CatastrophicFailure

IIRC, way back before their first launch they were supposed to be paired with Moon Express, with the latter’s lunar lander as Electron’s first payload. Glad to see Rocket Lab hasn’t given up on this, at least to some extent.

Yes, relish is quite clearly a lunch food and best served upon boiled bags of mystery meat in highly-processed partially stale buns. All that technology stymied by an improperly greased bearing. Always apply grease until it’s dripping on the floor to be safe.

This thread is still not dead. Sort of a theme, here... And as usual, belated thanks to @KSK for playing editor and @qzgy for playing scribe. Next one is... maybe not so depressing...

Thought that was Nathan Fillion for a split second. Now that would be an amusing presentation... Looks brilliantly simple, actually. Run tracks down the dorsal surface-no third fin, no problem-stainless, of course, so no TPS needed either. Then the aft dorsal door becomes the elevator platform and the big rover just drives on. Dunno if it would work in earth grabbity, but seems quite plausible for the Moon, maybe Mars.

Not that difficult to engineer, the Russians have done that for years ever since TKS. Maybe repurpose/rebuild a spare US station node. Actually, Dreamchaser uses exactly this design for its cargo module, contract them to build the SM/hab. Doesn’t need to be very large, after all.

Not a speck of light is showing, So the danger must be growing. Are the fires of Hell a–glowing? Is the grisly reaper mowing? Yes, the danger must be growing, For the rowers keep on rowing, And they're certainly not showing Any signs that they are slowing! Chapter 40: Blood from Stone “Troubling. Most troubling. Troubling indeed,” Roland stroked his long white beard, looking... well, troubled. “Could there be any other... possible explanation?” the Empress, for her part, did not look troubled at all, though one thumb rubbed across the blue münstone at her neck in a mirror of him. “Even if I were inclined to disbelieve them,” his eyes flicked to Edgas and Valentina, “there’s no doubting the scorch marks on that wall.” Valentina seemed not to notice. She gazed at Edgas who gazed at his plate and untouched food, or perhaps something far, far beyond them. "Hey..." she nudged him, "you all right?" Edgas gave a nod and a half-formed mumble. “Troubling, certainly,” the Empress continued, seeming not to notice the lack of notice, “that it could not only touch the dreamworld but reality itself. And you are certain Ilamnediúan is still lost?” Roland nodded, “we would know, if someone had found that again. But the last confirmed sighting was on board that ship,” he turned to Valentina, “right about the time you, er, disappeared.” “Excuse me,” Burdous butted in, “I-llama-what?” “Ilamnediúan,” the Empress eyed him, “an ancient artifact. A... dark grail, of sorts.” “Said to grant whatever poor, unfortunate soul who finds it the curse of eternal life. Among several others,” Roland added, “and last seen in the hands of a certain Jerdous Kerman. I lost track of it... right around the time you disappeared,” he finished with a nod toward Valentina. “He had it,” she said, not meeting his eyes, “I saw it.” “You... what?” Roland looked at her with something like awe. “A medallion so big,” she spread her hands, “and blacker than any night, yes? He bared it at me. Somehow, he was using it to speak in my mind... through Igor.” Roland only blinked at her for some time, before shaking his head, “is... that so?” “I... don’t think he had it anymore, not when I got there,” Burdous stared down with an odd mix of fear and hunger at his empty plate. Roland raised an eye... bulge at him, “eh? And how it that?” “I’ll never forget it,” a quick shake of his head, “I arrived at the Jool ship right after everything... happened. My brother was in a fury, I’d never seen him so mad before. Now, granted, as far as I knew at the time, he’d just blown himself and everything else inside the ship out into space to save it from an insane, malfunctioning AI... no idea how he survived... but...” he looked up, “even then, anger at the whole situation when he was lucky just to be alive struck me as odd, even for him.” Burdous gave a long sigh, “now... losing a really important evil dark MacGuffin sending him into a fit of rage... that makes a certain amount of sense.” “That would seem to confirm what I do know,” Roland ran a claw-like hand over his beard with a considering look, “you can be rather clever when you want to. How long would it take such a thing to fall from orbit?” Burdous thought for a moment, “at that altitude? Decades. Centuries, even, for something small.” A nod, “then if it was lost in space, it’s most certainly still up there. Only he could find it again, and he is no longer a concern.” “That seems logical,” the Empress still ran a thumb over her münstone, “but does not bring us any closer to the events last night.” About this time, Dibella appeared, setting down plates of steaming food. Except for Burdous’s, which was mostly dropped. “Hey!” he frowned up at her, then glared at his plate, “and what the heck is this?” “They smell fine,” she sat down across the table, “besides, you’re never one to be picky.” “Yeah, but...” Burdous winced in frustration, “where on Kerbin do you get green eggs?!” “From a yellow chicken,” Roland did not look up from his own. Burdous