CatastrophicFailure

Given the nature of the story, you should catch a great many of those. As long as I'm doing it right Well, I was gonna have this whole "Space-Zombie Dibella" subarc, but then you had to go & spoil it I've been looking forward to writing this next upcoming chapter for a while now, so it may be a while to get it right... or it might all come out in a lump on a sleepless night. But it should be... memorable.

I imagine a lot of the staff is off for the holiday. They may also still be sleeping off the hangovers from the post-landing celebrations.

Chapter 35: Homecoming Gradually, the red glow outside the windows died away, followed a short time later by the crush of deceleration. The stomach-turning feeling of weightless returned briefly until a pair of loud bangs signaled the successful deployment of the parachutes. Zarya was soon drifting sedately to the ground beneath them, her nose pointed halfway between the horizon and vertical. Valentina switched off a few more circuit breakers as the checklist specified, but mostly kept still and braced for the coming impact. When it finally came, it was accompanied by an awful crunching noise, the capsule tipped forward onto its flank, rolled back and forth for just a moment, then was still. "Crumple zones," Valentina said, "quite clever, really." Dibella managed a weak smile. A pair of more muted bangs announced that the parachutes had automatically cut to keep from dragging the capsule. Valentina shut down the final few systems before sliding the hatch open and exulting at the feel of fresh air on her face again. Still, that landing did seem a bit softer than she'd been expecting. She hopped up to sit on the lip of the hatchway, raising a hand against the glare of the low, late fall sun. And swallowed hard. IVAN may have its teething problems, but its landing calculator was certainly accurate. With nothing else to do for it, Valentina reached down and pulled Dibella up to sit on the edge as well. She felt as yielding as a sack of potatoes, a small one, but after taking in the scene for a moment herself, still managed a trembling wave. And, as they say in the Foreign lands, the crowd went wild. The sound washed over the two bewildered Kerbals like a wave. All through the throngs of people, tall ushankas, wide-brimmed caps, and one diminutive police officer went flying up into the air with patriotic fervor. Whoops and whistles resounded off the walls. The parachutes had wrapped themselves around a building, boldly displaying the Star of the Union several meters across. Those nearby busied themselves with cutting small swatches off as souvenirs. Valentina slid off the side of the capsule to the ground, and realized it had landed on... something. Whatever it had been, it was little more than kindling and ribbons now. She caught Dibella as she, too, slid off, then had to hold her upright as well with a hand around her waist. Valentina was just wondering what to actually do, now, when the crowd parted and a small convoy of utes and trucks rumbled into the scene. Tercella beat Igor this time, sprinting up to the other two, wrapping her arms around their necks and kissing them both on the cheek with a loud smacking sound. "Do not (mwa!) ever (mwa!) do that again! We have to stop meeting like this!" She took up position opposite Dibella, helping to hold her up as Igor thudded forward. To Valentina's great surprise, Igor simply held out a hand like four thick sausages stuck in a hamhock. "Is well," he boomed with an odd little smile. Valentina shook the offered hand gingerly. From the gathering vehicles, personnel spread out across the area, keeping back curious onlookers and discussing how best to retrieve the capsule. A team of medics helped Dibella to a waiting ambulance and began triage. Out of this new crowd, Sergei Kermanev appeared, now wearing a white lab coat himself and looking quite concerned. "Valentina." "Sergei." "You... um, you lost the primary buffer panel..." "I... the what?" Valentina looked back at the spacecraft. It looked about like she would expect a re-entered space capsule to look, charred and blackened, but nothing appeared to be missing, "...is that important?" "Well, typically after that you would experience some slight turbulence, and then, explode." Valentina's jaw fell open. Despite being somewhat shorter, she glowered at the white-clad Kerbal. He threw up his hands, "some of the tests were still inconclusive!" She rolled her eyes and huffed, then her expression softened, "look, ...Sergei, none of this would have been possible if not for you..." "Um, well... I uh... just did what anyone else would have done..." he scratched the back of his head nervously. "Perhaps," Valentina offered a hand, "but I do not know how to ever thank you--" "I do," Tercella suddenly stalked up to him. She grabbed Sergei's cheeks theatrically, then kissed him so hard his bulging eyes rolled back in his head and his toes curled. And on a Kerbal foot, that's quite a feat. He let out a slight whimper, and toppled over backwards with a thud. Tercella walked away looking quite proud of herself, "medic!" Valentina was staring at the limp form on the ground, wondering if maybe she should help him up, when a dark shadow crept over it. Her eyes rose. "Comrade Kerbonaut." She snapped a quick salute, then began digging for her papers before she remembered she was still wearing a space suit. Oddly, the Political Officer just held up a hand, stepping over poor Sergei. He looked... out of sorts. "It seems you have done it," he said slowly. "It seems." "And Comrade Dibella is well?" "She well will be." The two stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment in the chilly late fall air. The crowd continued to cheer. "Out of all the places on Kerbin you could land," he said at length, "you land here." "Yes," Valentina said, with an innocent little smile. "In Crimson Square." "Yes." "In the middle of the Glorious Octember Revolution Commemoration Parade." "Yes." "But..." he nudged a piece of debris on the ground with the toe of his boot. It looked like a pointy wooden beard. "...you have demolished the float of Great Comrade Kermin!" His voice actually cracked. "Y--" Valentina spun around and gawked at the pile of sticks and colorful ribbons beneath Zarya. Oh, so that's what that was. Oops. The Political Officer took his hat off, scratched his bushy hair with it, wiped an eye, then set it back on his head. "I shall have to modify my report," he sniffed. He stared at the mess a moment longer, and with a cough seemed to recover some of his usual presence, "but nevertheless, this is a great day! A glorious day! Then he leaned in close to Valentina, and in an instant the predatory grin with far too many teeth was back. "But rest assured, Comrade... this will not soon be forgotten."

