KSK

Sure, if you can. If you could take me along too, that would be peachy. I’ll even split the gas money with you.

Either way it needs go-faster stripes on the nozzle and a pair of fluffy dice hanging from the fuel manifold. pimp ma rocket, yo.

Good point, although that still covers quite a range of high-G worlds that would be just as uncomfortable for your explorers as spending extended periods of time under thrust. If they have the technology to cope with visiting >1g worlds, they should also have the technology to cope with travelling at >1g acceleration.

In which case, why bother specifying that the drive can pull 7g? Besides, with suitable precautions, 7g is tolerable if not pleasant, although the crew certainly won't be moving around whilst the ship is under thrust. You could also smooth out that flight profile some - spend a couple of hours at 7g, before cruising most of the way at 1g (for creating artificial gravity) and then brake at 3-4g as a compromise between crew comfort and journey time. For comparison, that same back of the envelope calculation, assuming constant 1g acceleration gives me a journey time of around 31 days for a 100ls journey. You'd likely still be crossing star systems in days and weeks so your journey times will be pretty acceptable even if you can't do in-system FTL jumps.

From my back of an envelope calculation that 100 ls trip will take a little over 11.5 hours at 7g. That's assuming burning half the journey at 7g, flipping over and braking for the rest of the journey at 7g. Obviously that's extremely rough and doesn't take account of time requirements for throttling the drive up to full or flipping the ship over midway through the journey. Even so, that 7g drive will probably take you 100 ls in much less time than it took the Apollo astronauts to get to the Moon.

Land tail first and align decks with centre of thrust. Make them closed decks for simplicity and ease of use when you are in zero-g, although that probably won't happen very much. With a 7g drive and regenerative fueling, you can basically stop dead in orbit, point your tail at the planet and descend vertically, so there are very few occasions where you won't be thrusting along the ship axis or landed and in a gravity well. Doesn't much matter if the ship is warehouse shaped or tall and pointy - you've already mentioned that you're not off-loading significant amounts of cargo. Just make sure you've got an elevator from the crew quarters to the ground, or near enough to it that descending the rest of the way by ladder is feasible. A BattleTech style spheroid dropship design would work quite well.

Always in motion the future is... And on a not entirely unrelated note, I've been spending some time buffing up some older work for posting in a separate thread the Tuesday after next. Not extensively - mostly just trimming the excess adverbs, tightening up the dialogue a bit and removing a couple of callouts that don't make much sense in a standalone story.

We can but hope. I'm about a thousand words into the next chapter and I've figured out roughly what I want to say but I'm not quite sure in what order yet. Regardless, the opening section is done and one other section should be done by tonight.

If you haven't already - go and see it. That is all. Thank you.

Thanks! And yes - I also concur that the author should have a decent grasp on the technical capabilities of the vehicle. If nothing else, it helps keep your worldbuilding consistent and consistency is also important if you're hanging any plot points on a limitation of your vehicle. Incidentally, I would point to Apollo 13 as a relevant example here. As you'd expect, most of the story is underpinned by technical detail but its notable that very few hard numbers are ever used - because they're not needed. Telling the reader that No.2 oxygen tank in the Service Module has gone boom, is more than enough to get the message across without digressing into how much oxygen that actually amounts to.

