KSK

Pirats surely? Arrrr.

It worked in Kerbal Space Program?

Hopefully that crane isn’t tempting fate...

Okay, important safety tip. Thanks, Egon.

That’s probably going to be a significant part of my decision whether or not to buy KSP2 actually. Is there a decent game to be had in the Kerbol system or is that just intended to be the starter system and a way to climb the tech tree to the real game aka going interstellar. Hopefully the former. As for mods - I don’t really care about them to be honest. I’ve got nothing against them either mind, but if a game isn’t fun for me out-of-the-box then I’m not particularly motivated to hunt around for just the right combination of mods to paper over the flaws. I’ve got no shortage of other things to do or games to play. And no - I don’t believe for a moment that Daedalus is the peak of how far this community will go. However it is my personal ballpark for the numbers involved in somewhat plausible interstellar flight.

I always wear my pant when I’m listening out for the sound of one hand clapping.

Possibly. Assuming that KSP has a sandbox mode I’m sure someone will try. If. Whackjob was still around it sounds like the kind of monster rocket project that he’d take on. But really, this whole discussion is why I’m not particularly excited about interstellar travel in KSP2. I know I keep rattling on about this but I tend to use Project Daedalus as a baseline. From Wikipedia: “Daedalus would be constructed in Earth orbit and have an initial mass of 54,000 tonnesincluding 50,000 tonnes of fuel and 500 tonnes of scientific payload. Daedalus was to be a two-stage spacecraft. The first stage would operate for two years, taking the spacecraft to 7.1% of light speed (0.071 c), and then after it was jettisoned, the second stage would fire for 1.8 years, taking the spacecraft up to about 12% of light speed (0.12 c), before being shut down for a 46-year cruise period.” Please bear in mind that Daedalus is a one way trip. If you want to go into orbit around anything at the end of the journey you need a Daedalus sized vessel to carry out that breaking burn - and of course you then need an even bigger departure stage to boost your fully fuelled Daedalus up to 0.12c in the first place. It’s just too big. Multiple hundred thousand tonne vessels, burns that last for literally years and journey times measured in decades. In KSP1 I can play in that scaled down sandbox and happily suspend my disbelief because the numbers are still within the right ballpark of the real life numbers. Journeys to the Mun and back in a day, journeys to the nearest planets in months, journeys to the outer planets. In my opinion, wedging interstellar travel into KSP2 is going to involve fudging the numbers so badly that suspension of disbelief will not be possible and it will become glaringly obvious that we’re playing in a scaled down sandbox. The fact that we’re blithely arguing about whether relativistic effects being a noticeable thing is good or not, speaks to that fudging of numbers. Remember - at 12% lightspeed, relativistic effects are still pretty small.

Reminds me of one of their very early flights (possibly Falcon 1) where the launch was delayed due to cracks in the upper stage engine bell. The solution was to cut off the cracked part and launch the next day. I imagine they will be looking at this rather carefully and redesigning as appropriate, but in the meantime - for a test vehicle - it’s great to see them just buffing out the dents and moving on, rather than going back to the drawing board straightaway.

In no particular order. Once again - at speeds achievable by rocket propulsion, relativistic effects are small. That Project Daedalus ship I mentioned. Travelling at 0.12c? Its relativistic mass is less than a percent higher than its rest mass. Having relative time as a legit consideration assumes that KSP2 is going to include time as a meaningful factor and indeed life support as a meaningful factor. Judging from what we've heard about bases - so far -which seem to be arranged so that the player can set them up and then forget about them, that's at least debatable. From a gameplay perspective, you've got time dilation backwards. At relativistic speeds, time outside the ship will pass more quickly so that, for example, after a 1 year round trip to Planet X and then back to Kerbin, 10 years will have passed on Kerbin. You'd still need to make sure that your ship was equipped for a 1 year journey - you're not gaining or losing anything there. I suppose it might make logistics a bit more interesting but again, that assumes that logistics are going to be a factor in KSP2 - see previous comment about bases. But - lets assume that KSP2 does let you build rockets that can travel fast enough for relativistic effects to be non-trivial. Let's also assume some gameplay mechanics where time is a legit consideration. From a gameplay perspective, how do you communicate relativistic effects to the player so that the player can plan for them or even visualise them in a fairly user friendly manner? As a (fairly) simple thought experiment, imagine two spaceships. The player sends Jeb off to Planet X at 0.2c and Bob off to Planet Y at 0.4c. The distances to both planets from Kerbin are such that the ships both take a year (measured on their internal clock) to arrive. The player runs a science experiment on each probe and transmits the data back to Kerbin. From Gene's perspective back at Mission Control, neither Jeb nor Bob have even arrived after a year. More generally, we've now got three frames of reference to think about - Mission Control back on Kerbin, and a separate one for either ship. How do you communicate that to the player? How do you account for the fact that switching between locations on the Map Screen (or the KSP2 equivalent) is also jumping around in time? Which location do you measure that time relative to? The whole thing is giving me a headache just thinking about it. It's not boring I suppose but neither is it particularly fun when I just want to get on with the game and have Jeb and Bob transmit their science back to Kerbin so that I can finish researching Ludicrous Speed Drives before the end of the next budget period. TL:DR. Relativistic effects. Realistic, not boring but no fun and a complete pain to build a user interface around. I vote no.

In that case it’s even more pointless. Without infinite fuel, you’re not going to get to relativistic velocities with a rocket engine, future tech or no future tech. My reference point for that statement is Project Daedalus, which was basically a two stage inertial confinement fusion rocket - ie the top end of KSP tech as far as we know. It was projected to reach about 0.12c and it was a one shot deal - forget about slowing down at your destination. Reaching 0.3 to 0.4c with rocket propulsion is silly. Besides, even at 0.4c your relativistic mass is only about 10% higher than your rest mass. So including relativistic effects is a lot of faff for a pretty small effect that only becomes a noticeable issue if we’re assuming that KSP2 will let rockets get to implausible speeds anyway. I’m standing by my original post.