Disassembly and museum display are not mutually exclusive, y'know They can always put it back together. I would think MOST things you see in a museum have already been "disassembled" and studied for all the SCIENCE they can get out of them.

Jason-3 will be launching out of Vandenburg in Cali, so no RTLS there, I don't think they've built a landing complex yet. Not sure on the status of the west coast barge either.

Chapter 34: The Darkness... and the Light Deda? Please wake up... You have to wake up! Please... Do not leave me... Valentina's heart pounded in her chest. Breath would only come in ragged gasps. No... She pulled herself along toward the gaping hatch as fear constricted around her spine, dug into it like ice. Fear, bleak and certain. One of her helmet lights had been smashed in the chaos, the other flickered uncertainly. The darkness and the light continued their struggle before her as she clawed her way along. Reaching the breach, Valentina thrust herself inside, head first, her breath tight in her throat. But it was too late. Dibella's lifeless eyes stared back accusingly, glassy and vacant, one pupil blown. Her skin was pallid, gray; her mouth hung open, eyelids drooped. "No..." Valentina shook her, her head flopping back and forth, unresisting, "no, you cannot..." No...! The sobs came in great, ragged heaves, echoing in the tiny space of Valentina's helmet like the last dying wails of innocence. There was no anger here, no vengeance, only sorrow. Tears clung to her face before sloughing off to float around like tiny crystal globes. There were no words. There was no point. The cold metal tomb drifted through space that paid no mind to the anguish within, empty and indifferent. Valentina's remaining helmet lamp flickered one final, futile time, then darkness consumed her. What? ...only, it... wasn't dark. Valentina blinked against the tears that clung stubbornly to her eyes, and gasped. The tiny space of the capsule was lit up like a galaxy. A thousand points of light danced, swirled, played across the walls. They swayed and cavorted, each one like a... like a memory, a memory of light. Even in this place of final darkness they glittered; frail and fragile, still they shone, they burned back against the darkness, and they denied it. By their tiny beacons, Valentina stared into that darkness, and found hope. Hope. But where...? How...? Her eyes flicked around the cramped cabin and... there. Bolted to an experiment rack on the wall was a small, translucent capsule. She couldn't tell what was in it, whether it was liquid or solid, but whatever it was, it was glowing, the light refracted and scattered by her own tears floating about in her helmet. Not even daring to give the thought form, Valentina looked back to her friend and... There. She never could have seen it in the harsh glare of her helmet lamps. Inside of Dibella's faceplate, over her open mouth, was a tiny patch of fog that hesitantly waxed and waned. With a cry, suddenly fighting against hands that seemed slow and numb, Valentina pulled the hastily-machined adapter from a pocket, snapped it into place on her chest pack, then pulled Dibella's umbilicals from the panel socket and clipped them into it. Her ears popped as the pressure between the two suits equalized and for a moment her own life support struggled to keep up. Valentina waited, not even daring to breathe, the only sound the distant rush of air in the hoses. Time stretched out, Kerbin continued to drift by, unheeding, far below. But it was not to be. Not in this place. Valentina sadly closed her eyes, her faceplate clicked against her friend's. No, this was not one of those saccharine Foreign films Dibella had taken to. There would be no last minute reprieve, no rescue, no miracle. There was only the dark, still, finality of the gr-- Dibella's thin chest heaved. Her limbs convulsed, her body spasmed. She took in air in long ragged gasps, coughing and shaking. Finally, her eyes fluttered, then focused. Valentina stared, still not quite believing. "Valentina?" Dibella said, her voice thin and reedy, carried across the abyss of vacuum by their touching faceplates. "I knew you'd come," she closed her eyes as her breathing steadied, "...knew you'd come..." The two friends floated there in the darkness, together, denying it. There were no words. There was no need. Together they breathed and cried and hugged each other's helmets. Which was awkward, because they were huge. At length, as the situation at hand started to creep back into Valentina's mind and the shared air in their suits stabilized, she began to notice... "Um... ЬЯЗZHИЭVS ЪДLD PДTЗ what the PЦTIЙ is that smell?!" "Er... I think that's.. me," Dibella said sheepishly, "I