opened his mouth. “The rooster was blue.” Burdous closed his mouth. “And don’t you even ask about the ham.” Burdous opened his mouth. Burdous closed his mouth. Burdous smacked himself in the face. And then, being Burdous, proceeded to consume his meal, and possibly some silverware, half the plate and a glass tumbler, without ever appearing to chew. Roland gawked at this for some time, before letting out is own tired sigh, “well, at least that’s cleared us some space.” Burp. A stack of papers and a mangled fork hit the table from different directions, “now... we have a heist to plan.” *** “That’s the third diagnostic Ah’ve run, Cap’n,” the technician rapped a knuckle on the screen, sending out little ripples across the LCD that looked ironically like what he should have been seeing, “Ah’ve never seen a glitch like this. We should be picking up the Pillars clear as day b’ now, at the very least!” The Captain made a low noise deep in his throat, running a hand over a thick red beard that stubbornly refused to assent to the grey higher on his head, “Navigator, confirm our course again, please.” “Right down the pickle barrel, sar,” the navigator turned from his console, a slight tone of incredulousness in his voice, “we’re within one meter of the ideal lane, it... it’s the tightest run Ah’ve ever made! We’ll pass directly between the Pillars in exactly—“ he glanced at his screen, “twenty-eight minutes, sar.” “And no glitches?” the Captain kept staring at nothing, stroking his beard. “No, sar. GPS, AstraLink, LORAN... all in agreeance. And Ah’ve quadruple-checked me own plots on the chart, too,” he shook his head, “we’re exactly where we’re s’posed to be.” With a nod, the Captain rose, moving between the banks of consoles to the wide array of windows. Beyond them, three hundred meters of shipping containers stretched out into the mist. That, at least, seemed to be clearing. A few minutes ago the fog had been so thick he couldn’t even see a hundred meters of containers. “So the glitch is limited to the radar,” he said at length, to no one especially, “both units, and the backup...” “That should be impossible, Captain!” the radar operator quipped, gave up on his buttons and just slapped the thing. “And yet,” the Captain turned to him with a wry half-grin, “here we are.” He returned to his seat at the center of the bridge, feeling rather... troubled. Something scritch-scratched at the back of his mind, some half-formed thought from some half-remembered snippet in some magazine or other, an age ago. He gave his beard one more stroke, as if the answer might lay hidden within. Beyond the distant bow, the fog continued to clear. “Mister Kerman,” he finally said, and the Mate appeared at his side, “send lookouts forward. We’ll feel our way through the Pillars with sticks if we must, these supplies need to get to Kerbelsk with all haste.” “Aye, aye, sar!” the Mate said, and disappeared through a hatchway. It was about this time, that the radio speaker overhead crackled on the emergency channel, “attention vessel squawking transponder code 1191297, this Commander Horatio Kerman of the HMS Tartare, of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. You are about to enter a restricted area. Reverse your course at once.” For a moment, the bridge crew could only stare at each other, dumbfounded. Even the Captain seemed at a loss for words. “The Omorkians? That Royal Navy?” the navigator said, “why in the bloody green blazes would they...” The Captain held up a hand. He stood slowly, took a moment to straighten his uniform tunic before crossing to the radio. Beyond the long row of windows, the fog was quickly retreating. He took the handset and keyed the mic, “Tartare, this is Captain Kannery Kerman of the Layland Venture. We are a merchant vessel on a diplomatic mission, sailing under the flag of Gednalna in international waters. You have no right to restrict us.” “By royal decree, this area is now under a military blockade,” the radio hissed back, “reverse your course at once, Venture.” “Blockade?!” the navigator shook his head, “the radgers have gone mad, they have!” Now the kerb at the wheel turned, his eyes wide and nervous, “course heading, Captain?” “Hold your course,” the Captain said quickly before keying the mic again, “the Strait of Kerfrica is protected by international agreement. By what authority does the Crown of Omork presume to restrict it?” “Ship ahoy, Cap’n!” a lookout called out, “starboard bow, bearing zero-seven-five... zero-six-five... zero-five— bloody hells she’s fast!” The Captain followed his calls, but there was no missing it as it emerged from the fog like a twisted nightmare. A ship, grey as the mist and all harsh angles and straight lines. A tall roostertail of water rose behind it as it skated across the surface. “Ker, she must be doing forty, fifty knots, easy!” the navigator gasped. While the crew gawked, three bright flashes came from the pursuer’s bow. Then their heads swung together to the left, as the sea erupted into towers of spray only a few hundred meters off their port bow. An instant later, the bridge was rocked by a staccato tirade of sonic booms. The mate burst through the hatchway, “bloody hells, is someone shootin’ at us?!” The Captain snapped fingers at him without looking, “get on the horn to dispatch, they need to know about this.” Confusion flashed in the