CatastrophicFailure

well now, that's embarrassing. That's what I get for mixing hashtags with Asterix in my drafts.

whats the name of the actual craft? Can't find much and it's quite an unusual design, being so flat.

Chapter 23: The Flight of Sila, pt. 1 "If you die, I will kill you." Those were Valentina's last words to Tercella before the latter disappeared into the elevator car to the top of the launch tower. Now, once again, frost clung stubbornly to a waiting rocket's skin. Now, once again, a Kerbal sat in a tiny capsule atop it. Beyond the cosmodrome, and beyond the skeletal, blackened forest surrounding it, the first hints of orange and red fringed the lower leaves of the trees. This, and the unseasonably cool day signaled that fall would soon arrive. In Ussari, the fall never lasted long. Once again, Valentina stared out the expansive windows of the Mission Control building, trying to calm herself. The sky overhead was slightly darkened by a high overcast. The weather center didn't expect it to delay the launch. Valentina hugged herself against the slight chill in the room, silently wishing it would. Gone were the crowds of spectators, the few who had shown up were kept outside by very serious-looking security. The launch would be televised, of course, now on a five minute delay. There was still anticipation in the air, but it was guarded. As guarded as the building now was. Dibella, once again, was coordinating the mission. She quietly went through the final procedures with the engineers at their stations. So far, everything had gone smoothly. Valentina rubbed her arms, and took a long breath that shuddered just slightly. It had gone smoothly before. "Terminal countdown commencing," Dibella said into her headset mic, "how are you doing, Sila?" "All systems nominal, checklist complete. I am ready," Tercella's voice crackled over the speakers. Calm. Professional. Detached. Every face like stone. Even Tercella lacked her usual lightness. Valentina took another slow breath. She wondered how many others were consciously trying not to hyperventilate. The voice was here too, always here, a susurrus of madness. "Sem..." "Shest..." "Pyat..." "Auto sequence start..." Once again, thunder rolled outside. The sound of the four kerosene main engines and their four vernier counterparts roaring to life was quite unlike the the chaotic noise of the older solid-fueled launchers. The ground still rumbled, the windows still shook, but it was ordered. Tight. Controlled. "All engines running." "Tree..." "Dva..." "Odéen..." Valentina's breath caught. For a moment, mission control was once again filled with that awful, pregnant stillness. And then... "Liftoff, we have liftoff. The clock is running." There were no cheers, no shouts, just the sound of a few dozen people breathing again. It took Valentina a moment to join them. She watched nervously as the long, green rocket lumbered past the launch towers, then rolled to the proper azimuth. She could do nothing, now, but watch. After a few moments, it disappeared into the cloud deck, leaving trail of matching grey smoke, and even watching was denied. "We have planned shutdown of engines two and four." "Sila copies, confirm engine shutdown, all lights still green." Valentina turned her attention to the array of screens as Dibella and the controllers went through their procedures with frustrating calmness. A video feed from the hull of a fuel tank showed a shaky image of the gleaming white top of the cloud deck. She watched, as the image slowly changed, the clouds stretched off into the distance, then finally met the sky. The horizon gradually crept towards the middle of the screen. The shaking began to get worse. "Sila, control, you're coming up on staging." "Copy, control." An engineer slowly counted down, then the image on the screen suddenly went to static. Valentina's heart stopped. She stumbled back when the feed sputtered and then returned, the spent first stage just visible as it began to tumble away. "Staging is good, ullage burnout, secondary engine at one hundred percent." "Sila copies, confirm staging. Tower jett is armed." "We have escape tower jettison, all systems still nominal." Breathless minutes trudged by as the greatly diminished rocket now clawed for the speed to achieve orbit. Even the video was now useless, all Valentina could do was watch the telemetry display. The numbered blinked and stuttered from the weak signal. Trying to distract herself, she began going over Kerblish verb conjugations in her head. She'd teased enough from the further pages of the manual to know that this was the most dangerous part of the ascent. An abort from this speed and altitude was possible, in theory, but the gee forces from such a steep