Kieve

What's the command for doing so? I know the mode switch is there, supposedly, but could never figure it out myself, nor locate it in the documentation. I'd sooner advocate using another girder piece, or just attaching the axle girders to the base of the other one directly. I see you've got at least the lightweight strut unlocked already, that should reinforce it enough to be sturdy. I know the tech-tree woes well enough, went through plenty of that with my own career mode (before harvesting 5,000-some science out of the Mun biomes). Ultimately it's your craft of course, just trying to recommend alternatives. This may sound unnecessarily defensive (if so, I apologize), but I certainly wouldn't say had to resort to it, as if doing so was out of desperation. I simply rotated the fuselage inward to lower the profile a bit, for aesthetic reasons - didn't need it sticking all the way out to the side like a seaplane pontoon. Points to consider also: 2x Fuselage, mounted mid-section on either side of car Total Weight: 0.8t Total Drag: 0.4 Impact Tolerance: 70m/s Current Girder Assembly with probe cores Total Weight: 1.45t Total Drag: 2 Impact Tolerance: 80m/s girder, 12m/s probe core Drag only really matters for liftoff and Duna entry, but the weight-savings speaks for itself I think. Moreover you won't have the same issues with electricity drain, a lower part-count, fewer struts needed to stabilize it, and while the lower-profile clipping isn't necessary, I haven't once had any issues with it Kraken-wise. You might also consider just attaching a pair of girders to the kethane tank itself and using shift+Q/E to rotate them out horizontally from the bottom (+struts as needed to ensure proper stability).

Hm... suggestions... Build your rover in the SPH, not the VAB. It makes the whole horizontal symmetry thing vastly easier. Best advice is to start with one key component you can remove (say, a probe core at the front), build off of that, and when you have a completed vehicle, detach everything from the core part and save it in the sub-assembly tab. That way, you can load up the completed design in the VAB for actual rocket launch, when it's ready to go. Creative use of probe cores, but probably not the wisest. They don't suck much electricity, but be wary of where you're sending them - planetary day/night cycles can leave you high and dry when there's no sun for solar power, and electric wheels can be more of a drain than you'd expect if you do a lot of driving around. Suggestion for widening the stance: aircraft fuselage. I had the same issue with the Centipede initially, and it took a while to figure out a good solution. It still had a tendency to barrel-roll at speeds above 15m/s on the Mun, but I put that down more to the low gravity and KSP's physics. I don't suggest an identical wheel setup, since that was way overkill and sucked batteries dry thanks to all the wheel motors, but using the aircraft fuselage as a side-pylon might be a good way to widen (and lower) the stance on your kethane cars so they're less prone to toppling. You can use HR tags in brackets for a horizontal rule. Like so: Hope you find some of that helpful!