haven't bathed in three days and this space food is a bit..." Somewhere, distantly, was a sound disconcertingly like a rocket engine. "...unsettling." In a tiny capsule floating in a void above an inconsequential world, the two laughed, until the sun peeked over the horizon and flash in Valentina's ear drew her attention. "Valentina... Kokos... what is going on? What happened? Are you... Is--" "She is all right!" There were no words. There just were not. Valentina heard the cries of jubilation as Tercella simply held her mic open. In the coming days, a grainy, anonymous photograph would make its way to every news outlet in the world. Tercella Kerman holding her headset above her bowed head, surrounded by cheering controllers. "So, can we go home now?" Dibella managed a fragile smile, "I'm sick of space." "DД," Valentina said emphatically, then clipped a tether to Dibella's suit, "you are not getting away from me again." She struggled her way backwards out of the hatch, then assisted Dibella, being cautious of the other Kerbal's delicate suit, never intended for EVA. Dibella paused as she left the capsule, taking a moment to watch the face of Kerbin below, raising a hand and shading her unshielded face against the glare. "It really is beautiful, isn't it?" She said distantly, touching her helmet again to Valentina's, "I never thought I'd actually get to see it like this." "It is," Valentina stared for a moment too. Nearing the western terminator, the two great powers had reversed roles. Now the darkness fled, and the light triumphed. The light, and the darkness. She suspected there was another profound revelation in there somewhere, but at the moment, Valentina was just too PЦTIЙIЙG tired for profound revelations. The darkness had been denied twice, now, and a price would have to be paid. She was more sure of that than ever. But not now. "Come," Valentina said, "we are not home just yet." Then she reached down and keyed her mic, "control, do you copy? We are in position." "Copy you... I am bringing Zarya in slowly... ugh this is not easy with just a camera..." "What? Zarya?" Dibella carefully peeked around Valentina's helmet, "how... how did you get that?" "I stole it." The other Kerbal did a double-take, their two faceplates going click-click, "you... you stole a space ship?!" Valentina grinned, "no, of course I did not steal it. Bit of a long story, I will fill you in later. But really, stealing a space ship? What sort of buffoon would come up with an idea like that?" Dibella just glared at her for a moment, then her eyes widened and she began frantically pointing. Valentina spun around, slowly and awkwardly spun around, just in time to see the tip of the parachute at the end of Zarya's nose come to a halt only centimeters from her own faceplate. Close enough to see... Her eyes narrowed. "MADE IN GYTEP" was stamped on the casing in three different languages. Lately, it seems everything is made somewhere else, but she shook the thought away for another time. "Control... you nearly made a paste of me." "Ah, sorry about that. Trying my best, I have had even less training than you." "What? Tercella? You are flying it? But you are the CAPCOM..." "Yes... apparently in a room full of rocket scientists I am the only one qualified to actually fly one." Valentina put a a hand to her faceplate. Dibella gave her a quizzical look, not having heard the exchange. She shook her head and clipped a tether to a recessed ring on Zarya, then offered the other Kerbal a hand. Dibella took it, and again their faceplates clicked. "One moment," Dibella said. She braced her arms, put a boot against her stricken Orbiter, then gave it a mighty shove... or as mighty as she could manage. "PЦTIЙ on you!" The pair watched it slowly tumble away for a time, before finally retreating into Zarya. As she slid the hatch closed and switched on the cabin lights, Valentina could see the weariness in her friend's face. "You look you something Igor dragged in," she smirked as she slid her faceplate up. "I feel like it," Dibella did likewise, "probably smell like it too. But I'm alive, thanks to you." Valentina resisted the urge to wrinkle her n... face, "then let us go home." She entered the sequence into IVAN, anxiety nibbling at the back of her neck until the thrusters had finished their burn. She switched to the estimated landing display, checked the numbers, and... giggled. "What?" Dibella raised an eye... bulge, "what is it?" Valentina smirked back at her, "you are not going to believe this..." Some time later, the capsule cleanly separated from its service module, as the tenuous upper atmosphere began to lick at the hull and glowing ionized gas danced around it. . . . Ping. "What was that?"