descent... She pushed the thought out of her mind, tried to breathe, tried to focus on something else. Words. Words. Words! She looked away from the screens. At any moment, the call would come, any moment! Something had gone wrong again and now--" "Sila, control, we have SECO. Awaiting final telemetry." What? "Sila copies, confirm engine shutdown, separation light on." "Sila, this is control. Telemetry confirmed, you are go for at least five orbits." A thick, heavy silence stretched out. Some machine or other beeped softly. And then, "PЦTIЙS LЗFT ЭДЯ, I did it!" The room exploded. Valentina's hearing was still off, it probably wasn't as loud as it seemed. But then again, it just might have been. Cheers, whoops, shouts of joy filled the cavernous room. Papers and clipboards flew to the ceiling, one of which took out a light fixture but no one seemed to care. All around, people were hugging or shaking hands. Someone ran up to Dibella and gave her a big kiss on the cheek before running off again, leaving the former staring wide-eyed and gaping. Then someone tried to do the same to Valentina, but encountered her elbow instead, which by an odd coincidence arrived at the same place at the same time. Flashes and explosions outside made her jump, convinced something else had gone wrong, before she realized they were fireworks. Small monitors in the control room playing news broadcasts showed people flowing out into the streets, waving flags, hanging from light poles. And in the tiny broadcast room in the back of the mission control building, Mikhail Kerman was so busy dancing around and not standing by his station that he was singly responsible for Tercella Kerman swearing on a live international broadcast. No one seemed to care, though. They had done it, they had finally done it. A burst of garbled sound came from the speakers. "All right, all right, quiet down!" Dibella yelled over the din, trying to regain her composure, "we still have a mission to run here!" "Did not copy that, Sila, say again," she said into her mic as the noise died down. "Control, do you have a problem?" Tercella said, "I just had the oddest bunch of red lights come on up here." Dibella looked nervously over her control panel, rolled her eyes, then walked to an engineer still sitting on his own panel, and slapped him upside the head. He hopped down sheepishly. "Um... disregard control, they all went green again." "Let's get back on track here, give me a status report, Sila." "Copy... oxygen 99%, batteries 98%, flight fuel 94%, re-entry fuel 100%. All systems nominal." Dibella looked to the massive central monitor that plotted Tercella's predicted course on a map, "we're in this for the long run now. Power off antennas 1, 3, and 4, and switch to your orbital checklist. You're coming up on the coast, twenty minutes to Objective One..." Valentina's anxiety abated for the moment and she finally decided to join Dibella on the platform where the rows of consoles were stretched out. She kept out of the way, watched and listened as Tercella went through a series of attitude checks, visual tests, and activated science experiments. Tercella remarked that Kerbin seemed to be mostly below her. Dibella asked if it was drifting or falling. Tercella confirmed that it was not, but she was floating in a most peculiar way, and the stars looked very different, today. Valentina had the distinct impression she was missing a joke. A bad one. The indicator lights marked 'TX1/RX1' blinked back and forth as the other two spoke over the radio. The little Orbiter craft had now exceeded Dibella and Valentina's own flight times combined, and continued to perform well. A major mission goal neared as the tiny ship approached the coast of Kerfrica. "You should be in range, now, Sila. Bring up the frequency on antenna 4 and proceed." "Sila copies, transmitting." Now the 'RX1' and 'TX2' light illuminated. "Greetings and salutations from Ever Glorious Imperious Union of Ussari States," her Kerblish sounded at least passable to Valentina, "I am Kerbonaut Tercella Kerman. I bear tidings of peace and friendship to brave fellows of Kerbal Space Administration and its constituent member states, in hopes of greater understanding and cooperation between all peoples." RX1 blinked on again, "how... how was that?" Stillness stretched out for a few moments, then RX2 came on, and an unsteady voice spoke Ussari...ish. "Greetings and... salad stations. Me am be person of being, Kerman Jorrigh. I proclaimed noise of... opening, and, gooey friendship. Because Mister Union of Conditions, king illegal forest. In it a is! With now of persons, we really can into space." Somewhere in a forgotten corner of the Mission Control room, an errant cricket chirped softly.