Yes. OP asked for estimated recommended as well as minimum requirements. The recommended requirements should let you play at the highest graphics settings, or something reasonably close to them.

Complete and utter waste of developer time to implement something that’s only going to be a concern if you turn on infinite fuel. Also, if a player wants to turn on infinite fuel to get to a destination quickly, why should the developers thwart that by putting a speed limit in anyway?

Instead of paint, I'm wondering if they could use some kind of optical processing. You can do all sorts of funky things with a metal surface by rastering a pulsed laser over it - including making it extremely black. Advantages - no paint required so there's no extra weight added and no coatings to spall off in orbit due to thermal cycling or whatever. Disadvantages - expensive, relatively slow and requires some fairly precise optics if you're treating anything over than a flat sheet. All in all it's probably not worth it right now but it would be a gold-standard solution to reducing albedo if that becomes a serious matter.

You can all feel free to come and laugh at me on this thread when Starship suffers a slow ignominious disassembly after landing on its stumpy-legs and falling over. However, for the moment, of all the many possible things that could go wrong with Starship, I'm not losing any sleep over the landing legs.

Area 51 UFO Disassembly Room?

The next chapter is up. New Trajectories “I’ll take your word for it.” Erlin scratched his head. “It looks a touch smoother around the edges, the handgrip is better placed, and the extra seals around the sockets are a good idea, but apart from that?” He lifted his hands in a half shrug. Halsy patted the tubular stem of the Kerm telegraph interface, resting on the workshop table. “It’s not so obvious from the outside,” he agreed. “Our basic design turned out to be fairly practical in the field. The insides though, have been completely overhauled. Part count is down, chassis is lighter, the electronics are far more rugged and refilling is nowhere near the chore it was with the prototype. Plus, we’ve added a couple of safety improvements.” He rolled the device over, pointing out a row of discs set into its claw-like tip. “Ultrasound and pressure sensors. Lets you know when you’re touching the Kerm fibre so you can back off a little.” He gestured at the three collapsed legs folded up around the stem. “The toggle linkages on the supports have been reworked so that they can be unfolded and locked with one hand. They’ll still be installed by teams of two but one person will be able to handle the positioning whilst the other does the backfilling.” Erlin nodded. “That was the hardest part according to Mallas. So, you’re satisfied that we can sign off on the production version then?” “I am. The team have put both test articles through their paces in the lab and in the field and assure me that all the problems with the Mark 3 have been resolved. Blind testing with the final version of the installation checklist was successfully completed yesterday.” Halsy rested his hand on the interface device’s hemispherical end cap. “We’re ready for the roll-out, boss.” “That’s good to know because we’ve got two newly Awakened Kerm busy with their reading lessons and six an-Kerm lining up behind them.” A shadow passed over Erlin’s face. “It was touch-and-go with the oldest Kerm but it and its Keeper are recovering well, thanks to Enely’s efforts.” “Another eight Awakened Kerm.” Halsy couldn’t quite keep the awe out of his voice. “And eight new Anchors to help with the next wave of Awakenings.” Erlin shook his head. “I just hope you are ready.” --------------- It was, thought Hanbal, typical of the Rockomax Corporation’s company manager. Despite the meteoric rise in company capabilities and ambition, her memorabilia collection was still held in two glass-fronted cabinets by her office window, the old pared back to make way for the new. He smiled inwardly at the sight of the wrench still occupying pride of place in one cabinet, remembering the presentation by James, Sherfel and the Endurance flight team. Evidently a tool used for the first on-orbit repair of a spacecraft was still deemed to be a worthy memento. And so, apparently, was the old firework mortar on its stand, the jagged Speciality Fireworks Company logo sprawling across it now faded by time. The company manager herself sat deep in thought, drumming her fingers on the edge of her desk. “Agreed,” she said at last. “Any delays to the Type 7 program will be manageable and it would be politically wise to show the Doreni that Rockomax is taking the KSA’s request seriously.” Hanbal nodded. “How are the Doreni taking it?” “About as well as you might expect,” Ademone said dryly. “I gather that Lodan received a terribly polite private welcome from his opposite number, after all the warm words for the cameras.” “But a ‘waste-anything-but-time’ funding bill with a united Twelve Pillars behind it is providing a big enough carrot and a big enough stick to keep everyone smiling?” Ademone raised an eyebrow. “I prefer to believe that both sides are putting their disagreements to one side for the good of all kerbalkind. Although the funding bill will be helping no doubt.” Hanbal picked a speck of lint off his trousers. “We’ll probably have to give them the SK1-P,” he said. “Lodan’s briefing seemed quite clear on that point. The Doreni want to launch their Duna shuttle prototypes on their own boosters, Lodan is in favour of that anyway because he doesn’t see any point in shipping Doreni built spacecraft halfway around the world to