Bob Kerman sat in the pilot's lounge, moping as he nursed a mug of cold coffee. A week had passed since the Duna Phoenix's maiden flight, and despite its performance it was now sitting under a huge canvas tarp in the corner of the hangar. It was a good plane. It did everything it was supposed to, everything they wanted. And now they're pretending it doesn't exist. The Kerbal sighed, getting up to dump out his mug. Just like me. Aside from that test flight, he'd not piloted a mission since before their space program had attained orbit. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn't notice Burhat standing beside him until the other pilot spoke. "Something wrong, Bob? You look like Jeb landed the Orbiter on your dog." The Mun Orbiter was a bad joke among the other Kerbonauts. Command had sent it up with the intent of providing a staging area for interplanetary exploration, but they'd done nothing with the station since it gained stable orbit, months ago. Bob rinsed out his mug in the sink. "Just thinking about the Phoenix. Shame, good plane like that going to waste." He bit his lip, concentrating on the coffee stain at the bottom of his cup - he was not going to start pouring his heart out to Burhat, who'd become one of Command's favorites since leaving the pilot academy. The other Kerbal apparently saw right through him anyway. "Tired of being grounded, I see. Well... maybe this'll cheer you up somewhat. Wernher had something new he was working on over in R&D." Burhat nudged Bob with his elbow. "Maybe you should go see what he's up to." "Ah, Burhat!" Von Kerman greeted him. "No, you are Bob. My apologies. Vhere is Burhat?" Bob shrugged. "He sent me to have a look at your latest project. Seemed to think it would 'cheer me up' somehow." "Ja, that it might. Come, see!" The famed engineer lead him over to a table covered with assorted blueprints and schematics. "Command vas unsatisfied vit de 'RAPIER' engine ve received, and requested ve try to improve it... Ah! Here ve are!" He held up a large sheet for Bob to observe. "Ve reached out to ze B9 contractors for this one. Impressive, ja?" Bob Kerman nodded, though he wasn't certain what he was seeing. "Very impressive... but what is it?" "Ve call it 'SABRE.' Jet engine, rocket motor, it does ze work of both! Ze thrust is not as high as I vould like, but it vill operate at much higher altitude." Von Kerman beamed, clearly pleased with his handiwork. Bob was not the brightest pilot in KSC's roster, but he returned the grin as he realized what Wernher was presenting. "Dr. Von Kerman, I'll take two." Meanwhile in Mission Control, word reached them that the Centipede and her crew had finally arrived safely at Arc Luna. Calger's team had recovered some data and soil samples along their journey, but neither the Outpost nor the Centipede had transmitting devices. They needed a way to retrieve the information and the launch pad would be occupied for the next several weeks with rockets bound for rendezvous with the Duna Orbiter. The runway however, remained free... It took Bob little persuasion to convince Command to retrofit the Duna Phoenix with the new SABRE engines. The intakes were similarly revised, and landing gear repositioned to eliminate the wing-strike the plane had suffered on its first flight. In just a few short days, the Phoenix II sat gleaming on the runway. From its cockpit, Bob Kerman had never looked happier. They'd even included a redesigned SEED to perform some of the experiments the Centipede had lacked the equipment for in their journey. From shakedown run to Mun mission, Bob thought. Either they must be absolutely certain this will work, or they're trying to kill me. His smile only widened. Either way, I get to fly again. Trailing fire, the Phoenix II leapt into the sky and began climbing towards the heavens. As the Phoenix II cleared the upper atmosphere, Bob hit the release on the solar panels. Around each intake pylon, the glossy blue panes unfolded, twisting to capture the sun's light. The burn for orbital stabilization wasn't for another few minutes yet, which gave him enough time to admire the view. The first step on his flight plan was to rendezvous with Orpheus, the old fueling station hanging in low orbit. His tanks were still better than half-full, but running out of fuel on an intercept trajectory with the Mun was a thoroughly unappealing prospect. Not that Orpheus was much of an improvement. It was an ugly, ungainly space-barge - Command's first attempt at a functional orbital station. While Bob couldn't refute the "functional" part, it lacked the finesse or style of the Orbiters for Duna and Mun. Ker, even the stainless steel tank from the lifter stage still hung off it, ringed with skeletal girders that had once supported the station's asparagus boosters. It was like a metal sausage with tumors. Still, it had the fuel he needed to press on. Easing the controls forward, Bob slid the Phoenix II under the station's docking crosstree, eyes fixed on his instruments as he awaited the dull "thump" of magnetic seals clamping down. As he watched the fuel gauge tick up, the Kerbonaut felt his anticipation building. After being passed over so many times, for so many missions, he was finally going to set foot on another world. He gazed out past the jumble of tanks that was Orpheus, spotting his destination. The grey orb of the Mun hung in a star-speckled void of black. Somewhere around it, Jeb and the Orbiter circled, while Bartbles and the rest prowled the surface in the Centipede, gathering Science. Beyond them, Kerny and his Deepshot team hurtled into the unknown beyond Kerbin's SOI. At last, it was his turn. That was when Command decided to pull the rug out from under him. Bob's comm crackled to life. "Phoenix, got some bad news. You reading us, Bob?" For an instant, the Kerbonaut debated shutting off his comm, pretending he'd never heard the message. Whatever this "bad news" was, he felt certain he didn't want to hear it. Reluctantly, he thumbed his mic. "Phoenix reads you, Command." "Mun is a no-go. Align orbit for reentry at KSC and bring her home. Details to follow at debriefing." Even for Command, the instructions were unusually curt. "Acknowledged. Reentry in T-minus 19 minutes. See you then, Command." "Count on it, Bob. Command out." The Kerbonaut frowned. Command had sounded almost... angry. Why scrub the mission now? What did I do? He looked out at the Mun once more, overcome by a profound sadness. So close, yet so far. The feeling lasted until flames licked around the Phoenix II's nose as it hit atmosphere. Even his utter despair could not dull the joy of flying this wonderful machine.

Updated the Deepshot mission. Five Kerbals will live on to Science another day. Thank you, RCS Javelin for your noble sacrifice.

This is a magnificent quote... In seriousness though, as long as it worked, that's what counts. You might get a bit further swapping out the useless nosecones for ram-air intakes, trading in the little fuel tanks for a slightly bigger model, and swapping the jet engines for turbojets? Just thoughts. SSTO's can be tricky, so even the ugly ones deserve love.

Phew! All tales have been updated to their most current status. Sorry for the delay on the Duna mission, it was getting late last night by the time I'd finished the first two.

So... your emergency evac method is to fire Kerbals back to Kerbin with a Mainsail cannon? That is amazing.

After the successful retrieval of the Duna Seer probe, Command began planning for a manned mission to the Red Planet. Their primary goal would be to extract as much Science data from Duna, Ike, and the surrounding space as they could. To this end, their first act was the development of the SEED module - a self-contained disposable unit housing all available scientific equipment and instruments. After readings were taken, the data could be collected and the units jettisoned to save weight. After their SSTO idea fell through however, the SEED project was suspended, pending further review. Instead, the Kerbals turned their attention to the centerpiece of the mission - the Duna Orbiter. This mobile station would be responsible for bringing their explorer team into Duna's system, and serving as a base of operations while smaller vessels were sent down to the surface to collect data. To enhance stability, docking ports were doubled-up, with space for three fuel tanks and three nuclear boosters in an alternating radial configuration around the central tower. A tri-coupler on the station's tail would permit the attachment of science modules, when the question of their implementation had been resolved. A week later, the Duna Orbiter was completed and ready for launch. A trio of Orbital Hauler lifters pushed the station into low orbit with ease - even after the orbital height was increased to 350 kilometers, the final OHL stages were almost full. However, an accident while jettisoning the second-stage boosters resulted in one of the spent tanks colliding with the final stage, destroying a side-mounted engine in the process. (note the missing pylon in the lower-right) Command was loathe to part with so much unspent fuel, but the weight and thrust imbalance would prove dangerous, and the OHLs were never designed for interplanetary use. They gave the order to have the pylons decoupled. The next stage to be sent up was a six-port coupling attachment to hold whatever SEED design Engineering was able to finalize. Due to its unusual design, initial attempts for a central booster rocket failed miserably - the attachment port refused to stay upright during launch, resulting in a number of recoveries from the eastern bay area and precious weeks spent repairing water damage. Fortunately the unit itself was unmanned, and no Kerbals were killed in the process. Finally, boosters were mounted to each of the coupler's six spokes, and it was docked successfully to the station's tail. Fuel tanks and booster pylons were the next to be sent up. Neither presented any difficulties in docking, though it was discovered the station's innermost set of solar panels would need to remain retracted to prevent collision with the booster pylons. All of these ascents were performed with drone cores, leaving Sigby bored out of his mind most of the time. Meanwhile, Engineering struggled to finalize the SEED puzzle. With SSTO use abandoned, that left them with traditional landers. The trouble was, their lander designs thus far had no accommodation for extra devices docked to them, nor had they attempted to land on a planet with atmosphere before. It also left the question of how many launches Command was willing to do in order to complete the Duna Orbiter's payload. Two booster pylons were scheduled to go up in the next few days, plus a launch for each of their six proposed SEED landers. Finally, one of the engineers revisited the SEED concept itself. Slimming it down until it was barely more than two materials labs and an RCS tank held together with duct tape, he proposed the new design was small enough to be mounted under a traditional lander. The weight was almost nonexistent, and would be jettisoned before return. They reviewed the data from the Seer and developed a new lander, carrying just enough ground clearance to mount one of the redesigned SEEDs. Best of all, the tiny modules could be sent up all at once. Then came another wrinkle - they'd forgotten proper Science facilities for the Orbiter! A new coupler stage was sent up, with an integrated science lab and SEEDs already in place. The heavy lander soon followed. Only two of the booster pylons remained, then the Orbiter would be ready, awaiting its transfer window. (To be continued...)

