KSK

Trains, telegraphs and tycoons - very interesting! Also, I have to ask. "The junkman was actually taking off his shoes. . ." Is that a reference to a certain cosmonaut?

The bit when you said you couldn't measure gravity directly even in a perfectly circular orbit about a perfectly homogenous sphere. Whereas even under those circumstances, the field will decrease radially, so you can measure the difference in field strength between the two ends of your probe.

Yep - that's why I suggested adding a reference mark component somewhere. You align on one port but provided your marker is in the right place, the second port should be lined up automatically. I'm sure there are less cumbersome ways of doing it though.

I'm halfway wondering if they'll change some of that, as in give Watney some different disasters to deal with. Retain the feel of the book but introduce some new twists for the film. It wouldn't be easy though.

Tricky but not impossible. I see your signature, but I would definitely recommend some kind of docking alignment mod for this. No idea if it's still going but Romfarer's docking camera would be a good choice if available. Plus you might want to add an antenna or something else on the tank to give you a visual cue as to which way is 'up' during docking.

I'm guessing that the capsules will be treated as having heat shields built in. Anything else still under the capsule at atmosphere time - not so much.

Yeah, his method for acquiring extra water supplies - Jeb would have been proud. Really enjoyed the book, cautiously looking forward to the film. It's got a good chance with that cast and director, but I'm not quite convinced how well it'll translate to the big screen.

Read them all apart from The Hydrogen Sonata. Highly recommended, for the ship names if nothing else.