launch them from Kolus, and the Council wants Doren launching Starseed payloads as soon as possible, if not before.” “Give them it?” “We might as well. Again, judging from Lodan’s briefing, their Hammerhead engine was intended to have roughly the same performance as the SK1-P and it’s operating on the same cycle anyway. By the time we solve the combustion instability problems they’re having, we’ll probably end up with something that’s a Skipper in all but name, so why not save ourselves some time and effort, bank some political favours, and move on?” Ademone steepled her fingers under her chin. “It would certainly be a generous gesture,” she said thoughtfully. “Depending on requirements, that would let them field anything from an Endurance to a Type 5 equivalent.” “Which should be enough for their shuttle program if they use the same Kerbin orbit rendezvous mission profile that we used for Pioneer,” Hanbal finished. “Which is good because I’d prefer not to hand over the Mainsail just yet.” He eyed Ademone. “Let’s see how the Doreni get on with the Skipper first before we spend what will need to be a great deal of time setting up a Mainsail production line for them – time that I think could be more usefully spent updating our own launch facilities and putting the Type 7 into full production.” He saw the faint smile tugging at the corner of Ademone’s mouth. “Dammit – it’s not that! Leaving aside the fact that unless we make Starseed work, we’ll be going bust anyway, the SK2-M is a dead end. Oh sure, we’ll need the Type 7 to get Starseed into production but I can guarantee we won’t be using it by the time we’re done.” Hanbal sat back in his chair. “The Type 7 is big, expensive, and disposable. By the time we get a couple of colony ships built, I think people are going to start noticing that last part. So, by then we need to be thinking about the next generation of launch vehicles.” Despite herself, Ademone leaned forward, intrigued. “Which is?” “A reusable booster.” Hanbal spread his hands on her desk. “C7’s spaceplane program is going well by all accounts but I doubt they’ll be lifting more than crew to orbit with it. I’ve run the numbers – even if the rumours are correct and they do have a working airbreathing engine - they won’t have the mass fraction for anything else. For serious payload, we’re looking at a two stage, reusable rocket.” He gave Ademone a rueful look. “I’ve bounced some ideas around with Danfen and right now we’re not sure what that’s going to look like, but one thing’s for sure – it won’t be using an SK2-M. Too big, no throttle and no relight capability.” “Hmmm.” Ademone began ticking points off on her fingers. “I’d like to see those ideas. Once you’re back from Doren, and the Type 7 failure investigation is complete, and the launchpad is back in operation, and the Type 7 program is in full production phase, and…” “I get it. I get it.” Ademone’s expression softened slightly. “It’s a good point and one that I’ll run past Loden but I think we have enough to be getting on with for the moment. For now, I agree that giving the Doreni the SK1P – assuming they need it – could be expedient. Keep that as a reserve option for now, find out whether their HH2 program is salvageable, and I’ll speak to Lodan and the Board.” She picked up a glass cube paperweight from her desk and rubbed her thumb over one edge. “When do you leave?” Hanbal watched the sliver of Mün rock inside the cube appearing and disappearing behind her thumb. “I’m flying out the day after tomorrow. One of the first charter services to start flying again, I believe.” Ademone nodded. “Good luck – and thank you, Hanbal.” ---------------- “What time is your train tomorrow?” Jeb appeared from beneath his desk, holding a can of chilled sapwood in each hand. “Not until after lunch.” He passed Bob one of the cans and popped the top off his own. “So Gene can get his beauty sleep in.” Geneney pushed the plunger down on his coffee press, waited for the grounds to settle, and poured himself a cup. “I’ll need it after tonight. Good to see business picking up again for Jorfurt though.” “The seed inspections hit him hard.” Jeb agreed. “Good to see those easing off a bit. What can I get you, Bill?” “Another water for me. Sparkling if you have it?” “Coming right up.” Jeb fished out a bottle from his fridge, unscrewed the top and handed it to Bill, who poured it into his mug. “Hey, Wernher.” “Evening,” Wernher stood in the doorway for a moment, before taking a seat. “How did the party go?” “Not too badly at all.” Jeb flopped into a sack chair. “Even if I am getting too old for this sort of thing.” He grinned at Wernher’s rolled eyes. “It was a good turnout,” Bob agreed. “Eldrin was a bit wild-eyed to begin with though, sitting in a bar with the Jebediah Kerman, as he put it.” “If only he knew,” said Geneney. “Coffee, Wernher?” He poured a second cup and handed it to the chief engineer. “And now that we’ve all got a drink, I’d like to propose a toast.” He lifted his cup. “To the One-Twenty.” A motley collection of mugs, cans, and cups clinked together. “The One-Twenty!” Bob wiped his mouth. “And I’d like to propose a toast to something I never thought I’d see in this lifetime.” He raised his can. “To Jeb the diplomat.” Geneney chuckled and lifted his mug again. “Jeb the diplomat!” The others tapped their drinks against his. “And I can’t think of a better kerbal to teach the Awakened Kerm about spaceflight.” “Official KSA ambassador to another species.” Bill shook his head. “It sounds like something out of a science fiction story.” “But it’s not,” Wernher said softly. “And it’s a long way from the firebrand rocketeer I