KSK

Shrinking the Ellipse The cradle slid over to the next section of wall, revealing the lower half of a freshly painted tilted-rocket logo, flames underlining the familiar text. Jeb leaned against his car door, smiling faintly at memories of a drainpipe and a very much smaller signboard hidden behind an old bed sheet. An empire so humble in fact that most of you were probably blissfully unaware of it, he murmured to himself. I think that rocket has long since flown. He watched the organised chaos enveloping the assembly and fitting warehouse for a moment. It’s been a while since the old junkyard days. Might even be time to think up a new name. He grinned. But not until Lodan has had a chance to admire our shiny new sign. A truck edged past him, carefully backing a laden flatbed trailer through the main gates. A crane swung into position overhead, lowering a complicated bundle of chains into position. Kerbals clambered onto the trailer, unbuckling thick restraining straps from a plastic shrouded pallet, reaching for dangling carabiners, making them fast. The foreman jumped up onto the trailer, checked the fittings then, stepping back, raised a portable radio to his mouth. The drooping chains slowly tightened, then lifted, hauling the heavy machine tool effortlessly into the air, swinging it clear of the trailer and setting it down next to the others. A second team of kerbals set to work unfastening the chains. Scaffolding criss-crossed the gap between the Assembly and Fitting building and the KIS’s newly acquired warehouse. Shouting kerbals, most of them dressed in dark blue coveralls with CMB stitched in yellow across one pocket, struggled to make themselves heard over the steady din of hammering, scraping, and construction machinery. Jeb waved at the few workers he knew as he walked past. One of the CMB workers turned to see what was happening, eyes widening as he recognised the kerbonaut. A cheer went up, swelling as it rippled over the scaffolding, head after head swivelling round to watch Jebediah Kerman walk past. Grinning, Jeb flashed the crowd a quick double thumbs-up before making his way to the kerbonaut training building. The warehouse doors were wide open, a small procession of engineers wheeling computers and other electronic equipment in on steel trolleys. An electric hand-truck rumbled past, carrying what looked like a modified Eve capsule on a wooden pallet. Jeb spotted Calzer standing by one of the doors, deep in conversation with another kerbal. “Morning, Calzer.” Calzer looked up. “Afternoon, Jeb. You met Geoff yet?” “I don’t think so,” Jeb stuck out a hand. “Jeb Kerman - pleased to meet you.” The other hesitated for a bare instant before shaking hands. “Geofkin Kerman, Steadler Engineering.” “Please thank your team for pulling this together on a short schedule,” said Jeb. He swept his arm out, “We’re having to pick up the pace a bit and we couldn’t do it without a proper training facility. Speaking of which, Calz, how did the integrated sims go this morning?” “Not bad,” said Calzer. “Lucan’s all settled in over at Foxham and I’m thinking Sherf lit a couple of fires under everyone at Alpha site because they got their share of the set-up work done double quick.” “That doesn’t surprise me,” chuckled Jeb. “Training session go alright?” Calzer waggled a hand back and forth. “I’ve seen better but considering that Tommal had to step up and replace James at the last minute, it went pretty well. Their other pilot, Fredner, seems like a solid sort - he’ll work well with Lucan I think.” Jeb frowned. “Jim still not shaken that virus?” He looked at Calzer thoughtfully. “Can I grab an hour with you tomorrow morning? Time we started up a reserve crew rotation too I think, now that we’ve got the hardware.” He turned to Geofkin. “Another reason that we’re very glad to have Steadler on board. Hasn’t much mattered up to now if one of the crew was out sick for a couple of weeks. But now…” Geoff nodded. “Waste anything but time, Director Lodan said.” “Exactly,” Jeb agreed. “And on that note, it’s about time I did some work today. I’ll see you good kerbals at dinner - if anyone needs me before then, I’ll either be wedged into a brand new Whirligig capsule or buried under a pile of hydraulics. Pleasure to meet you again, Geoff.” And with a brisk wave, Jeb set off in the direction of the simulator room. ————— “I tell you, Genie, there hasn’t been this kind of buzz around here since Kerbal 2!” Jeb shovelled a forkful of meatcake hash into his mouth, grimaced and reached for the ketchup bottle. “Pains me to admit to it but Lodan is certainly making things happen!” “Who knew all that bureaucracy would be so good at organisation,” said Geneney straight-faced. Jeb made a face at him. “Depends if it’s Institute bureaucracy.” He shook his head with grudging respect. “I’m betting Lodan can push pens with the best of them but at least he isn’t trying to micromanage the whole thing to death.” “Says the kerbal who wouldn’t go near a monthly report with a two metre strut,” said Geneney dryly. “You might get a distinctly single-digit reply to that from the Accounts team too.” “Since when did we have an Accounts team?” “Since we started sub-contracting with CMB and the rest,“ said Geneney. “Not to mention putting out tenders for booster manufacturing. And before you ask, no, Rockomax couldn’t take up the slack. Ademone’s got enough on holding up her end of Pioneer, along with everything else.” Jeb slowly stirred ketchup into his hash. “How did Wernher take it?” “Pragmatically,” said Geneney, “But then I’m only tendering for the Minmus probes. Anything with a capsule on top still gets built here.” He grinned. “We owe the Probodyne team a round of drinks too, next time we’re over at Alpha. Turns out they were having problems with their landers - they were very respectful when they asked Wernher for help.” Jeb laughed. “That would help.” Geneney nodded. “And he came through for them too! Brushed off the old LV-1 plans, adapted it for pressure-feed instead of turbo-pumps and rigged it up with one of those toroidal tanks that Seelan was playing around with. No need for landing legs - Minmus gravity is low enough that it can land on the tank. Put a minimal instrument package on the top - basically just a seismometer and a radio - and there you have it. Probodyne are calling them buttons and Wernher reckons an Eve booster should be able to lob a decent sized comsat and a handful of buttons into Minmus orbit.” “Excellent,” said Jeb, swallowing another mouthful. “Should have a decent early warning system up and running by the time we get a crew out there. Reckon we’ll need another controller to watch for outgassing?” “That’s the plan,” answered Geneney.” Jeb pushed his plate away. “Who won the tender by the way?” “Kerbodyne Space Projects Ltd,” said Geneney, “Not a company I’d heard of but Ademone’s worked with them before and was happy enough with their work. They’re basically the old Steadler propulsion department