I'm quite possibly not right but I do think you're lowballing this a bit for a couple of reasons: 1. SRB combustion is a lot more violent than that of a liquid fueled engine - those things vibrate a lot in flight which, as you'll recall was a noted problem with the Ares 1X test flight - not for the booster itself but the proposed capsule on top. Also (again, as you'll know) an SRB is effectively a single, large combustion chamber and designed to be appropriately sturdy. So even operating within normal parameters, SRBs are designed to take quite a lot of punishment. 2. The Shuttle SRBs were big beasts - empty they were each about 91 tons of slightly less than half inch thick steel tube. That first number is taken from Wikipedia so treat with appropriate caution but the second is taken from a NASA document. Half an inch of steel can take quite a beating. For context, each fully fueled SRB weighs about 590 tons 3. The Shuttle SRBs were designed to remain intact after a nozzle first splashdown. Okay, they were parachuting in but they were still hitting the water pretty hard - and the nozzle, gimbals etc. were presumably designed with that in mind. 4. It's not a strictly apples for apples comparison, but I recall a SpaceX mission which ended pretty violently (CRS-7??) with a second stage RUD - which, from video footage, appeared to be survivable for the capsule parked on top. Obviously this is just suggestive - I can't make any meaningful comparison between the structural strength of a Dragon capsule vs that of a Shuttle SRB. Still - once you get away from as-light-as-possible liquid fuel tanks, it seems that other spacecraft components are more explosion proof than you might expect. For that matter (and a moment of silence here please), I recall that the Orbiter survived the explosion more-or-less intact but broke up afterwards due to aerodynamic stresses. 5. A genuine question here - booster explosions look extremely violent but how much force is that explosion actually generating?

Not enough information. SVL appears to be a Star Trek style warp drive in all but name, so journeys do take time. So? How fast is your drive? How far is this ship travelling and how long does it take to get there? What is your ship doing? Are we talking 5 year missions where nobody has gone before or system-to-system hops starting and ending at a refuelling facility? How many crew does your ship need? How much cargo do you want it to carry? What is your general technology level. Can you dispose of biowaste by using it as raw matter for a replicator or similar system, or are you recycling it using more present day technology? Or are you simply storing it in a tank and offloading it at journey’s end? At a bare minimum, your ship will require: the SVL drive and an energy source for it, some kind of reaction drive and propellant therefor, a habitation module, and sufficient life support consumables to support your crew for an expected journey length plus reserves. Optional extras depending on role: Cargo space, a shuttle bay or other support craft hangar (or docking ports) plus fuel, spare parts and other consumables to maintain those craft, weapons and power/ammo supplies therefor, scientific equipment. Of all of those, you could get a rough idea of the mass of life-support consumables you need from looking up the comparable figures for the ISS. You’ve already had some replies about maneuvering thruster fuel requirements. Everything else is handwaving and guesswork at this point. Also - why the need for detailed figures? Unless you’re planning to write a technical manual for your ship, this level of expositionary detail can really bog a story down. Your readers / viewers won’t care about the exact mass of your ship except as a loose indication of size and capability relative to other ships. Likewise, they probably won’t care about the tonnage of life support materiel it can carry but they might be interested in knowing whether it has a replicator system aboard for recycling, or whether it has a greenhouse or related biological recycling module. That sort of incidental detail helps to set the scene for your story - how advanced your setting is and therefore how dangerous or routine space travel is, for example.

Oh, they were far more than a tube o' boom - their ignition system was particularly impressive. Heck, it would have been impressive for one booster but lighting two closely enough together that the shuttle went straight up... yeah. There was a lot to admire about them but I don't believe they were quite as potentially fragile as you're making them out to be.

Do you feel the need?

Not really. They're damn great steel tubes designed to contain a rather substantial controlled explosion. It would have been more surprising (and alarming) if they hadn't survived.

At a slight tangent to the last couple of posts, I don't tend to use films, books, music etc as a prompt but I sometimes find them really helpful to set the mood for a scene in my head. As a very old example, the very end of this clip was very much in my head when I wrote the original First Flight short story, and some other bits of that clip fitted the story too. But mostly it's that last part. A main character who's been plugging away at his dream of spaceflight for so long that idealism has largely been replaced by 'I'll show them all' bloody-mindedness. Then he finally makes it - and that first sight of his world from space brings the dream crashing back. Or this section - for which, I am not ashamed to admit, I had the Top Gun anthem rolling around my head - as per this video.