Next chapter is up... Training Days James lifted his bag off the rack with a grunt and stepped to one side to let in the next kerbal in the queue. The arrival hall echoed with shrieking kerblets, free to run around at last after too many hours cooped up in an airplane. Their parents stood resignedly in line, keeping half an eye on their hurtling offspring, and listening to the steady thump, thump, thump of luggage dropping onto the collection racks. A slowly moving stream of passengers marked the way to the exit, shuffling one by one past a row of placard carrying kerbals and out through the revolving door. Sherfel had managed to commandeer one of the few remaining trolleys. James dropped his bag onto it and looked around. "They did say they'd send someone to meet us didn't they?" he asked. Sherfel nodded. "By the door I thought," she said. "Hopefully somebody we'll recognise." James squinted at the row of placards. "Not so you'd notice," he said. "Lets go anyway - this place is giving me a headache." “James? Sherfel?" A cheerful looking kerbal waved at them from amidst the placards. James watched him take something from one of the throng of kerbals surrounding him, quickly scribble something on it, and hand it back with a smile. The rest of the crowd looked around, trying to see who was attracting his attention. By the time he and Sherfel made their way to the door, a disconcerting number of kerbals were waving pieces of card, notebooks, and what appeared to be three ring binders, at them. “Steady on, folks! Give them room to breathe!" The kerbal thrust out a hand. “Pleased to meet ya both. I'm Ornie." James shook it. “Ornie...Eve 2, yes?" Ornie grinned. “Yep. No need to introduce you two. Reckon everyone here knows about..." “Endurance!"A burly, heavyset kerbal pushed his way through the crowd, clutching a binder. Suddenly tongue-tied, he riffled through its pages before shyly offering it to James. The bemused kerbonaut, was astonished to see a picture of himself and Sherfel floating inside Endurance's habitation module. An elaborate, and as far as he could see, surprisingly accurate, cutaway diagram of the module took up most of the opposite page. He blinked as Ornie handed him a pen. “Hope you don't mind signing an autograph or two?" “Uh, no. Not at all," said James, “Er - what's your name?" “Eldrin," came the mumbled reply. James thought for a moment, then wrote a short message under his picture. He signed it neatly and passed it over to Sherfel. Eldrin stared at his feet. “That spacewalk - Kerm, that was... I mean, climbing out and just fixing the PV panels, in space." He looked up at Sherfel hopefully. “I don't suppose...pictures? Even just one or two?" Sherfel shook her head. “Afraid not," she said gently. “Not on that EVA - we didn't really have time to unstow the camera." She signed the picture and handed it back. “I'll get our PR department to send over a couple of our flight packs though - they've got some pretty good photos in." “Oh I already ordered one of those," said Eldrin. “Jus' thought...never mind - sorry to trouble you." “No trouble," said Sherfel easily. “Good to meet you, Eldrin." Eldrin nodded sadly, and stepped back into the crowd. As quickly as James and Sherfel could sign one of the multitude of pictures, albums and other items of space memorabilia being thrust at them, another one took its place. Ornie saw Sherfel's jaw clench around a stifled yawn and clapped his hands for attention. “OK, OK folks. We need to be gettin' back to the Space Centre, so I'll tell yeh what we’re gonna do here. Everyone who's already had somethin' signed, take a step back. Everyone else - pick out whatever you want signed, and scribble yer name and address on the back. I'll make sure everyone gets their gear back in a day or two." Some of the more eager autograph hunters took him at his word and handed over large stacks of material to be signed, only to take most of it back after one look at his raised eyebrow. Ornie gathered the rest together into a neat bundle, and retrieved his, now rather battered, placard, which he hoisted in a polite farewell to the crowd. “Thank yeh, everybody. Like I said, I'll make sure you get all of this back. Reckon I'll be seeing some of yeh at the next lecture, and I'll mebbe see you all at the next launch!" “Next lecture?" asked Sherfel, as they left the airport terminal and crossed the car park. Ornie nodded. “We run them a couple of times a month at the Space Centre," he said. “Bob's idea, but they turned out to be more popular than he expected, so he pulled a bunch of us in to help. We tend to do 'em in pairs, general stuff the first week, getting more technical in the second week." “What do you talk about?" asked James. “Bit of everything," said Ornie, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Basic engine design, orbital mechanics, tracking and astrogation, overview of Mission Control, sometimes we get one of the pilots to come along and do a kerbonaut's diary slideshow for one of the flights." Ornie grinned. “Those are always popular. Climb in folks." Sherfel clambered up into the truck cabin, closely followed by James. Ornie slammed the door behind them, before jogging round and swinging himself up into the driver's seat. He touched the starter button and the motor purred into life. James frowned. “I remember Bob," he said, Flew on the Kerbal 1 obviously, one of your heads of engineering?" Ornie nodded, both eyes on the road. “Yup. And heading up the lander project with your fella Danfen." “That's what I thought,“ said James cautiously. “Isn't he a little bit, well - busy for lecturing too?" “His idea," said Ornie calmly. “Guess he finds the time from somewhere." Across the junction, another truck flashed its headlamps. Ornie waved at the driver and pulled out onto the main road. “Good idea if yeh ask me. Anyone in the team who can't stand up and talk for an hour about basic stuff that they should know back to front and upside down..." Ornie shrugged. “It hasn't happened yet is all I'll say. Plus we get a load of goodwill from the good people of Barkton - seems only fair to give somethin' back." Cars and other vehicles whirred past them on either side, many of them sporting long, fluttering pennants, adorned with a tilted rocket trailing a stream of flame behind it. Sherfel stared in astonishment at an old fashioned camper van decorated with a mural of Kerbin floating in space. Another, more modern, van lumbered past, flanks painted to resemble a Moho capsule on its booster, driver