KSK

True but Minmus is also small enough that I think we can safely say that it would have been discovered long after the Mün. So ‘the Mün’ became the proper name of Kerbin’s biggest natural satellite because historically it was Kerbin’s only known natural satellite. Then, as other natural satellites were discovered, ‘mun’ became the generic term for those celestial bodies. That doesn’t seem unreasonable to me although I have no idea if that’s how we ended up with Earth’s moon being called the Moon. I guess you could reasonably argue that it would be more consistent if the Kerbals originally named that bright orb in the sky ‘the Sun’, with ‘suns’ then becoming a generic term for stars once they realised that the Sun was just the nearest star to Kerbin. But I don’t think it’s crazy to have different words for the proper name and generic term either. I see nothing intrinsically wrong with Kerbals talking about ‘their sun, Kerbol’.

Enjoy the launch folks. My crossed fingers are set to 'nominal' but I'll be sleeping through this one sadly. No prizes for guessing what I'm watching over breakfast though.

You can pry my Kerbol from my charred, lifeless fingers. I don’t care if it’s only a fanon name - I see no reason why the Kerbals should give their local star the same name that we give ours. In game names can be changed and KSP could use a generous dose of worldbuilding anyway. Personally I always liked mun as the generic Kerbal term for a natural satellite with Mün or the Mün being reserved for that big old mun of Kerbin. Much like we have the Moon and also the moons of other planets.

It seems unlikely unless the core stage tankage has been designed for more than two boosters from the outset. I’m no rocket engineer but I’d think those SRBs are putting a lot of force through whichever part of the tank they’re attached to - welding a couple of extra decouplers on the side for the extra boosters and calling it done, will probably end badly.

Yep. Me too. On a more cheerful note, the next chapter is underway. Granted it's only a paragraph and a half so far - but starting a new chapter was ever the hardest part for me, especially after an emotional one. Besides - it only took that long before I needed to take a historical language detour. And from there, it quickly became clear that I (literally) didn't have the words I needed and had to invent them. So, for those that like such things, have a smidgen more Old Kerba grammar and vocab to play with. abrathal - modal verb (hence the 'al' ending to distinguish it from the more usual 'at' ending for infinitives). Translates to 'would'. Conjugated as normal so: - abrath - I would - abratha - You would - abrathr - he/she/it would - abrathda - we would - abrathad - they would af - any (prefix form) or no (suffix form) afa - many (prefix form) or none (suffix form) All of which lets me construct sentences such as: Afa Doreni erb! - I don't speak to any Doreni! [erb (first person singular of erbat - to speak) is used in suffix form indicating a negative. Alternatively, if you wanted to be rude about it, you would use the double negative form: Doreni afa erbda. Here, both afa and erb (in the first person plural) are used as negatives, so the literal translation (add local accent to taste) would be 'we don't talk to no Doreni.' Abrath af kerbal akh - I wouldn't trade with any kerbal. [literal translation - I would with any kerbal not trade.] Usually taken to be a positive statement, as opposed to the more emphatic form shown above, or the pithier: akh kerbal afa. [I trade with no kerbals.]

