to globally make RCS behave more like stock, re: fuel feed? Getting radial tanks to feed thrusters right is always a huge pain. Yes, I have crossfeed enabler.

Incredible, HOW did you figure out all the gravity assists & such? Now do it 64k

Psst...

Absolutely did not watch Hot Shots that day! Hmm I wonder...

Right, but what about your actual monitor? I run on a 32" TV at 1920x1080, and any higher resolution gives me a splitting headache. Curious how a pro does it. ETA: also, how are you dealing with the signal delay from RT when landing?

Question: with all this chatter about number of ullage motors and the "famous" footage @Felbourn mentioned of the third stage separating with 3 motors from an earlier launch, um... how did they actually GET that film? Doesn't look like TV and they certainly didn't recover the spent SI/SII stages.... Same goes for the interstage dropping away from Apollo 6, etc...

You too, eh? If you tap really carefully you can backspace the old quotes away, but you have to get the cursor on the same line. Going into Settings and clearing the cache/old browsing data works in the extreme too. It's even worse on phones. This forum software does not like iThings™.

Wow, cool to see a Creator of your level showcasing their "off the clock" stuff. Those are some tiny MechJeb windows, is your monitor huge or your eyes just that good?

Chapter 42: Diplomacy "This is a bit new for all of us, ma'am," Gene Kerman continued, smiling nervously, "the Board of Directors didn't give us much notice once they officially restarted the exchange program. We're still scrambling a bit, you see. I thought a small welcoming party like this might be less intimidating than a big public affair." They have many parties... Valentina hoped her smile didn't look as fragile as it felt. Say something! Say something, you fool! She'd had a speech... Spent half the fight memorizing it, struggling with the unfamiliar language, but she'd thought she'd had it down. Now it seemed to have vanished like her breath in this heat. She stared at Gene, trying to will her uncooperative mouth into motion. Gene stared at her. Igor stared at everyone. They stared back at him. Then her. Then him again. Some of the faces were scowling now. She thought she heard a cricket somewhere. But she didn't see-- Gene sighed, "ok... if our two agencies are going to work together, someone's going to have to start the ol' trust train, so let it be me. While you're here, you're going to have the same respect and privileges as my Kerbonauts here. You'll be staying with them in the Kerbonaut Center and have the full run of the facility. We'll get you a proper tour once you've had some time to settle in after your trip. There's a few places that are off limits for safety reasons, even for them, but let me know and--" Suddenly the ground was shaken by a distant explosion, and a faint cry of "wooHOO!" Igor was instantly in front of Valentina. "Heads up!" Someone in the bunch yelled. All heads did so. "Incoming!" Shouted someone else. "Drifting left!" Called a third. Something metallic clanged to the ground and bounced for a moment. It looked like some sort of piping. "All clear!" In unison, the heads snapped back to Valentina, who was gaping in horror from behind Igor. Gene slapped a hand to his face, "that would be our R&D center. Best if you keep your distance. They can be a bit..." A secondary explosion rumbled the concrete, followed by a soft, "eureka!" "...boisterous." Another Kerbal with a pencil-thin mustache and thick-rimmed glasses stepped up and put a placating hand on Gene's shoulder. "I vill talk vith zem again, Gene," then he turned to Valentina and offered a hand, "guten Tag, I am Dr. Wernher von Kerman, ze head of research and development here at ze KSC, willkommen." Valentina stepped from behind Igor with only slight resistance. This one's accent... might he...? This whole thing was quickly turning into a disaster, she was struggling to keep up with the all the Kerblish, time to take a risk. "Guten Tag, Herr Doktor," Valentina said