waving frantically at them. Sherfel saw his beaming face glance in their direction, a red cap perched jauntily on his head. Ornie flashed him a thumbs-up as he drove past. “That's a new one," he said cheerfully. “Reckon he could do an Eve paint job for me?" James shook his head. “How many lectures have you given?" he asked. Ornie smiled. “A couple, “ he said, “We do guided tours too, but most of it is down to Jeb. Back before the Kerbal 1, him and the rest of the KIS would do their flight planning in a local bar. Anyone could listen in, or come and watch the tests, even if most of 'em thought he was crazy. These days, old Jorfurt gives us a private room for the planning meetings, but you'll still find a good few of the team down in the bar afterwards, talking to folks, answering questions..." “Signing autographs?" said Sherfel. “That too," agreed Ornie. “Point is though, that Jeb hasn't changed much since he was running his junkyard. Goes to the same places, mixes with the same folks. He's pretty good for business these days too, which doesn't hurt." Ornie put on a local accent. “Sure, when do you need them for? Oh right. That could be tricky I'm afraid - we've got a big job on for Gene at the Space Centre. We could do the first third now...Yes, that Gene. Jebediah - you mean Jeb? Quite well actually. Look, we've got a guest box at the Space Centre for next week. Why don't you come over, we can sort something out over lunch, watch the launch, maybe have a word with Jeb afterwards..." Ornie checked his mirrors. “If we've got any room in the training schedule, Jeb sometimes runs private tours, complete with a ride in one of the Whirligigs." He saw James's puzzled look. “Sorry - our name for the simulators. He'll usually leave an RCS unit on the test stand too." Ornie grinned. “Most folks like to fire a real, honest-to-Kerm rocket engine, even if its only a small one. And riding in a genuine spacecraft trainer next to the first kerbal in space - well I reckon more than one major deal has been sealed in a Whirligig cockpit." The truck rumbled down a side road past a row of warehouses. Clusters of clean, new, wood-and-brick housing stood in neat rows, conspicuous against the older, squarer industrial buildings. Here and there, Sherfel saw more pennants fluttering in the breeze, their bright colours vibrant against the domed, slate rooftops. Inside the cab, James was puzzled. “But why?" he asked, “I get the need for good PR - and the pennants and paint jobs are very neat - but you're all putting in a lot of effort here. More than Rockomax's PR department, and that's saying something." Ornie gestured at the rows of houses. “Because we owe them," he said quietly. “Those new places out there? All for KIS workers and they didn't cost us a thing. Richlin and me joined right after Kerbal 1. We were there when Bill showed the the rest of them his pictures from the flight. I went home to pick up some parts - by the time I got back, the place was overrun. Folks putting together new workshops, scraping the rust off old equipment, sorting through the oily, greasy depths of Jeb's old stock bins. Even more than most big projects, our space program depends on volunteers." “Too many other kerbals to mention from the great town of Barkton," said Sherfel suddenly. Ornie looked at her. “Exactly," he said. “Anyway - we're here. Welcome to the Kerbin Interplanetary Society." James climbed out of the cab. Sherfel leapt down after him and looked around curiously at the nearby warehouses. She blinked at the sign boards on the roof and their, now familiar, tilted rocket logo. James read the boards and rolled his eyes. Seriously? We're planning to launch a spacecraft to the Mün, but they're still calling themselves a junkyard and spacecraft parts company? Two kerbals stood deep in conversation by the door to the nearest warehouse, both sipping from large tin mugs. One of them looked vaguely familiar, although Sherfel couldn't quite remember where she'd seen him before. Behind her, Ornie slammed the cab door, whistling to himself as he locked up. The second kerbal glanced up at the noise and suddenly James and Sherfel were staring at the most recognisable face on Kerbin. ------------- Jebediah Kerman... An unwelcome flutter tickled the back of Sherfel's ribs. Steady girl - he's just a kerbonaut like you. Nothing he's done that you haven't done too - and you've done a lot more on top of that. Beside her, James had frozen in place. Yeah. Except that he was the first. And he got there in a rocket built right here by a junkyard and spare parts company. Ornie coughed tactfully. “Expect you two could use a coffee too?" he said. “Water too if you're anythin' like me. Flying passenger class always dries me right out." James nodded gratefully. “Both sound good," he said. Sherfel shook herself mentally. “Yes please, Ornie," she said. “To both." “We can do that," said Jeb cheerfully. “I'm Jeb Kerman by the way, and this here is Wernher. Welcome aboard." Wernher smiled. “Looking forward to flying with you," he said. He eyed the stack of autograph books in Ornie's arms. “We were starting to think Ornie had gotten lost, but I guess he just got waylaid." “The rocket-spotters struck it lucky today," said Ornie equably. “Had to rescue James and Sherfel from the eager mob. You left enough coffee for three, Jeb?" “Just about," said Jeb, leading the way around the side of the warehouse. “Jug's in my office." More of a den than an office, thought Sherfel as she took in the scuffed chairs, the low, shop-worn table, and the refrigerator under the desk. She stared at the picture of the Mün rising over Kerbin, a shiver running up her spine. Except for that. Surely that has to be the original, and dear Kerm, being the first ones to see that view out of your window." “Take a seat, folks, and help yourselves to whatever you want." The table was laden with fruit, a full jug of very fresh-smelling coffee, a tray of hot rolls, and a plate of bite sized, mud coloured cubes. Sherfel stared at them curiously as she bit into a roll. Ornie noticed them too. “More of Derny's experiments, Jeb?" Jeb helped himself to a roll. “Yep. SRCs, version...whatever number he's up to now. Not quite as good as version six, but I'd still pack 'em for the journey." He gestured at James. “Go ahead - they taste a lot better than they look." James took a cautious bite from his cube. A surprised look crossed his face, and he took another one from the plate. “Hey - these are pretty good - but what are they?" “Savoury Ration Cubes,†said Ornie. “Space rations. Derny figured that giving 'em letters would make them sound more like proper kerbonaut supplies. Not to be confused with Sweet Ration Cubes, Spare Ration Cubes or Surprise Ration Cubes - Derny hasn't really got the hang of acronyms yet." “And never, ever to be confused with Spicy Ration Cubes," added Jeb. He winced. “The snack that only Lucan could love - and he's been destroying his palate with smoky sapwood for Kerm knows how long." Ornie lifted his hands defensively. “Don't blame me," he said. “I just told him that food can taste a bit bland in zero-g. I didn't know he'd take it as a personal challenge." “We noticed that too," said Sherfel. “Herbs help a lot.