Them's fightin' words! But it's before except after . Maybe. *** also, related but not at all related:

Chapter 22: Winds of Change A single drop of sweat rolled down Vladimir Kerman's temple. He gingerly nudged the controls. Steady, now. Veeeery steady. Even professionals get nervous, he reminded himself. And his was an unusually... unique profession. He watched the hand signals from the rigging foreman far below. Up now, gently. The enormous white form, still in its protective shrink wrap, slowly lifted from its transport cradle. It wasn't that it was heavy, far from it, it was just huge. The crane had been built specifically for this task, one of only two in the world they said, but a load of this size was stretching its limits. Vladimir couldn't see a thing beneath it, he relied entirely on the foreman's guidance as he translated the structure back from the train car. There we go, down now... easy... eeeeaasy... there! The foreman give him a 'thumbs up.' Vladimir put a hint of slack in the lines as the rigging crew busied themselves below, then leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. He scratched his arm absently, and looked again at the waiting train. Just arrived from Kerbelsk this morning, a thin tendril of smoke still rose from the locomotive. One down, five more to go. Then another half dozen tomorrow. Then more trains carrying upper stages, spare parts, and support equipment. The rigging foreman yelled something rude, and Vladimir jumped back to the present. The gleaming white form crept off toward the VAB on its hundred-wheeled power dolly, an empty one already pulling in to take its place. Vladimir slewed the gantry crane sideways towards the next rail car, and scratched at his arm again. Yep, it was going to be a long week. And the damn rash still hadn't cleared up yet. *** Valentina watched from her window as the train was carefully unloaded. It had all happened so fast. She sighed, and looked again at the massive technical binder. She'd manage to force her way to page 6 by pure will. Tercella was scheduled to fly soon, and Valentina had to trudge through it all first. Her red eyes wandered over the other books scattered across her small table, the bed, the floor, and a particularly obnoxious one still embedded in the drywall. It wasn't the technical stuff, that much she could grasp. It was this PЦTIИSКI language. She picked up a thin, colorful book. S... s... see Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run! Yes, Spot, you'd best keep running. This was asinine! If this was how the Foreigners learned their language, maybe the Imperium was right about them after all. She paused, and rubbed at the wide flat spot between her eyes. Everyone in the Union knew at least a few words of other languages. Nihaciman was very common, as was Abvonovichatkaderivokistani, and Dachlandish for the educated who'd been to the University. Krünian was becoming more and more popular too, being so near the city. The construction foremen favored it, it was a good language for yelling at people in. Krünian, now there was a logical, efficient language. No extra letters. Well, except for the really important sounds like Phlegm and Spittle. It must have given all its extra letters to Dachlandish, which seemed to delight in using as many letters as possible to represent a sound, but even that had a certain order to it. But the entire manual was in Kerblish. It... it was... It was just chaos! Pure chaos! Valentina paused for a moment to thump her forehead against the table a few times. It felt better. Beyond a few words the fool language made no sense at all! There were rules, so many rules... but then there were more exceptions to the rules than rules themselves. I before E except after C? What lunacy was that?! Then they followed with a string of times when I did not, in fact, come after E. It was madness! And then there was the alphabet! Honestly, why couldn't people just use nice, normal, Kerillic letters? This Foreign writing system... this letter looked like that letter but it sounded like this other letter. And what was this? What was this? Was it a letter or did someone sneeze on the page?! Bah! Anyone who could master such insanity must have the patience of a rock. Dibella might have been able to help. She could speak (and read!) a half dozen languages. What was it she had called herself? A polygamist? Polygon? Either way, the word sounded unpleasant, but it meant all this nonsense came easily to Dibella, she was already fluent in Kerblish. Studying with Dibella might help. There was just one problem. Valentina yawned, wiggled her jaw back and forth. She tapped at her eardrums, then made slow 'ooo-wah' motions with her mouth. The Flight Surgeon had said