hesitantly, "sprechen Sie Krünisch?" Wernher blinked twice, then his entire face lit up, "ja voll! Du sprichst Krünisch auch?" Valentina wavered her hand, "etwas, um, sehr schlecht." "Wunderbar!" he nearly squealed, then nodded to the others, "diese Dummköpfe nur Kerblish sprechen. Ach, das wird so schön!" Igor rumbled up next to her, "what he say? What you say?" "I asked if he spoke Krünish, he said yes. Apparently they do not," she answered in Ussari. Wernher glanced at him, then shrugged, "fahrvergnügen?" She smiled, "funkengrüven!" "Now what he say?" Igor frowned. "He invited me to lunch, I said yes." "Fantastisch!," Wernher beamed, "neunundneunzig Luftballons, du hast mich gefragt und ich hab nichts gesagt, Feuer frei." Valentina stopped and blinked for a moment. Igor's eyes flicked back and forth, "now what he say?" "Er, he said he and the other engineers have a potluck every Münday, and please come, but... stay away from the casserole it... causes indigestion? I think I am mistranslating something..." Igor glowered until Wernher backed away. "Uh, Wernher here is the one who got all this going, after the early false starts," Gene waved an arm toward the Space Center, trying not to look at Igor, "and these are the guys who really trust him. Meet our Kerbonaut corps!" A face now approached that Valentina most certainly recognized. He offered his left hand somewhat awkwardly, the right one still hanging in a simple sling. "Edmund Kerman, ma'am, it's a true honor to finally meet you." "Captain Kerman, DД, yes, honor is all mine, surely," she took his hand after just a bit of fumbling, smiling broadly. "Just Edmund, ma'am, there's no military affiliation here. We hold no rank outside of our missions." He smiled beneath a mustache that had not grown quite enough to cover the red, puffy scar on his upper lip. "Edmund, then. Uh, Valentina, please," she realized she was still clutching his hand and quickly let it go, "you have been inspiration." "I... have?" "DД, yes... You have, how you say? Got back on horse, after such awful injury... is very brave." "Well, that's very kind of you, ma'--uh, Valentina," Edmund said, abashedly scratching at the back of his neck, "just too stubborn for my own good, I suppose." He gestured to the Kerbal next to him, "I believe you've met my comrade, here, after a fashion." Comrade? The other fellow stepped forward and spoke in horribly broken Ussari, "greetings! Am person Jorrigh Kerman. Am welcomings of yuo to Space Kerbal Middle." Valentina blinked. Person Jorrigh Kerman's smile faltered, then his shoulders fell. "It's that bad, isn't it?" He said in Kerblish. "Is... is getting better," Valentina offered cheerfully. Behind her, Igor boomed, "why he talk like cliché? Sound like bad joke. Is insult to language!" Valentina tensed her face and smiled as hard as she could to keep from laughing. "I'm supposed to go to Ussari for the next phase of the exchange program," Jorrigh said sullenly, "but I just can't anywhere with the language!" Valentina held her smile while she mentally scrambled for a response. What would Dibella do? She was the diplomatic one! Why didn't they send her?! She grabbed the first thing that wandered into her head. "Perhaps... we speak together over tea, yes? What is word, chitchat, yes?" Then winced. Jorrigh's eyes brightened, "really? Yeah that would be swell mizz Valentina! Thanks!" He grabbed her hand and shook it very thoroughly, along with the rest of her. Well, that wasn't so bad, she thought between convulsions, this is looking up a bit. Valentina finally extracted a rather sore hand from the bright-eyed Kerbal, and turned to the next face. Which was scowling at her. "Hmm, so you're the bigshot Ooski, eh?" He leered over folded arms, "bit short for a pilot, aren't you?" Before Valentina could fully register the slight, another faced popped in... which looked exactly like the scowling one, minus the scowl. "You'll have to excuse my brother here, he can be a bit... abrasive, until he warms up to you," the newcomer thrust a hand