When plans for an expedition to Duna were first proposed, Command expressed a desire for a reusable landing vessel - something that could travel to Duna's surface, conduct experiments, and return to orbit for refueling and Science analysis. After dozens of successful rocket missions, they were at last turning their attention to aeronautics, and so the Engineering corps began developing their first proper SSTO spaceplane. The first concepts featured twin docking ports, facing forwards from the wing, but these proved impossible to balance and eventually the Ares line was abandoned after the last fireball nearly veered into the hangar itself during takeoff. In a moment of rare cleverness, they decided to name the next concept Phoenix. Trading the forward-facing ports for a single rear dock, the entire plane was assembled around the resulting U-shaped cleft in its airframe. A single SEED (Science Exploration & Experimentation Device) could be positioned behind the cockpit. A set of four powerful turbofan jet engines provided atmospheric lift, while two lightweight LV-T45's gave it the thrust necessary to break free of Kerbin's atmosphere and attain stable orbit. If it could leave Kerbin, they reasoned, it could certainly escape Duna. Clear skies and a sunny morning greeted Bob Kerman as he took the prototype out for its first flight. For this test, there would be no SEED attached, this was strictly to gauge how well the Phoenix could fly. The ATC tower gave Bob the go-ahead, and with a high-pitched whine, the jet engines hummed to life. Just as the plane reached takeoff velocity, the wings dipped downward. There was a spark and debris from the right wing, then the Phoenix was in the air. One of the right ailerons had been destroyed, giving it a slight yaw, but Bob held her steady and began a slow climb to the east, out over the ocean. While Control monitored his progress, Command received some distressing news. Data was finally coming back from the Duna Seer probe - data that made them beat their collective foreheads off their desks in frustration.. They'd gotten barometric readings from Duna's atmosphere. Oxygen levels were practically nonexistent. Jet engines would be inoperable on the Red Planet. The Duna Phoenix was mothballed as soon as Bob landed the plane.