Hmm, I thought I had this figured out. Thinking aloud: CH4 + 2O2 ------------> 2H2O + CO2 - so two moles of water per mole of methane. Or 36g of water from 16g of hydrocarbon (2.25:1) C2H6 + 7/2O2 ------------> 3H2O + 2CO2 - so three moles of water per mole of ethane. Or 54g of water from 30g of hydrocarbon (1.8:1) Ahhh - I appear to have made a schoolboy error and stand corrected. I must have been thinking in terms of moles of water produced per mole of fuel, rather than mass of water per mass of fuel. Remember kids - always define your units!

It's probably obvious but the lyrics in the last chapter were borrowed and adapted from 'Flower of Scotland' by the Corries. Original version with guitar backing here, music only, played on the bagpipes here.

It's a little on the short side for such a milestone chapter but I think it says everything I wanted it to say. It's also a quicker update than usual so, if anyone is catching up, there's another chapter from a couple of weeks ago to read as well. And without further ado, chapter 100 is up... Remembrance Bill Kerman sat in his seat, bobbing against the leg straps holding him in place. In front of him, a thousand emerging pinpricks of light traced out cities, continents and Groves as Tenacity crossed the terminator, Kerbin spinning into darkness beneath them. Beside him, Calley and James stared out into space, a respectful silence pervading the bridge. A cough sounded over the radio. “And that’s all we know right now. The Twelve Pillars declared a general ceasefire across all six Regionalities in the early hours of this morning and have been cloistered in the Capital building ever since. The KNSA investigation team is in the air on their way to Site D but other than their plane, all military aviation – and what little civilian aviation was still running - is grounded until further notice. Which, we’re guessing, will depend on how quickly the KNSA and Wakiran High Command get a handle on things.” Bill cleared his throat. “What about Wernher?” “Alive.” There was a long pause. “He’s in the Balcabar medical centre, along with most of his colleagues, under observation for heat stroke, dehydration, and traumatic stress. Jeb’s on the train to Balcabar as we speak.” “That’s good news.” Bill rubbed his thumb along the edge of his armrest. “Jeb will know what to do, especially after his own…” “Experience,” agreed Geneney. “He’s already planning to take him to meet Elton at some point – if and when he’s ready.” “Even better. I think Guardian Elton is exactly the right… person, to help. And he certainly needs to know about the Site D incident.” James and Calley exchanged puzzled looks. “Excuse me, Gene,” Calley broke in. “Who is Guardian Elton?” “A long story,” answered Geneney. “Too long to regale you with on an open mike. Bill can tell you most of it anyway, and if you buy Jeb a coffee when you get back, he’ll tell you the rest.” James raised his eyebrows at the deliberately casual tone. “Copy that, Gene. Bill can fill us in. Jeb too – but he can buy his own coffee.” “I’ll let him know,” Geneney said dryly. “Anyhow, it’s time to call it a night here at Alpha. Beta crew are on standby and waiting for your call.” “It’s getting late up here too. We’ll report in to Corvan before we turn in though. And, Flight?” “Yes?” “Thanks for the news bulletin. We were starting to feel a bit out of the loop up here.” “You’re welcome, Tenacity. We’ll pass on any updates as soon as we get them. Alpha control signing off.” ----------------- A winding queue of kerbals zigzagged across a field, many of them clutching stones of all colours and sizes. In the distance, in the centre of a ring of Blighted vegetation, stood the blackened ruins of what had once been a kermol village on the outskirts of Foxham. Yawning gaps in the skyline marked the sites of Kerm trees that had been uprooted and left to rot where they fell. One by one, the mourners walked through into the next field, handed their stone to one of the black-clad villagers by the gate, and were ushered to their places by another sombre villager, dressed in a dark grey poncho. They stood in their hundreds, half-circles of hushed figures around a ring of stripped white poles erected in the exact centre of the field, a lectern set up in front of them. The occasional wails of the youngest kerblets were the only thing to break the silence, those standing by the parents of the distressed children only too glad to take a moment from their own thoughts and help to soothe the young ones. The last of mourners filtered through the gate, followed by the funeral officiant and a trio of pipers, each clad in traditional Kolan dress but carrying a set of Spierkan pipes, blowsticks raised to their lips. As the officiant made her way to the ring of poles, the pipers struck up the Lament for the Lost Explorer, its mournful notes skirling up the field ahead of her. She reached the ring of poles, paused at the lectern to steady herself, and turned to face the silent crowd. “Good kerbals. We are gathered here today to celebrate the lives and mourn the passing of all those taken from us by the war. They were kerbal, and as they came forth from their Groves so, in the presence of us all, shall they return.” The officiant wetted her lips. “Today, you have brought stones, each inscribed with the name of a loved one lost. We will use those stones to build a wall around these poles, and within those walls we will plant a garden. A garden of remembrance and contemplation. For even when the stones have crumbled to dust, the flowers will stand for those who fell. And so we shall remember them.” The officiant’s gaze swept over the rows of mourners. “But, for today, we shall observe the old ways, with music, stories, seeds and poles. So, I invite you all, good kerbals, to step forward if you wish and to share your memories. We would be honoured to hear your words.” A hand raised. “I would speak.” His companion raised his hand too. “And I would speak also.” They bent down to embrace the two kerblets standing beside them, before making their way to the front. Bowing to the officiant, they made their way to the lectern and leaned towards the microphones. “My name is not important. But I am here today to remember the brave sailors of the Second