out, "pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name." "I... what?" The friendlier face chuckled, "sorry, that's a bad joke. I'm Dr. Jerdous Kerman, the grumpy one here is Burdous, we're the token science concession to the initial Kerbonaut rotation." He smiled broadly. "Traitor," grumbled the one called Burdous. "Oh... you are Kerbonaut doctor?" Valentina asked. This one seemed decent, at least. He had a very honest face. "Oops, no I'm not a medical doctor. I'm an anthropologist by trade." She ran the long word over in her head, "so you... you study dead people, yes?" Jerdous put a hand to his chin, "well that's one way of putting it, I suppose. An odd specialty for a Kerbonaut, I know. Burdous here is a talented engineer, but they wanted an interdisciplinary scientist to round out the mission profiles, so I got picked." Then he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "personally, I think they just wanted to study the effects of long duration spaceflight on twins." "That is... fascinating. Is pleasure to meet you, Dr. Kerman." "Oh, it's just Jerdous," he waved it away, "you'll find we're not much for formality around here." "Valentina, please," she smiled. He gave a little bow, "the pleasure is all mine, Valentina." "The twins will round out our final two flights," Gene broke in, "as I'm sure you can attest, ma'am, a single-pilot craft with only solid retros limits the piloting experience one can get. We'll be on to bigger and better things ourselves, shortly." New KSA spacecraft... Here we go! "Yes, what do--" a raised voice from the other group cut Valentina off. "Now, you wanna be careful what you call piloting, Gene. Wouldn't want our new friend here to get mixed up with the wrong crowd." Standing dramatically lit by the late afternoon sun was a group of Kerbals all with matching flight suits, mirrored sunglasses, and smirks. The one who had spoken was also wearing a long white scarf, which was strange in this heat, and was even shorter than Valentina, which was strange anywhere. Gene grumbled under his breath, and began, "these fine fellows are--" "The future," the scarfed one cut in, "these rockets are just a fad, a pacifier for a teething baby. The future is in spaceplanes, and that's our specialty. After all, we are..." As if on cue, the breeze picked up to flutter his white scarf, the others took up a... pose, and he smiled a gorgeous dimpled smile with brilliantly white teeth. "The right stuff." Somehow, the sun picked that moment to glint off his perfect teeth. Valentina raised an eye... bulge. Gene mumbled something else under his breath. "We are the KSA Spaceplane Corps," the flawless smile said, then gestured to the others, "this is Tin Turkey, Yeti, Ivylog, Garter Snake, and Waterfowl." "And I," he tugged his collar up and flashed another glinty smile, "am Captain D.N. Kerman., you've probably heard of me. I'm a bit of a maverick." Beside Valentina, Gene put a hand to his face and sighed, "there's no rank here, Dean, we're not military." Valentina stifled a groan. Diplomatic, be diplomatic! Smiling, she held out a hand, "Dean, is it?" It hung awkwardly in the air. "That's D.N. Kerman to you. Captain D.N. Kerman." Another Kerman? Was everyone here named Kerman? And these strange letter-names... Diplomacy... With effort, Valentina held her smile, "what does D.N. mean?" Burdous cupped his hands to his mouth, "it means d-ouch my shin!" He suddenly dropped to a knee and rapidly rubbed his lower leg. A small rock went clicking away across the concrete, unnoticed. "Well that's on a need-to-know basis," D.N. smiled with that horrible, beautiful smile. "Dean was the first Kerbal to fly into space!" Blurted one of the pack behind him. Tin Turkey, was it? Wait, what? "Sixth Kerbal in space," Burdous spat, still rubbing his shin, "he always leaves that part out." D.N.'s dimples never faltered, "I was the first Kerbal to fly into space. Fly, by my own hand, not riding along while some gizmo or mechanical jeb does it for me. And I'll be the first Kerbal to fly into orbit, too, followed by my crew