mate’s eyes for only a moment before he dashed to a console. “Course heading, Captain?” the helmskerb’s knuckles showed white as he gripped the yoke. “Reduce speed to one-quarter and make ready to—“ “Captain!” the mate’s face had lost all its green, “Ah’ve got no carrier. Satellite, wideband, VLF, nothing. No comms beyond maybe 50 kilometers. Somethin’s interferin’ with the signal, like its being jammed.” “If this is blockade, why would they—“ the Captain stopped, the answer clear as the parting fog ahead. The radio crackled once more, “Layland Venture, you are in violation of a military exclusion zone. You will now maintain your course and speed... and prepare to be boarded.” Off to starboard, the sleek yet angular destroyer pulled alongside, a VTOL rising from its hangar. But the Captain did not see this. As the fog fully lifted, he was unable to turn his eyes from the dark grey steel mountain ahead, where there should be only open sea. *** Tensions flared higher today in the Strait of Kerfrica as the Royal Omorkian Navy seized and interned a third Gednalnan container ship in alleged violation of their unilateral naval blockade of the crucial waterway. In a prepared statement, Kermingham Palace once again stressed that the blockade would remain, quote, “pacific,” due to the presence of the 145,000-ton nuclear-powered dreadnought HMS Leviathan, a ship the Royal Navy claims to have no equal in the world today. The statement said the blockade would remain in place and any ships attempting to pass would be seized and searched until the, quote, “threat of Gednalnan weapons of mass destruction, such as the technology for micronized nuclear weapons like those most recently deployed in Ponpín during the ongoing F9H1 crisis, and other elicit technologies, had been neutralized.” In a short counter statement, Edinkurgh retorted that there were no international restrictions on the exchange of such technology, however maritime law is quite clear in the matter of piracy of civilian merchant vessels, and that further interference may be considered, quote, “an act of war.” Following this, the visibly shaken Ussari Foreign Minister delivered this taped response, “this is madness! The vessels passing the Kerfrican Strait are not carrying weapons of mass destruction or weapons of any sort. They are bearing kermanitarian supplies so generously provided by the King of Gednalna to assist Ussari and her sister states around the Tethys Sea in the wake of the worst natural disaster in history. For the Omorkians to take advantage of the destruction of nearly all of our seaports like this, in order to squabble over delayed food and fuel shipments caused by the very same disaster, is the height of international pettiness, and to imply that we have been seeking weapons technology after years of good relations with the East is nothing short of insulting! The Ussari people will not be bullied over such nonsense!” We should note that despite such strong words, the Ussari military has yet to mount any direct response, other than an increased presence of Kupolev 95M maritime patrol aircraft in the area. Plip. Click. Violence erupted once again at a border crossing in the Catless Mountains, leaving 27 dead and dozens more injured. Thousands of refugees fleeing the growing chaos in Kleptogart still brave unseasonably frigid temperatures in the narrow mountain pass in hopes of gaining asylum in the United Federal People's Kingdom of Omork. Rumors that it was the Omorkian border guards themselves who fired into the panicked crowd were quickly rebutted by the Interior Ministry, which pointed out that all of the stricken were immediately granted emergency entry visas and taken to Omorkian hospitals already overflowing with the sick and injured from the expanding crisis. The Ministry stressed that it was processing asylum applications as quickly as possible, and directed blame for the attack at roving bands of marauders who have taken to raiding refugee caravans all along the border between the two nations. It announced a further increase in Royal Army presence at known hot spots, and would begin moving air support assets and armor into the areas, but again refuted any claims that Omorkian troops had actually crossed the border. In related news, reports continue to flow in of a similar buildup of Nefcarckalandern forces in the Northern Lowlands... Plip. A saline drop fell to the polished wood floor. Click. KA-BOOM-boom... Explosions continue to rock downtown Kerbin City as militants vie for control of crucial areas. Fears of all-out civil war following the constitutional crisis in the wake of President Kerman’s resignation only weeks ago have turned out to be not deep enough, as the two opposing sides of the conflict rapidly splintered into multiple factions, each fighting with all the others as well as local governors and community militias, plunging the once-prosperous nation into complete anarchy seemingly in the blink of an eye. Much of the north and central part of the country has been left without any rule of law, save for a small area around the Kerbin Space Center currently under the protection of a Gednalnan security force dispatched under Article 19 of the Treaty of Kerbin City. With no functioning government, fires set off by the chaos have been allowed to rage unchecked across millions of hectares, burning entire cities to the