Now that you mention it, weren't they originally planning on doing something exactly like this for the in-flight abort test of the D2 before everything went all 19 this summer?

My condolences

High performance engines, especially experimental high performance engines (and other mechanical things), are often disassembled & inspected. NASCAR & drag race engines get torn down & rebuilt after every single use, generally. Like @razark & @Shpaget mentioned, they know they can land the booster now, so next question is, can they turn a profit doing so as they've expected? With that in mind, I'm sure all the F9's systems have been designed specifically for easy tear down & inspection. Not like on some motorcycles where you have to remove the engine just to asjust the valves

Makes sense. They'll probably disassemble it down to its tiniest bits and study the heck out of EVERYTHING first, then display it as the piece of history is it. Like the first Dragon capsule that's hanging up in their headquarters, they're meant to be re-used too, right?

Scorch marks? Crisp? As in "burned to a..." Badum-tish. Right? Right? No? I'll show myself out... IT may simply be case of "Ok we've got the engine in vacuum with nothing much else to do with it, let's test the re-light simply because we can at zero additional cost. Also, because SCIENCE!"

More likely this is two (or more) exposures and some decent Photoshopping to put it together. As others have said, a single exposure would have been washed out by the nearby lights, reflections from the clouds, etc. Dabbling a bit in stuff like this myself, I know just enough to tell quite a lot of work went into that pic behind the scenes. Wow... just wow... didnt my get to watch live, unfortunately. It appears I have a lot of catching up to do. And 140-some forum emails to clear out Does anyone know what's up with the scorch marks about a third of the way from the bottom? The transition to the clean white above looks oddly crisp. No pun intended.

When he starts intentionally blowing stuff up?

Wow, that certainly puts it into perspective. Thats GOTTA be easier to land on than a barge!

This is the nerd equivalent of tailgating before your favorite team plays

Well looks like RTF is "officially" on the countdown timer @ Amerispace. Anyone have an update on the static fire that was s'posed to be today?