that her hearing would return in time, to which she'd said 'WHAT?' He then sternly cautioned her against doing anything that again, as continued exposure to excessive sound levels would eventually cause permanent hearing loss, to which she'd also said 'WHAT?', at which point he'd given up and just written her a note. As it was, 'WHAT?' had become somewhat of a defacto lingua franca around the Cosmodrome. Since neither of the two could hear, studying together wouldn't be much use. Valentina grunted in frustration, sat back, and looked out towards the crews unloading the train. It had all happened so fast. A dozen complete launch vehicles manufactured by something called a 'corporation,' a few incomplete ones, and spare parts to build several more. Then more would be built here in the Union under something called a 'license.' The Kerbal Space Administration and the Imperious Academy of Sciences had signed an 'Agreement of Non-Competition and Preface to Cooperation.' Living deep in the taiga, only making the arduous trek into the village a few times a month, Valentina had been spared from much of the... politics regarding the Foreigners. Most people accepted what the Imperium's Ministry of Truth told them with an eagerness that had always disturbed her. In the taiga, perceptions were often skewed by clever things looking to make a meal of you. She'd learned not to trust what the world 'told' her, to see the truth beyond it. The greater World beyond the forests told that the Foreigners were something lesser, something alien. If not outright enemies, they were bitter rivals to be kept at arm's length. And certainly never to be trusted. Shake their hand, until you found a stick. Then their rocket had disintegrated, and Edmund Kerman had been fished barely alive from the sea. For a fleeting moment, there was... something, just out of reach. Then the propaganda had returned as strong as ever, and the Foreigners were once again something to be overcome. An obstacle to be surmounted at any cost. And then... Sergei. Valentina looked down at the books surrounding her. Not long ago, any Foreign goods except those from a few trusted allies were strictly forbidden, and now the Union its self was buying rockets from them. It was just so... logical. The main engines of the Stolitsa launch vehicle were fatally flawed, and finding that flaw had turned up a litany of others that simply hadn't failed yet. A new launcher, new engines, everything would have to be redesigned from the ground up. It would take years, if nothing went wrong. Years that would allow the KSA complete domination of space, with any remaining niches filled by the more humble space programs of the world. The embarrassment to the Imperium, especially after such fanfare... well, it would be difficult to put words to. The Imperium was known to be boisterous, idealistic, and above all, proud. Buying Foreign rockets to maintain the space program, loosing a little face to save more in the long run... it was a cool, calculated, rational decision. The Imperium simply didn't do that! What struck her the most as odd, however, was that this 'Layland Heavy Industries' had over a dozen rocket stages just sitting around waiting to be sold in the first place. She knew the Foreigner's economic system was quite different. Maybe it was normal for them to have lots of stuff just sitting around, waiting to be sold, if the sudden influx of other goods was any indication. People in Kermangrad bustled about, now, in their blue jeans and yak-kid boots, eating their McKerbal's™, so of course they wouldn't wonder about where the rockets came from. Everything had changed, and yet, nothing had. It was all very... convenient. And familiar. She had experienced it enough to see the pattern. Valentina knew the Imperium was not the Great Advocate it made its self out to be, but such was just life. Such was the Agreement. Challenge the Imperium and, well, that's how you got the Troubles. She hated politics, hated them. But she knew this darkness. She could see into this forest, and in the shadows, catch a glimpse of a predator staring back at her. Valentina sighed once more, rubbing at her tired eyes. Maybe she was just overthinking it all. Maybe it all was a turn in a positive direction. But either way, it wasn't helping her get through the manual. With a groan, she picked up another reader. Well, on the bright side, at least it wasn't Ceriman. With that one, blink your right eye instead of your left and 'hi, how are you?' became 'your mother has unnatural relations with farm animals and I will see you dead before the sun sets!' And their writing system seemed to consist almost entirely of various smiley faces. It was no wonder those people were always at war.