Fleet. Most especially, I am here to remember the captain of the Shield of Kolus, who left me with two fine kerblets whom she’ll never be coming home to again.” “And I am here to remember my life partner, whom I left on Humilisia. A wonderful Keeper, who stood with his Grove to the very end.” The speaker swallowed, looking out over the crowd through blurred eyes. “G..good kerbals, we give you this song in all their memories. The words have been kindly printed on page twelve of your orders of service and if anyone would wish to join us, we would be honoured in turn.” They waited until the rustle of paper faded away, before taking a deep breath, heads lifted high. “Our flowers of Kolus - when will we see? Your likes again. You fought and died for. Our homes, our Groves, our friends. You stood against all. Of Doren’s fury. And sent them homeward. To think again.” The crowd was silent. Then, one of the pipers picked up the tune with impeccable timing, the mournful skirl and drone of his pipes echoing across the field. Hesitantly at first, then in growing numbers, the mourners joined in. “So, we fought against them - and to our lasting shame. We sent our brothers. And sisters to watery graves. They stood against us. But they were kerbal too. And we’ll ne’er see. Their likes again.” The other two pipers joined in on the beat, their instruments a melancholy counterpoint to the sudden full-throated song from the crowd, united in grief and determination. “Those days have passed now. And in the past, they must remain. But we will remember, our flowers of Kolus. Who brought us homeward. To think again.” The last defiant notes from the pipes faded into silence. The first figure bowed, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes before straightening up. “Thank you. Remember them all. Remember the Shield.” ----------------- Gusemy knocked on the laboratory door and went inside. He found Halsy at his workbench, bent over a length of open pipe, packed with earth. A collection of similar pipes lay on racks around the room, each closed over with a transparent lid and sprouting a bewildering array of sensors and soil probes from either end, all plugged into an electronics rack via the, seemingly traditional, tangle of multicoloured cables. The rack, in turn, was plugged into the back of Halsy’s computer. Looking more closely at the nearest pipe, Gusemy made out a swathe of bright green through the fogged transparent lid, interspersed with overgrowing patches of darker green. The handwritten label stuck to the side of the pipe sported an extensive set of Old Kerba botanical names, some of which he recognised as mosses and liverworts. He tapped Halsy on the shoulder. “Come on. Time to go, if we’re going to catch that train.” Halsy straightened up, glancing at his computer display as he stripped off his gloves. Gusemy saw the resigned look on his face. “Still no luck?” “No.” Halsy sighed. “Give me a minute?” He disappeared into his office, returning minutes later with his hair combed, dressed in loafers and a fresh poncho. “Where were we? Oh, right.” He gestured at the racks. “It was a good idea of Erlin’s but I’m not convinced it’s going to work.” He followed Gusemy out of the laboratory, locking the door behind him. “We can get a reliable signal in the lab and Erlin is pretty sure that Obrinn would be able to interface with a field version, but the signal propagation velocities are hopeless. Even if we could run a pipe from here to Barkton, I can’t see Obrinn and Elton having any sort of sensible conversation. It’d be like trying to talk to you from Eeloo. Worse probably.” “That bad?” Gusemy walked out of the laboratory block and saw Mallas waving at him from the window of his car. “How consistent are those velocities?” “Not very,” admitted Halsy. “And we haven’t had time to do any optimising but even if we pull off a hundred-fold improvement – which I don’t see us doing – it won’t be enough. Hi Mallas.” “Evening, boss. Latest lot of speaking tubes going well, I take it.” “About as well as the rest of them.” Halsy got into the back of the car. Gusemy threw Mallas an apologetic look and climbed in after him. After a subdued start the drive out to Olbinat passed pleasantly, the conversation avoiding work, or the reason for their journey, by unspoken consent. They arrived at the railway station to find all but a handful of parking spaces taken and, Gusemy was pleased to see, their platform was crowded with passengers, many of them carrying cold boxes or with placards tucked under one arm. The train doors thumped open and they followed the flood of passengers aboard, as a raucous voice from the public address system announced that the express train to the Capital would shortly be departing from platform 2. By the time they’d made their way past the jostling throng of passengers all looking for their seats, Halsy’s temper was beginning to fray. He stepped into their own compartment, staggered as the train lurched into motion, and dropped unceremoniously into the nearest seat. Scowling he watched Olbinat station slide past the window, as Gusemy and Mallas found their own seats, Mallas stowing his own cold box in the luggage rack first. “It’s a bit busy isn’t it? Do you think they’re all going to the vigil?” “I hope so,” Gusemy replied. “If tonight is big enough, I’m minded to petition the Chief Ambassador to call for a Grand Conclave. Although that will require a quorum of Kolan ambassadors and support from a majority of the other Chief Ambassadors. Each of whom will need quorate support from their ambassadors.” He sighed. “So, tonight really needs to be big enough to get the media involved, ideally without the Children of Kerbin or the neo-Kerman stirring things up.” Mallas snorted. “Your average neo-Ker won’t have a clue, unless they took a radio to whichever Kerm free patch of wasteland they’re holed up in. And if the Children turn up, the whole thing is off anyway so there’s no sense worrying about them.” “You know, I can’t honestly blame the neo-Kerman, given everything that we’ve learned – or relearned – about the Kerm.” Gusemy’s expression darkened. “The Children on the other hand…” He clenched his fists then slowly released them. “Are why we’re going to support the ceasefire tonight.” Mallas nodded. He