“ She coughed. “Smoky sapwood doesn't taste too bad in space either, but you never really get the full flavour." Ornie laughed at the dismayed expression on Jeb's face. “You'll definitely have to have a word with Lucan," he said, “He's got a collection of smokes from different Groves, probably different years too." James chose a slice of redfruit. “I think I'll stick to spicy SRCs," he said dryly. He raised an eyebrow at Sherfel. “We should ask Ademone to hire a chef for the Rockomax crews though." “Oh, Derny's not really a chef," said Wernher. “He was one of the rocket-spotters as a matter of fact. Until he managed to talk Jeb into giving him a job." “Hard to turn down somebody who actively volunteered to mop floors and make coffee," said Jeb. “I still remember him telling me that he didn't know much about all those rocket engineers but that he was betting that none of them knew one end of a mop from the other. He probably wasn't far wrong and besides, having somebody to keep up with Bob's caffeine habit has been a real help." Ornie smiled. “Turned out he's also a real fine cook, with a knack for making snacks that hold together in zero-g. We'll head down to the kitchen later - he'll want to know what sort of things you folls like." Jeb rubbed his hands together. “Thought I'd take you on a general tour of the place this afternoon," he said, “Show you around, introduce you to everyone. Then, if you're still awake, we can run through the training schedule over dinner. I gather that Genie's been talking to Nelton, so he should have some idea of how you run things at Rockomax. We can figure out the rest at Jorfurt's tonight." --------------- The young breadfruit vines were looking healthier than they had for weeks. Row after row of neatly staked, green striped stems rustled in the light breeze, dotted with newly sprouted buds and thick with tightly wound clusters of waxy leaves that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Under the vines though it was very different. Knotweed ran riot, sprawling across the soil in a tangled, stringy mat. Hookwort clawed its way up the breadfruit stems like curly strands of barbed wire. Star poppies, yellowjackets and rustbells erupted from the soil in bright rafts of unwanted colour. Butterflies swarmed in droves, as if the rafts were fraying at the edges and blowing away on the wind. Their larvae infested the breadfruit leaves, leaving them ragged and brown edged. Gerselle carefully dug around the base of the nearest green striped stem, exposing the root system. The coarse, stunted fibres were still black and rotted at the tips but, to her relief, rot near the tips was finally being balanced by new growth near the main root. She scooped the soil back into place and gently tamped it down. Joenie bounced happily around the vines, chasing the butterflies, scuffing at the knotweed, chattering to herself all the while. Gerselle watched her peering at one of the leaf clusters, pleased to see her keeping her hands clear of whatever had caught her attention. She got to her feet, brushing the loose soil off her poncho and called to her daughter. “Joenie! Joenie! Come and help Mummy with the flowers!" Joenie raced over, flinging her arms around Gerselle's knees in an enthusiastic kerblet hug. She reached up, proudly displaying both muddy palms. Gerselle kissed the ugly, ridged weal still scored across her daughter's fingers, a fading testimony to an encounter with a particularly nasty species of caterpillar. “Good girl," she said. “You were a good girl and didn't touch them!" “Where are the flowers, Mummy?" “They're by the gate, sweetheart."Gerselle tapped Joenie on the shoulder and jogged away. “Tag!" Joenie giggled and ran after her. The carefully geometric, relentlessly monochrome flower beds stood in stark contrast to the anarchic exuberance of plant life under the vines. Each bed was fenced in by a low wooden palisade hammered into the soil. Gerselle surveyed them with satisfaction. Star poppies, rustbells, cornshakes, yellowjackets. Hookwort, knotweed, damsonwire, clover...She pulled a notebook out of her pocket and flipped it open. Kerblets fingers, gingergrass, broadweed. Hmmm, the springfern is looking a bit bedraggled, but the rest of them are growing - well, like weeds. Whilst Joenie amused herself by leaping over the planks, or pulling up handfuls of flowers, Gerselle slowly worked over each bed, carefully uprooting the occasional windblown intruder and tossing it to one side. Hmph. Weeding the weeds. It didn't take too long for fence jumping to lose its appeal. Joenie flopped onto the ground disconsolately, and began to kick the nearest plank. Gerselle picked a large handful of the thick-stemmed star poppies and sat down beside her. “I tell you what. Why don't we make a pretty necklace for my pretty girl."She showed Joenie how to split the poppy stem with a fingernail and thread the another stem through the gap. Before long, Joenie was sitting cross-legged on the grass, tongue poked out in concentration and a ragged chain of flowers slowly piling up in her lap. “Look Mummy!" Gerselle looked up and smiled. Joenie sat amidst a ring of petals and torn flower heads, the finished chain draped round her neck.