To further their understanding of Kerbin and its surrounding space, Command passed along a new requisition to their Engineering corps - a deep-space manned mission that would pass ahead of Kerbin's sphere of influence, conduct a series of observational reports and materials analysis, and return. Several days later, Engineering turned in their prototype for review. Unfortunately, someone spilled coffee on the blueprints and the Kerman Voyager plans were abandoned for fear that the caffeine had somehow corrupted the design. (Only later did they learn that the pot had been decaf.) Stuck with soggy blueprints and a looming deadline, Engineering dusted off the schematics for their failed Longshot unmanned probe and scribbled in new parts until they were pretty sure it would carry a Kerbal into orbit without exploding. Best of all, having a live pilot meant this time it wouldn't run out of battery charge halfway to Minmus and end up orbiting the sun as an inert heap of metal. Thus, the Deepshot 1 was born. Assigned to the Deepshot were five of the most courageous pilots Command couldn't figure out what to do with - Kerny, Diloly, Jenmund, Danbrett, and Heneny. Tired of being passed over for missions - and particularly, of being neglected in favor of unmanned drone craft which Command was so enamored with - they were only too happy to accept the assignment. Since the Deepshot was being ferried into orbit by the well-tested Orbital Hauler lifter, the five felt perfectly safe as they were strapped into their cockpits. Kerny, being the senior pilot, was assigned the lead capsule and would have control of the mission. True to form, the Orbital Hauler engines got them into orbit with plenty of delta-V to spare. Deciding to burn off the extra fuel before dumping the main engine, Kerny left the final stage attached, using it to boost them into an escape trajectory. Even then, there was still half the fuel left. Clearly, Engineering hadn't thought to downsize the OHL any for the lighter payload. If they had, the Deepshot's crew would have discovered the problem much sooner... It was more than a day out from Kerbin when Kerny decided the extra weight of the massive OHL would impede their ability to maneuver, and was unnecessary for gaining a return trajectory. He hit the release to decouple the stage - but the OHL remained firmly attached. Confused and troubled, he went on EVA to have a look. The thick struts keeping the Deepshot stable were bolted down tight between the Hauler and their vessel's own heat shielding. There was nothing he could do to dislodge the derelict engine from their craft - and worse, the added weight would make reentry impossible. The Deepshot would shatter when the full weight of the OHL hit their chutes. To make matters worse, Jenmund and Danbrett were trapped in their cabins. A fault in the doors prevented them from exiting, meaning even if a rescue ship was sent up, two of the crew would still be lost to the void. Distressed, Kerny radioed Command to inform them of the situation. The solution, when he heard it, sent chills down his spine. They were going to ram the ship. The problem, Command explained, was the adapter the struts had been bolted to. If that could be destroyed, the rest of the ship should have no trouble disconnecting from the OHL. It was risky and dangerous, but Kerny knew it was also their best chance to get free of the offending lifter stage. At dawn, the newly minted RCS Javelin was sent up. Essentially a drone-controlled battering ram, the long nose section had been impact-tested to a speed of 30 meters per second. The adapter ring on the OHL could only withstand a third of that. Waiting in intersect orbit, the Javelin would meet the Deepshot as it returned, the two would match orbits, and the drone would attempt to destroy the OHL adapter and the struts holding it to the Deepshot. To help match up with the Javelin's orbit, Kerny was to conserve the rest of the OHL's fuel and burn retro just enough to cancel their planned escape from Kerbin. The rest would be used to bring the Deepshot into a stable orbit around Kerbin again. Rendezvous however, would not be for another seven days. In a week's time, they'd find out if the Javelin would work - or kill them all in the process. Until then, it would wait... Small floodlights flickered to life as the dormant Javelin woke from its slumber. Deepshot was returning - it was time to match orbit and free the trapped vessel. At some point, debris had sheared off two of its solar panels, but the Javelin was still receiving plenty of charge from the remaining six, and had plenty of battery reserves. When Deepshot was within range, it would be ready. On board the Deepshot, Kerny was lining up for their aerobrake pass. As far out as their craft had ventured, it would take more than what was left in the OHL tanks to realign their orbit into something resembling stable. The Deepshot shuddered and the smell of burning ozone filled the cabin as it scorched through Kerbin's upper atmosphere, but soon enough they were settled once more around their homeworld, and on a near-perfect intercept with their robotic rescuer. Even after matching its orbit, the OHL still had plenty of fuel left. Wryly, Kerny wondered if maybe they should have just made a pass by Eve before coming back. Like an inquisitive beast, the Javelin drifted in close, examining the Deepshot's underside, and the faulty linkage that fastened it to a lethal amount of dead weight. The radio crackled to life as Command relayed the drone's report. "RCS Javelin reading green, Kerny. Adapter is targeted and ready for impact." Kerny gulped, but kept the trepidation out of his reply. "Deepshot is ready, Command. Everyone's strapped in and braced." Silently, he prayed to Ker they lived through it. "Roger that, Deepshot. Javelin is pulling back. Mark distance, 100 meters." From a hundred meters away, it would halt, realign itself with the faulty adapter, and accelerate to 20m/s. More than enough to dislodge the stubborn lifter stage. Kerny waited, holding his breath, and tried not to flinch at Command's next transmission. "100 meters: Mark. Javelin accelerating." Seconds later, the Deepshot jerked like a fish on a line. Though sound did not carry in space, the five Kerbals felt the explosion, the shriek of twisting metal, as its force passed through the vessel. The SAS hummed madly as it attempted to halt the craft's tumbling. Through the window port, Kerny thought he could make out the remains of the OHL tank spiraling away from them. Did it work? he dared to hope. The red fault indicator on the coupling suggested otherwise. Command confirmed his suspicions. "Javelin has sustained moderate damage, one engine pod lost but still operational. Deepshot, the tank is off but that adapter ring is still latched onto you. We're going to give it another go - better clench up." "Command, you do realize we're sitting on top of a nuclear engine up here, right? If this goes wrong it's going to be very messy." "Sit tight and keep it together, Deepshot. Javelin will get you out of there in one piece." Kerny wished he could share Command's confidence, but he laid his hands on the controls and kept the craft's tail pointed squarely at the Javelin. Best to make things as easy as possible. Without the huge OHL tanks to absorb impact, the second hit was even more jarring than the first. Debris rained past them, flung forward by the drone's momentum - including the globe of the Stayputnik module that operated the craft. He hoped the Javelin had done its job properly this time, as it wouldn't be doing much else from this point on. "Javelin has stopped responding. Deepshot, everyone alive up there?" The confidence in Command's earlier transmissions had given way to genuine concern now. "Shook up but still breathing, Command. Javelin's core is about twenty meters ahead of us on a reentry course and there's a lot of debris." Kerny checked the indicator lights. "Coupler is still faulty." "Understood. That last hit should've destroyed the adapter. Try decoupling again, and fire a short burn." Decoupling didn't reward Kerny with the satisfying "clunk" of interstage parts releasing, but he attempted Command's suggestion anyway. Almost immediately, he began getting temperature warnings... but not from the engine. "Command, looks like something's jammed tight to the nacel - it's burning up quick here." "Keep going, Deepshot. See if you can't cook it off." The fault hadn't been with the adapter at all - somehow, the decoupler itself had gotten jammed. Now, blue-white flames poured into it, slagging the offending metal until at last it disintegrated under the nuclear fire. A loud bang echoed through the Deepshot's cabins, and the craft leapt forwards, free at last. "Command," Kerny reported with a sign of relief, "Deepshot reporting free and clear. Will engage escape burn at periapsis on next orbit, and resume mission." "Roger, Deepshot. Best luck to you, and we'll see you back on KSC turf in a week." Seventeen minutes later, Kerny turned the vessel's nose to the void, and the nuclear engine blazed to life once more.