watched the fields rolling past outside the carriage window for a while before speaking up again. “It’s a crying shame that Erlin’s idea looks like a non-starter. We could have the Kerm talk everything over between themselves and then tell us what they think about all of this. That could’ve put the Children right back in their place.” Gusemy raised his eyebrows. “And what would be do if it turns out that they agreed with the Children?” “I can’t believe they would but…” Mallas’s voice trailed away. “I guess that going neo-Kerman would get a lot more popular. Or we throw a lot more money at Starseed.” He lifted his hands. “It’s all academic anyway.” “Actually – it might not be.” They turned to see a transfixed Halsy, staring back at them. “Mallas – do you still have those soil injectors lying around?” “From the chemotaxis work? I didn’t throw them out, so they’ve got to be around somewhere.” Mallas saw Gusemy’s questioning look. “Back in the early days of the Kerm crisis, we were trying to find a way of deflecting or blocking Kerm roots – or Kerm fibres. We tried everything we could think of, including injecting plant hormones into the soil to lure them away.” He cocked his head at Halsy. “What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking that we strap an injector to the side of one of Erlin’s gas samplers and hook them both up to a vacuum pump.” Mallas frowned, turning the idea over in his head, then sat bolt upright. “Run the pump efflux through a GC to get an output signal and use the input signal to pulse whatever we’re running through the injector?” “Exactly! No need to use the whole GC either - too slow. Just use the FID; it’s not like we’re separating anything here.” “True.” Mallas chewed his lip. “Forget about strapping them together though – we’d end up sucking back whatever we put into the soil. Have one effector node as the listening node and put the injector there, have another node as the talking node – which is where the sampler goes.” Halsy’s eyes lit up. “That would work! I was thinking we could put them both at a single node and split the input and output streams by chemokine type but your way would be easier!” “No… no we still use multiple chemokines but use them to increase our bandwidth. Two would do to start with…” “Two? Telegraph code?” “Yep. We’ll need to teach it to the Kerm first, of course.” Mallas scratched his head. “That’s after we teach them to read.” He grinned. “But I know a young lady and her father who should be up for that.” Gusemy stared at them both in bemusement. “Say that all again. Slowly.” “We detect soil chemicals near one Kerm using one instrument. We transmit the output from that instrument, over the telephone network, to a second instrument, which releases the same chemicals into the soil near the second Kerm. Then we teach both Kerm telegraph code using microbursts of one chemical for a dot and microbursts of a second chemical for a dash.” “And they can send messages to each other.” Gusemy blinked. “That’s… ingenious. But the logistics of setting it all up…” Mallas glanced at his watch. “Plenty of time till we get to the Capital. Don’t know about you good kerbals, but I’d prefer to spend the time figuring out some of those logistics than talking over the state of the world.” The others agreed and, by the time the train pulled up at the Capital, had roughed out Halsy’s initial concept into the outlines of a plan that even Gusemy was beginning to be convinced by. Then they stepped onto the platform and put their nascent plan firmly to the back of their minds. Kerbals clad in dark ponchos cleared the platform in short order, ushering the passengers into queues, through the station turnstiles, and past long rows of temporary tables where they were patted down and their luggage was checked. Gusemy handed his bag over without comment, noting that everyone around him was willingly submitting to the inspections too. Two uniformed border guards stood watch behind the tables, one of them tensing up at a raised voice from another queue. Mallas turned to see the commotion, only to see the erstwhile complainer receiving a muted, but pointed, dressing down from his companion, who then apologised to the helpers at the table. Outside the station, a line began to form. Placards were raised, some of them depicting a stylised grouping of sixteen sweetblossom poles. Others were painted with the international nuclear warning symbol behind the cross-and-hexagon signifying prohibition. Still others displayed a simple list of names, with Hading Kerman at the top of the list. The last of the demonstrators from Olbinat emerged and the procession began to move; up the wide marble steps leading up from the station, before crossing the Boulevard, turning onto City Avenue and marching towards the Capital building. Mourners and police lined the Avenue to watch the twilight procession pass by and sometimes to join them. The steady tramp of feet was the only sound to break the silence, the words and images emblazoned on the placards more eloquent than any chant or song. The marchers entered the park surrounding the Capital Building, past a squad of Capital Guards at the gates, before spreading out and finding a place in the great ring of figures surrounding the Capital Building. Across the park, Halsy saw a white banner planted by the nearest Council building, the stark “Doren for the Ceasefire” message across its top visible even in the gathering twilight. The regularity of the long column of script underneath, gave it away as a list of names. Halsy turned his head and saw another banner, its “Kolus for the Ceasefire” message angled away from him but still legible. If anything, its column of text was even longer. Gusemy retrieved a blanket from his bag and unrolled it over the grass. He, Halsy and Mallas sat down, the crowd a shadowy yet comforting mass around them. The first stars began to appear as twilight faded into night then, at some unseen signal, the pinpricks of light above were matched by a ring of lights around the Capital Building. The light swept towards them and then past them in a great wave, until the whole park seemed ablaze in candlelight, each flame in the darkness a silent plea to the watching Twelve Pillars. << Chapter 98 Chapter 100>>