End of the beginning, or beginning of the end? Either way - the next chapter is up. Thanks, as always, to @CatastrophicFailure for proof reading and helpful comments. Last Flight from Barkton Every last berth at Foxham harbour was occupied. Tugboats swarmed in droves, shepherding the larger survivors of the Second Fleet – or those too badly damaged for accurate steering – to their moorings. Gunboats patrolled the horizon and contrails criss-crossed the sky, an airborne detachment of the Kolan border security forces maintaining a tight ball-of-yarn patrol over Foxham and the surrounding coastline. White flags drooped at half-mast as the naval crews ushered a steady stream of shell-shocked civilians ashore, dishevelled, unwashed and dressed in whatever clothing they’d left Humilisia in. The last of them came ashore on stretchers, faces shrouded by the same ship’s blankets that hid the rest of them from prying eyes. Two sailors stood watch over the orderly row of stretchers already laid out on the quayside, their crossed spades and the ceremonial sweetblossom staff on the ground in front of them, keeping even the most distressed bystander at arm's reach. Away from the dockside, marquees sheltered rows of pallets, made up with a motley assortment of donated bedding. Steam rose from a hastily assembled camp kitchen, many of the kerbals preparing vegetables or tending enormous pots of soup, clad in boiler suits marked with a white cross on the chest pocket. Away from the marquees, gangs of kerbals – most of them dressed in kermol ponchos - were putting up temporary moss rooms for the Humilisian refugees. ------------------ “To be honest, I’m looking forward to the break. A few quiet days on a train back to Barkton before diving into spoke construction. If the trains aren’t too badly fouled up, I should even get back for Bill’s launch.” Bob opened his car door and slid behind the wheel. Ribory smiled as she climbed in beside him. “It’s about time. Did they ever settle on a callsign?” “No. They got no shortage of suggestions but none of them seemed quite right. In the end, the crew settled on plain old Eve 3.” Bob reached for the starter button. “I suspect that was largely down to Bill though.” “Bit too understated for Calley and James probably didn’t care much either way,” Ribory agreed. She stared out of the window as Bob eased out of the car park and turned left onto the main thoroughfare. “A break will do me good too. Mountain air, greenery, and time to catch up with Fercan and Corvan.” “Are you going straight back to Alpha then?” Bob raised his eyebrows at the long queue of cars ahead of them. “Yes. Helping to upgrade the network again after Camrie’s latest expansion efforts. Wish the White Cross Company could build us a few dishes at their Veiidan hub offices - Kerm knows we could use the extra tracking sites.” Bob drummed his fingers on his steering wheel. “Shouldn’t be a problem if any of those hubs are on the eastern seaboard. I bet the Weiidans would jump at the chance to put up a couple of extra air defence stations.” He sighed. “And I wish I was joking.” Ribory snorted. “They’d spend more time getting permission from the Doreni than they would building the stations.” She frowned. “What is it with this traffic?” “I don’t know.” An olive-green truck appeared around the corner and tore past them, rocking their smaller vehicle on its suspension. Ribory caught a fleeting glimpse of a triangular pennant snapping from its hood, emblazoned with the Kolan flag. “Kerm!” Reflexively, Bob jammed his foot on the brake. “What in the First Grove was that idiot doing!” “Bob?” Ribory’s eyes were very wide. “That was Border Security.” Another truck shot past. Bob and Ribory exchanged worried looks. Ribory reached down and flicked the radio on, hunting for a news bulletin whilst Bob followed the line of vehicles crawling towards the security gates. Snatches of music, interspersed with voices, filled the inside of the car, most of them adopting a light-hearted tone that sounded distinctly forced to Ribory. Frustrated, she turned the radio off with a snap. Ahead of them, the main road to Foxham came into sight, an endless convoy of cars and assorted other vehicles streaming out of town, broken by intermittent traffic passing by in the other direction, most of it drab green trucks. Ribory’s head jerked round at Bob’s startled exclamation. “What?” “White Cross van. Heading into town. Kerm – there goes another one!” The car jerked to a stop just in time to avoid bumping into the car in front. Bob’s voice turned grim. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “Border security and emergency relief heading towards town, everyone else going the other way? Probably.” They moved forward another few car lengths and stopped again. Bob wound down his window in response to an urgent gesture from a Rockomax security guard, and held out his pass. “What’s going on, Jerson?” “Lockdown,” came the terse reply. “Doreni have taken Humilisia and everyone reckons we’re next.” Jerson glanced at his clipboard. “As of right now, all Rockomax launch and manufacturing facilities are a key strategic asset, assigned defence priority one. Border forces are here for added on-site security, Kerm knows what else is going on.” An unreadable expression passed across Jerson’s face. “Where were you two going?” “Train station. Ribory's been recalled to Alpha and I’m going back to Barkton for the launch…” Bob’s voice trailed away. “Is there any news from Barkton?” he asked quietly. “If they’re locking down Rockomax…” “Nothing that I’ve been told, Bob, but your name’s on the recall list of personnel ordered back there.” Jerson offered him a humourless smile. “Good thing you were planning to go anyway.” ------------------- “I’m afraid that I don’t understand.” Lodan’s voice was icy. “Since the Barkton Space Centre is evidently enough of a national asset to warrant evacuation and asset stripping, I fail to see why it does not merit the same degree of security that you’re affording to the Foxham Centre.” “Kindly refrain from being obtuse, Director. Rockomax’s solid rocketry division has long since diversified away from purely civilian applications, as you are well aware. Since I know you far too well to presume that you have not read your briefing, you will also be aware of our losses at Humilisia. They can, and will, be replaced but that will take time. For the moment, we simply do not have the naval resources to effectively defend Barkton or its Space Centre. I have therefore ordered your site manager to close down the facility and prepare any and all storable rocketry assets for transportation to a designated secure site.” “And what of the scheduled construction flight?” The telephone went silent in his hand. “Excuse me?” “I did indeed read your briefing.” Unseen Lodan’s upper lip peeled away from his teeth. “Evidently you have not offered me the same courtesy in return. If you had, you would know that we have a Starseed flight scheduled in four days’ time. You would also know that this is a significant and necessary step to ensure that our efforts of the past two flights are not wasted.” “Indeed. I would speak of those