here. Spaceplanes are the way forward, in a few years no one will even remember that bunch of... cargo over there." He leaned around Valentina, "hi, Edmund. How's the arm? They make you an honorary chicken yet? Buhgok!" "Doing just fine, Dean," Edmund grinned, "there's an open booster seat waiting when you want to take up that arm wrestling challenge." Dean's smile only faded for a moment before he turned back to Valentina, "look, I hear you've got some skills, so I'll give you this one chance to hang with us and learn some more. "I told you," Burdous yelled, "he's a colossal d-ouch my other shin!" Another rock went clicking down the pavement. "Owwwwwwwwwowowowowowowowowowowowowow!" He squealed as he rolled back and forth on the ground, gripping below his knees. Valentina stared at D.N. He smiled at her. That flawless, disarming, dimpled smile. Diplomatic.... be diplomatic... remember what's at stake here... The corners of Valentina's mouth turned up, "y... yes I believe I have heard you." D.N. Raised an eye... bulge, grinning furiously. "Yes, you are... what is word?" She bared a hint of teeth, "buckaroo?" His smile vanished. Her eyes passed over the rest of them, "you are all bunch of cowboys, yes? Yee-hah?" D.N.'s face twisted into a snarl, and he poked a finger at her, "you just watch yourself, Ooski, we don't need your kind around here!" He spun around, popping his collar again, "come on, boys, let's jet. I feel the need..." "The need for speed?" Waterfowl offered helpfully. D.N. stopped and looked at him, "no, you twit, for a drink! Let's go." The group turned and walked off into the sunset. Quite dramatically. Gene sighed heavily, his face an intriguing mix of different shades of green, "I'm really sorry about that, Mizz Kermanova, I thought he'd behave himself today. Dean's an excellent pilot but that's also the only thing he respects, or understands. I'll see about getting you some flight time with him, maybe bridge the gap." "Valentina, please, um, Gene," she smiled, "it would seem some things are quite... universal." They were the same all over the globe, she imagined. Fighter pilots. She hated fighter pilots! "Well, that's mighty decent of you, m-- Valentina." "But... I have not seen Sir Kerman here, he is well, no?" "Sir Kerman?" Gene pinched his brow, "oh, you mean Chadvey! Um, don't call him sir, he hates that. He, uh, sends his regrets that he couldn't be here to welcome you in person, he's a bit tied up at the moment. Should be back in a couple of days." Presently, a small bus clad in brilliantly polished aluminum and the emblem of the KSA pulled to a stop nearby. Gene gestured towards it. "Here, I'll help you with your things. We've got a room for you in the Kerbonaut center near everyone else. We've just finished a major expansion so it's a bit empty at the moment. There's a very informal dinner waiting if you'd like, um, I think the chef made something called 'borscht.' Tonight, you can get settled in and relax, no expectation. Bit of a busy day tomorrow, I'm afraid, that's the official welcoming ceremony, and a public open house to showcase our expansions." He seemed to catch something in Valentina's expression, "I know, I'm not much for politics either, but, bare with me and we'll make this work somehow. I'll give you the official tour after that, and there's Burdous's launch on Münday, and if you'd like..." Valentina allowed herself to be led back towards the Converter for her bag, suddenly realizing how tired she was. This was going to be an ordeal, all right. This 'Dean' person was a raging STДLIЙSКIУ. Even if he did have dimples. Incredible dimples. The others seemed amicable enough, mostly, but she was disappointed about Sir Kerman, she'd been looking forward to talking with him again. Edmund... he had a quick wit, there was more to him than on the surface, she suspected. Speaking with Jorrigh would help her practice her Kerblish without looking like a complete fool, and this Jerdous... His brother was a PЦTIЙSКI, but Jerdous had a very honest face. She liked him right away.