who struck out on their own when…” “Steadler decided to focus on capsules,” finished Jeb. “Sounds like they’re worth keeping an eye on. It’s not that long since Steadler reorganised and if they’ve gone from a standing start to contracting for Rockomax in that time…” He nodded. “Definitely worth watching.” ————— “Got them both,” reported Bobrie. “Orbiter systems look good, lander’s on it’s way down.” “Propulsion looking good,” Ferlan called out. “Valves, line heaters and helium pressure are Go.” He scanned his console, eyes flicking between the flight clock and the engine readouts. “Coming up on engine relight.” Germore checked her own console, watching the altitude and velocity indicators flicker past. One green light came on, then a second. The velocity indicator began to slow and Ferlan confirmed what she already knew. “Ignition confirmed, Autopilot on and holding.” Germore tapped a button, patching her console readouts through to the main screen. The three controllers - and the cluster of Probodyne engineers crammed into the Deep Space Operations Centre behind her - watched them unblinkingly. I don’t know which is worse. Waiting minutes for any telemetry at all, or watching the whole thing in next to real time. She stared at the rapidly unwinding velocity, altitude and fuel readings, mentally following the lander along the trajectory she’d calculated weeks before. Any time now. Bobrie’s quietened tones matched her thoughts. “Approaching pitchover…” The attitude indicators abruptly shifted and there was no disguising the relief in Bobrie’s voice. “Terminal descent initiated. Autopilot is green.” Germore heard more than a few gusty sighs of relief from behind her. Somebody started to applaud then stopped in embarrassment. The fuel quantity light glowed a sudden green on her console, matching the autopilot and thrust status lights beside it. Fifty metres. Down point six. Forty metres…thirty. Haven’t hit anything yet. Twenty metres. Germore unclenched her fists. If the engine gives up now, we’d just bounce. Ten metres… The three lights winked out. “Touchdown!” Bobrie pushed her chair back from her console. “Solid contact on all three legs!” “Engine shutdown confirmed,” Ferlan reported. “Safing RCS. Overpressure valves open.” He turned to Germore and Bobrie. “And we’re on the Mün!” “Let’s see if it was worth it,” said Germore calmly. “Beginning start-up sequence.” Probodyne OCTO v. 1.105. Vehicle designation: Unity 1-L KCOM.……..OK BIOS………. OK MEM1………OK MEM2………OK >Loading surface operation modules….. SOM_chksum…..OK >Starting PLST sequence….. CBatt…..…….82% PV-A…………DEP PV-B…………DEP Germore felt herself relax as the familiar litany of system module reports scrolled up the screen. XRPS_dat…….OK CAM_con……OK CAM_pow……OK CAM_dat…….OK >System set. Behind her, the applause began in earnest. —————— “Yaw manoeuvre complete,” Lucan held his breath for a long half-second. Then the computer display flickered, new data filling the screen. “Landing radar on-line!” “Copy, Pioneer.” Lucan was certain he could hear a faint undercurrent of relief in Nelton’s voice. “FD requests a delta-H check.” “On it, Flight.” Lucan tapped out the command. “OK, Delta-H absolute is negative three hundred. I read plus forty off-plan.” “FD concurs, Pioneer. Convergence?” “One moment,” Lucan worked the computer. “Abort guidance matches primary, Flight. Or near enough. Suggest we re-check delta-H at pitchover minus two.” “Confirmed, Pioneer.” “We’re feeling the RCS down here, Flight,” said Tommal calmly. “I figure the computer knows which way it’s going. Throttle holding steady in auto-one, electrics are good, capsule systems in the green.” For a minute, Lucan stared at the stars outside the lander window, feeling the muted rumble from the descent engine through the soles of his feet. Then he turned back to the instrument panel. “Pressures looking good, propellant gauges on the line. Ready for the delta-H check, Flight?” “Go ahead, Pioneer.” Lucan fought to keep the relief out of his voice. “Copy. Absolute is negative one-fifty and we’re a whole five metres off-plan.” “We hear that, Pioneer. Don’t look now but FD just cracked a smile.” “Going to ride this rocket all the way down,” said Tommal. “Standing by for throttle-down. “Thirty seconds, Pioneer.” “Be good to see where we’re going again, Flight. Here we go… throttle at fifty-five…starting pitch-over. Give me a sighting angle please, Lucan.” Lucan watched the Mün slide back into view. “Twenty degrees, Tom.” He stared at the craters, trying to fit the view from the window with his mental image of the training map. Beside him, Tommal shuffled his feet in their restraints, knees bending slightly as he peered along the sighting grid. “And the computer has it, Flight! Trajectory team nailed us right to the tip of the Arrow!” “Got some comm noise here, Pioneer,” said Nelton dryly. “Say again, please.” “Gateway craters dead ahead, Flight. We’re coming down right on the tip of Jeb’s Arrow - left to right, three little craters, just as neat as you like!” —————— Triangle. Left to right. Germore stared at the screen, tracing arrows in the air with one finger. Got it! Her hands raced across the console. Panoramic selected, tilting up, slew angle…Come on, come on. Who built this hunk of junk anyway? Oh, right. The image slid past, streaking in places, breaking up into rough blocks in others. It stopped, sharpened as the data stream caught up with the camera movement, and then tipped up ever so slightly. A small boxy shape appeared in the top corner, falling towards the cratered grey plains below. Not falling - slowing! “Great Kerm above - it’s them!” Bobrie sprang to her feet, an incredulous grin lighting up her face. Across the Deep Space Operations Centre, heads snapped round at the sudden outburst. With a small, satisfied smile, Germore tapped at her keyboard, centring the camera on the descending Pioneer 5, before silently crossing her fingers under the console. On the screen, a faint haze began to play around the base of the spacecraft. ————— “Forty metres, down one dot five, forward point five. Plenty left in the tank.” Tommal’s eyes flicked from navball to horizon and back. Calmly he tapped the throttle control, coaxing a fraction more thrust from his descent engine. “Thirty metres, down one, forward velocity nulled.” Lucan glanced out of the window. “Tip crater right where we want it. Kicking up some dust.” A warning light glowed on his instrument panel. “Twenty-five metres, quantity light on. We’re good, Tom, we’re good.” Dust swirled outside the cabin. Tommal peered through the window, willing his hands to hold steady, searching for landmarks through the clouds. He eased back on the attitude controller, tipping his spacecraft level. “Fifteen metres. Down point five. Bring us on in, Tom. Ten metres, down point two. Fi…contact!” Nelton slumped in her chair. Just like the training, she thought dimly. Just another integrated sim. “…descent engine arm off. ATO is in.” The radio crackled. “Flight, this