previous flights, Director. Specifically, your ability to resource them.” “Rest assured that your office will find everything quite in order. Thanks, in large part, to the thousands of kerman and kermol who took your own words to heart and who deserve better from their government than to be fobbed off with mealy-mouthed excuses.” As well to be hung for a gronnek as a kaya. “Who deserve some leadership from their government.” Lodan heard a distant click of jaws snapping shut. “If you are quite finished?” “Yes, sir.” In more ways than one, I suspect. “Your final flight is authorised. You may expect a summons to appear before the Council by the end of the month. You will be speaking for the Kerbin Space Agency, a full and complete briefing to be submitted two weeks before your duly allotted date. And, Mr Lodan?” “Sir.” “Please be assured in return that we shall expect everything to be in order. I trust you are aware of the consequences should they not be.” -------------------- Jeb ran his thumb over the ornately wrought pillar, testing the edge of one of leaf cluster motifs worked into its surface. Beside him, Geneney stared unseeingly up at the roof of Barkton Central Station. A handful of kerbals dotted the platform, outnumbered by the armed guards stationed at each entrance to the main concourse. A low thrum caught his ear making him look up. Headlights appeared around a bend in the distance and, moments later, the Cabaralb train was pulling into the station. The carriage doors whooshed open and a gaggle of tired-looking passengers spilled out onto the platform. He nudged Geneney in the ribs, raising a hand in greeting to Bob, as the other spotted them by the pillar and walked over, hefting his luggage in one hand. “Evening, Bobcat. Good journey?” “The Capital was in uproar but not too bad apart from that. Had a carriage to myself for most of the journey. Cabaralb was completely deserted.” Bob eyed his friends. “We’re being closed down, aren’t we?” He snorted softly at the startled look on Geneney’s face. “It wasn’t hard to work out, Gene. They’re keeping Rockomax open and the security around Foxham was going crazy.” Bob flicked his fingers at the empty station around them. “This place is not going crazy. So, unless you’ve had a whole lot of troops arrive by road – and I didn’t see much sign of that either, coming in – then I don’t imagine they’re planning to keep us open too.” Jeb shook his head. “No. Bill’s going up, then we turn out the lights and head over to Alpha. Most of the gang have already left.” Bob offered him a twisted smile. “Going to be just like the old days then.” “You’d better dig out your pad team hat,” Geneney agreed. “We’ll be running the launch with a minimum viable team and handing flight control over to Alpha as soon as they hit orbit. “At least Bill gets his flight in before the end.” Bob rubbed his eyes. “And the last couple of flights won’t go to waste. I take it we’ll be splashing them down east of Foxham?” He looked at Geneney. “Tell the truth, Gene, there were times on the train when I figured I’d be coming back to an abandoned space centre.” “That was the original plan.” There was an edge to Geneney’s voice. “Until Lodan persuaded them otherwise. I understand that a couple of the Probodyne team walked into his office for a meeting last week, just as he was walking out with – and I quote – ‘a face that could freeze helium.’ The next day we got a phone call telling us to go ahead with Bill’s flight but that we’d better have everything packed up and ready to go as soon as his rocket left the ground.” “It’s going to be a busy few days,” Jeb noted. “Welcome home.” ---------------------- The RT5 “Trashcan” solid rocket booster touched down, feather light, into its cradle on the flat-bed trailer. The team of yellow-hatted VAB workers unhooked it from its cables and began lashing it down. Their supervisor, still standing atop the trailer, gave a hand signal to the waiting crane driver and watched the cables slowly rise, hooks barely swinging. As soon as she was satisfied that they were clear, she jumped down to help secure the old-fashioned looking booster in place. A forklift truck lumbered past carrying a heavy-duty, grease-smeared vacuum pump still attached to its adaptor. Another truck followed it, carrying a partially dismantled extruder, propellant slit plate lashed to one side. A flatbed handcart brought up the rear, pushed by two sweating kerbals and piled high with assembly jig sections and other, less identifiable pieces of metal. Watching from above, Geneney sighed. “Remember how much trouble we had with that old extruder? How long it took Wernher to come up with a way of getting enough air out of the propellant during casting?” He gestured at the forklift, now trundling through the VAB main doors. “We should be putting it in a museum, not carting it off to Kerm knows where, like so much junk.” Jeb snorted. “If I could remember which junkyard we got the vacuum pump from in the first place, we could see if they wanted to buy it back. They could even fetch a half-decent price for it now that it’s actually working.” His face turned pensive. “That slit plate though. Glad that Wernher invented that before we tried building the RT-5.” A shadow passed over, Geneney’s face. “And I’m glad that you and Wernher were standing on top of the cliffs that day, not down on the beach beside the exploding RT-3.” “An object lesson in degassing your solid propellant.” Jeb agreed. “Not to mention an object lesson in losing a significant chunk of goodwill with the Barkton Enclave and city council.” Geneney winced. “Yes.” He watched one of the VAB overhead cranes winch another solid rocket booster into the air. “I’d forgotten how many RT-5s we had left over from the heatshield test programs.” “I remember the look on your face when Bob suggested putting one under an Eve capsule and firing it straight down. Which reminds me - are we going to have time to crate up all the Eve tooling?” Geneney shook his head. “Probably not. Everything to do with the solids goes first - launch escape motors, left over RT-5s, propellant, parts, tooling, blueprints…” “Anything the Doreni could load onto a trailer and fire back at us.” Jeb’s voice was suddenly bleak. “Yes. Engines and avionics go next along with whatever else we can salvage from the Moho and LV-T20 production lines at short notice. The powers that be don’t think there’s much risk of the Doreni putting together any liquid fuelled missiles from whatever we leave behind, but a Moho is just about small enough that it’s a risk they don’t want to take.” A shadow passed behind Jeb’s eyes and, for a moment, Geneney was reminded of a gloomy, rank-smelling apartment, his friend lying in bed in the midst of empty bottles and an overflowing sink, entangled in a heap of creased and sweat-stained bedding. “The good news – or least bad news – is that we can shutter the Eve core booster lines and just leave them in place.” Jeb gave a short laugh. “An Eve wouldn’t be much use to them I suppose. Unless the seffleks want to bomb the Mün as well.” “Speaking of which,” Geneney said quietly, “I thought we could pay a last visit to the Museum.” He