Brilliant! Now recover the upper stage too

That chapter was from what, April? Had she even had her big debut yet, or were you just as prescient with her as you were with female Kerbals in general?

RE: Valentina's debut in Ch. 46, had to smile. That is all, as you were.

A little ProceduralTanks ballast on your return capsule to offset the COM will do wonders for excessive G-force. Also knowing how steep is too steep.

Such a high... and such a low. Maybe it's time to invest in MechJeb for more life-friendly re-entry calculations. RealPlume if I'm guessing right.

Chapter 41: A Long, Strange Trip Deep in the frigid ocean depths, in a place that has not known light since the planet its self was in its infancy, a tiny, conical space capsule sat half-submerged in silt so fine it blurred any distinction between solid and liquid. In places on its surface where the paint had finally flecked away, fragile, tree-like deep sea sponges had begun to grow, feeding on the macabre mana of decay that drifted down from the waters above. Inside, beyond the ragged, gaping hole in the capsule's flank, blind, spindly-legged crabs, white as porcelain, took shelter, feeding on the morsels too big for the sponges, thriving in this alien place of eternal darkness ever since their ancestors first wandered into it ten thousand eons ago. As one of the mindless denizens scuttled along its path, it dislodged an air bubble, that by some twist of fate had remained trapped all these many months. The bubble rose from the Plutonian abyss, passing trough a nightmare realm of bioluminescent creatures with freakish proportions and more teeth than any sane thing should have. Upwards it went, past the first weak tendrils of inky violet, ignored by the viperfish, frill sharks, and colossal squid that lurked these depths. The bubble expanded as it rose and the pressure decreased, such that when it entered the deep blue domain of towering shoals of gamefish and cruising manta rays, it roiled and churned and flailed like its self a thing alive. Upward, ever upward, rending its self apart into a thousand smaller bubbles, past bluefish and leatherbacks and great sea beasts until at last the bubbles burst through the foamy crest of a wave on the azure sea and became part of the air. Warmed by the burning equatorial sun overhead, tempered by the cool ocean currents below, the air began to swirl and move. It went west, toward an angular cape jutting out into the sea. Here it came on shore as a gentle tropical breeze, caressing a motley collection of buildings where there had once been only a swamp. It swirled and eddied between them, around sleek aircraft and over bulging metallic spheres, enticing more than one worker to pause in their duties and delight for a moment in its cool kiss upon their sweat-drenched faces. The breeze blew on, now gathering into a wind, pushed ever inland by the new breeze moving in off the sea. It blew over towering sand dunes, around sparse forests and over thriving fields of vegetables toward the foothills of the central mountains. The wind did not stop here, but was carried ever onward by the pressing mass of air behind it, racing over the verdant foothills then blasting up the rugged flanks of the mountains. Momentum carried it over the peaks, where it churned onward to the west, leaving long rows of lenticular clouds in its wake that mirrored the furrowed farmlands below. Here the wind slowed again, and calmed, playing high above the ocean, so that when it crossed paths with the odd little aircraft making the incredible racket, it was no more than a gentle breeze again. It passed by a small, terrified face staring out a round port hole, then found a tiny gap in the metal hull and was drawn inside. It blustered back and forth, rushing over an enormous lump snoring loudly in the thin air, until at last it brushed the cheek of Valentina Kermanova, who was nervously going over her entry clearances and radio procedures. Deciding she had absorbed as much as she was going to, Valentina keyed the mic, and spoke in the professional, calm, dignified tones of pilots. "Whiskey tango foxtrot, Yankee Doodle dandy, avtomat four-seven inbound at the marker with upchuck uniform." She cringed. She thought she must be mistranslating something, it sounded like nonsense. "Rubber knuckle underwear, jolly good avtomat four-seven, this is Omork Approach control at foxtrot zulu milkshake, you are cleared to enter UFPDKO airspace. Squawk sphincter niner ringworm and fly heading one-five-zero, vectors for KSC runway zero-niner." Silently, Valentina put a hand to her face, then turned to the directed course. These people were strange. The radio crackled in her ear again, "additionally, four-seven, an escort has been arranged for your convenience to Kleptogart airspace." "Avtomat four-seven copies," an escort? So that's what the circling radar contact ahead of them was. Junior Lieutenant Kerman's trembling voice suddenly cut in, "fuhhhh...fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh..." "Fighters, yes, I