Rather than make new threads for each mission, I figure it'll be simpler to compile future endeavors here... Contents: (Click banners for the appropriate tale) Seven Kerbals in a heavy Science rover make a three-hundred kilometer journey over the Mun's surface A structural malfunction leaves five Kerbals in jeopardy, on an escape trajectory from Kerbin How to waste millions of credits in SSTO research A Science-laden journey to the Red Planet Bob Kerman's struggle to find success in failure.

The Centipede Mission: End of the Line In a word: No. In multiple words: still no. Calger had pressed on as far as he was able, conserving the batteries where he could and easing the over sized rover up one crater slope after another, but as the sun sank below the horizon he found another problem even harder to fight than the Centipede's poor handling - darkness. Despite the floodlights mounted to the Centipede's cabin, the terrain ahead remained a stubborn inky black. It was impossible for Calger to see where they were going, and with the craters and rolling hills ahead, driving blind through them would almost certainly prove fatal. As he crested another rise, a blip appeared on the HUD - they were within fifty clicks of the base now, automatically registering it with the Centipede's tracking systems. Deciding they'd come far enough for the day's travel, he locked the brakes and pulled in the solar panels. They would wait out the night here. To pass the time, they listened to radio chatter from Command back on Kerbin. An expedition to Duna was in the works, with Shelsey in command of the Orbiter station and Burhat assigned to the Lander - Ribdrin and Sigby would operate the Science Lab while in the field. "I can't believe they're putting Ribdrin in the lab," Alvin grumped. "He doesn't know a test tube from a tube sock." "Maybe not," Bartbles reminded him tartly, "but at least he didn't try to eat them in training." The other Kerbals laughed, and Alvin turned a deeper shade of green. "That was on a dare and you know it," the embarrassed Kerbal muttered. The rest of the crew laughed harder. Eventually, lacking anything better to do, the travel-weary Kerbals fell asleep. Munar dawn broke over the dunes with little fanfare. Calger blinked, twisting his large head to work out a cramp in his neck. Dimly, he became aware of the yellow glare forcing its way past the polarized glass. The sun had finally managed to climb back up above the crater peaks, revealing the rolling gray hills ahead. A slow smile spread across his face - it was all downhill from here. The batteries were almost fully recharged already, and he would only need them sparingly to control their descent from the highlands. Anxious to be on the move again, he disengaged the brakes and began the long rolling descent to Arc Luna. As they skirted another crater, Bartbles switched on the intercom, signalling Calger to stop. Despite their very limited view from the crew module, he'd noticed something interesting in the hillside. "Bart, we've still got a good thirty clicks to go before we're there," Cal protested. "Can we save admiring the scenery for our arrival at least?" Bartbles rolled his eyes, forgetting that Calger could not see it through the intercom. "We came here to do Science, Cal. We should take the time to actually Science something." "Alright," the driver conceded. "You've got five minutes to get back in the 'Pede, otherwise you're walking the rest of the way." "Knowing your driving, we might live longer that way," Seanden muttered under his breath. Alvin and Anfen smothered their laughter. Glad to be stretching his legs once more, Bartbles climbed out of the crew module and hit the release on the left-side ladder. As he took a step towards it however, his foot caught in the handholds for the science lab - Mun's low gravity did nothing to halt his momentum, and he performed an awkward somersault into the dust below. Unfazed, Bart picked himself up and brushed off the clinging Mun-dust. Without proper instruments, there was only so much data he could collect, but he made certain to take a soil sample for Dermin and Kenbas to analyze in the lab. It would give the two something to do at least. Planting a flag to mark the spot for further examination, he climbed back into the crew module and informed Calger they could be on their way once more. Their impatient driver was only too happy to oblige. An air of excitement permeated the crew - after their hair-raising and wildly off-course landing, they were finally going to see the Outpost. Calger in particular was so distracted by their impending arrival, he neglected to check the terrain mapping, continuing blissfully down the valley until he noticed the ridge rising in front of him. Seven clicks from Bartbles' site, the Centipede drew to a halt once more. One last network of craters lay between them and their destination - a cluster they had already entered without being aware of it. Fed up with skirting craters, Calger checked the battery reserves. 100% charge - we haven't needed them since entering the valley. A sequence of lights appeared in his head, accompanied by the soft "ding" as they cycled color. They were nearly to Arc Luna, these pits were shallow, and they'd only waste time and energy turning around to circumvent them. If he could've revved the electric motors, he would have. The Kart lights in his head went green. Dust and debris smacked the underside of the Centipede as the wheels spun to gain traction. Even in the low gravity, he felt the change in momentum as the big rover accelerated down the crater slope. From the protests coming from the crew module, he wasn't the only one. "Cal, what the heck are you doing?" "Oh Ker we're all gonna die! I don't want to die!" "He's lost his mind! Someone else drive, please!" Calger just laughed, his mirth tinged with manic glee. The Centipede crested the far side of the middle crater, wheels spinning in empty space as it floated above the terrain. The best was yet to come, however. It bounced, wheels digging into the grit, and shot down the crater's bowl as though the rhino's skates had become rocket-powered. At 30m/s, Calger knew the slightest wrong move on the controls could spell disaster for the Centipede, but he was past caring. Arc Luna was so close he could taste it. His laughter rose, drowning out the panicked wails from the back with his madness. The crater's wall loomed ahead, but the Centipede barely slowed as its momentum carried it upwards. With a final lurch, the rover was airborne again, in spectacular fashion. Lacking RCS or rockets, all Calger could do was keep the wheels facing down and hope they didn't hit ground harder than the tires could stand. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he'd taken things too far this time. The Centipede came down. Metal struts groaned under the strain as the wheels struck the Mun's surface, sixteen tons of Science, Steel, and Kerbals bearing down on top of them, but somehow the craft held together. Skidding wildly across the dunes, Calger slowly brought the careening vehicle back under control. It slid to a stop at the lip of the final crater - the one where, four kilometers away in its bowl, Arc Luna had touched down. For a moment, he paused there on the cliffside, finally able to see their destination. This was it. With all the caution he had abandoned previously, Calger nosed the Centipede's cabin over the edge. For a heart-stopping moment as the craft pitched forward, he was staring straight down. His foot rested on the brakes. Then they were sliding down the final slope, brakes locked as their intrepid driver did everything he could to fight momentum from building again. Smoother than he believed possible, Calger brought the rover to a brisk cruise over the crater floor. At long last, they had arrived.