raised a hand. “Not to pack it away. It’s hardly a priority and besides… I think we should leave it here anyway. A reminder to anyone stopping by – Kolan or Doreni – of what we invented rocketry for.” The shadow behind Jeb’s eyes lifted a fraction. “That’s better than nothing anyway. Good thinking, Gene.” “Come on then – lets leave these good kerbals to their work. We’ll pick up Bob on the way.” By the time they arrived at the museum, Kerbol was dipping below the horizon, the streak of reflected sunlight on the Great Tranquil Sea brighter than any rocket launch. Geneney unlocked the museum doors and stood quietly to one side. Beams of dusty evening sunlight poured in through the skylights, illuminating the exhibits in the gathering gloom. A shiver ran down Geneney’s back as he gazed at the familiar but still compelling photographs from the Pioneer Program, all set around the now-iconic picture of Jeb and Jondun on the Mün, shaking hands in front of the flag of all Kerbin. Then it came to him. “Lend a kerbal a hand, guys? I think these need a bit of rearranging.” Jeb saw where Geneney was standing and gave a grim smile. Wordlessly, he walked over and took hold of one end of the rightmost signboard. “That’ll do it.” Geneney lowered his end of the board. “Let’s leave the first one where it is and shift the old Münwalk back a bit.” “We should take down the other two banners too,” Bob noted. “They don’t make much sense out of sequence.” “Good point. Back in a minute.” Geneney left the room, returning with a stepladder under his arm. “I won’t bother taking the wires down.” He clambered up the ladder and unhooked the first banner, waiting until Jeb had a secure hold before letting go of it. “If you could grab the other end, Bob?” Some time later, the three friends stood side by side in front of a rearranged exhibit, dominated not by spacecraft and kerbonauts but by images from around the world. Pictures of kerbals packed into village halls. Winding queues of kerbals waiting patiently outside cinemas. A great ocean of green figures surrounding the Capital building and its seven huge screens. The Council of Twelve Pillars themselves, seated in front of one of the screens, watching two space-suited figures walking against a backdrop of grey. One blurry, pixellated photograph of a group of uniformed soldiers sitting beneath a pair of flags. And a lone banner overhead, positioned so that nobody walking into the museum could miss its message. We came in peace for Kerm and Kerbal. Quietly, Jeb walked over to a rack of postcards by the Reception desk and lifted one out, holding it up for the others to see. It showed a view through a window divided by a curved line separating inky blackness from brilliant blue, dusky brown and lush green. Far away in the distance, the familiar battered grey ball of the Mün rose over Kerbin. “Bill’s original is too big to fit in his suit but this’ll do nicely.” Jeb tucked the postcard into his pocket and turned to leave. Geneney and Bob followed, closing the door behind them. --------------------- The next morning, Jeb stood in the corner of the Fitting Room, keeping out of sight of the three kerbonauts reclining in their chairs. He watched Lucan working on Bill’s suit glove, checking its fit around his friend’s fingers before locking it onto the wrist collar on his orange spacesuit. Beside them, another member of the Pad Team was helping James with his communication headcap, straightening the band around his forehead and making sure the lower band was sitting snugly under the lower ridges of his eye sockets. He flipped the twin microphones into place below the spacecraft commander’s chin, murmuring something that Jeb didn’t catch, before slipping his hands inside the neck collar of his gleaming white spacesuit. Calley’s attendants lifted her helmet clear of her head and set it to one side. The kerbonaut lifted both her gloved hands, palm outwards, accepting the traditional, double high-four confirming that she was ready to go. Jeb smiled to himself, remembering a long-ago slap of glove on glove over the Mission Control speakers, followed by three ringing voices, pronouncing the crew of Pioneer 1 to be Go for launch. You should be here for this too, Wernher old friend. Jeb caught Bob’s eye from across the room, the pensive look on his former crewmate’s face matching his own thoughts. He patted the side pouch of his toolbelt, reassuring himself that its contents were still there. He watched Calley clamber to her feet, eyebrows lifting as she saw himself and Bob by the door. “Looks like you’re getting the real honour guard this morning, Bill.” James turned his head, now encased in a transparent bubble. He caught sight of Jeb from the corner of his eye and raised a hand in greeting. Bill waited until Lucan had finished adjusting his headcap, before leaning around the side of his chair. He nodded at Bob and turned away, leaning forward in his seat in readiness for his own helmet check. Jeb and Bob waited until James and Bill had received their own high-fours and all three kerbonauts were on their feet. He stepped forward, a faint grin on his face as he looked at Bill. “It’s been a while since I last saw you in a spacesuit.” “And this one wasn’t even salvaged from an Institute dumpster,” Bill said dryly. “It’s good to see you both.” “You too,” said Bob. “It’s about time the last of us got their flight.” Even if it wasn’t the flight we expected. Bill looked uncomfortable. “I suppose I helped to build a few,” he offered at last. “It is good to be flying one instead.” He gestured at James and Calley. “And flying one in good company at that.” “You did remember your camera?” Bill smiled. “Both of them and a spare.” Jeb coughed. “Speaking of cameras.” He reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a postcard, tucking it into the chest pocket of Bill’s spacesuit. Calley caught a glimpse of blue on black. “The picture that started it all. For luck.” He turned to James, holding out a small transparent bag containing what looked to Calley like a chunk of yellowish foam. “A small token from VAB 1.” James laughed. “Did Ribory find my old analyser to go with it?” He held up the chunk of heatshield, noting its colour. “Looks used.” “I cut it off Pioneer 1 yesterday. Gene’s idea.” Jeb looked at Calley. “We didn’t have any personal mementoes for you I’m afraid but a friend of mine wanted somebody to have this. I’m sure he’d be pleased it was going to you.” Jeb dipped into his pouch and handed her a miniature Eve capsule on a fine chain, carved from a dark wood and polished to a soft sheen. “He asked if you could leave it aboard Tenacity, in his words, to bring good fortune to all kerbals to follow, who wish to learn to fly to the other worlds.” Puzzled, Calley inspected it closely, holding it gingerly between finger and thumb. “It’s beautifully done,” she said at last. “Is it…?” “Kerm wood? Yes.” Jeb saw the puzzled look on her face. “Very old Kerm wood. It’s not stained,” he added. Calley’s eyes widened. “Very old indeed then.” She held out the little charm on the palm of her gloved hand. “Please thank your friend and tell him I’ll be glad to leave this aboard Tenacity.” Jeb nodded and slipped it into her spacesuit pocket. “I will. It’ll mean a lot to him.