know!" She frowned, watching the unfamiliar aircraft pull even off her wing tips. Whirlwinds, she thought they were called. The Kerblish letters UFPROACG were stenciled prominently on the tails. She thought if they were going to bother with an acronym that long they might as well just write it out, really. This was an unexpected development. Granted, she didn't really know much about such things, but this hardly seemed a proper greeting for a diplomatic mission. She looked again at the smooth, streamlined warplanes flying next to hers. They did not appear to be armed, but still... you could never tell what a fighter pilot might do if spooked. Their egos were more dangerous than any munition. The one to her left was staring at her intently, impassively. With his helmet and oxygen mask he looked like some sort of bug-eyed alien. Although, she supposed, she was the alien now. The thought still didn't keep the hackles on the back of her neck from rising. Fighter pilots. She hated fighter pilots. Almost as much as politics. And now she had both. The flight continued on, turning east and paralleling the coast, then inland and more southerly, the other two jets sticking to Valentina's wings like parasites. The countryside below looked normal enough, she thought, except for the odd lack of snow. They did have winter in the tropics, right? The grasslands reminded her of the vast open plains of Nusad, and she could see huge herds of... somethings. They didn't have yaks here, she was fairly sure of that at least. The plains eventually gave way to rolling hills that proceeded to mountains towering in the distance. Moderately sized, widely spaced cities followed the contours of the hills, connected by a web of wide concrete roads. That looked normal enough too, even if it was a lot of roads. She was relieved to see the occasional train chugging along too, but none of them seemed to produce any smoke. At length the mountains were looming to her left. Jagged and sharp, they seemed to jut up at impossible angles, giving her the feeling they were somehow 'new.' The steep, rocky slopes were devoid of any hint of snow, which was very odd, and there looked to be no vegetation either. Finally the controller directed her eastward over a high pass. "Gutrot noodle floppy-disk, avtomat four-seven you are now leaving UFPDKO airspace, cleared into Kleptogart airspace at one-zero-delicatessen, contact KSC tower at one-one-three-point-niner, cheerio." Next to the Converter, off to Valentina's left, the fighter pilot stared at her a moment longer, then snapped a quick salute and banked away. She checked over the paperwork once more, huffed, and switched frequencies, "flapjack paddywhack trombone, avtomat four-seven inbound for runway zero-niner." "Pyrex pickle blowfish, KSC tower has you on scope, avtomat four-seven, uh, confirm you want a helicopter approach?" "DД... yes... request helicopter approach for runway zero-niner," PЦTIЙ, this language was frustrating! "If you say so, four-seven. You are cleared to land runway zero-niner at taxiway bravo." "Four-seven, cleared to land, at bravo. Um... rinky-dink chipshot potato." Never mind strange, these people were clearly mad. Passing the mountains, she reduced the throttles and let the nose drop, beginning a long, gradual descent. She could just see the space center now, sprawled out on a wide cape jutting out into the ocean beyond. A quick glance behind her confirmed that Igor was still out for the moment. Good. Turning off the oxium to his mask had worked like a charm, they hadn't been flying that high after all. By the looks of it, the good Junior Lieutenant was panicked enough for the both of them. The plane cruised down over more rolling hills, passing farms and odd little groves of trees. The cities seemed more sparse, here, but the roads! So many roads! Blackish-gray tracks winding every which way, without a single railroad to be seen. How did these people get around without trains? They surely didn't drive everywhere, that would just be silly. The hills soon gave way to meandering sand dunes as the space center grew to fill Valentina's vision. It looked like quite an impressive facility, and familiar. Oddly familiar. Yet... every space that was not building or roadway seemed to be packed with lots full of... kars. Further consideration would have to wait, however. She began the delicate process of rotating the engine nozzles and gradually transferring the aircraft's weight from its wings to the four shrieking engines as it slowed. She crossed over the runway threshold exactly where she wanted to, the ungainly craft held rock steady in her hands. A nudge here, a prod there, and the Converter gently settled to a perfect four-point landing the moment the last of its forward speed bled away, just before the turnoff to the second taxiway of the long runway. A smirk curled Valentina's left lip. She was certain she was going to completely embarrass herself at some point on this bizarre excursion, but borking the landing would