remember from the Institute. You make an old teacher proud, Jeb.” Jeb suddenly became very interested in his can of sapwood. “We’re just planning ahead is all. If we ever find anyone else up there,” Bob pointed in the vague direction of the ceiling, “we’ll be able to send Jeb out to make First Contact with them.” There was a ripple of laughter. “We are the kerbals. Take us to your leaders!” Geneney managed a credible impersonation of Commander Kerbiman ‘Kerb’ Kerman, making Jeb raise his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were a Heroes of Duna fan, Genie.” He shook his head. “Being an ambassador to the Kerm is a big enough job for me thanks.” “I can imagine,” said Bill. “You’re going to meet Guardian Obrinn at the Berelgan first. Is that right?” “Yep. Obrinn. Held by Erlin, awakened with Obrett and Gusemy. First Kerm – along with Guardian Elton – to be connected through the Kerm telegraph and actually the one who got them thinking about a telegraph in the first place.” Jeb blinked. “Apparently he was lonely, so they decided to figure out a way of letting him talk to Guardians Elton and Jonelle.” Wernher walked over to Jeb’s chair and gripped his former student’s shoulder. “It sounds like you know him already.” “It does,” said Geneney. “Good luck, old friend and give my best to Guardian Elton.” He shot a mock-exasperated look at Bob. “First Contact, or no First Contact, there’s always a space on the flight roster for a returning ambassador.” ----------------- <He was very nice. I think my Erlin liked him but was scared too> There was a long pause and then another train of chemical pulses bombarded Elton. <Not right. Not scared but I do not know the right kerbal word> <Awed? Jeb has done many impressive things. It would be right for other kerbals to respect him> Obrinn thought it over. <Yes. That is better. I will remember that new word> The pulses became a torrent, saturating the soil around Elton’s receiver into meaninglessness. The telegraph systems responded, shutting down the incoming link and starting a purge sequence. <Slowly. Wait> Elton appended the codes for ‘patience’ and ‘understanding’ to his message. <The kerbal machine is not fast enough for me to hear you> He waited for his soil to clear. <Try again now> <I saw the whole world!> The codes for ‘excitement’ spilled into each other. <Very small. No> Obrinn corrected himself, <not small but far away. I saw the Mün too but I didn’t like it> <<fear>> <It was dead and dark. Why do kerbals want to go somewhere dead?> <I do not truly know> Elton replied. <Jeb said that he went because it was there> <That is a strange reason> <Yes. But then he told me that he went to explore the Mün but the most important thing was that he found Kerbin> <I do not understand> <<reassurance>> <I had to think about it too but the answer was not hard. Kerbals have found more worlds like the Mün and they think that all of them are dead too. Only Kerbin is alive but…> <It is also very small and lonely> <Yes. I think this is something that all kerbals – and all Kerm – need to learn> <I will try. But now my Erlin wishes to talk to me. I would like to leave> <Professor Erlin> Elton corrected him. <Please tell him that Elton says hello. I too would like to leave now> <Overandout, Elton> <Overandout, Obrinn> Elton waited for his soil to clear again. Then, with a sudden flex and droop of his leaves, he sent a carefully orchestrated wave of messenger chemicals towards Jonelle’s territory. An answering wave swept over his outermost fibres, followed by the faint touch of not-self, as his daughter extended her fibres towards him. <father?> <Jonelle. Do any of your kerbals speak to you at this time?> <no. Joenie spoke to me before half-sun but no kerbals speak to me now.> <that is good. I would have you tell no kerbal – and especially not Joenie – of my words here> <father?> <my daughter, does Gerselle speak to you in these days?> Jonelle’s fibres stiffened, twitching away from Jonton before she could bring them under control. <no. Joenie asks me this too. The me before me remembers her words but I have never heard them> <have you looked for her?> <yes. I have found small things. Pictures that I do not know, thoughts that I do not remember or recognise. But I have not found Gerselle> <I think you have found small parts of her> Elton paused. <my daughter – before we Awoke, we were both broken but we survived. Jonton became one with my shattered parts and, in time, helped me to heal although he did not know it. Enely found your shattered parts, brought them together and made you whole. Perhaps you can do the same for Gerselle> He sensed his daughter’s doubt. <they are such small things and I have not found many. I do not know if this will be possible> <I know. That is why I would not have you speak of this to the kerbals. To have them hope and then see that hope fail would be cruel. I will help you, my daughter - I knew Gerselle through Jonton and might know the thoughts you do not recognise.> Jonelle’s answer was muffled by a loud burst of chemicals. {Incoming Call} Jonelle wasn’t sure whether her father’s response would have made Joenie blush or giggle. <I apologise, my daughter. I should answer this> <Ready> <Hello. Is that. Elton?> <Yes. This is Elton. My daughter, Jonelle is also here. Who do I speak to?> <My name is Enedred> A pause <My Enely asked. me to pass. on his res… respects? Is that a right kerbal word?> <It is. Please pass on my thanks to Enely> Elton paused to let his telegraph interface clear. < It is good to hear your words, Enedred. I would have you be welcome, for we have much to discuss> << Chapter 108 Chapter 110>>