“That's beautiful, sweetheart. Come over here and let Mummy finish it for you." She tied the ends of the flower chain together, and held up the finished garland for Joenie to see. “There you go, sweetheart. Can you play with your necklace for two more minutes while Mummy finishes the weeding? Then we can go to Adbas's house for tea." --------------- Gerselle pushed open the gazebo door and stepped into the cinnamon scented gloom. The canvas roof rattled in the wind, the thick padded collar at its peak creaking as it shifted about the slender young Kerm trunk that poked out through the top of the small enclosure. She lay down on her bed, wrapped herself snugly in her heavy woolen cloak and propped a pillow under her head. The Kerm leaves barely even tickled as they brushed against her scalp. <kerbal back> <pleasure> <happiness> <good-right> Gerselle smiled, letting the familiar cascade of aromas wash through her mind. Deftly, she rode the torrent of sensations, artfully placed mental stones diverting the raging flood into well practiced channels. The channels contained the torrent, letting the individual threads of meaning swirl through her mind, buffeting her but not sweeping her away. Buffeting...slowing...seeking... ...allowed to find. Gerselle twitched under her cloak as her awareness exploded. Her vision shrank down to a pinprick, senses of hearing, touch, taste and, smell expanding exponentially to compensate. In a discomforting wrench of perspective, the proprioception evolved for one small, bipedal body was suddenly stretched vertiginously through hundreds of cubic metres of soil. Before she could pause for breath the pinprick yawned open over a vast, ever-shifting landscape of colours. A vista of Kerm perceptions filtered through kerbal sight to create a single, sanity-saving perspective for her to view its world from. Gerselle soared over the mindscape, searching for the breadfruit field. It didn't take long. The grid of flower beds was as distinctive here as it was to the naked eye, each bed a bold splash of colour against the dappled complexity of the surrounding soil. She sensed her Kerm's curiosity, felt it tentatively probing the tiny monocultures. <puzzled> <many-things-all-the-same> Here goes... Gerselle stared intently at the first bed, holding its hues in her mind, memorising their patterns and subtle shades before turning her attention to the bewildering riot of colour that marked the breadfruit field. Slowly but surely, she began to make sense of the apparently random swirls of clashing colour that gradually revealed themselves as intricately cross-linked mosaics. Methodically, she began to isolate the mosaics, disentangling them in her mind's eye, picking out the dominant pattern , searching for one particular set of colours. Then she found them. A small part of the mindscape snapped into sharp focus, the other colours fading slightly, merging into the background. Gerselle stared in delight at the rainbow fringed dapples scattered over the field. Star poppies - the Kerm's eye view! But they're not so important. Deal with the knotweed and hookwort first and see how that works out. On the surface, both weeds were indistinguishable from the background clamour. Gerselle concentrated and shifted deeper down, through the noise. Beneath the surface the twisting carpet of knotweed roots tangled with the hookwort roots, both standing in stark relief against the rest of the soil. Gerselle held the image in her mind and reached out to the Kerm. <curious> <these-things-those-things> <all-the-same> The mindscape shifted out again and this time Gerselle could pick out the subtle knots of colour blanketing the ground. The image flitted back and forth. <see> <here-here-same-thing> Gerselle bit her lip and sent a new image. <puzzled> <things-gone> <why why why why> Carefully, visualising each image as clearly as she knew how, Gerselle tried to explain. The roots appear, accompanied by a picture of a sad kerbal. They disappear and the kerbal smiles. The roots appear - sad kerbal, and disappear - happy kerbal. The image fades out. A sunlit field, with nothing but row upon row of ripe breadfruit vines as far as the eye can see. Smiling kerbals picking the breadfruit and eating them. Other kerbals carry buckets, watering the vines. The same field but choked with weeds and stunted vines bearing hard green fruit. Sad kerbals walking between the vines but not picking the fruit. No roots. Smiling kerbals picking ripe fruit and watering the vines. The roots appear. Weed choked field and sad kerbals. <sadness.> <things gone. happy kerbals> <sadness> <things gone not right.> Gerselle frowned. So now what do I do? Although Jonton's Grove - the fields around his village always...oh. Of course! Quickly she reached out to the Kerm again. The field seen from above the mindscape. The roots appear, accompanied by a picture of a sad kerbal. They disappear from the middle of the field, leaving a thin border around the edge. A sunlit field, filled with row upon row of ripe breadfruit vines and fringed with a border of weeds. Smiling kerbals picking the breadfruit and eating them. Other kerbals carry buckets, watering the vines. <Things there now> <good-right> <happy kerbals and things> Gerselle smiled. Happy kerbals indeed if this works. Now what else was I going to show it. ------------ “What on Kerbin is taking him so long!" Sherfel shrugged. “No idea," she replied, “Could be almost anything - he is their chief engineer after all." James ground his teeth. “Yes - and he's our flight engineer. Not that you'd guess from this farce of a training programme. Checklists changing every week, communications with Foxham flaking out - Kerm's sake, this is the first day they've actually managed to get the simulator working and yet the great Chief Engineer barely deigns to set foot inside it for more than five minutes at a time!" Sherfel eyed the glowing light on the comms panel but decided not to mention it. Besides, he has a point. “I tell you, Sherf - unless things start shaping up, they can take this flight and shove it in a tree, because right now I trust this lot about as far as I can spit a gronnek." The hatch swung open. Wernher climbed into the simulator capsule and took his seat at the engineering station. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We were at the pre-staging aborts yes?" James nodded tersely. Wernher spotted the open comm loop and pulled his headset on. “So, shall we get started?" The cabin tilted abruptly, pitching up to a simulated launch attitude. Wernher looked bemusedly at the comms panel and tapped his earpiece. “Calzer - can you hear..." He was interrupted by a sharp explosion from outside, followed by an unpleasantly oily splattering sound. Sherfel looked up and saw a stream of viscous liquid running down the window. The simulator ground to a halt, sagging forlornly in its frame. Slowly and calmly, James removed his headset, climbed out of the capsule, and walked away. Wernher leapt out of his seat. “It's not a problem, James, we can fix..." Sherfel rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don't" she said quietly. “Give him five minutes, and I'll go and find him." --------------- Jonton put down his mug of water, wrapped his vines a little more securely about his ankles and waist, and relaxed their grip on his calves and upper legs. Yawning, he braced himself against his trunk, and began his morning exercises. As always, the image in the mirror looked slightly ridiculous, a solemn kerbal face peering back at him from out of his leaf clusters, and a pair of kerbal legs twitching and dancing underneath. I could do with some of those bungee cords that the kerbonauts use. He stretched, branches rustling in the morning air, droplets of sweet dew tickling his leaves. The sun crept over the horizon painting the sky with streaks of watery scarlet. Jonton sensed the first faint warmth on his leaves and closed his eyes, letting his consciousness diffuse outwards, along his root fibres, through the soil, up through his many trunks. The sun rose above the tree line, lifting the Kerm out of the dawn shadows. Jonton drank in the light, tasting it, feeling sweetness build in his leaves and trickle down his branches. Sunrise there so north is over there, which means the rest of the village is over there. Prickleberry fields over here, breadfruit here, sunfruit there of course. Forest around them all. He pushed the taste of sunlight and slow tides of rising sap to the back of his mind, letting the rough mental map fill his awareness. Unbidden, flecks of colour began to appear. Broken trails of orange meandered across his mindscape, fuzzy and faded at the edges. Dense blue specks gathered around a blob of green, each of them trailing out a thin blue thread behind them. Diffuse clouds of iridiscent multi-hued flecks, too small to see individually but visible through sheer weight of numbers. The map blurred, zooming in towards a single speck. No. That's kerbal thinking. Feel, smell, or taste only. Seeing is a crutch - slow and clumsy. Unnoticed, beads of sweat popped out on the kerbal's face, as Jonton struggled to close his mind's eye. With an effort, he tore his gaze away from the mindscape, pushed its myriad details away and focused on the void around him. Slowly and deliberately he cleared his mind and, relaxing into his old Keeper training, allowed himself to sink into placid receptivity. One by one, sensations tickled the back of his mind. Tiny threads spun into strands, which twisted into threads. The threads wove themselves into a misty tapestry, perceived for a fleeting second and then gone. Suddenly, Jonton was aware. Aware of the kerbal feet and which way they were pointing, without having to look at them. Aware of the weight of his branches and the way they bent in the wind. Aware of the worms wriggling through the soil around his roots, following the pheromone trails that he had laid down. Trails to draw them, to guide them to where they were needed. Guidance provided subconsciously now, with no more need for thought than his kerbal would require to pick up a pen and start writing. Finally building some muscle memory here. Hold the balance, Jonton, hold it... There. That's the problem there. Too many bacteria. Or too many of those bacteria. Those ones are harmless and those other ones are vital. OK, I remember how to deal with this. Release the attractant here, pull in these nematodes to control the bacteria. Not too many though, need these other nematodes too to keep the others in check. Fungi here, here and here to control them both, release this effector to kill those bacteria, to let those ones thrive and release more of that nutrient..." The tapestry began to swim into view, threads unwinding and acquiring colour. The kerbal was almost hidden behind a lashing screen of leaves, legs shaking and sweat pouring down its face. NO! Do. Not. See. Steer the patterns, Jonton - don't unravel them! The kerbal stared blankly across the room, blinking perspiration out of its eyes. Suddenly it stiffened, limbs clenched, back arched against the Kerm trunk. Then it slumped, like a puppet with cut strings. Jonton felt the shimmer of changes ripple across the field and sensed the field begin to change in response. It would, he knew, take time to adjust fully, but even now the myriad food webs, the delicate chains of prey and predation were beginning to quiver at the edges, edging towards a new balance. The kerbal's head lifted. Jonton blinked and reached for his mug of water. ------------ James and Sherfel stood in the doorway and stared. The early morning sun shone in behind them, dispelling the gloom within. The Whirligig hatch was propped against the nearest wall, surrounded by a stack of spare parts. The projectors and screens that normally stood around the capsule were lined up along the opposite wall. The table in the corner was littered with crumb-strewn plates, a coffee jug and other remnants of a hasty breakfast. Under the table a tottering heap of takeaway cartons threatened to spill across the floor. The room stank of leftover food, stale coffee and the metallic tang of grease and hot hydraulics. Calzer squatted by the open hatch, toolbox by his side, methodically plugging in cables and closing cable clamps. Tomcas perched on a ladder, screwdriver in hand, peering intently at the main wiring panel fixed atop the capsule roof. Two other kerbals that James didn’t recognise, clambered over the simulator frame, checking the hydraulic lines. Meanwhile, Lodan sat in his usual place in the control booth, headset on and eyes on his screens. “All set?"Jeb emerged from behind the capsule, closely followed by Bob. Both kerbals were dressed in grease-smeared coveralls, Jeb wiping his face with a rag as he walked. “Yup!" Tomcas scrambled down the ladder and dragged it clear. The two other kerbals jumped down from the framework and joined Jeb and Bob by the control booth door. “Just a minute guys." Calzer consulted a notebook on the floor in front of him, nodded to himself and picked up a spanner. “Just need to tighten these down. And done." He grabbed his notebook and joined the others. “OK, Bill - fire it up!" The capsule jerked, tipped down and then swung smoothly upwards to launch attitude. Jeb watched it start to swivel about its long axis, before walking over to the two Rockomax pilots, oblivious to the streak of oil across his forehead. “Morning." He gestured at the simulator. “Just need to run the calibration sequence and replace the hatch. By the time Wernher gets here we should be good to go." << Chapter 40: Chapter 42>>