Damn this mission is starting to wear on me... but we must press on in the name of Science! The Centipede Mission: Eclipse Calger was really beginning to hate the Mun. After the last crater, it seemed the cratered rock had only one direction - uphill - and it was taking a severe toll on the Centipede's generous battery supply. He took it as easy on the throttle as he dared, treading a fine line between battery use and keeping up momentum on the never-ending slope. While he drove, Calger listened to the comm chatter. Apparently, Command had sent up a manned deep-space mission to follow their Eeloo Seer launch. Someone kept repeating the code "434-238," which he assumed were either coordinates to something on Eeloo, or somebody's locker combo. Calger grumped at the controls, wishing he could go faster. Despite his best efforts however, the constant upward climb took their toll on the Centipede's reserves. With an electric sigh, the throttle went dead and the rover drifted to a halt. Quickly, he engaged the brakes to keep it from rolling backwards. Then he did a double-take at his instruments. Something was wrong - the panels were deployed, but nothing was recharging! Fretting, he popped open the hatch, expecting to see them all broken, but the panels were intact. The fault lay not with the equipment, but with their orbit. Kerbin was causing a solar eclipse. There was nothing to be done now but wait. Eventually their planet would move and the sun would recharge the exhausted batteries, but until then they were stuck. Shrugging, Calger shuffled down the Centipede's spine and climbed into the crew compartment. The others looked up in surprise as he entered. "What did you break now, Cal?" Bart asked. There was no malice or scorn in his voice - it was an honest question expecting a practical answer. Calger just chuckled. "The sun. Kerbin's eclipsing us and the batteries are dead, so we're stuck here until we can get a charge back." He broke out a pack of cards. "Anyone for a game of Go Fish?" Kerbin's shadow lingered over them for what felt like an eternity, and the batteries took even longer to charge once it had passed. Seven Kerbals waited, crammed into a capsule made for four, playing cards and eating what few snacks were left. It was dull, but for Calger, a welcome change from the constant slate-gray of Mun's surface. When he got back to Kerbin, he was moving to a tropical forest, with colors. Finally, the Centipede had enough of a charge to get moving again. To Calger's immense relief, they were near the crest of whatever hill or mountain they'd been ascending. It was all downhill from here. He flipped on the SAS, sipped his energy drink, and let the rover coast, paying careful attention to keep it oriented wheels-flat as it skimmed over small bumps and slewed sideways around rocks. After conserving power and speed for so long, cruising downhill at 20m/s was as good as flying to Calger. The original landing site was over a hundred kilometers behind them now, and according to their orbital map, they were nearly halfway to Arc Luna! But they were heading into twilight now, the sun dipping slowly towards the horizon. Could they make it to the Mun-base before sunset left them stranded again..?

Heh... I'd have left him there. Seriously, his habit of climbing into everything that heads to the pad annoyed the heck out of me (until I sent him up in my Mun Orbiter station, where he will remain until the solar system has been thoroughly explored). Nice work bring your intrepid adventurer home though!

This is KSP. Your Kerbals would snap the wrong end of the line and fling themselves right into Kerbin at hypersonic velocity. Which would be hilarious and entertaining, but somewhat lacking a return on the time investment.

Honestly, I'm debating the next step myself. Do I make this a hundred-kilometer trek overland, weaving between (and through) craters, or do I say hang it all, send a rescue shuttle, and ship them to Arc Luna in a more conventional style? And not forgetting, in the eight to ten hours it'd take for a rocket to get there, the Centipede may well have reached the base under its own power, so in game time it may simply be more efficient to keep going as-is. I suppose it's down to my tolerance for frustration at the moment, since as well as the Centipede performed in Kerbin gravity, it's exactly as described above on the Mun - a rhino on rollerskates.

The floodgates are open... ^_~ That first docking is always the hardest. Once you couple up a couple times (har har, wordplay), it gets a lot easier. The toughest part, I think, is just synchronizing orbital timing enough that you have a reasonably close intersect with your target. Not a bad station either, SoldierHair. Not the prettiest, maybe, but function before form. I'm curious what mod the shuttle parts are from though?

It is a great feeling, isn't it? Next stop, Minmus! Trying to touch down safely on that floating scoop of mint feels just as good - maybe even better.