not be it! Of course, that had been the easy part, too. She followed the further instructions from the tower and ground control, traveling along the taxiway through a layout that seemed ever more familiar. Behind an enormous hanger, a grimacing crewman directed her with a set of marshaling paddles in the strangest shade of yellow towards a fairly small group of Kerbals with their hands pressed firmly to their heads. He scurried away as soon as she was stopped, clutching his own head. Valentina went mechanically through the shut down procedures, feeling the uncomfortable little ball of nerves begin to grow in the back of her head. They were just people after, all, right? Surely, they couldn't be that different. Memories of the concert in Crimson Square the past summer bubbled up from somewhere. Yes, yes they could. Valentina worked her way carefully past the drooling Igor and shivering Junior Lieutenant. With nothing else to do for it, she turned the latch, and slid the side door open. Something slammed into her like a fist and wrenched the breath from her lungs. She had a firm grip on the handrail, else she might have tumbled from the doorway. She had to fight for each breath with straining lungs, the sweat suddenly running down her face amplifying the feeling that she was trying to breathe liquid. The humidity! It was beyond words! It felt so thick she could cut it with a knife. And the heat! It must be forty degrees out here! How could these people live like this?! PЦTIЙ, they're coming this way now. With sheer force of will against the onslaught, Valentina composed herself, and tried to smile. Another smiling Kerbal stepped up to her. He wore a headset, which was odd, and a very dapper white vest, which was not. "Major Kermanova, I presume?" The fellow's smile widened, "I'm Gene Kerman, the Flight Director here." He paused for just a moment to clear his throat, and took a slip of paper from his pocket, "on behalf of the Kerbal Space Administration, its member states, and partners, in hopes of greater understanding and cooperation among all Kerbals, welcome, to... the.... Kerbal..... Space....... Cen........" His mouth dropped open. Valentina blinked at him for a moment, then realized he was looking behind her. And above. The rest of the small crowd, too. She turned to follow their collective gaze, and saw that Igor had appeared in the doorway, and was staring new and ever sharper stabbing implements back at them. She raised her hands, hoping her smile didn't look as forced as it felt, "is... uh... is just Igor... um... is not staying... he... he is.... ah...." PЦTIЙS ЗДЯS what was the word? A dozen of them raced through her head, none of them right. "Nablyudatel," a new voice said, in confident, if strongly accented Ussari. It then continued in Kerblish, also strongly accented, "ah'm afraid the word doesn't really translate all the well into Kerblish, Gene. This tall feller is is something of a body guard... and a monitor." It took only a moment for Valentina to realize why Igor's glare had no effect on this newcomer. He was so slimy it just slid right off. He was quite tall himself, dressed in a crisp, black suit with thin pinstripes. She had little knowledge of fashion, but could tell it must be expensive. The enormous elliptical belt buckle clad in silver and gold reinforced that. He had what looked like another belt buckle around his neck, also gold and silver, with a big pale blue stone in the center and a pair of decorated leather strings hanging from it. On his head was a truly enormous black hat, in the same style that was now so popular in Kermangrad, which he now tipped towards her. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am. Name's John Ross, John Ross Kerman, junior. But, uh, everyone 'round here just calls me J.R." He replaced his hat, and offered his hand. Valentina took it gingerly. It was soft, smooth, gripped with just the right pressure. A hand that had shaken many others. She released it, and had to consciously resist the urge to count her fingers. Despite all the black in this STДLIЙ SMДCКIЙG heat, he wasn't even sweating. "Is pleasure to, uh, meet you, Mr. Kerman," Kerman? They didn't look like brothers... "J.R., please, ma'am, Mister Kerman was mah daddy, and a bit too fond of his own name, y'see," he smiled broadly, "Ah am the corporate lie-ay-zon to the KSA from Layland Heavy Industies. Ah understand y'all over yonder have been doing some truly incredible things with our products, and Ah do hope to discuss the matter with y'all some more." Valentina kept the smile plastered to her face, hoping he would go away, which he did, nudging Gene as he stepped back, who was still staring at Igor. "Huh? Oh, right, I'm terribly sorry for any confusion, Mizz Kermanova, we weren't expecting an, um, entourage, but we'll work with that. Where was I? Oh..." He offered his own hand. Behind him were perhaps a dozen bright, grinning, slightly sweaty faces, one group standing a bit apart from the others. "Welcome, to the Kerbal Space Center."