I found this superb article over at Ars Technica and figured it would probably be of interest to some folks here as well, assuming you haven’t already found it! https://arstechnica.com/science/2020/01/a-deep-dive-into-the-apollo-guidance-computer-and-the-hack-that-saved-apollo-14/?comments=1&start=120 Programmers will probably get the most out of it but, as with most things Apollo, even this layperson could marvel (and enjoy) the pure working-next-to-the-raw-metal technical prowess on display. Oh - and do read the comments too - they’re well worth it for the extra insight from the author. But if you don’t get all the way through them, you should check out this (safe for work) site too. http://saroy.net/2019/12/when-you-cant-be-good-be-colorful/

And - with particular thanks to my Good Editor - the next chapter is up. The Rough and the Smooth The Orbital Propellant Test Article swung along a lopsided orbital path that would take it from its highest point over a thousand kilometres distant, to grazing the upper reaches of Kerbin’s atmosphere. Viewed from a distance, it consisted of a central truss, two long fuel tanks mounted alongside it, the internal bellows that had confined their contents during launch now collapsed, allowing the liquid ammonia inside to float freely. A more-or-less spherical systems module at one end sported the unfurling photovoltaic arrays, antennas and sundry other systems required to turn a pair of propellant tanks into a functional spacecraft. Viewed on the main screen of the Barkton Mission Control room, the spacecraft, like so many before it, was nothing but a marker. From the back of the room, Roncott watched it march along its elliptical path in lockstep with the remorseless logic marching through his own head. Too large for a Type 6. No spare launch capacity for an all-up test. Quicker to build another OPTA than another Type 7. He sighed, the last of the frustration in the back of his mind unravelling into resignation. Sometimes rockets just went wrong. And at least it hadn’t blown up. Roncott shook his head remembering long-ago scenes of despondency when Muna 2 had exploded shortly after lift-off. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t find it in himself to blame Rockomax’s engineering teams, not least because they were probably as frustrated as he felt. As for their flight control team, whatever ‘guidance mode 8’ was, it had salvaged the flight. It was just a pity that it was going to be cut short. Roncott dragged his attention back to the consoles. “Photovoltaics looking good, Flight. Steady draw through the main bus, all systems powered up and ready.” “Thank you, Payload.” Geneney made a note in his flight log. “How’s our orbit looking, FD?” “Not great, Flight.” Bill looked up from his console. “We’ll keep an eye on it but so far drag on the photovoltaics is having about the predicted effect.” “Re-entry at T plus one-six-two days, plus or minus two, then?” “That’s affirmative. We ran the numbers on re-boosting using the RCS but it would be more effective to reserve the propellant for attitude control.” “Understood. What have you got for me, Guidance?” “Spacecraft is in orbital rate and within the expected per-revolution deviation from the last attitude correction Flight. Go, No/Go for first correction due in twelve revolutions.” “Copy.” Geneney studied the orbital display on the main screen. “Payload, let’s spin up at the next apoapsis. Take your timing point at A-minus ten minutes.” “Will do.” There was a clatter of keys followed by a pause. “Program transmitted and loaded. Initiating at A-minus ten.” At the touch of a button, one of the subsidiary screens beside the orbital plot blanked out and then displayed a running countdown timer. At the ten-minute mark, the timer disappeared, replaced by a split screen, one side a blur of computer code, the other side a checklist of key events and system start-ups. The one-minute mark was marked by a blue light at the Payload console, which blinked out at the tap of a key. “RCS firing, Flight. Nulling orbital rate and…spacecraft is in stellar inertial. Control mode FINE, commanded roll rate: point one radians-per-second, commanded angular acceleration point-one milliradians per second per second.” Geneney glanced at his repeater displays. “Copy. How’s she handling, FD?” “Smooth and steady, Flight. Minimal cross-axis coupling, negligible residual translation.” A set of indicator lights glowed on the Payload console and a strip chart recorder whirred into life. “Picking up readings from the slosh sensors, Flight. Radial pressure only, no sustained longitudinal modes. Looks like the baffles are holding it.” At the back of the room, Roncott nodded to himself in satisfaction and turned back to the screens, brow furrowed as he searched for the data he needed. Geneney noticed his expression and keyed his microphone. “Guidance, Flight. Can we get the slosh readouts on screen three please?” “We can do that, Flight.” The screen blanked out before displaying a double column of fluctuating numbers. Roncott raised a hand in thanks. “Flight, FD.” “Go ahead, FD.” “Spin axis orientation is holding, Flight. No cross coupling.” “Copy. Payload?” “Looking good, Flight. Structural integrity holding, internal temperatures within expected range with no hotspots that I can see. Roll rate at point-zero-seven radians per second and climbing. “Excellent.” Geneney studied the guidance display, watching the roll rate click upwards, occasionally flicking a glance at his repeater displays. Then, with a sudden flurry of shifting data and a patter of applause from the flight controllers, it ticked over to the commanded point one radians per second and steadied. Geneney leaned back in his chair and looked up at the orbital plot. “Good work, team. I’m calling that a Go on stage one testing. Five revolutions, spin down, back into orbital rate and review. We’re not getting as many revolutions as we’d like, so lets make them all count.” ----------------- “The sad thing is that they weren’t bad neighbours before this started.” Gusemy studied the other’s careworn face and nodded in sympathy. “I mean, it couldn’t have been easy for them – the soil isn’t good up there anyway and without a Kerm to improve it?” The ambassador shrugged. “There’s a reason we’re mostly livestock farmers around these parts. They tried though, even managed to get a respectable harvest in last year. Not enough for them to share we didn’t reckon, but plenty to keep them going by and by.” “But this year?” The ambassador sighed. “Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t enough. They came down here looking for help – and that must have been a bitter pill for them to swallow. We gave them what we could – they wouldn’t take anything Kerm-grown but they were happy to take as many carcasses as we could spare. I suppose they figured that the beasts must have been grazing on clean grass or something.” “Or they were too hungry to care.” “Or they were too hungry to care,” the ambassador agreed. “We gave them what we could of course. It cut into our