Thank you for the kind words. It took me a bit to figure out the right place to post it. And now, to continue the journey... The Centipede Mission: Road-Trip Despite Bart's death-defying landing (or perhaps because of it), the rest of the Centipede's crew ousted him from the controls. For their long journey across the surface to Arc Luna, it was voted that Calger should take the controls. After all, he still had the top score on the Ker-Kart arcade machine back home - for six weeks running, so far. Secretly, Calger suspected that was one of the reasons they'd sent him off on this missions. No matter, he could fill up the leaderboards with "CAL-OWNZ" when he got back. Maybe they'd even have KK2 installed by then! After some token protest, Bartbles relented and Calger took the Centipede's wheels. He jettisoned the lander cells and set out across the barren surface. It didn't take long for more of the Centipede's flaws to become apparent. Despite the ridiculous number of tires, it floated and skidded across Mun's terrain like a rhinoceros on roller-skates. In fact, the only thing the hefty wheel array was good for, apparently, was draining the batteries at an absurd rate. The paltry solar panels on top couldn't hope to compensate for the energy so many electric motors were sucking down. Not that he could open up the throttle anyway - 10m/s was about as fast as he dared go with the way the Centipede handled. Even the slightest bump tended to leave it floating above the surface. At 15m/s, he stood a good chance of hitting a rock or micro-crater and flipping it upside-down. So the Centipede crawled across the surface like the insect it was named after, and Calger did his best to let Mun's slight hills and valleys do most of the accelerating. This is going to take an eternity, he grumped. It didn't help that Mun's featureless gray terrain was mind-numbingly dull. Well, not entirely featureless. It did have craters after all. Little ones, shallow ones, steep ones, and vast - OH KER THERE'S ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF US! He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop bare meters from the cliff-edge of a broad bowl, several kilometers wide. For a long moment, Calger just stared off the edge of the precipice, weighing his options. Finally, Bart piped up from the back, "Why did we stop? Do you want me to drive?" Calger called a group meeting. One by one, they piled out of the Centipede to take stock of the situation. "So here are our choices," Calger announced. "We can cut across the crater and save an hour or two of travel, but it'll run our batteries down more trying to climb the incline on the far side. Or we can go around and conserve the batteries, but it'll take even longer to get to Arc Luna." "You think you can actually get us down that cliff in one piece?" Alvin demanded skeptically. "That's a sheer drop at least twenty meters, plus whatever speed we pick up on the way down." "Can I just jet across?" Seanden asked. "I'm sick of riding in this can. And I have to pee." "Should've thought of that before we left Kerbin," Bart told him. "I did! That was ten hours ago!" Calger banged his foot on the top of the Centipede's hatch to get their attention, but then remembered that sound wouldn't carry in the airless environment. "Focus, crew. Across or around, raise your glove. Who votes across?" The final tally was three in favor of crossing, three in favor of skirting the crater's edge. The deciding vote was his. He looked past his assembled crew, at the crater's lip once more. He was sick of toeing the throttle and creeping over each hill and depression. Command had built the Centipede to tackle anything - if it couldn't handle a simple crater, there was no point in landing it here in the first place. "Across it is then. Everyone back on board!" Alvin glared at Calger. "You're going to make us explode. I don't want to explode, Cal." "Everyone explodes sooner or later, Alvin," Bartbles stated matter-of-factly. "Cal's as good a reason as any." "I don't think that's how the saying goes, Bart." Bart raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? That's how Jeb always tells it." "Guys, just get in," Calger scolded. Once settled back in the driver's seat, Calger sized up the crater's edge once more. Despite the power drain, he decided to switch on the SAS, just in case the Centipede bounced too much, or too awkwardly. The wheels spun in the dust as they struggled for traction, and slowly the big rover crept out over the precipice. The nose pitched down, and in Cal's mind he could see the starting lights of Ker-Kart cycling - red, yellow, green! The ground dropped out from under them, and the Centipede plunged down the crater's slope. Now this was driving! The Centipede accelerated, 10, 20, 30 meters a second, shooting down into the bowl like a wheeled avalanche. Calger fought to keep the wheels facing the ground - on it was hopeless, as even the tiniest hump send the craft skimming, sometimes several meters above the ground. Suddenly he gulped, realizing that the impact tolerance for everything but the wheels was well below 10m/s - if anything but the tires themselves so much as touched the ground, this was all likely to end in spectacular, explosive failure. The tires bounced again, on the left side only, and the whole rover began a lazy barrel roll as it shot across the crater floor. This did not go unnoticed by the crew. "Are we upside down? I don't want to be upside down. We tend to explode more that way." "I knew I should've jet-packed for this." "Cal! For Ker's sake, pull in the solar panels! If you clip them we're screwed!" Bart warned him frantically. Too late now - they would not be safely retracted before the Centipede was upside down. With determined effort, Calger hauled on the control stick and forced the rover to finish its roll, all twenty-four wheels touching down at once. The incline of the crater's opposite edge loomed up at him. Dimly, he wondered what would happen if it launched them back up above the surface. The Centipede had no RCS to slow it, and they'd dumped the empty lander cells long ago. He needn't have worried. Little by little the speed dropped off and he was able to bring the Centipede back under control. Under its own power, it crested the ridge and began sliding gently down the crater's ejecta. Swiftly, Calger threw on the brakes and extended the ladders. Somewhere in their crazy suicide plunge, a warning light had come on. Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing more than a blown tire. Structural damage would have been much worse - tires, at least, were replaceable. Breathing a sigh of relief, Calger took stock of the situation. They were still hundreds of kilometers from Arc Luna, and there would be a lot more craters in the way. Hopefully the rest of them had Kart lights at their rims as well.