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “And on that note, we’d better be getting you three kerbonauts to the pad. You’ve got a rocket waiting for you.” Lucan, and the rest of the Pad Team, formed up in a double line, each of them reaching out to tap the kerbonauts on their shoulders as they left, then falling in behind them as they walked down the corridor leading out of the Astronaut Complex and then outside, where the traditional – and now much-repaired – old truck waited to take them to the launchpad. ---------------- “I'm closing the hatch now. Good luck." Jeb unplugged his headset from auxiliary comms port on the capsule instrument panel, flashed Bill a quick thumbs up as he rapped on his visor, then stepped back and swung the hatch closed. He eyed the pressure gauge set beneath its window for a moment, watching it fluctuate as the environmental systems purged the cabin atmosphere, replacing it with a flight-ready oxygen-nitrogen mix. The gauge quivered one final time then held steady. “Capsule pressure is Go, Flight. Pad team proceeding with boost cover closure." Bob took hold of the hatch shield and swung it across and closed. He ran his thumb over the hairline seam between the shield and the curved grey surface of the boost protective cover, then slid the latches home and locked them with a twist. “Boost cover locked and ready for flight. Pad Team is moving out.” “Thank you, Pad Team,” Geneney’s voice sounded as calm as ever over their headsets. “See you back at the Bunker.” “Copy, Flight.” Bob looked over at Jeb. “Do you even remember how to drive a console?” “Most of it. Tomcas managed to beat the rest into me at short notice.” Jeb raised his fist, as if about to knock on the boost cover for luck, then thought better of it. “Let’s go.” The ride down the launch tower seemed interminable. Jeb stared at the tower of metal sliding past outside the elevator cage, the normal plethora of sponsor’s logos adorning the upper stage replaced by the flag of all Kerbin. The nose cone of one of the lateral boosters whisked past, the booster itself adorned with the Kerbin Space Agency’s Kerbol-rise logo. The elevator cage slowed and, with a brief squeal of brake pads against cable, came to a stop. The door rattled open and Jeb followed Bob and the rest of the Pad Team over to the kerbonaut truck standing ready to take them back to the launch bunker. The driver flicked his radio on as they climbed aboard, the familiar stream of controller reports interspersed with callouts from the Eve 3 crew, breaking the silence. “…gimbal motors drawing power. Confirm hand controllers to TEST?" “Controllers to TEST, SAS override ON… yaw gimbal tracking confirmed...pitch tracking is good...roll tracking confirmed." “Copy, Eve. Holding at T minus thirty and moving gantry systems to standby. FD, Guidance, you're on Loop 2 for a trajectory update. Booster, please give me a fuelling status…” Bob’s expression relaxed as the fuelling report came in. “They’re sounding pretty good in there,” he offered quietly. Jeb nodded, eyes fixed on the dwindling rocket, standing alone on the launchpad. “They’re on Genie’s watch – he’ll get them up there in one piece.” The truck bumped to a halt. “And we don’t want to be holding them up.” He folded the tailgate down and dropped to the ground, setting off for the launch bunker at a run, Bob and Lucan alongside him. ---------------------- Geneney looked up from his console at the sound of the doors thudding closed behind him and toggled his microphone. “Okay, Eve. We’ve got a full team down here, as of ten seconds ago. Moving gantry systems to launch positions and restarting countdown at T minus thirty.” Jeb slid into his seat, scanning his console readouts as he pulled his headset on. He thumbed a button on his communication panel and waited for the message queue light to turn green. “Booster, Five. On station, board is clear.” “I hear you, Five. Take two for a systems check then give me a tank update on Lat Three.” “Five confirms.” The minutes ticked by unnoticed. Jeb’s eyes never wavered from his console, alert to the ebb and flow of conversation between the booster team. Then, with a brief hiss of static, the air-to-ground loop cut in. “…copy that Gene. Looking forward to the flight and getting to work once we’re up there.” “We’ll be with you all the way, Eve.” Geneney answered. “Flight Team, status report please. FD?” “We’re Go, Flight.” “Guidance?” “Go, Flight.” Despite himself, Jeb felt the sweat prickling on his forehead. He scanned his console displays, picturing Bill strapped into his couch and watching his own instruments.” “Booster?” “Ready, Flight.” “Spacecraft?” “Go, Flight.” Inwardly, Jeb smiled at the sound of Bill’s unperturbed voice coming over the speakers. Message received, James, and thank you. He glanced across to the flight director’s station and saw a faint smile tugging at Geneney’s lips before he turned back to his console. “Booster on internal power. First stage gimbals, Go. Primary and backup controllers, Go. Clear for engine start." “Sixty seconds. Guidance is internal. Auto-sequencer, Go." Jeb looked up at the main screen which promptly flicked back from a close-up view of the crew access gantry, Eve 3 looming large behind it, to a long-distance shot from the bunker. The camera panned down to the base of the rocket, launch clamps and engines just visible. “Forty seconds, Pioneer. Go for launch." Jeb wrenched his attention back to his instruments. “T minus twenty." “T minus twelve...eleven...ten...nine...eight..." Ignition sequence starts. Light flared on the screen above his head, the readouts on his console staying rock steady. “…ignition and lift-off! All engines running!" The answering voice from Eve 3 crackled over the speaker, barely audible over the fury of the rocket engines hurling their capsule skywards. “Clock started!”" “Tower clear!” Jeb fought against the prickling in the corners of his eyes, suddenly grateful for instruments to focus on and the edge of a console to grip. Above his head, the main screen showed a ascending plume of rocket fire, at long last propelling Bill Kerman, founder member of the Kerbin Interplanetary Society, into space. ---------------- The last of the cars pulled away from the parking lot outside the complex of warehouses, manufactories and other buildings, once known as Jebediah Kerman’s Junkyard and Spacecraft Parts Company, leaving two kerbals standing by the closed gates. “We never did think of a new name for this place.” Geneney glanced at the darker expanse of paint on the warehouse wall masking what had been Jeb’s old tilted-rocket banner. “No. Another plan to put on hold.” He forced a grin. “Maybe the mountain air up by Alpha will help. Clear our heads a bit.” “At least we know how to get there this time.” Out of long habit, Jeb turned to lock the gates then paused. “No point leaving these for the Doreni to kick down.” He hung his keys over the gate handle, took a last, long look at the deserted Space Centre then, with an effort of will, turned his back on it. “Let’s go.” << Chapter 95 Chapter 97>>