Theoretically, completely burning a given quantity of methane will give you slightly less water than burning any other straight chain alkane. With apologies if you already know this, an alkane is a saturated hydrocarbon (molecule containing only hydrogen and carbon) where all the carbon atoms are linked by single bonds and each carbon atom then bonds to as many hydrogen atoms as it can. For comparing rocket exhausts though, this is a gross simplification. It assumes that your rocket fuel is 100% straight chain alkanes - which it won’t be. It’s assuming that you’re burning your rocket fuel in just the exact amount of oxidiser to completely burn it - which tends not to be the case for various reasons. Most importantly, rocket exhaust is complicated stuff, even for a methalox engine. Its probably fairer to say that the glowing stuff you see is a stew of ionised bits and pieces that may become carbon dioxide and steam once they’ve cooled down a bit. Any ‘steam’ you see is more likely to be smoke or water vapour in the atmosphere condensing out on the particles making up that smoke. Methane burns cleanly because it contains one carbon atom per molecule. Any other hydrocarbon will have two or more carbon atoms per molecule, linked by carbon-carbon bonds. Those take quite a lot of energy to break - and to completely burn your hydrocarbon you gotta break them all. Long story short - the bigger your hydrocarbon molecule, the less chance that you’ll completely burn it, giving you a sooty exhaust full of tiny particles of unburned carbon. Some SRBs are hugely smoky because they burn a mix of ammonium perchlorate and aluminium, giving you an exhaust full of alumina particles - think finely powdered ceramic. Inportant caveat - all the above is pulled out of my head with no fact checking. There are other folks on this forum who know a lot more about this than me - I’m relying on chemistry that I learned a couple of decades ago.