I literally joined the KSP forums to share this. It is a tale of failure and frustration, of triumph over impossible odds (and flawed engineering), and the brave but masterfully inept Kerbals who pulled it off anyway. Behold, the Centipede... Weighing in at 17.16 tons, it was designed to conquer any terrain the Mun could offer up. A compliment to the newly-landed Arc Luna Outpost, it would function as a mobile command center, taking Kerbals far across the Mun in their search for more Science - without popping too many tires on the way. Perhaps sensing imminent failure, Command assigned five of the absolute dumbest Kerbals to it (and two of the smartest but most cowardly to man the science lab). Then in true Kerbal fashion, they strapped a bunch of rockets to its bumper and prepared to launch it into space. Fortunately, they'd sent up a half-dozen similar rockets under various Orbital Hauler missions and knew the OH lifter was up for the job. Then Burhat Kerman had to open his blasted mouth. "How are you going to land it?" The engineers promptly turned a much darker shade of green and proposed the usual solution - strap more rockets to it, of course! Thus a set of wing-like lander cells were added to the Centipede's flanks, powered by a pair of LV-909's with two Rockomax 24-77's riding sidecar to balance Thrust between Center Of Mass. The engineers nodded their heads, pleased with their work, and certain the lander cells would do just fine. Their calculations assured everyone, on Mun the TWR was plenty high enough to ensure a safe landing! So in went the Kerbals, and off went the rocket! Munward-ho! Immediately, it became apparent something was wrong. The added weight of the Centipede's monstrous wheel assembly was dragging the craft down, throwing the COM badly out of alignment. This became even more noticeable as the latter stages dropped off. So the engineers went back to work, doing what they did best - more rockets! Two more 24-77's tipped the scales, keeping the Centipede finely balanced down to the last stage. Mostly. The trip to the Mun was a short eight-hour drift through the black, and Jeb threw them a greeting as the Centipede's crew swung into alignment behind the Mun Orbiter station. He had been exiled to the Orbiter after constantly jumping into the cockpit of anything that went towards the pad (Command finally had enough and let him go, in one mission they were quite sure would be staying put). As the Centipede prepared to de-orbit and aligned itself with Arc Luna, several things became immediately evident: There was not enough fuel left in the final stage to drop the Centipede to a halt as planned. At low pass above Arc Luna, it would bleed off half the Delta-V they needed to stop. At best. The engineers had misaligned the lander cells. The craft had a nasty yaw to the right, which became insurmountable above half-power. You couldn't align anything with the damned gimbal! The Centipede might be pointing forward, but the lander cells faced downards (and not even straight downards). Burning retrograde had to be done blind - if orbit speed was decreasing you were pointed the right way. Probably. Clearly, Command wanted them all to die, because Burhat opened his blasted mouth. Despite the crews' assumption however, Command did not want them to die. Possibly the engineers did, but fortunately it wasn't their choice. A mad scramble ensued, as everyone tried to find a way to get the Centipede down safely, without scattering it across the surface of Mun, or popping any of those expensive tires. When Bartbles heard the answer, he raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?" "It's really the only way. You're one of the bravest Kerbals we know, Bart. We're sure you can pull it off." Bartbles Kerman puffed out his chest and gripped the controls. Retrograde was already lined up and his burn was only a few minutes away. From 45,000m above the Mun, he was going to stop them dead, and drop straight down. The mission profile had indicated a slower parabolic descent that put them right over Arc Luna. However, every pass the Centipede had made, it picked up enormous amounts of Delta-V flying so low to the surface. The final rocket stage simply didn't have enough fuel left to bring them in safely, and it was bloody impossible to use the landing cells at the power needed to halt that kind of velocity. Every simulation (read: quicksave reload) resulted in fireballs and scattered debris being bounced back into space. Even the plentiful RCS supply wasn't going to make a dent in anything but the surface. But at lower speeds... Thinking was not Bart's strong suit, so he tended not to do much of it. What Command told him made enough sense, and he was one of the most courageous pilots to leave Kerbin. The engines flared up, bringing orbital speed down from 500m/s to just under 200 before the tanks went dry. With a shrug, Bart cut them loose and engaged the landing cells. Sudden groans and the sound of retching filled the rear cabins as he swung the Centipede's nose down, pointing the cells retro as best as he could judge. Orbital velocity dropped even more, and slowly the altimeter counted down. 40 kilometers... 35... 30... 25. As the dials spun down, he began to believe this might actually work. It was a constant fight to keep the craft's landers aimed retro, and despite his best efforts their speed was still above 100m/s, but it was slowing, and the engines still had fuel and oh Ker I hope we don't all die! 10,000 meters. They were still dropping too fast, but speed was below 100m/s now. He kicked the engines up a little higher and the craft lurched right, yawing slowly. Pitch up, pitch down, roll left, overcompensating! Oh crud! Haul the nose back to the left. Rinse, repeat. He didn't even want to know what the back cabins must look like, though at least he couldn't hear the rest of the crew vomiting now. Some rinsing and repeating would be needed there as well, he was sure. 5,000 meters. Fuel was starting to dwindle and still they were coming in too hot. He'd lost the sweet spot, the craft was drifting all over now, and he couldn't crank the engines up any more or the yaw would become insurmountable. The Centipede's shadow danced around below them like... well, like something very drunk, Bart was much too occupied with not crashing to give it much thought right now. 4,000 meters. Around 3,000, Bart noticed the altimeter had stalled. Whatever speed he was fighting now was pure drift. He tried to see out the window but the Cupola module had crap visibility for landing, unless it was pointed straight down. More airsick moans welled up from the rear cabin as he pitched the Centipede down again. Ah, there it was. He realigned and killed the drifting. Under 20m/s now, and dropping smoothly. A hill rose up towards them as the craft resumed yawing. 6.5m/s. No fuel left. Their shadow was practically right under them... With a soft bump, the Centipede touched down. Not a single tire was popped that day. Bartbles Kerman let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Apparently he'd forgotten to do that breathing thing again. Now, where was Arc Luna? ... Aww, fish-paste!.