Chapter 33: Silence "Er... yes, quite right. Not a moment too soon. Oxium levels are holding steady but the batteries are undervolting one by one, we keep loosing more telemetry channels. We will keep the remote attitude control online as long as we can." "Understood. How... is she?" Valentina said as she began throwing switches. "Vital signs are weak but steady. We have not any direct communication since that channel was shut off some time ago." Valentina's stomach twisted into a knot. She told herself it was just from the weightlessness. "Copy. Controls secure, beginning depressurization procedure. Awkwardly, she retrieved the mobile life support pack from behind her seat, clipped it to the front of her suit, and switched her umbilical lines to it, checking over all the settings twice. "Control, Kokos on mobile, how do you read? Silence. "Control, Kokos on mobile, do you copy?" Valentina's stomach clenched a little tighter. "Control, do you copy?" What to do now? Continue the mission in the blind? No, that wouldn't work either, she would need control to-- Valentina took a slow breath, calm yourself. She fumbled for a moment in the thick glove, then pressed the MAN/TX switch on the chest pack. "Control, Kokos on mobile... do you read me?" "We read you, Kokos, just a bit fuzzy. Is there a problem?" "The vox mic does not seem to work without the cable. Will have to use the push-to-talk switch." "Understood, that is ok, we can work with that. Best to me moving, though, you are going to run out of daylight soon." "Copy that, ready to depressurize." Valentina threw the last few switches, and waited. She was soon surrounded by the unnerving sensation of her space suit inflating as all sound died away. Silence. Silence like she had never imagined. She had experienced it before, of course, but now, left for a few moments to do nothing but experience it, it amplified the growing ball of uneasiness in her gut. Silence. Pure silence, broken only by her breath, now loud in her ears. "Sequence complete, I am going out." Reaching awkwardly in the stiff suit, Valentina released the catch and the hatch slid smoothly open. She couldn't see over her head in the enormous helmet, had to work her way out of the hatch mostly by feel, but finally her dull white form appeared outside of the dark capsule. And as she looked around to get her bearings, her breath caught. There was Kerbin in all her beauty, casting a pale blue glow against the harsh sun, now low on the horizon. The two craft were drifting sedately across the eastern terminator, the place where day became night. Valentina was mesmerized by the unending conflict playing out below. The darkness, and the light. Here, shadows from mountains and clouds inexorably, unceasingly crept across the ground, casting the vivid colors of the day into subtle shades of pastels, before swallowing them completely. The darkness, and the light. Here, the day routed before the night, no valiant defiance, no desperate last stands, only unending flight. The darkness, and the light. Here, in this place of contrast, despite the voice being silent these past hours, Valentina still felt the pull. The hunger. The inevitability. Here, the darkness triumphed, and the light died. I am a thing of darkness, she resigned, it cannot be helped. To her right, the sun sped toward the horizon, while to her left, the Mün rose, full and bloated, pallid like a corpse. And like the orbital night inching ever closer, the ball of anxiety in her stomach edged toward fear. Valentina pulled herself out of the hatch, moving slowly, deliberately, trying not to upset her path as Tercella had described. The suit resisted her motions, stiff from the life-preserving air inside. She crawled along Zarya's surface using only her arms. Flailing her legs would not help, only make her overheat. She clipped and unclipped her tethers as she went along until finally she touched Oduvanchik's hull with a hesitant