Starseed donations but what of that. The space program will still be around next season but without food, they probably wouldn’t have been.” She grimaced. “Not that everyone saw it that way.” Gusemy nodded. “Not with the space program starting to look like it’s going somewhere. It’s always easier to help out with something that’s working.” “And not give any more to those fools on the hill who are too proud to have enough to share but not too proud to take from those that have.” The ambassador closed her eyes briefly. “Not my words, Ambassador and, as I said, we did what we could but it just rubbed some folks up the wrong way. And when they took to stealing as well as taking, that was the last straw.” She lifted her hands. “We tried speaking to them about it – after they tried denying everything, they chased us out of their… village at gunpoint. So, we called the authorities.” “Understandable.” Gusemy made a note on his pad. “I don’t suppose you could give me an idea of the kinds of weapons they were carrying?” The ambassador gave him an incredulous look. “No. I can’t say that I can. For one, I wasn’t there, and for two if someone pointed a gun at me and told me to leave, I’d be too busy leaving to tell you anything about the gun.” “Of course.” Gusemy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry but I had to ask.” He closed his notebook and tucked it inside his poncho. “You’ll be compensated for the lost livestock of course and please rest assured that those responsible will be brought to account. Thank you very much for your time.” “Thank you, Ambassador.” Gusemy nodded and turned to leave. Once outside the hut he walked across the village green to the off-roader parked on the other side, oblivious to the curious looks from the villagers. He opened the door and climbed in. “About what we expected from the complaint. Armed neo-kerman enclave; isolationist, turned to livestock theft when their crops failed. No further information on the number or type of weapons.” The plain-clothes inspector in the drivers’ seat gave him a resigned look. “Never heard that one before.” He gestured across the green at a low-built stone building with a sheet iron roof and a heavy steel door. “To hear these backwoods types talk, you’d think they’d never seen a gun, let alone the inside of the village armoury.” He started the motor. “At least they’ve had the sense not to start a shooting feud over a handful of stolen creva.” The road out of the village quickly turned steep, zig-zagging down to the valley floor before following the banks of a winding stream. Gusemy glanced around at the coarse, short-cropped grass, broken by the occasional patch of low-growing ferns or scraggly evergreen, and dotted with creva. Now and then, one of the creatures looked up as they passed, regarding them with an indifferent stare before lowering their heads to graze. As they approached a fork in the stream, Gusemy leaned forward. “The turn-off should be just up ahead. Just a single-track road, I think. Ahh – that looks like it there.” His companion just nodded, pulled up at the side of the road, and climbed out of the off-roader. Gusemy watched him cross the road and walk along the verge, stopping by what looked like the end of a farm track and staring along it for a moment, before turning and walking back. “Nothing to see at this end. Some of them like to put up a barricade or have a couple of lookouts. They’ll probably have something nearer the village.” “All the ones I’ve been to had,” Gusemy agreed. “Let’s get on with it then.” The inspector slammed his door shut and started the motor again. “Everyone alright in the back? Yes? Good. We’ll go in nice and easy to start with but you all know the drill.” He glanced around, then pulled out onto the road before turning up the farm track. The track went on for longer than Gusemy had expected but was also in considerably better repair than he’d expected. The track itself was still paved in places, with the larger potholes filled in with well tamped-down gravel. As they rounded a bend, he saw the weather-beaten remnants of two herder huts silhouetted against the skyline, the track petering out as it wound its way up the hill. “Ah. Hunting rifles I’d say, and they look comfortable enough with them.” The inspector applied the brakes, bringing the off-roader to a smooth stop. Berating himself under his breath, Gusemy dropped his gaze back to the road and saw four kerbals dressed in heavy jackets, each with a rifle pointed not-quite-casually at the ground in front of them. He swallowed hard. “First time having a gun pointed at you?” Gusemy forced his voice to remain steady. “No – but I can’t say it’s happened often enough for me to get used it.” He was answered by a snort. “The one time you do get used to it will be your last. Shall we see what these good kerbals have to say for themselves?” The inspector raised both hands, palms outward, then lowered them to point at the doors. One of the kerbals in front of them lifted his weapon fractionally but nodded. “Slowly does it. Keep your hands where they can see them. I’ll go first.” The inspector reached down and unsnapped the holster on his own sidearm, before opening the car door and stepping out onto the road. Gusemy counted to five under his breath before following him. “That’s far enough. I don’t know who you are or where you came from but I suggest you get back in that fancy car, turn it around and leave.” One of his companions murmured something that Gusemy didn’t catch and the leader’s eyebrows raised. “And you should button down that holster before somebody gets hurt.” “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.” The inspector paused. “I’m going to take this badge off my lapel and put it down where you can see it.” Moving deliberately slowly, he removed his rank badge, took two steps forward and laid it on the ground before stepping back again.” He watched one of the four pick it up and inspect it with a sudden hiss of indrawn breath. “Exactly so, sir. Why don’t we all put our weapons down? I can avoid adding a great many firearms offences to your charge sheets, my colleagues in the back of the car won’t need to join us, and we can all sit down to talk like civilised kerbals.” “And wouldn’t that be nice.” The other didn’t quite sneer but Gusemy noticed him lowering his rifle again. “What do you want from us… officer?” “I’d like you to put your guns down.” One of the kerbals cast an uneasy glance at the car. The inspector noticed her look. “Quite.” “Blight it all – I don’t want any part of this grolnisch.” She held out her rifle at arms-length with its muzzle pointing one side and its safety catch turned towards the inspector. She flicked the catch on with exaggerated slowness and put her weapon on the ground. The fourth kerbal followed suit. The leader glared at his two companions but made no move to put his own rifle down. “C’mon, Lant.” The last of the four kerbals spoke out of the corner of his mouth, eyes fixed on the inspector. “They’re not here to shoot first else they’d all be out here together.” He