I am pretty happy with how that turned out, actually. I usually lack the patience (and skill) for videos, but maybe I'll have to throw the odd one in the mix. I'm going in to the doctor to get declawed in a few hours, then I'm off for a full week, so I'm hoping for lots of updates then!

No.... no, not catastrophic... definitely more of a mildly obnoxious failure. I've re-added a couple old and a couple completely new subs, verified they're on Instant, still not a peep from the forum in a couple days now. My inbox is distressingly empty Just sent.

Hi, not sure if this is the right sub-forum.... but all of a sudden I'm not getting forum emails anymore? Is there a known issue with this ATM? I've double checked, they are NOT ending up my spam filter, all my subs are set to instant/email, not getting PM notifications either. Email addy is correct in profile.

Subscribed just to see where this goes

The Island Airfield.... is no longer an island. Tré bizarre.

Brilliant! I just spent the better part of the day enthralled in this. Grinned, then chuckled, then completely lost it at William Tecumseh Kerman and now people are staring at me. Will be eagerly waiting for more.

Extra launch added to the manifest just for GarrisonChisholm

in English, ANYthing can be an uncouth euphemism. So the experimental docking port would still be in the part list after the upgrade, right? So I could swap it out in situ with KIS after the official release?

Just curious, are we talking days or weeks on the "official" upgrade featuring these? Would like to know if I should delay my next launch is all.

Managing everything can be tricky. If you've gotten far enough, Kerballed craft can be a real life-saver before your RT network is fleshed out. Your stuck satellite is still salvageable, the orbit won't actually decay if you're focused elsewhere. You could try rendezvousing with it with your munar probe before TMI and giving it a little bump to get power back, but yes that is risky. Adding more ground stations to the RT CFG is fairly easy too, one is hard early on and a bit unrealistic IMHO. If you want a less "cheaty" way of generating emergency funds, there are mods out there that let you trade funds for science/rep, or even give you an outright loan. Welcome back to the learning curve I wish you luck.

Wow mentioned in the same breath as Scott Manley But yes, I really can't recommend the upscaled mods enough if you're looking for more challenge in the "easy things" (and I use the term loosely) like just getting into orbit. I'm thinking of having a go at RP-0 myself once 1.1 comes out.

Been mucking about with the New Horizons mod lately. It completely reworks the solar system and makes Kerbin a moon of a gas giant. Makes from some very stunning views: This is Serran. It orbits the same gas giant as Kerbin. I was all set up to land a small base there, switched scenes, then all of a sudden everything I had orbiting Serran (including the base) was now orbting Lave in a completely different sub-system. With nothing better to do, I tried landing there anyway. Took a few tries. Kerbal kooperation! When you kan't kwite reach the kontainer alone! Of course, now these two are completely borked as I have no way of returning them Kerbin and they'll probably run out of snacks long before I can research the technology to do so.

Just don't trust the emissions tests

IIRC his game suffered from fatal file shenanigans, also known as FFS. Taking a nod from history, that Kerpublic didn't last long either. @Shania_L: As I said elsewhere, much different approach to solving problems. You do much with very little (I forget those mini docking ports even exist). Any particular reason you made the plane-change burn prior to the ejection burn going to Minmus? And have fun on your vacation(?). Now I'll have a couple of weeks to catch up

64k and an alternate launch site.

Forgot to hit Z.... Rocket drops onto the pad, much explodings... Oh, hey, the payload survived... Still going... STILL going.... Rocket: Total loss Launch pad: Total loss Payload: Intact. In Ussari Space Program, payload strong like bool! Rocket, not so much...