@Dale Christopher. Agreed.

Kerolox would be the fuel of choice I would think. With unlimited fuel, ISP becomes far less important, so the added expense and logistics of dealing with liquid hydrogen are no longer worth it. Plus, if you’ve tuned your infinite fuel provider to produce RP1 (rocket grade kerosene) then you also have an extremely high quality fuel source for aircraft engines. Not totally sure about that - there may be subtleties in the chemistries of current jet fuels that would still make them better for jet engines. Methane might be another choice for highly reusable spacecraft as it’s cleaner burning and won’t gunk up your engines so much. Either way, I’d expect hydrocarbon fuels to dominate for rocketry.

Cost of two satellites amongst the thousands that you’re manufacturing - negligible. Value of being able to deal with your potential space junk problem (Having one’s Starship holed by one’s defunct satellite would be embarrassing) and showing the regulators, foreign space agencies and the public at large that you can - priceless.

1. The renewable energy sector takes a huge hit because they can’t compete with free and unlimited fossil fuel. Environmentalism no longer comports with economic reality. 2. Various regimes around the world that are economically dependent on their oil reserves go into severe economic depression, not to mention suffering a huge loss of global influence. The political ramifications of this are severe. 3. The logistics of warfare - and guerrilla warfare become alarmingly simple. The same technology that makes airliners obsolete, also means that anyone with a spare light aircraft and an axe to grind can reenact 9/11 with impunity. The combination of points 2 and 3 kicks off World War 3, amidst the mass flooding and environmental damage caused by point 1. The lucky few escape to Musk City on Mars.

Somewhere in here is a Tripod struggling to get out... Personal opinion - this setup is made for light-hearted, campy sci-fi parody. But I ain’t the one writing it so my opinion remains just that.