ground including the world-famous Vinewood, once the center of the entertainment industry. The relatively stable southern provinces have apparently not been spared devastation either, as our news desk continues to receive reports of multiple F6-class tornados striking across the plains of Cansas, devouring everything in their paths. Attempts to validate these reports have been— Click. Plip. Another drop joined its fellows on the floor, the salt of tears and sweat tinged with streaks of shadow in the dim, flickering light of the wall-screen. Click. Wildfires have razed over sixteen million hectares in drought-stricken Cocomor and Ligartabia to date, destroying the once-fertile grasslands and leaving vast swathes of of the region completely depopulated. Due to the simple, semi-nomadic lifestyle of most of the indigenous population, any firm analysis of the Kerman toll of the disaster is difficult to estimate, but the death toll is currently thought to be in the— Click. Plip. ...I must be steel... Click. ...Worst winter storm to hit Krünia in its history continues to blow, after a polar vortex which had raged in the arctic for weeks descended southward and stalled over the region. The picturesque city of Münchkin remains paralyzed and isolated, with all roads into the area unfit for travel and the entire North Sea choked with ice earlier in the season than ever recorded. Nighttime temperatures are plunging to more than 40 degrees below zero, and sustained winds over a hundred kilometers an hour are straining local utility services, causing widespread power outages. An official with the regional magistrate’s office has deemed casualty reports as ‘staggering,’” Click. Plip. ...I must be ice... Click. ”... Live footage from the Najipakali capital of Kajarta, where firefighters have been using aircraft, tanker trucks, and even plastic buckets to try to stem the tide of a massive lava flow from nearby Mount McKerman threatening to engulf the entire city. The long-dormant volcano, called Krakentoa by locals, was apparently spurred back to life by the massive earthquake in Dachland. For days now, clouds of choking ash and poisonous gas have rained down on the island, muddy lahars have cut off crucial roadways, and molten rock continues to spew from the volcano’s flanks in volumes unseen in recorded history. Despite the efforts to save the city, geologists are urging a complete evacuation of the islands, warning of the possibility of a chain reaction super-eruption along the entire Najikalkali fault, which would be nothing less, than catastrophic—“ Click. Plip. ...I must be stone... Edgas Kerman stood in the darkened Hall of Grail, his back ramrod-straight, his feet just apart, his hands clenched behind him. One of them clung to a small, grey, sparkly rock, trembling with effort. His eyes were wide, glassy, also trembling; they, too, seemed to sparkle in the flickering light of the wall-screen. His flesh glistened with moisture, rivulets stained with darkness ran down his neck, borne of sweat and tears. He let them flow. He allowed himself to blink, but not to tear his eyes from the horrors on the screen before him. And yet, even in the sparkle of light, shadows seemed smeared across his face. I must be steel. I must be ice. I must be stone. No. I must be stronger than steel, colder than ice, harder than stone. I must be purged... Click. And so, he watched, surrounded by objects of unknowable power, and let the images on the wall draw the tears from his eyes. Another newscaster appeared, the scene... not right. Her hair was done up, yet one lock dangled free before her face. Her makeup was proper, yet couldn’t quite hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. And those eyes seemed kept from a thousand-meter stare by only sheer force of will. Her words came clipped, slow and weary. Our top story this evening... the first relief convoy has reached the city center of Garish, capital of Dachland, once called the City of Light. The damage from the unprecedented 10.2-magnitude earthquake is difficult to put into words, our embedded reporter saying only, that not one stone is left upon another. The convoy has made exceedingly slow progress, relying on bulldozers and excavators to clear a path through dozens of kilometers of rubble many meters high, extracting victims where possible, in order to reach the site of the Parliament House. Along with establishing a logistical route into the city to enable further aid, the primary objective of the relief task force is to locate any survivors of the Dachlandish government. The earthquake struck during a rare joint session of Parliament, as President Jacques Kérman was delivering an emergency address related to the ongoing F9H1 epidemic. The Federal Government has been able to continue functioning, however, under the Emergency Powers and Succession act, as designated survivor Francois Kérman was not in the country at the time of the disaster. The reporter’s eyes dropped to the papers before her for a moment, and somehow seemed yet more haggard when they rose again. The earthquake triggered the collapse of the entire western flank of the mighty Rim Range mountains, sending hundreds of cubic kilometers of rock plunging into the sea below. This, in turn, created a tsunami over two thousand meters high. The wave first struck the Gednalnan possession of Rim Island, and