hand. "Control, Kokos, I am in position." Valentina switched her final tether and pulled herself onto Oduvanchik's flank. "Copy that. Stand by, I am going to back Zarya away thirty meters. Translation thrusters fired silently in the void. Valentina's gut clamped down more at the eerie sight of her spacecraft moving away on its own. She tried to push the thought out of her head. The riskiest step in the mission lay just ahead. There was no... sane way to open Oduvanchik's hatch. With no provision for EVA built into this Orbiter, the hatch was bolted securly shut with a dozen pyrotechnic bolts. There was no time to even consider removing them one by one, the hatch would have to be blown open. If Dibella's visor was not down, if her suit was not fully sealed, if an errant piece of debris in the cabin... Valentina's innards clenched, she tried to push the thoughts away. As the sun sank lower, it gave off a ghostly yellow hue. She pulled herself hand over hand towards the spherical descent capsule, her pulse loud in her ears, her breath like thunder. She came to the small window in the hatch, but could see only darkness inside. Someone had hand-painted a dandelion on it. Remembering the lights on her helmet, she switched them on, the beams cutting into the shadows. The window was rimed with ice on the other side, specks of frost, suspended in the air, glittered in the beams. Valentina could see the top of Dibella's helmet, but there was no motion within. Her arms floated limply, lifelessly. The tension in Valentina's gut now worked its way up her spine. "I see her. She is not moving. I am going to blow the hatch." Retrieving a simple tool from a pouch, she swung down to the brightly painted arrow marked RESCUE on the side of the pod, pressed the tool against the catch, popping it open. She grabbed the lanyard inside, threaded her gloved hand through it, then slowly, agonizingly, worked her way back to the other end of the craft. Trying to catch her breath, she braced one hand against a ridiculous fin at the back, steadied herself, then gave the lanyard a mighty pull... ...pivoting over her other hand, tumbling over, and smacking roughly against the hull. She had to restrain a cry, but not out of pain. Again slowly, tortuously slowly, Valentina worked back to the far end of the ship. She pulled the cord and nearly tumbled over again. Mission Control was saying something, but she ignored it. Her vocal cords strained with every breath. Leverage... need leverage. She fumbled, felt around, and finally stuck her boot into the worthless engine nozzle. Bracing again, expecting the worst, she pulled. The blows came hard and fast from every direction. Light and dark flickered and flashed like a nightmare, Valentina flailed helplessly. For an instant, she had a close-up view of one of Oduvanchik's attitude thruster nozzles before it spat out white gas and sent her tumbling again, bouncing off her tether against the hull. Was she screaming? Crying? She couldn't tell anymore. Something found its way into her hand and she held on with everything she had left, finally stabilizing herself as the craft's own motion slowed. She paused, she had to, her breath ragged and choking. Static crackled in her ears. "Negative copy, Control," Valentina panted, "say again." Another burst of static. Raised voices. Anger. "...need to tell her...!" Fear, like needles, crept up her spine. "Say again Control, did not copy." "...needs to know...!" Voices, indistinct. Valentina looked back towards the hatchway, now gaping like an open wound. Far away, the sun dipped lower, painting the scene the color of blood. "Control... what do I need to know?" . Silence. "Control!" Her voice cracked. "It is probably nothing..." "What do I need to know?!" Uncertain. "Just more telemetry dropping out, we--" "What is it!?" Trembling. "We..." "What?!" Pleading. "We... lost Dibella's vital signs." And all the light went out of the world.