Chapter 21: An August Summer Night "Oh come on, Tia! It's going to start any minute!" Dibella was practically dragging her by the hand up the crowded staircase, with Tercella snaking along behind. "Who are ('scuse me) all these (sorry) people?" Valentina grunted as she squeezed past. "I haven't the slightest idea," Dibella was somehow able to cut through the press with a few stern looks, "I was afraid they'd break the door down, so I just unlocked it. They seem to be keeping out of the offices." "This is insane (hey that's my foot!)..." Tercella managed, "wait, how is it (creep!) you have the key?" "My family owns this building..," someone, who'd been enjoying themselves a little too much, could be heard hurking in a corner... loudly, "we... were planning to renovate it anyway." Valentina followed along, still numb and quite bewildered by the whole thing. It had happened so fast. The grumbling and unrest had been stopped dead in its tracks and was now looking around, confused, wondering what the PЦTIЙ had just happened and not quite sure what to do with its self. All around her, people were wearing those odd but oh-so-practical blue canvas slacks, and here and there strange tall boots with narrow, tapered toes, and even some very silly looking hats that looked several sizes too big. Someone had said they were measured in liters. And leather. Lots and lots of black leather. She understood the significance of the last few days, but still struggled to pull her mind out its fog and relate to it. The voice in her head ebbed and flowed, but was becoming ever more insistent, ever more convincing. She didn't understand what it wanted, or even what it offered, but every day it grew more difficult to resist. Here, in the darkness, there is solace. Here, in the darkness, there is peace. "Ah! This is it! Keep together, now," Dibella said, pulling Valentina from her fugue as they topped the last staircase and went through a door into the muggy late summer night. The din was even worse up here, the press of bodies tighter. Valentina felt a peculiar sensation in the air that made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the feeling just before a lightning storm. Dibella seemed to have a growing talent to get people to do what she wanted, including standing just to the side there, bit more, thank you very much, vacating a strip of valuable real estate for the trio. Valentina finally stepped up to the railing at the edge of the rooftop, and despite barely being able to see over it, her mouth fell open. Once again, every scrap of space in Crimson Square was filled with people. Every rooftop, every window, every balcony. The clear night was filled with voices and rattail smoke and... something rather unpleasant. The Great Banner with its gold-edged crimson star festooned the buildings, but a new form hung now, too. A dark banner with an odd silver form that resembled a large insect. All around, colored spotlights waved back and forth, occasionally illuminating the drifting clouds of smoke. And dominating it all was the stage. Erected against the Wall of the Fortess, a respectful distance from the Mausoleum, it was completely unlike the stages built for the bureaucrats. It was chrome and aluminum and more lights, an oddly entrancing amalgam of black and shiny. In the center, near the back, was an enormous drum set, and behind that, the expansive granite flank of the Wall. Valentina was mesmerized by the sheer weirdness of it all. Everywhere, people were talking or cheering or randomly woo!ing. She could feel... something, too. An odd tingly-twisty sensation at the base of her spine. It was like the anticipation of hunting... or being hunted... At least, she realized, she felt something. She grew frustrated with trying to see over the wide concrete railing, and simply pulled herself up onto it as others were doing. The entire expanse of the Square now spread out before her. Here and there she could see pockets of crowd control police, and even they seemed more interested in the stage than in shoving people. Even the GUM store was-- A sudden surge in the crowd drew her attention. The noise, the noise! She was used to rocket launches by now, but this... The stage suddenly lit up, and the crowd grew louder. On the Wall behind it was that odd insectoid shape. It took Valentina a moment to comprehend, but somehow they were projecting it there. The very Wall of the Fortress had just become the world's largest screen, dwarfing the monitors at mission control. The noise of the crowd slowly gained form, and people pumped their fists in the air to the simple triplet rhythm. Sol-pu-GIDS! Sol-pu-GIDS! Sol-pu-GIDS! Sol-pu-GIDS! The chant grew and grew, Valentina could only stare and gape. Even Dibella and Tercella had joined in. She tried to say something to them, but no sound came. She could feel her vocal cords move, but her own voice in her head had been stripped away like breath in a gale. Every voice in her head. Against possibility, the crowd grew even