is Pioneer - and we’re down on them dusty plains, Flight!” Nelton hauled herself upright. “Copy that, Pioneer - we see you down. Excellent work!” “You too, Flight. We owe the trajectory team a big one - outstanding navigation, just outstanding.” “Lander just gave you the all-clear, Pioneer. Looks like you’ll be kicking up some of that dust yourselves.” ————— Lucan knelt on the cabin floor, legs bending reluctantly in his stiff pressurised suit. He shuffled backwards, looking down through his knees as best he could without bumping his helmet on the ascent engine cover. “Feet clear, Lucan. Left a bit…easy does it - watch that backpack.” I would if I could. Lucan dropped a little lower, bending at the waist, feet fumbling for the topmost ladder rung. “Almost there…you’re looking good. There you go!” Clutching the chunky ladder rungs tightly, Lucan climbed down hand-over-hand. He felt a brief moment of panic, foot sliding past a missing step before hitting the ground with a thud. For a long minute he hung onto the ladder, heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he half-expected a warning call from Nelton. Then, exultant grin hidden behind reflective visor, he opened his hands and took a step back. His boot print was razor sharp, a perfect impression stamped into the powder-fine regolith. Lucan stared at in fascination then, unseen by the watching millions, shook his head and tottered over to Tommal. “The long lope that Jeb and Jondun used works pretty well,” said Tommal. “Don’t worry - plenty of time in the schedule for getting our Mün legs.” He squeezed the stubby, fabric-wrapped cylinder in his hand, watching the spring loaded feet and cross-pole snap out. “But first, I guess we’d better face the camera.” He pushed the flagpole firmly into the regolith, rocking it back and forth and then twisting it as hard as he could to wedge it in place. The two kerbonauts shook hands and turned towards their spacecraft. Tommal cleared his throat, the familiar whispering of a suddenly live microphone suddenly filling his helmet. “Today we stand not merely on the Mün but on your shoulders. You, the countless kerbals who trained us, watched over us on the journey, built our magnificent spacecraft, and most of all, made the Pioneer Program possible with your support and enthusiasm. And for that, we can never thank you enough.” There was a click and then a storm of applause filled his ears. “Nice speech, Pioneer,” Nelton called over the noise “And to the two kerbals on top of the heap - we’d do it all again!” “We know it, Flight,” Tommal said simply. “OK, I’m starting the recon loop.” “The good people at Probodyne say they left you a toy-box to play with too,” said Nelton. “Let us know if you see it.” She paused. “And they pass on their congratulations for the landing - apparently it looked pretty good from where they were sitting.” From where they were sitting, muttered Tommal to himself. “Hope they managed to set the toy box down nearby, Flight,” he said. “Too much walking is going to eat right into the schedule.” He rounded the lander, stepping into the shade. “I don’t believe it!” “That sounds good,” said Lucan. “I think.” “Better than good!” said Tommal. “Kerm, is that pretty! Can’t be more than a couple hundred metres away - just around the crater rim, neat as you like!” “Copy that, Tom,” said Nelton, “We’re patching Alpha Station in now. Time to do some Munar prospecting - and maybe a bit of science on the side.” —————— The first thing Lucan noticed on waking, was the aching in his fingers. The second was the crude hammock that he was lying in. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, vaguely aware that something around him was creaking and popping. Liquid gurgled through a pipe next to his ear and a fan blew a tepid stream of metallic smelling air over his face. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the gloom, taking in the metal walls illuminated by firefly lights and softly glowing patches. Light crept into the room around a pair of window blinds, oddly lambent for daylight, reminding him more of… Munlight! Lucan jerked in his hammock, remembering at the last minute not to sit up too suddenly. Automatically he glanced over at the flight clock just as a burst of music filled the cabin. “Ohhhh they're gonna walk. Gonna walk. Gonna walk on the Mün…" “Good morning, Pioneer. Sleep well?” “Like a kerblet in its pouch, Flight,” replied Tommal below him. “These hammocks make a pretty good bed in one-sixth gee.” “Could just use a good hot bowl of natas and a smoky sapwood to set us up for another fine day on the Mün,” added Lucan cheerfully. “But I’m sure we can rough it on ration cubes and water.” “Just as long as they’re not the spicy ones,” said Tommal, “Doubt the environmental systems can handle the uhh… after-effects of any more of those.” “I’ll keep those for the EVA then,” Lucan laughed. He retrieved two ration packs from the mesh bag stuck to the wall behind his head and tossed one down to Tommal. “Sunfruit surprise suit you?” “Suits me fine,” said Tommal. “How’s Fredner doing up there, Flight?” “Sleeping like a kerblet too, Tom,” said Nelton. “We’ll wake him up once we’ve chased you two out the door. By the way, you’ll be pleased to know that the plane correction burn went as planned - FD confirms that he’ll be right where you need him this afternoon.” “That’s good to know, Flight,” Tommal said around a mouthful of ration cube. “Any update on the EVA.” “No changes, Tom. Probodyne got some good data from yesterday’s samples and recommend we just keep with the planned procedures.” “Works for me,” Tommal stowed his empty ration pack and swung his legs gingerly out of his hammock. “Time to suit up.” Lucan lowered himself from his own hammock, rolled them both up and secured them to the cabin wall. He retrieved Tommal’s life support pack, checking the water and oxygen gauges on the back and held it out for Tommal to wriggle into his chest harness. He watched his commander unplug himself from the lander systems and connect up the hoses from the backpack to his spacesuit, mentally ticking off items on the checklist as they went. “Let me just check those hoses, Tom. OK, they’re locked in tight. Ready for your helmet?” Tommal nodded. Lucan lifted his helmet into place and locked it onto his neck ring. Tommal looked down and twisted a pair of control knobs on his chest. “Fan started. O2 and CO2 levels nominal. Water flow on minimum.” He shrugged his shoulders, settling the backpack into place. “Right, let’s get you set.” Ten careful minutes later both fully-suited kerbonauts stood awkwardly in the confined lander cabin. Lucan checked his gloves one last time before un-caging a switch on the instrument panel. “Flight, Pioneer. Opening de-press valve.” “Copy, Pioneer.” The cabin pressure gauge dropped past the egress mark and a soft chime sounded in both helmets. Tommal knelt down and carefully eased the hatch open. “That worked better the second time, Flight. Exiting cabin.” “Don’t lock the door on the way out, Pioneer.” Tommal chuckled, legs already out of the hatch. “I can see the headlines now, Flight. ‘Munwalking kerbonauts break into own lander.’ OK, found the first rung. Lets get to work.” —————— “Left a bit, Lucan. Watch the antenna. OK, lock bracket, check power switch, plug in the umbilical…” Germore drank her coffee and listened to the two voices from the Mün. On the main screen, Pioneer 5 stood by the crater rim, an incongruous kerbal-made object amidst the rugged grandeur of the Munar plains. She smiled to herself, drinking in the view and watching the almost surreal sight of two tiny figures at work by their spacecraft. “That’s got it, Flight. Antenna is tracking freely. My locator is on.” “I’m on too, Flight.” “Picking you both up loud and clear.” “Well alrighty then. On my way to sample point one, second traverse. Lucan has the tray and is heading for Unity.” “On my way, Flight!” Germore’s smile broadened into a delighted grin at the suited figure loping towards her and waving at the camera. Uncaring who might see her, she waved back enthusiastically before the figure moved out of camera shot. “Getting toasty in here, Flight - gonna turn up the cooling for a minute. These gloves really weren’t built for this kind of close-up work. C’mon you sla…bs of plastic. Get in there would you.” The figure bounced into sight carrying a fan shaped, ridged plastic tray, which he set down in front of the Unity lander. Lucan paused for a moment and adjusted it’s position slightly, before unclipping a long handled tool from his belt and using it to drop a clod of regolith into one of the tray channels. “Pioneer, Unity. Ready for scoop test?” Germore cleared her throat and toggled her microphone with a trembling finger. “Alpha copies. Loading test program.” Text scrolled up her console screen, accompanied by a row of rapidly flickering lights. “Checksum matches. Starting test.” Unity 1’s sample arm swivelled round, unfolded, then dipped towards the tray. The scoop tip pulled back, dragging through the regolith sample, piling it up against a stop that had been placed there for that very purpose. The arm folded back on itself, tip curling upwards and inwards, then swung clear. Lucan skirted around the tray, careful not to scatter any dirt on it, then inspected the scoop contents. “Pioneer, Unity. Sample capture confirmed.” “Thanks, Lucan. If you could empty the tray first, I’ll get rid of this.” “Will do, Unity.” “Good work both,” said Nelton. “How are you doing, Tom?” “According to the map, I should be right about at the first stop, Flight.” “Understood, Tom. Science team have your bearing. Unity?” Germore glanced at her console. “Unity has a bearing. Standing by.” She tapped out a command and her console screen promptly blanked out. >beacon_trace loaded >listening… >listening... >listening… “Copy that, Flight. Copy, Unity. Transmitting ranging ping.” >ping received >extracting timestamps >range 231m Germore pressed a key, saving the data for later analysis. “Unity reports range two three one.” “Thank you Unity,” said Nelton. “OK, Tom, we’ve got a fix on you.” “Understood, Flight. I’ve got a couple of pretty good sized boulders here. Going to see if I can break a chunk off one of them, maybe do a little sampling underneath it.” “Science team are saying they’ll make a geologist of you yet, Tom. Go ahead.” ————— No sooner had the pressure warning light blinked off, than Lucan unlocked his wrist cuffs and pulled off his gloves with a sigh of relief. He and Tommal busied themselves unplugging hoses and reconnecting their spacesuits to the cabin environmental systems, before shucking out of their life support backpacks. Quietly, Lucan set about securing the sample boxes and loose equipment whilst Tommal piled up the backpacks and other EVA gear, for disposal. After their initial exuberance, conversation with Mission Control became steadily more businesslike as Tommal and Lucan worked through their checklist. Surplus gear was thrown overboard, communication systems were checked, guidance and radar systems were double checked, engine readouts were scrutinised by Mission Control and kerbonauts alike. As their preparations for lift-off continued, Lucan’s acknowledgements and comments grew increasingly terse. Tommal glanced over at Lucan in concern, but he carefully avoided making any comments over the air. “Copy that, Flight. We’re Go to proceed in twelve thirty seven, we get ascent engine armed, abort stage, ignition - and that’s it.” “That’s affirmative, Pioneer. Up to orbit for a rendezvous with the Fredner Express and a leisurely cruise back to Kerbin.” “Sounds good, Flight.” Tommal clicked off the air-to-ground loop and turned to his copilot. “Reckon we did a solid job of work out there, Lucan. Got everything we came for, left a bunch of extra samples for Probodyne to scoop up and poke at, once we’re gone, proved out the trackers. We done good.” He saw the look on his co-pilot’s face. “That engine’s gonna fire. Damn thing only has about four moving parts in it, including backups. You’re gonna press that button, that decoupler will pop right off and then we’re out of here. Leisurely cruise back to Kerbin, just like the good lady said.” “And what if it doesn’t?” Lucan said flatly. Tommal gestured at the ascent engine cover. “Then I open a can on that can, apply a little percussive maintenance to the motor, we wait for Fred to swing past again and catch him on the second time around.” He shrugged. “And if that don’t work neither, we take a long look at that magnificent view out there, pop the hatch and go out with a smile. Not much else we can do.” Lucan nodded slowly. “I guess not.” He straightened up. “And those moving parts were built by the best kerbals in the business. They won’t let us down.” Tommal clasped his shoulder briefly. “No they won’t - neither parts nor kerbals. Now get your game face on - Nelton’ll get nervous if we don’t speak to her before the lift-off.” The minutes dragged past. Lucan stared fixedly at the mission clock, shuffling his boots securely into their restraints. “T minus two minutes on my mark, Pioneer… Mark.” “Marked, Flight. Proceeding at sixty.” Lucan stared straight ahead, counting down the seconds in the silence of his own head. He saw a flicker of blue from the corner of his eye, saw Tommal reach across the instrument panel in response. “Forty seconds, Flight. Pioneer is Go.” Twenty seconds. Twelve. Ten…nine…eight… The explosion kicked through the soles of his feet, followed immediately by a burst of fire from the RCS thrusters. Then the ascent engine lit. “Ignition - and lift off!” Tommal flashed him a quick smile. “Ascent engine at rated thrust, tank pressures nominal.” Lucan squeezed his eyelids together briefly, blinked hard and then automatically tapped out a command on his computer keyboard. “Flight, Pioneer. Primary guidance is green. Abort is aligned.” “Copy that, Pioneer. See you in orbit.” << Chapter 60: Chapter 62>>