Hang on - don't those two points cancel out somewhere? Procedural fairings make aerodynamic rockets trivial - but presumably fixed size fairings are also trivialized because of part offset. So does it actually matter that much which one we get in stock? Anyhow - covering up a huge unwieldy payload with a procedural fairing does not an aerodynamic rocket make. It'll help a bit, but I'm guessing that a hammer shaped rocket is still going to have significantly more drag than a nice tapered one.

Happy to go either way but the plan was: release 41, indefinite but hopefully not too long a gap whilst I write 42, release 42, 43 and 44 together.

Yup! Following on from my last post, chapters 43 and 44 are done bar the polishing. I was hoping to have 41 done and posted last night, but it's not quite finished. Watch this space...

That's a sweeping statement and I disagree with it. I would argue that motive is the key to deciding whether something is a scam or not. Plans change, business plans especially, business plans for startups even more so. Financial circumstances can and do change - again, especially for startup businesses - and not necessarily because anyone is at fault. I don't know much (OK, anything) about game development, but I can well imagine that features that looked great on paper turn out to be not so great in practice, or harder to implement than expected. At that point it becomes a tradeoff - do the developers carry on plugging away at this one feature, or put it to one side and put their time and money into improving the rest of the game. Not an easy choice, and the only guarantee is that they'll get pilloried for it on the internet, whichever option they choose. TL: DR. Sometimes stuff just happens. Sometimes it happens despite everyone's best intentions and yes, sometimes it happens because it's a scam. Blanket statements that 'all changes are scams' aren't fair, realistic or helpful.