louder, and movement on the stage drew her attention. The projection on the Wall was now a video feed of the stage, so Valentina could very clearly make out... the four strangest Kerbals she had ever seen. The first one came out and she... was it a she? Valentina had never seen long hair on a he before, but this one was short, had long blonde hair, and a terribly receding hairline. S/he waved to the crowd while bouncing around the stage like s/he had had entirely too much coffee, then took his/her place at the enormous drum set. The next one came out and ...he? also had long hair, but black and curly. A smoldering rattail dangled from ...his? lips, ...he? wore dark tinted spectacles despite the night, and had, of all things, a top hat on. On a strap around ...his? neck was an instrument that looked something like a balalaika but with far too many strings. Then the third stepped out, and there was no doubting he was a he, because he had short cropped hair... and wore nothing but his underwear. The edge of Valentina's lip curled up in a sneer of confusion. Probably. He, too, had a not-balalaika-thing, with a much longer neck. Then the last one came up, and she was definitely a lady. She had on a colorful, flowey blouse with long flowey bits at the wrists, carried a stand microphone with another flowey bit tied to it, and, of course, long flowey hair. It was all very... flowey. She stepped to the center of the stage, and the crowd surged yet again, then she said something into the microphone, and Valentina realized she was not, in fact, a lady. She was a... what was that word they were using? Dude? Well he looked like a lady. He said something again, making the crowd cheer. Valentina couldn't understand a single word. She thought it might be Kerblish, but between the roaring crowd, echoing speakers, and the gravelly voice, she couldn't tell. Flowey spoke again, the crowd surged louder than ever before, then dropped strangely quiet. Flowey began to whistle... Just a simple, eight-note melody. Across the crowd, first one... then another... and another... Tiny yellow lights burst into life. They spread across the sea of darkness like a sheath of light, swaying and pulsing, thousands upon thousands. It again took Valentina a moment to comprehend, people were raising and waving their rattail lighters. And, being Ussari, there were a lot of them. After a couple of bars, Tophat began playing ...his? not-balalaika. This, too, was unlike anything she had experienced. It was clear and crisp, with amplified sound that let the chords ring on. Flowey began to sing, and once more the crowd surged. Valentina still couldn't pick out any words, but people in the crowd certainly seemed to know them. The melody repeated, the cheers ebbed and flowed, and the flood of lights waved on. Quickly the sound built, then Underwear and Hairline joined in, and the sound became complete. The drums pounded in her chest like a heart, and the melodies surged in her nerves. The Sound enveloped her, washed over her, yet pulled at her too. It was a Power inexorable, flowing in her soul. All around people were waving and cheering, and Valentina caught a soundless woo! from her own lungs, too. Then, for a few bars, the sound shifted, and dipped. It hesitated for just a moment, then surged forth on its own, building and building, until every spotlight in the Square was on Tophat. He stepped into the light, and did something different, and suddenly that wondrous thing around his neck burst into a new sound. It swooped and dived, twirled and banked in the muggy night air. It spoke, it sang, it flowed all around the crowd. It soared like a thing alive. The Power fed from it, or it fed from the Power, and together they built into something incredible. Now everyone was singing. All across the Square, from every rooftop, every window, every balcony. The police down below stood with their arms around others in the crowd, swaying back and forth with them. They weren't singing the right words, they weren't even singing the same words, but it didn't matter, and Valentina finally realized she, too, was singing right along. It was silly, she knew that. It was absurd. It was all patently ridiculous. But somehow, in this closeted nation of hyperbole, it was glorious. The band played on until the first violet tendrils of dawn touched the sky, and all the time the voice whispered in Valentina's mind. But somewhere, on that august summer night, she found the strength to fight on a little more. Valentina never did find out what that dude (looks like a lady) was singing about. She thought it had something to do with flatulence and coins.

Starscream always has been one to quickly fall without support. And yes, I DID get the joke. That was bad comedy To embed imgur albums, you just paste the alphanumbery bit from the URL between a pair of

Latest news: still 6-8 weeks out: "Return Falcon-9 to Flight with Orbcomm-2 Mission to Test Rocket's Upper Stage" But does seem to confirm they'll be attempting a landing.