Puff the Magic Dragon’s grumpy teenage sibling?

Man - forget about Starlink. They could make a mint selling test footage as stock special effects shots for sci-fi films. Special bonus package - we build a nose cone to your specifications if you want just the right silhouette. Pew pew sound effects not included.

If they seem like philosophical sorts... What is the sound of a single manipulatory appendage executing a manoeuvre normally associated with two such appendages being repeatedly brought into contact?

In order of seriousness. How do you travel faster than light? May we have a primer on your language(s) so that we can learn about your culture? May we have a primer on your biochemistry so that we may welcome you without poisoning you? What is your opinion of Jebediah Kerman? Tacos - sandwiches or not?

Well I’d say my favourite is A Man on the Moon by Andrew Chaikin but, as you can probably guess, it’s about Apollo, so maybe not what you’re looking for. So: Packing for Mars by Mary Roach is a rather different look at human spaceflight, with the emphasis very much on the human. Everything you wanted to know about handling bodily functions in zero-G - and probably quite a bit that you didn’t. Space Race by Deborah Cadbury is a fairly light touch coverage of well... the space race, starting from the end of World War 2 and ending with Apollo. Sweeping scope rather than tremendous amounts of detail but some interesting bits and pieces from the Soviet side, Gagarin’s flight and such.

Okay, I'm not seeing a great deal of consistency here. On the one hand NASA is going to build (or have built if one's feeling pedantic) all this great stuff at some unspecified date - and their delays so far are actually commendable. On the other hand, Musk gets slammed for broken promises and two of his company's most significant achievements are treated fairly dismissively. I might add that one of those achievements wasn't taken at all seriously by the industry until it was too late, leaving them scrabbling to catch up, and the other has only been accomplished by three organisations to date (that I'm aware of), all of them national space agencies. Starship - well let's see. It's a big ask and it may well not happen. Although the concrete progress that we've seen to date (Raptor) is a pretty darn impressive piece of rocket engine technology which, by itself, counts as a significant achievement in my book. Other opinions may differ of course.