Thanks Adam! Glad you're enjoying and thanks for posting. On a related note - next chapters are up! The first is a bit shorter than I intended but I think it says everything I wanted to say and hopefully it'll make up a little for the many other chapters that spun out for far longer than I intended. Such as the one that follows it. Children of Kerbin The liberation turned out to be easier than any of them had expected. Admittedly, the site for the seed bank had been well chosen; the north-eastern promontory was both sufficiently remote from the major Spierkan population centres and close enough to a neighbouring economic redevelopment zone that one more construction project had gone largely unnoticed. Even then, the cover story had been impeccable, the renovated cold storage facility for the local fishing villages being politically popular, easy to hide one more freezer room in, and conveniently located to receive the occasional small shipment of Kerm seeds. Security had been another matter of course, although to be fair they’d had limited options. A cold store and its contents were valuable enough not to be left wholly unguarded but even so, excessive security around what was essentially a fish warehouse would almost certainly have attracted too much attention to be worth the trouble. In the end, they’d decided to rely on additional physical measures and discreet reinforcements to the Kerm freezer, rather than increasing the numbers of guards around the building. Besides, finding enough acceptable guards would have been a challenge in itself. Even before the politically disastrous Maldonian annexation, Confederacy sympathies had mostly lain with the President’s - and Chief Ambassador Aldwell’s - strong pro-Kerm stance. The resulting Wakiran skirmishes, the raft of new Veiidan trade tariffs, and the heightened border tensions with Doren, had only served to cement that stance in the public mind. The figure chuckled sardonically. Yeah, us politically neutral types are rarer than greenback herring these days. With good reason. He glanced at his companion who stared back at him expressionlessly, breath fogging in the oppressively chilly, fish-scented air. Both kerbals knelt and heaved open an access panel in the floor, exposing cable runs, pipes and a pair of subtly modified junction boxes. Two keys slipped into place and turned as one. With a faint click and a hiss of escaping gas, a section of wall panel slid open, revealing a shallow steel rack holding half a dozen white plastic trays, which were swiftly emptied into a pair of heavily insulated backpacks. Working with exaggerated, fastidious care, the figure knelt again and placed a small laminated card in the very centre of the open doorway before he and his companion calmly walked out of the freezer room, through the warehouse reception and out into a pleasantly warm Spierkan evening. The bemused fisher-kerbs, who found the card the next morning, puzzled over it for a moment, before shrugging their shoulders and handing it in to the guard at the front desk, not noticing the sudden tightening of her expression when they explained where they’d found it. She waited until their van was safely out of sight before locking the front door and racing down to freezer room four. The open wall panel told it’s own story. The guard turned and sprinted for the nearest phone. Behind her the card landed face up on the polished concrete floor, displaying a circle bisected by a wavy line. A stylised kerblet smiled from one side of the line, facing a stylised Kerm seed on the other. And underneath the circle were printed three words: Children of Kerbin. —————— A door slammed and at long last, the truck in front rumbled through the checkpoint. Corrod hastily swallowed his mouthful of djan, jamming the half-empty packet into his door tray and flicking off the radio. The traffic light overhead turned green and Corrod obediently edged his own vehicle into the inspection bay. In his wing mirror the queue of assorted trucks and wagons stretched back as far as he could see. A grey-uniformed kerbal tapped on his window. “Import permits please.” Corrod retrieved a stack of forms from the passenger seat and, wordlessly, handed them over. The Doreni flipped through them, scrawling an illegible signature across the bottom of each page before stamping the top page twice, tearing it off and handing it back. “Manifest please.” Corrod clenched his jaw, passing a second, much thicker, stack of forms through the window with exaggerated courtesy. The border official merely glanced at him before continuing to peruse his paperwork. “Step out of your vehicle, please sir. I need you to unlock your trailer.” “May I ask why?” said Corrod pleasantly. “Routine inspection, sir.” “I have a lot of cargo to inspect.” “I’m aware of that, sir but I must insist.” Corrod ground his teeth. “Very well,” he said. “Will you need me to open all the containers too?” “Your cooperation would be appreciated, sir.” Corrod stared at him flatly before climbing out of his truck cab and pointedly slamming the door behind him. Two more officials were waiting for them behind his trailer, one wearing an oddly shaped device strapped across his chest, a stubby wand on a curly black cable plugged into its side. The other was restraining a large and enthusiastic guard-beast on a leash, which snuffled at him as he walked past. It’s handler pressed a cloth pad over its nose and for a moment Corrod thought he could detect a faint breath of cinnamon. Resisting the urge to pat the creature on its furry head, he undid the long row of buckles holding the side curtain of his trailer closed. Sensing the three pairs of eyes crawling across his back all the while, he hauled the curtain open, not caring whether the rattling hid his muttered oaths or not. The guard-beast sprang onto the trailer and began nosing around the double row of containers strapped to it. Corrod climbed up behind it and walked slowly down the rows, opening the inspection hatches on each container as he went. Hopping off the tailgate he stood silently to one side and watched one of the officials scramble awkwardly onto the trailer behind him and poke his wand into the nearest hatch, studying a screen on his device as he did so. Carefully, he closed the hatch again and then, to Corrod’s bemusement, methodically subjected each container to the same peculiar inspection. Finally the official clambered down from the the trailer and whistled sharply for his guard-beast. Catching Corrod’s eye he jerked his hand across his chest and pointed at the trailer curtain. Corrod nodded and began closing up his truck. None of the three officials offered to help. “Your manifest, sir. Thank you for cooperating with Doreni border security and have a safe onward journey.” Corrod stared at him expressionlessly then turned away and climbed back into his cab. As he started the motor and drove off, the next truck in the queue rumbled to a stop beside the inspectors. —————— “Oh Kerm. Ed - are you seeing this too?” “That cluster of returns heading north-east? Yep, I see them.” “What are you thinking - Forseti?” “Reckon so. Nothing big due from Doren and they’d be calling in first anyway. Likewise any private vessels, unless they’re being more than usually stupid.” Gilbin sighed and picked up his microphone. “Attention, unidentified vessels. This is Gilbin Kerman of the Wakiran Coastal Service. You are approaching Wakiran designated waters; please set your transponders to VTS and respond on channel zero seven.” He covered the microphone with one hand. “Better send the contact up the chain, Ed, if they’re not for turning.” Edbur looked up from his keyboard. “Already on it.” Gilbin nodded. “Attention, unidentified vessels. This is the Wakiran Coastal Service. You will shortly be in violation of Wakiran designated waters; please adjust your course immediately and set your transponders to VTS, repeat VTS. Be advised that failure to comply will be treated as an act of aggression.” “Dammit, Ed, I thought this sort of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening any more! Home amongst the stars, everyone uniting behind the Council - all that good stuff?” “Guess they missed that broadcast,” said Edbur. “Not that surprising given that they don’t seem to have a working radio on board. We going to call in a patrol?” “No choice,” said Gilbin heavily. “If they are Forseti we’ll have to escort them back to port. Like it or not, we’ve got to keep Doren sweet until the CoastGuard line is finished, so we can’t dump the problem on them. Likewise we can’t let them go north unless you want to tell Command why they’ve suddenly got Firesvar breathing down their necks as well as Kolus.” He glanced at the radar, swore to himself and picked up the microphone again. “Attention, unidentified vessels! You are now in violation of Wakiran designated waters. Be advised that we have armed patrols en-route. You will adjust course immediately and return to your port of origin otherwise you will be fired on.” “Gil?” “Yeah?” “What happens if they’re not Forseti?” Gilbin gave him a long look. Edbur stared back at him grimly then turned back to his keyboard. The atmosphere in Radar Outpost One suddenly felt very chilly. —————— Two lines of patrol boats swept in from the east, the low afternoon sun sparkling from their wakes. Cursing deck gunners scoured the horizon for contacts, eyes hidden behind mirrored shades. The Wakiran flag fluttered from their sterns, white diagonal slash clearly visible against a green background. A cluster of dark specks on the horizon resolved themselves into a loose formation of vessels unhurriedly steaming to the northeast. The Wakiran boats swung wide, skirting around the invaders, then coming at them again from the west, out of the sun. Deck officers peered through binoculars, searching in vain for any identifying marks or signals. The captain of the largest Wakiran vessel frowned as his third hailing attempt met with nothing but static. I don’t know who you are my friends, but it’s time you woke up. “Warning shot - maximum range.” A single flat crack from the deck gun echoed across the waves. Seemingly indifferent, the unidentified vessels steamed steadily onwards. The captain grimaced. “Helm - stand by evasive. Gunners - second warning shot. Across their bows.” Two shots whistled overhead. Abruptly, the loose formation broke apart, the air suddenly heavy with the roar marine engines at full throttle, punctuated with flat thunder of gunfire. Fountains of water erupted around the Wakiran forces. “Evasive action! All crews - return fire!” On board one of the unmarked boats a grim-faced figure watched the battle unfold. Satisfied that the enemy patrols were fully engaged, he raised one hand and brought it down in a short, chopping gesture. His helmskerb reacted instantly, swinging the boat round due east and making best speed for the Wakiran coast. Behind them, twin columns of smoke rose into the sky, two Wakiran vessels stopping to pick up the survivors, the others scattering in pursuit of the fleeing invaders. He closed his eyes briefly. They did well. We will mourn them later. He stepped over to the chart table, studying it intently for a moment. “Bring us round; east by north-east.” The boat sped onwards, slipping around the fringes of the Wakiran radar line, its captain calmly watching the oncoming cliffs. “Make your course due north. Stand by decoys.” Another chopping gesture and the deck crews released their net. A cascade of decking fragments, fittings and spare equipment, tumbled over the side, swiftly followed by the contents of an oil barrel. The deck officer studied the dark slick and floating debris with satisfaction before heading forward to the main cabin. “Decoy deployed, Captain.” The figure turned to face him. “Very good.” A gesture at the chart. “The cliffs will hide us from the remaining radar stations. By nightfall we’ll be headed for Firesvar.“ The figure patted the insulated box by his feet, the bisected-circle emblem on his shoulder clearly visible for a moment. “Where our mission will truly begin.” —————— Enely drew the worn square of cardboard from his pocket and rubbed his thumb over the embossed gold seal. Just hope these things don’t have an expiry date. The check-in assistant watched the stooped figure approach, pack slung over one shoulder, clutching a glinting something in his other hand. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of his dusty green-trimmed collar and rose still further at the wrinkles around his eyes and weary expression on his face. “Can I help you, Keeper?” Enely looked up. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “Do you have any seats on the next flight to Barkton?” “Let me check that for you, Keeper. Do you have a ticket or will you be purchasing one today?” Enely pushed Donman’s token across the counter. “I think I have a ticket,” he said. “I was told to present this but it’s been quite a while since I was given it.” He looked at her apologetically, “I hope it’s still valid?” The assistant shut her mouth with an audible click. “I expect it will be,” she said faintly. “Please, one moment, sir.” She reached under her desk, pulled out a ring binder and quickly flipped through it, before picking up the phone and dialling a number with a trembling finger. “Yes, I’ll hold. Hello? Yes, the number is zero one four, two zero nine, one four six. It is? T-thank you very much. Good day to you too, ma’am.” She turned back to Enely. “If you could wait one moment, sir, I’ll have somebody take you straight through to the priority lounge. Your flight will be leaving in thirty minutes.” A sudden shy blink. “And on behalf of Trans-Kerbin Air, I wish you all fortune at your journey’s end.” Well that certainly worked. Enely smiled at her to cover his confusion. “You’re very kind - thank you.” Another assistant bustled up. “Can I take your bag, sir? If you’d like to follow me please.” << Chapter 59: Chapter 61>>