Sorry to hear that it turned out to be a disappointment. I was a Kickstarter backer for Elite, and pledged enough for beta access. Didn't feel the urge to chuck in any more money for premium beta or alpha access though. I'm pretty happy with it but that's kinda off-topic for this thread. In any case you did exactly the right thing as far as I'm concerned - you saw the price, decided it wasn't for you, didn't bother with the beta. Turns out that was good decision for you too - and I'm sure you needed me to point that out. Me - I saw a game that I really wanted to see happen, being developed by a name that I was already familiar with. That was enough to persuade me to take a risk with the Kickstarter. After that, it was a case of spending what I could afford to lose if the game did go belly-up. Star Citizen on the other hand, I had no great nostalgia for, and wasn't especially persuaded by their Kickstarter offer. So I didn't bother. I also have personal reservations about it as a viable project (although if I'm proved wrong I'll be more than happy to buy a copy of the release version) but I think calling it scamware is unfair and premature. I also respectfully disagree with gpisic's suggestion that early access / Kickstarter backers are necessarily stupid and have too much money.

That would certainly be unusual but I don't see it as unethical. Provided that they actually give you a beta copy to play, and advertise the correct price ahead of time, the devs can charge what they like. Conceivably, putting a price on the beta might even act as a filter for actual testers who are genuinely committed to the game. On the other hand, potential testers are perfectly entitled to point and laugh at charging $100 for a beta. And then decline to pay.

This more than anything, although you would hope that it's just common sense. Buy an early access game for what it is now, rather than what you fondly hope it might become in two years time, if the development funding lasts that long and if the developer's vision for the game happens to coincide with yours. For me, KSP was a prime example. I played the demo for a week and figured that even if I was just buying the same game with more parts, it would be well worth the money. Everything after that has been a bonus, but perhaps I'm just easily pleased. Incidentally, the demo was probably the biggest single reason why I bought into KSP (followed by native OS X support), and I think that a properly done, KSP style, free demo is something that any early access game would do well to release.

I'm guessing that cake head rockets would suffer under the new drag model, even with a fairing. After all, we already know that asparagus will still work after a fashion but just be much less efficient. Your idea of a range of cross-sectional sizes but procedural lengths sounds good to me, but I've never played with either fairing mod, so don't really have an opinion about it one way or the other.

Hurrah for trashcans full of boom! Or the prototype version, trashcan-covering-a-pile-of-boom anyway. Bonus points for use of the word 'geep' too. Bring on Chapter 2!

Fair enough, but judging from the multitudinous threads on this topic over the years, a significant portion of the player base disagrees. Anyhow - lets not derail this thread into another rehash of that debate. Agree with having gender determined by configuration file rather than algorithm. If it hasn't already been confirmed, I also think it would be good to seed the name database with names of notable women astronauts (or other space pioneers for that matter), so that Valentina Kerman or Sally Kerman could appear alongside Neil or Buzz Kerman. After that I'm not sure. As already pointed out, a lot of the randomly generated names are androgynous, but some of them really aren't. There's a limit to how feminine (or androgynous) you can make Billybob*something* for example.

Odd - could you post a screenshot? I'm playing on a Mac too.

Think of reaction wheels as a store of angular momentum, which you can transfer to your craft. Doesn't matter where that store is placed. For RCS on the other hand, Rynak is exactly right - the further you put 'em from your centre of mass, the greater the turning moment. With regard to winglets, one situation where I've found them to be extremely useful is on my standard cheap satellite launcher (BAC-C first stage, LV909 + RT-400 tank upper stage). Having winglets lets me tip the darn thing into a gravity turn, which is kinda useful. Other than that, I confess that I don't tend to use them much, but there might be some interesting trade-offs between using relatively lightweight winglets vs the heavier reaction wheels required for Rockomax sized parts and upwards. Heh - beaten to it by RIC!

Heh - I think your title sums up most players thoughts once they get to a certain point in this game. Speaking personally, the only things I've sent to Eve have been orbiters. I haven't ever tried to land anything, still less return anything, so I don't know how much delta-V is required other than "a honking great pile", which isn't terribly helpful. For getting there - or any other planet for that matter - Alexmoon's calculator is your friend. You can use it figure out what in-game time is best to set off for any of the planets. Much easier than worrying about phase angles and stuff.

Cheers! I tried a variation on the same design, with four BAC-C SRBs on radial decouplers, and they don't actually make a whole lot of difference. You end up with a bit more fuel on-orbit, but the staging is more fiddly, and I found that I was dropping the SRBs about the same time that I was starting my gravity turn. Not impossible by any means, but requires a bit of quick button mashing, which might take a bit of getting used to. Zenechules - the last item on that list is definitely the most important. I remember my first successful flight around the Mun, back when I was playing the demo. No maneuver nodes in those days, so I was pretty stoked about getting to orbit the Mun and even more stoked to get my trans-Kerbin injection burn right. Everything was smiles and unicorns until my capsule got to 30 km from the surface and no amount of space bar thrashing was able to deploy my non-existent parachute. RIP Jeb, Bill and Bob.

Interesting - I do it the other way round. Get into a circular parking orbit, set up a prograde burn such that my predicted apoapsis matches the required apoapsis marker by eye, doing a quick radial burn midway to correct my apoapsis point if required. Burn at apoapsis to match my periapsis to the marker, tweak inclination as required.

Heh - after the last test Only Slightly Bent might have been a better name for the spaceport drone. Although so long as they're not calling it Zero Gravitas, we're good.