"Okay, lets run through this one last time. Both rockets stuck to the side - check. Correct end pointing towards space - check...." "Abort Abort Abort! Okay - which one of you jokers managed to forget the payload? Better 'fess up or I'm gonna get Gwynne down here and she'll ask y'all again - real friendly like."

Thanks for the most excellent ear worm, folks. After watching those Starhopper videos I’ve got the ‘All Systems Go’ theme from Apollo 13, running round my head. Am in an open plan office so trying to keep the goofy grin (and manly damp eyes) under control. For those wanting to hear the music, recommend searching for ‘Jebediah Kerman Begins’ on YouTube and fast-forwarding to the lift-off.

Beastie doesn't have a horn sticking out of its forehead - ah reckon you've got the wrong meme there.

Will sling you what I have tomorrow morning UK time. Middle, end and some of the beginning are done but the bridging section from the previous chapter needs fleshing out. Decided that some of the stuff I was going to wedge in would work better in its own chapter, not least because that would let me set up a big chapter a couple of steps down the road. Now that my commute has been cut in half, I’m experimenting with writing before work. I don’t get a lot of words down in 45 minutes but they add up - and it’s more about getting back into a writing habit than anything else.

Okay - full disclosure time first. I didn't like the business model behind Making History. Frankly, I think it's a bit of a cheek (or a lot of a cheek) when the signature feature of a paid-for expansion is a toolset for the playerbase to make their own content. Particularly when the base game for that expansion has been leaning on player-created content almost since the first alpha build. It would have been different if the Mission editor had been a bonus feature on top of a more in-depth expansion but... well as far as I could see (I never bought MH) it wasn't. I saw quite a few reviews which basically said that the expansion as a whole was a bit meh but gave it the benefit of the doubt on the assumption that the KSP community would make a ton of new content with it. I don't think I saw any reviews to the effect of 'buy this - it's great as it is and the Mission editor is the icing on the cake.' But enough of my personal views on that topic. Making History suffered from a number of other problems in my opinion. 1. It shipped with bugs in the editor and broken content in the Missions, which then needed time to be patched out. Not the best way to make a good first impression and get people excited about an expansion. By the time the bugs had been ironed out and the Missions fixed, the moment had passed and people had moved on. 2. Beyond bug fixing, it's received almost no official support or interest since launch. We had a brief season of 'Mission of the Week' and that's about it. To paraphrase an old software development meme - you need to eat your own dogfood if you expect your customers to eat it too. If Squad couldn't be bothered / weren't able to make any exciting new stuff with their Mission editor, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that the community decided it couldn't be bothered either. 3. Stock KSP has an almost complete lack of interesting game mechanics to build Missions around. Take an Apollo 13 style mission for example. Something breaks on your spacecraft - what happens next? Better hope it's fixable with an engineer (and that you brought an engineer along in the first place), or that you built in a redundant system. Otherwise it's most likely back to the VAB to try again. Not particularly exciting. 4. In the absence of decent game mechanics, then you need some kind of story or narrative to build an interesting mission around. Easier said than done (and writing KSP fiction is something I do have experience of) and that's assuming the Mission editor is set up for easy storytelling in the first place. This puts another barrier in front of wannabe Mission creators. Not only do they have to figure out how to make the editor do what they want, but they need to be writers, or storyboard artists too. I salute anyone who actually posted a Mission.

Hmm. As Chadvey might have said - something disnae seem right wi that thing.

That’s what I got from the video too. Transgenic goats engineered to express silk protein in their milk. Not goats that were mutated from drinking milk. It’s the spinning process that interests me. I think I remember reading that the silk protein itself is only half the story - it’s what happens to the silk thread as it’s extruded by the spider that gives it a lot of it’s strength. I could be wrong though or only half remembering something. Didn’t think much of the bulletproof skin idea though after seeing what happened to that test block.

TL:DR for my last post. I think it's okay for a scientist to start a layperson's explanation of DNA as 'a long coiled up molecule found in the cell nucleus'. I don't think it's reasonable to expect that scientist to explain what they mean by 'cell' or 'molecule'.