effectively wiped it... entirely... from the face of the map. The wave went on to cause utter devastation all along the coast of the Great Tethys Sea. Every major port city has been destroyed, and crucial farmland even hundreds of kilometers from the coast has been laid to ruin. In the confusion that followed, rescue forces from the dozen remaining nations on the Tethys swept into the rubble to aid survivors, only to be washed away in the following hours and days, as the sea rose again and again, sloshing back and forth like water in a bathtub until the massive energy from the mountain collapse had been dissipated. Perhaps even more concerning, the waves may have washed completely over the low-lying land of the Autmalagan Isthmus, completely demolishing the tenuous hold of the nascent Southern Coalition against hordes of F9H1 infected streaming from the former Ponpín. The nations of the Coalition were struck particularly hard by the tsunami, left vulnerable due to the massive amounts of kerbs and materiel sent to Autmalaga. Official communication with government contacts in the region has been... sporadic, at best, and fears of a complete loss of containment are mounting as reports continue to come in of infected washing up all along the shore of the Tethys Sea. We must stress that, due to the nature of the situation, such reports remain unverified. The Layland-Wutani Corporation has issued a statement reaffirming its commitment to combating the outbreak despite the tense global situation, and maintains that it has made contact with company assets in western Andacania near the Ceriman border, but the time needed to redeploy those assets eastward remains uncertain. Click. Plip. I am... not strong enough... Click. ...death toll in this city alone could easily reach into the tens of thousands... Click. ...entire fishing industry wiped out... Click. ...hundreds of thousands... Click. ...fears of massive crop failures... Click. ...millions... Click. ...breakdown of basic services... Click. ...tens of millions... Click. ...implosion of government... Click. ...hundreds of millions... Click. ...widespread famine and disease... Click. ...lead to a worldwide loss of life... numbering in the billions... Click. ...mass societal breakdown... Click. ...over two-thirds of the world’s population... Click. ...global economic collapse... Click. ...extinction-level event... Click. ...even now what some are calling the Apocalypse, the mythical End of Days— Click. The screen dissolved into a stark blue glow. “Hardly appropriate viewing material,” the Empress set the remote down on a shelf, her face as blank as the screen, “you should be resting, it will be a long night.” “I must be stronger,” Edgas‘s eyes dropped to the floor. She frowned at him, her own eyes flicking between him and the wall before widening just slightly, “you will do no good to torture yourself, and besides—“ she peered close, “wait, are... are you bleeding?” Plip. “I’m fine.” Her frown deepened, as the shadows cast in the eerie, off-color glow danced across his face, “you are not callous. Is in you nature to be... sensitive. It part of who you are.” “You seem to know me very well,” his eyes still had not left the floor. “We have been watching you a very long time.” “Then you know what I’ve been through... what I've... seen...” “Indeed,” the Empress stepped closer to him, “and the fact that you are still standing here with a functional mind... mostly... speaks to your strength.” Edgas’s eyes rose back to the screen. He made a gesture, and the horrid images returned, “is this really all that’s left for us? To have come so far, only to be left to die for the transgressions of some...thing we can’t even understand?” “Such is the way of the Pattern. Our world must die, so the Great Wheel may turn on, and others might live.” “Until they die,” he shook his head, “then something comes again and they die, over and over, dying for eternity. But we get oblivion.” Suddenly he turned to her, and the agony and pleading on his face cut into her heart like a knife, “please, you’ve got to help me, please... there must be something I can do! Something impossible, some million-to-one chance so crazy is just might work... right?” The Empress stared at him for a long time, her stoic exterior slowly crumbling like a grand edifice before the ravage of time, but in the end could answer only simply. “No.” Edgas’s face fell once more. “I can’t accept that,” he said, his voice close to cracking, “I’ve got to find some way to stop it, stop it all.” “Edgas...” she half-reached a trembling hand out to him, “you cannot stop the Wheel of Time.” One more his face rose, and something in it made her step back, a stifled gasp in her throat. “I’m not going to stop the Wheel. I’m going to break the Wheel. Excuse me,” Edgas turned from her, and left the room. The Empress watched him go, the look still frozen on her face. The shadows in the room shifted, and Roland seemed to materialize beside her. "The darkness in him stirs," he said, "our time grows short." "He is the One," the Empress still watched the door, "I am sure of it." "Are you now?" Roland raised an eye at her, "for if you are not, if there is any doubt in your mind... you know what you must do." Unbidden, her eyes fell to a shelf, to the blade that never grew dull. She quickly tore them away. "It will not come to that."