Boron based propellants? Lets take a look. This article is a quick overview of so-called 'zip fuels' based on alkylboranes and explains why they never really took off. Toxicity, oxygen sensitivity and the tendency to coat the inside of the engine with boron carbide, made them high powered but impracticable fuels. Ignition! by John D Clarke has a chapter on boron rocket fuels. Incidentally, if you like your humour extra-dry, I highly recommend Ignition!, either as a reference work or a comedy. On boranes: "The results, not to put too fine a point on it, did not encourage euphoria. The performance was dismally bad —far below theoretical — and solid glassy deposits appeared in the throat (changing its size and shape) and in the diverging (downstream) section of the nozzle. These consisted, apparently, mostly of B2O3, but appeared to contain some elemental boron as well. This was a sure indication of poor combustion, and was not encouraging." There's more but in general it seems that boron based fuels and chemical rockets don't really go together. Nuclear-thermal rockets though? The boranes have relatively low (certainly compared to expected operating temperatures for an NTR) boiling points of anywhere between -93 degrees Celsius to 200ish degrees Celsius. So flowing them through the engine isn't a problem. However at the temperatures involved they'll decompose pretty rapidly to boron and assorted other gunk. Boron has a melting point of 2349K (2076 degrees Celsius) and a boiling point of 4200K (3926 degrees Celsius). A solid-core NTR isn't going to get hot enough to vaporise boron. A gas-core design might work but at the moment they're largely theoretical. I couldn't find any information on how elemental boron might react with other materials. Assuming that it either doesnt react with the inside of your engine, or you can find a suitable coating to mitigate that, my best guess is still that boron compounds probably wouldn't be that great in a solid-core NTR. If the operating temperature of your engine was over 2076 Celsius, any decomposed boron in your propellant stream would be liquid (likely fairly viscous liquid) and you'd be back to coating problems, especially on your engine nozzle. Running the engine below 2076 Celsius would avoid that but then (depending on the decomposition kinetics) you'd end up with a stream of gas (say hydrogen if you were using neat boranes as propellant) and boron particulates. Those particulates would be relatively heavy and would probably give you a worse ISP than you'd get from hydrogen alone. However, that is all largely guesswork. If anyone else would care to chip in with a more informed answer or better source then please feel free!