Chapter 32: Hunting MATCH VELOCITIES WITH TARGET EXECUTING NODE...25%...50%...75%...DONE SEQUENCE COMPLETE END OF LINE The gentle push of the maneuvering engines died away. Valentina scanned over the instruments, then went through the shutdown procedure. "Last maneuver complete, control. Engines safed." "Copy, Kokos. We read you in position. Not a moment too soon, either. Her battery voltage is dropping off and we are starting to loose telemetry channels, even with every dish in the KSA pointed that way." "Understood. How do you read my position?" "Gednalna radar range marks you about seven kilometers from the target, maybe 10 degrees off your Z-minus axis. That is the best we can do, I am afraid. The resolution just is not high enough." "Copy," Valentina stretched a kink in her neck. The approach radar for the docking system wasn't installed, of course. She would have to make the final approach entirely by eye. Even the best IVAN could figure was only relative speed and distance based on radio signals. Tightening her grip on the controls as the sun rose over the horizon, she pointed Zarya's nose down... and saw nothing but Kerbin passing sedately below. "No joy, control... I am not seeing the target anywhere, can you recheck position?" "Standby Kokos... they are saying position is unchanged, deviation still within error scope." Valentina grunted to herself, "understood. I will have a look around." She pivoted the spacecraft in long, slow arcs, her eyes straining for any sign of the other. She glanced at the tiny screen. 6.8 kilometers, moving away slowly. But where? There was no sign along the Z-minus axis, 'below' her. She let Zarya's nose continue drifting, up towards the horizon, when a flash of light caught her eye. Valentina squinted against the the rising sun. No... it couldn't be! That tiny speck? She could barely see it at all, and her eyes were far better than most. "Control? I think I have it, but... it is in front of me. Hardly a dot, can you verify range?" "Range confirms, no other targets in vicinity. That must be it." Valentina frowned, and re-entered the data into IVAN. She pointed Zarya at the node, fired a long burst of the translation thrusters, then nervously watched the display. For a moment the numbers flickered, the relative speed increasing, but... that can't be right... "I think I may have a glitch, control. I am showing range is increasing. Can you verify?" A long pause, and then, "that... checks out, Kokos. We are getting tracking data from Exast, now, too. We concur, range is increasing. Maybe check your input?" The input string was correct, Valentina knew it was... yet... She grunted in frustration, repeated the entire process, thrusting again. The numbers kept going the wrong way. The speck in the distance began drifting away towards Kerbin. "Control this... this isn't working. The... it is not making the right calculations. The target keeps moving away!" "It is only as good as its programming. The engineers are checking the equations now. Terminal guidance like this is still theoretical. Standby one..." "We do not have time to stand by, we are running out of time!" Valentina slammed a gloved fist into the console. Snarling, she pointed the nose again and fired. Her hand was trembling from its death-grip on the stick, the nose wandered and spasmed. This, is not the face of a hunter, Tinka. You have been taught better. Valentina jumped. She held her hand up to her face, the trembling apparent even through the bulky glove. Her muscles ached, her tendons screamed. Yes, yes I have. She thought back to a time, long ago now. Oskar Kerman had been possessed of that quiet ease that told everyone around him he was a pilot, without him having to open his ever-smiling mouth. He'd had a unique way of breaking his primary flight training students of the habit of clutching the yoke too hard. He would have them fly with a pencil tucked under their middle knuckle, the pressure it put upon their other fingers enough to dissuade them from squeezing too hard. Valentina had broken it. And the plastic pen. Bent the aluminum fuel line. It had taken a steel rod, the bruises not fading until after the cross-country flight when he had fallen asleep with his feet propped up on the dash. By then, he was that confident in her. You do not charge blindly at your prey, Tinka, you will spook it. You must circle around, behind... Circles. Valentina's eyes widened. It was all circles, everything was circles up here. She knew circles. She reached down and flicked a switch. "Kokos, you've switched off your guidance computer, what is wrong?" "Nothing, I am all right." She focused on the minuscule dot in the distance, moving farther away every moment. It was a circle! To go forward, she had to go... backwards. With a featherlight touch on the controls, Valentina pointed the ship, and fired the thrusters. "Kokos what... what are you doing?" She ignored the calls, focused on the fading mote lest she loose it against the glare of Kerbin far below. She slowed her breathing, let her hands move naturally, her eyes track the mark. This... this was hunting. And she was a hunter. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the mote became a speck. The speck became a dot. The dot became a blob. And the blob, at long last, took the form of a tiny spacecraft, while the face of Kerbin passed beneath obliviously. Valentina deftly steered her own ship closer, closer still, her movements quickly becoming unconscious as she did. The precise, automatic motions of a hunter. Finally, she brought Zarya's nose in just under the other ship, the two making contact with a soft bong that resonated through the hull. In the window, Valentina could see the silent bursts of Oduvanchik's attitude thrusters correcting the slight upset. "Control... I'm in position." "How... how did you do that? The lab coats down here are going nuts. That shouldn't be possible, you shouldn't be able to maneuver so quickly without radar." In Zarya's window, Oduvanchik loomed ominously. Anxiety was quickly replacing the confidence of moments before. "They can debrief me later, we have work to do."

From orbit? Only way to be sure. This actually happened one of the Apollo flights. There's a transcript mentioning a turd floating around.

I concur with this guy, @Wingman703, 8 hours is a perfect road trip. If that were all I'd never miss a launch (I'm about as far as one can get from FL and still be in the contiguous states). Fuel her up, have lots of beef jerky on hand, and bring back pictures!

Thank you for the kind words, tho I do believe you're missing a digit there . The old forum counted every "reload" view, this one doesn't seem to be counting ANY, so I dunno. It continues to amaze me that I've kept at this, usually my problem is I have grandiose ideas but never finish anything. Then I look at KSK's awesome work and I'm not sure whether to be inspired or challenged. I think I am rapidly approaching novel length, at least. Should have the next installment up middle of the week again:

To this day I can't think of a "code" without that scene coming to mind, yes.

Sooner or later I wanna sea this beast in space. With a pirate flag. Arrrrr.beep.