Actually deoxyribonucleic acid is a pretty good descriptive name. I'll admit that it doesn't tell you much about what it does but it does tell you quite a lot about what it is. It's an acid (obviously), it's found in the cell nucleus (hence nucleic acid) and it contains deoxyribose, which is particular monosaccharide. Or simple sugar if you prefer, although monosaccharide is more correct and avoids confusion with sucrose, which is what most people think of when they're talking about 'sugar'. Deoxyribose is also distinct from ribose (another monosaccharide) in that it has the same structure but is missing one oxygen atom (hence deoxy). If I remember correctly, the reason that deoxyribonucleic acid is a poor functional name is that when it was first discovered, it's function wasn't known. (As I've already mentioned, this is pretty common in biology). There was a long running debate about whether the nucleic acids or nuclear proteins were responsible for carrying genetic information. It's also worth noting that the level of detail I'm going into above is pretty close to novice level. In the UK at least, it's the kind of detail you learn about if you stay at school past the age of 16 (and study biology of course). There is a caveat of course - deoxyribonucleic acid is only helpful as a descriptive name if one (let's keep this impersonal) knows what an acid is, or knows what the cell nucleus is. But a similar caveat is true of any almost scientific term (or any term in any other field). You can simplify your terminology all you like but at some point you need to assume some basic level of understanding. And imparting that basic understanding should be a task for the education system, or if one didn't study science at school, one's own responsibility to acquire. It shouldn't be the job of professional scientists to be teaching basic, school level science - apart from anything else, it would be a gross waste of taxpayer money. Incidentally, I agree that science communication is important, both for the reason you mentioned and because I believe that having a more scientifically literate society is a good thing. Not least because it helps break down this idea of scientists as untouchable elites. As I said right at the start of this conversation, I do sympathise with the sentiment behind your original post. But I also think there's a limit as to how simplified science communication can and should be. In the end it becomes a choice - do you want the simple answer or the honest one?

Okay then. Barkton isn’t numbered on your map but it’s a coastal town not far from the KSC. More accurately, KSC is on the outskirts of Barkton. Foxham is another coastal ‘Rocket Town’. It’s east of 50 and it’s where Rockomax’s headquarters and main launch site is based. Iskenar is south of 55 located at the end of the valley created by that C shaped mountain range. The older parts of the town are actually built into the mountain caves. Northeast of 107, nestled in those two large bays on the coast, lie the twin jewels of Bolanerbat and Boladakhat. They’ve been wealthy trading cities since the Age of Sail. Cabaralb is slightly northeast of 21 and is a moderately sized fishing town, now largely abandoned due to the Kerm Conflict. I’ll have to remind myself where I put Balcabar but it’s probably not too far from the desert launch complex. Either way it’s the nearest town to the Kerbin Space Agency’s Site D, where the LV-N development program is based. Toralba - I really need a better map to find that again. The name is derived from the Old Kerba for ‘two waters’ though, which is fitting because it’s located by a pair of lakes. Incidentally, apart from Iskenar and Foxham, all the other city names are based on Old Kerba words and can be consistently translated. Yeah - I’ve spent quite a bit of time building my headcanon.

Ahh - I think your last post sums up why we're not going to agree about this. Taking each of your points in turn. If somebody speaks to me in a language that I don't understand, then why is it up to that speaker to improve their communication skills? Why is it not up to me to improve mine? I would argue that creating artificial things - in this case scientific terms - speeds up development by providing shortcuts for people to use. A trivial example - we're all quite happily referring to DNA here, rather than calling it deoxyribonucleic acid. Newsflash - scientists are ordinary people. They just happen to enjoy and be good at science, which doesn't make them elites. Most scientists that I know would be utterly incompetent businesspeople for example - and I would argue that businesspeople will probably have a more direct impact on your life than scientists. Besides, as already pointed out on this thread, your 'scientists are pretending to be smarter than everyone else' meme is just plain wrong. Learning a little science -and the terminology to go with it - is as useful as learning a little bit of a language. Knowing something about something is always better than knowing nothing about it - if nothing else it helps you understand what you don't know. Leaving aside the argument as to whether scientific terminology is actually misleading, if you're simply dismissing it out of hand as a waste of time then there's really no point having this discussion, since you're starting from a position where nothing I can say will change your mind.

No - it means that if you want to understand something you have to take to the time to learn about it. This applies to everything in life. Science, law, politics, engineering, business, languages, agriculture, sport - everything. Likewise plumbing, car maintenance, doing your tax returns, public speaking - and any other life skill you care to mention. If I hear a German person using a word I don't know, I can pretty much guarantee its because my German sucks, not that there's anything wrong with the German language. I can choose to be discouraged about that, or I can try and learn a bit of German. Maybe, if I'm prepared to put the effort in, I could learn more than a bit, perhaps even become fluent. Or I might decide that that would be too difficult and content myself with just knowing a bit more than I did before.

Just because you (or me for that matter) don't think something is clear, it doesn't necessarily mean it's not clear. It could mean that we don't know enough about the topic to even understand what we're being told. And to answer your last point - because the average person wants everything in nice simple terms, preferably with a yes or no answer attached. The average person has no patience for the vast majority of scientific answers which tend to be more along the lines of 'we don't know for sure but yes, if you make these assumptions, we think we know what happens for this subset of cases.' Scientific answers also have a distressing habit of being proven wrong when additional evidence comes to light - which the average person has even less patience with. If the general public is prepared to lambast scientists for being honestly wrong, it should come as no surprise when they stop admitting to being wrong. It should also come as no surprise when public discourse over anything remotely complicated degenerates into entrenched positions and mudslinging. Because sometimes (most times?) there just isn't a nice simple answer. Of course, as with any other field of endeavour, science does have its big egos who do think that eminence in their field means that they know everything about everything else. But from personal experience, I'm happy to say that they're far from being the norm.