But...but... no pickle on the cheeseburger. Hmmm, dill pickled cucumber. Sounds pretty Ussari to me. Might have broken that good ole all-Kleptogartian imagery. Which means... Oh sweet Kraken, they know... The Comestibles Conspiracy! It's real, I tell you! Real! Real! REAL! No doctor, no I don't need that nice pill. No really. Noooooooo.

Lots of good information coming out at the press conference although I think most of it has been repeated on this thread. I did like Elon's answer to the last question though - I think he's right on both counts.

Oh man. Hit the launch window, hit the right orbit, hit the barge. ...and didn't explode! 3/3 - will watch again!

We are derailing the thread and I agree that we probably won't find an arrangement off-thread. So on that note, lets call it a day. Thank you for the civilized discussion.

First of all, thanks for pointing me at the website - that was the kind of information I was looking for. A company with a 4 (out of 5) star rating, where 95% of reviewers approve of the CEO and 81% would recommend the place to a friend - doesn't sound like a bad place to work to me. I'm seeing some bad points (show me a company which has no bad points) but plenty of good points too. "I feel that very unrespectful, and very unethical playing with the illusions of the young to get more profit," Or alternatively the young have taken a clear look at the job they're offered and decided it's worth taking, if only to grab a couple years top-flight experience. We could both cherry pick quotes all day, to suit our point of view but: "Work: Fast-paced and exciting. No better training ground for a young engineer" "You will learn more per year working at SpaceX than anywhere else I know." "Looks great on a resume." "Mgt is flexible on hours, and if you need to go to a doctor or something." "Quick and efficient interview process" "Clear interview process." The last two are the important ones to my mind. If you're given realistic expectations at interview then you can make an informed decision about whether to take the job. And before you say it - yes I expect that a lot of people applying for a job at SpaceX are good enough (lets face it, SpaceX can afford to be choosy) that they do have a genuine choice.

Great to see this one starting up again! Very much enjoying the art style, especially allI the little shout-out posters.

Which, with respect, is entirely irrelevant to this particular thread. I'd also like to see some actual links to support this (it seems to come around a lot on these forums) because the examples I've seen so far aren't particularly convincing.

Fair point but you also seem to be assuming that this is an either/or situation, when it's more likely to be both. I very much doubt that SpaceX (sorry to keep banging on about them but they're the example I know best) will be sitting on their hands when it comes to further manufacturing improvements - after all any savings they can make during manufacture is a straight improvement to their bottom line. And I've seen it pointed out on another forum that - and I agree - that the drive for reusability is going to be absolutely priceless for generating actual empirical data to feed back into those manufacturing improvements.