cast a disparaging look at Gusemy. “For damn sure they wouldn’t bring an ambassador along.” A third rifle joined the other two on the ground. Sullenly, Lant put down his own weapon. “We bought this place fair and proper. Nothing you can do to get rid of us.” “That’s not what we came for,” Gusemy said quietly. He gestured at the surrounding hills, ignoring Lant’s truculent snort. “There’s nowhere to plant a new Grove here that wouldn’t overlap badly with the next one along the valley. As I think you knew,” he added. The sneer slid off Lant’s face. “We did,” one of his companions spoke up. “But if you ain’t here to plant a murdering tree, what in the seven smoking… places,” he amended, seeing the inspector’s eyebrow raise, “do you want?” “Truthfully? We came here to ask for your help.” Lant’s jaw fell open. “You what?” “We came here to ask for your help,” Gusemy glanced at the inspector. “I think we all need to put our weapons down first though.” He watched the inspector unbuckle his gun belt and lay it on the ground, the butt of his weapon pointed towards them. “Thank you.” He turned back to Lant. “My name is Gusemy Kermol. When I’m not at my own Grove, I work at the Berelgan Institute.” One of the villagers started, her look suddenly intent. Gusemy dipped his head to her. “Most of what we do these days is exactly what you’re doing here – working out how to grow different crops in Kerm-free soil.” He gestured at the village behind them with its paved roads and neat rows of brightly painted, corrugated iron houses, flicking his fingers to indicate the terraced fields lying fallow beyond. “We’d like to compare notes, if you will.” “Could have shown you more last year. No harvest to speak of this year.” She clapped her hand to her mouth, wilting under Lant’s furious look. “Which is why you took to stealing livestock.” Gusemy nodded to himself at the shamefaced looks from the other villagers. “Please don’t be foolish,” he added wearily, seeing Lant’s eyes twitch towards the guns lying on the ground. The inspector gave Lant a quelling look as Gusemy continued. “We will need to talk about that I’m afraid.” Gusemy’s expression wasn’t unsympathetic. “Theft is theft, even if the reasons for it are clear to see. But after we’ve dealt with that, yes, I would very much like to speak to your farmers. If they were willing, we would have them Commune with our Kerm too.” He held up a hand, seeing the hardening expressions in front of him. “Forget I mentioned it. Perhaps one of my colleagues might talk to them instead and learn their story.” “Why?” “Because if they’re unwilling to tell it to our Kerm, then I, or more probably our former Director, Erlin Kermol, needs to tell them instead. Under oath, I should add, with a witness in Communion with him, to ensure that nobody is misspoken.” The villager blinked. “Why… sorry, I’m sounding like my youngest. That seems like a lot of trouble to go to, Ambassador.” “It is,” Gusemy agreed. “You are familiar with the One-Twenty, I presume?” The dark looks and angry muttering from Lant and his other companions were all the answer he needed. “If I may borrow Chief Ambassador Aldwells’ words: ‘Nothing will be hidden. Everyone, be they kermol, neo-Kerman, or a Child of Kerbin, will have their views put before the Kerm. On that you have my word. In this forum. As a Pillar of the Council.’ “ Gusemy took a deep breath. “If we are to seek answers from the One-Twenty, then we must seek answers for all. You, your village, deserves to be heard as much as any other. And for their part, the Kerm also need to learn that kerbals are no longer wholly dependent on their Groves for food and shelter.” He looked straight back at the villager. “We are indeed going to a lot of trouble. But only by guaranteeing that everyone gets their voice now, can we save a great deal more trouble in the future.” ----------------- “Kerm, that’s quite the view.” Jondun checked her tether and pulled herself free of Eve 6’s hatch. She glanced at Calzer and Malmy who were watching her through the bridge windows. She raised her hand in acknowledgement before turning her full attention to the vista in front of her. Behind the bridge, the hub module stretched out before her, five of the eight spoke trusses arrayed around its circumference visible and gleaming in the reflected sunlight from Kerbin. Her home shone blue and green through their shining silver lattices as Tenacity raced over the Northern Ocean, the Firesvarn western coastline just coming into view, Humilisia hidden by the curving bulk of the hub module. She peered up through her mirrored visor, catching a glimpse of the newly installed knuckle on the far end of its spoke, the lip of its auxiliary docking port peeping out from the white thermal blanket that swathed the rest of the module. “Never gets old,” Tommal agreed. “Okay, Flight, EVA-1 and 2, tethers secured and heading aft to the work site.” “Copy that, EVA-1. Tenacity, please confirm your status.” “I have EVA-1 and 2 on camera, Flight. Malmy is in the Hub and ready to initiate inflation. “Very good.” Tommal and Jondun made their way over the Bridge module and across the hub, reporting each tether change and significant manoeuvre to Mission Control as they went. Aboard Tenacity, Calzer switched from camera to camera to keep them in view. “Beginning visual inspection.” Tommal clipped his tether to the spoke truss and began a slow walkaround of the unstowed inflatable module already installed alongside the truss, stopping periodically to check the indicators set into the docking ring. “All packing straps have released correctly. So far as I can tell, the module skin looks evenly tensioned around the circumference, no obvious bulges or protrusions. Docking probes on knuckle port look good, hub port tell-tales are all green.” “Good work, EVA-2. Please withdraw to minimum safe distance.” “On my way.” Tommal walked around the module, gathering in his tether as he went before joining Jondun behind the truss, which the mission planning team hoped, would provide some protection if anything went awry with the inflatable. “EVA-2 is restrained and tethered at primary and secondary points.” “EVA-1 is restrained and tethered.” Jondun’s voice was calm. “Understood. Tenacity, you are Go for inflation.” “I hear that, Flight. Beginning minimum pressure expansion.” As the minutes ticked by, Tommal thought that he could begin to see a subtle shifting of the shadows around the inflatable module’s circumference. He tipped her head to one side, peering through the truss structure to try and find a reference point. “Back-pressure is holding steady on all four inflators, Flight.” “Flight, EVA-1. I have visual inflation.” “Copy, EVA-1.” Tommal lifted his head a fraction, squinting along one of the truss cross-braces. Sure enough, the upper edge of the module was creeping past it, millimetre by painstaking millimetre, lifted on a gradually filling-out ring of fabric. “Good eyes, Jondun. EVA-2 confirms.” The first hour of the EVA came and went, the fabric ring now fully inflated and beginning to pull out a