You missed the old days when HD clicking would drown out your speaker. Could lay down some funky beats treble tracks tho.

Forget Starship, they keep this up and pretty soon one could simply walk to space... cue Stairway to Heaven...

Holey mother of Kessler...

Forget Pulitzers or Oscars, as a creator, this is when you know you’ve truly arrived.

I’m sure @Just Jim would love to explain that one.

Can you imagine what Elon Musk’s save games looks like?

Confirmed, vertical raptor test stand: ...that’s an unusually direct answer...

Well, now that’s cemented in my head. Let’s just hope @mikegarrison isn’t too... plastered...

Troglodytes.

Dangit, knew I missed something. Yet another example of life imitating art.

Actually, that’s pretty darn close. it’ll use a docking probe inserted into the throat of the target sat’s kick motor, then pull it against those klaw-looking bits for a solid connection. Basically a new attitude/propulsion unit. Will be able to do this two or three more times, too.

I'm amazed it's even a thing at all. Cuba seems awfully close by to go lobbing missiles over, and then there's Central America further downrange... I think there's one planned outta there late this year/early next, and then nothing else until late next year. Maybe Rocket Lab has gobbled up all the SSO payloads?

Curiouser and curiouser...

Interesting... Like the guy said, should Cuban cows be nervous?

*raises hand*

Time to invest in a gennie before the price gouging starts. ETA: oh dang, I just heard about this on the news, he wern’t kiddin! Not that I thought he was... What an incredible dangerous and short-sighted response.

I have a ceiling fan that does this. Creepy as hell. Ah, I am very uncultured when it comes to horror movies Whatever you do, don’t go staring at your bathroom mirror. @adsii1970 will get this.