A lot of that sounds like steps that SpaceX have already taken, which is why the F9 is comparatively cheap even without taking re-use into account. Small number of designs geared for mass production - Check. They don't have a light launcher but they do have a medium one (Falcon 9) and a heavy one (Falcon Heavy) under development, supposedly due for a (much delayed) maiden flight this autumn. Going for Subarus rather than Ferraris - check. The Merlin engine is deliberately not a cutting edge engine in terms of raw performance (kerolox instead of hydrolox, relatively simple combustion cycle) but is geared towards ease of manufacture and acceptable performance for it's price. Interchangeable parts - check. The Falcon 9 upper stage tanks are essentially a short version of the lower stage tanks. Same diameter, same materials, storing the same propellants, churned out on the same tools. The lower stage tanks do have the unavoidable extra complexity of needing to feed nine engines rather than one. Speaking of engines - the Merlin-vac used on the Falcon 9 upper stage is (I believe) essentially the same as the Merlin engines used on the lower stage, with (relatively) minor nozzle modifications to optimize it for vacuum use. I imagine there are other examples but those are the ones I'm aware of. Commonality - check. The Falcon Heavy lower stage is basically three Falcon 9 cores strapped together, taking a leaf from the Delta IV design book. The F9 core was (allegedly) designed from the outset with that in mind - time will tell how successful it is.

I'd need to go away and search for information on boron chemistry but didn't somebody already comment on this thread that it tends to coat the inside of your engine with glass? Heating shouldn't be a problem - diborane boils at -93 degrees Celsius (source) but it's also volatile, air and moisture sensitive and toxic. Toxicity isn't necessarily an issue - show me a storable rocket fuel that isnt toxic and the other factors shouldn't be too much of an issue once you get to space. I would think the main problem with diborane is simply making enough of the stuff to fill a rocket with. 900C does sound too low for use in an NTR, at least if you want to get any sort of ISP out of it. And once it decomposes you're back to all the lithium problems as I'm sure you already knew.

I did a quick search for this out of curiosity. At face value, lithium looks like a good NTR fuel and since the engine will be operating in a vacuum, reactions with air and water shouldn't be too much of a problem. On the other hand, molten lithium didn't sound like the easiest material to work with. That turned out to be correct, at least according to this report - which looks like quite a reasonable source to me. "Glasses, plastics and ceramics are all attacked by molten lithium near the melting point. Severe attack is due to formation of relatively stable but highly corrosive lithium oxide, nitride and carbide. Non- metallic impurities in the liquid metal have a profound effect on the compatibility behavior of l i t h i u m and other materials. For example, molten lithium nitride, readily formed from liquid lithium-nitrogen reactions is highly reactive. No metal or ceramic material has been found resistant to it. Emphasis added. Looks like it's going to be extremely difficult to build an engine that can withstand liquid lithium. I'm not saying impossible on the basis of a single document though. Edit: I think I misread that at first. On re-reading, I'd say that no metal or ceramic has been found resistant to lithium nitride, not metallic lithium. However, from Figure 19 of that same document, many metals and alloy types appear to have limited or poor resistance to lithium. Others have good resistance but I have no idea what their thermal properties are and whether you could line a nuclear-thermal engine with them. I stand by my original conclusion - not impossible but very difficult.

I hate to be a pessimist but given the past howls of outrage at any mention of paying for new content, I wouldn't be betting heavily on that. I think there's also a limit as to how far KSP can evolve. A lot of the gameplay mechanics (for better or worse) are fixed, making it difficult to implement any radical changes at this stage. If Squad do intend to keep monetising the kerbal brand, I suspect they'd be better off starting with a clean slate and writing KSP2. Unfortunately that may also be a bigger commitment than they're willing to make - as somebody pointed out, KSP is not Squad's main business. I think Tourist is about right. Console release, couple of years of ongoing development and then done. But that's just my opinion, written without any knowledge of Squad's business at all, so it's just as likely to be a load of hooey.

I have no idea how accurate this is but apparently batrachus is either the Latin or Greek root meaning 'froglike'. Sounds more Latin to me personally, although I've most likely mangled the grammar beyond recognition to arrive at batrachian.

I don't really like your third point because it would make the game a bit too linear. What happens if I'm bored of going to the Mun and decide to start an exploration focused career game where I start by sending probes to as many planets as I can? I'd really prefer not to have to churn through the same old Mun/Minmus science grind (yet again) to unlock interplanetary contracts. Apart from that, I like your suggestions a lot. Not sure how easy they would be to implement but they would make the contract system a lot more coherent and make Career mode feel much more like running a space program.

Ahh, true, true. Punching out the Kraken was a quality moment for sure. As for your thirst for batrachian knowledge, may I humbly suggest equipping the good patrons of the Grieving Burrick with a bucket of frogs each for the next karaoke night.

He could have taken an assumed name (and lied horribly about his age) to get into the kerbonaut corps. Little details like that wouldn't stump the wee kerb for long.

Ahhh, the classic CatastrophicFailure blend of strong characters, creeping menace and laugh-out-loud humour! I nominate "Distantly, she heard the muffled, rather distinctive scream of one who had just unexpectedly taken a cold, wet frog to the face." as the single best line in any KSP fanfic ever.

Jumping back to the original post, Greg Egan's novel, Diaspora basically describes that kind of scenario. Interstellar distances aren't an issue if you - and more usefully, the civilisation you're leaving behind - can essentially ignore time. It's a great book - I recommend it, although it'll probably make your brain hurt too. I remember reading it the first time, every time I thought it couldn't get any wonderfully far-out it always did!

How on Kerbin do you explain DNA replication without at least a passing mention of base pairing? Pretty pictures, wishful thinking and magic?

If you wanted to add extra gamespace to the KSP universe, then scaling it with what we have now would make sense. If you wanted to put together a background for the pocket sized KSP universe, then either of the poll choices could make for an interesting story, particularly if whatever weird physics you dreamt up to explain the 1/10 scale had actual consequences in the story. Personally, I'm not that interested in concocting a cosmology that can explain the 1/10 scaling whilst otherwise hewing to Earth-like physics, and my headcanon just assumes that Kerbin is Earth sized. Just a personal choice though - I don't want to dismiss any of the other headcanon mentioned on this thread.

Agreed. I could figure out the three exhibits (granted A wasn't too tough if you've spent even a little time on this thread ) which speaks volumes for what they post.

Well thank goodness he wasn't kicked repeatedly in the shin or stabbed with a spoon. Epic history lesson though. 10/10, would read again!