second ring from the stack of folded material attached to Tenacity’s hub. The twelve structural tubes linking the two rings were clearly visible through the fabric panels which formed the outer shell of the inflatable module and the cross-tubing between them was starting to acquire definition. Tommal and Jondun shifted within the confines of their spacesuits, exercising muscles and joints in the almost subconscious routine of the experienced spacewalker. “…and hold it there.” “Copy, Flight. Master regulator closed. Closing secondary valves on all inflators.” “Thank you, Tenacity. EVA-1, please proceed to work site and report.” “Understood.” Jondun unclipped one of her tether points and slipped her boots out from under their restraining bar. “Proceeding.” She made her away around the truss and began her own circuit of the partially inflated spoke module. Aboard Tenacity, Calzer zoomed his camera out to keep her in view. “Okay, Flight, we’re looking good here. Knuckle port is parallel with hub port, within visual limits. Upper ring is fully inflated, longeron inflation looks even around the module. Difficult to get a good visual on the cross tubes but I’m not seeing any obvious kinking or protrusions. Outer shell looks to be unfolding cleanly.” “Very good. We’re not seeing anything on the telemetry either, so I think we can take things up a notch.” “Will do.” Malmy paused. “Okay, I’ve let the regulator out a click. Ready when you are.” Calzer watched Jondun make her way back behind the truss and heard her confirm her position to Mission Control. He cocked his head, listening for anything untoward in the Hub module before turning back to his monitors, Malmy’s report that inflation had restarted coming both over his headset and from directly behind him. On the screen, the spoke module began to expand at a brisker pace. “Looking good…looking good…no wait.” Malmy threw the master regulator closed. “Got some pressure variance here, Flight. Backpressure on inflators one and two. Anything visible from outside, you both?” “Got a little bit of flexing about the hub port. It’s damping pretty quickly though. What do you see, Jondun?” “The same. A little bit of stiction on the third ring I think but yes – it’s pretty much stationary now.” “Understood. EVA-1, what is your assessment?” Outside, on the space station hull, Jondun thought for a moment. “I would pulse inflators one and two a couple of times, wait for any motion to settle, then restart inflation at minimum pressure and see if we get smooth elongation. If not, Tom or I will inspect ring three, we call off the EVA for today and head back inside. Speculatively…” “Go ahead, EVA-1.” “A little bit of grease on any problem folds might resolve the issue at that point, Flight.” “It may well do but let’s not borrow trouble for ourselves. The team here concurs with your first plan. Tenacity, do you read?” “I do, Flight. Pulsing inflators one and two now.” Jondun frowned, staring at the partially inflated module through her visor. “No obvious deflection from out here. Tom?” “Nothing visible, that’s for sure.” “Here goes nothing, then. Restarting inflation, minimum pressure.” Jondun blinked and tipped her head to one side. “Hmph. Looks like whatever was sticking just came unstuck. I’m seeing a steady extension, a little faster than before I would say.” “And I think we’ll keep it that way. Sorry, EVA-1, you’re out there for the long haul.” “Not a problem, Flight. Initial deployment was smooth as you could hope for though. With the second tube, we could maybe try a slightly less conservative inflation to ring two?” “We’ll run it past the Barkton team. Right now, let’s focus on installing tube one before worrying about tube two.” “Copy that, Flight.” Much to the relief of both spacewalkers, over the next few hours the spoke module continued its stately crawl up the truss until, at long last, the docking port attached to its far end was within range of the matching port on the knuckle. A sigh of relief sounded in Jondun’s headset before Malmy came on the air to report what she could already see for herself. “And that’s a hold, Flight. Pressurant reserves well within estimate. How’s she looking, Calzer?” “Lined up just as neat as you could hope for. Looking good on the camera and we’re clean and green on all four probe sensors.” “Looks beautiful from out here,” Tommal called out. Jondun thought she could hear a deep breath over the ground to air loop. “Copy that, EVA-2. Good to have you on standby out there, even if we didn’t need you to jockey this one into position. Tenacity – you are Go for docking.” “I hear that, Flight!” Jondun tilted her head back and watched the spoke module restart its slow upward creep as Malmy and Calzer worked their way through the familiar – but not yet routine – checklist. Probably not ever routine, she thought, at least for crewed spacecraft. “Inside the capture zone, Flight. Standing by for contact.” “Soft dock confirmed. Master regulator off, closing inflators.” “All latches at pre-tension, confirming fine alignment and initiating hard dock…” The inflatable crept up an almost imperceptible amount. Jondun squinted through her visor, unsure whether she was just imagining it. “Flight, we have a hard dock.” Jondun grinned, the applause from Mission Control filling her ears, the view of Kerbin shining through the spoke truss replaced by a broad expanse of white fabric, the regular bulges of the inflatable tubes that gave it form, clearly visible. “That’s quite the view, Flight. Can’t wait to see what it looks like from the inside!” << Chapter 107 Chapter 109>>

What’s 8.5 bar in a) metres and b) metres per second. I can’t lie - I did not equate the query about how high it got to a question about burst pressure.

Just a quick update folks, since I've been incommunicado for a while. The last chapter has taken longer than expected but its done and sitting with my Good Editor. For various real life reasons, the writing was a bit stop-start, so it'll probably need a bit of sanding and polishing before its ready to post. However, as of today, the chapter after next is about half done (looks like it's going to be a bit shorter than most but that's okay), so I'm hoping to get that one out rather more promptly! Cheers, KSK.

I think this topic has been done to death in various forums. Both do cool things in space. Why not both?

Oh, time crawls by in the yellow and rust. I'm thinking that this kar is a bust. The possum in the glove's got a fondness for punk Don't wanna look in the trunk... But I'd be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun If there was a sun to be seen Yeah, I'll be riding shotgun wishing for the hot sun Trying my best not to scream.

Man - I proofread that one and it still kicked when I read it again.

Ahh, the Futurama model. ”I’m gonna build my own Mars base. With blackjack and...” Yeah, you know the rest.

That was my first thought too. The potential increase in SLS capability is not to be sniffed at but it’s the possibility of using hydrogen as a more general-purpose propellant that I’m excited by.