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Kings & Cultivars

NovaSilisko

By NovaSilisko
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NovaSilisko

NovaSilisko

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Kings & Cultivars

Part 0: Prologue

Retired spaceflight director and self-made billionaire Harrison Kerman looked out over his balcony at the ever-changing world before him. He puffed a cigar occasionally, mumbling to himself. His young, naive, but friendly butler Clide sat patiently in the drawing room behind him. Harrison occasionally acted this way, forming a shield around him with his own thoughts which no outside influence could penetrate. But, this time, he muttered to himself, his voice gravelly from both age and cigar smoke.

"Twenty-five. Twenty-five years since we put a Kerbal in space."

Clide looked up at him "Sir?"

"I suppose it was before your time. The exploration of space. Massive rockets launching at least every week, all of 'em carrying crews beyond the bounds of this tiny planet to explore the great unknown. But they called it quits after we lost the orbital outpost. And we gave up, abandoned the plan to send someone to the Mun and stuffed the designs into warehouses and forgot about them. Now we're just chucking satellites up into low orbit for television, phones, internet, but nobody's actually going anywhere anymore."

"Why not?"

Harrison looked back at Clide and stared blankly for a moment, then chuckled to himself and turned back to observe the valley below.

"Just explained it to you, kid."

"But, I mean, it's been twenty-five years. You'd think someone would have done something by now. If the government won't do it, why not the private sector?"

Harrison froze. Why hadn't he thought of it? More to the point, why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Maybe it was discouragement lingering after all these years, or just because he was getting old. But Clide's enthusiastic if slightly naive proposal to simply "have the private sector do it" struck something within him. He then turned around and looked straight at Clide, gesturing towards him with his cigar.

"Hey, Clide?"

"Y-yes sir?"

"How'd you like to be an astronaut?"

Harrison sat down in front of his fireplace and picked up the phone. He still had the number for the CEO's office at Rockomax embedded in his brain after all these years.

Ring ring...

"Hello?"

It was Jeremiah. Though 25 years older, his voice hadn't changed a bit. That old fool was still the CEO!

"Guess who, Jer."

"Who... who is this?"

"Starts with an H. Used to order lots of stuff from you."

Silence.

"Harvey?"

"Harrison, you numbskull."

Silence again.

"I remember you. Good god."

"Yep. You'll probably also remember that I like to get right down to business, so I'll be needing two hundred of each length of 3.75m diameter fuel tank. I'm paying for them."

"What. Wh-- how the-- What the hell do you mean, you want two hundred of each length of 3.75m diameter fuel tanks? We haven't manufactured those since... since... oh god. You're not planning what I think you're planning, are you?"

"..."

"Harrison, you're insane."

"I am aware."

"Look, the government is not gonna allow you to--"

"They've already given me permission, because they think I ain't gonna do it."

"I-- the-- well. Uh."

"You still have the tooling and equipment for 3.75m stages, right? Might be a bit dusty but they should still work."

"Uh, we do. They're a few blocks south of the main factory."

"Good. Have them ready by the end of the year."

"I don't suppose you have a plan, do you?"

"Never have, never will."

To be continued! Also, the title will make sense at some point! This thread shall be forever documenting the process of a specific save file, triumphs and trials alike.

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NovaSilisko

NovaSilisko

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Kings & Cultivars

Part 1: VIPs, Orbit & St. Bognose

Harrison Kerman herded his group of VIPs out into the dark. It was freezing cold, and the wind was howling. Apart from the lights of the small office building they just left and the stars above, the area was pitch black. Harrison guided the group along with a small flashlight before coming to a small podium, which lit up as he pressed a button. He cleared his throat and addressed the group:

"Gentlemen. You're probably wondering why I've brought you here."

"You're damn right we are, it's freezing out here!" Came a shout from the crowd.

"Not for long. As many of you should remember, the Kerbals In Space program was shut down exactly thirty years ago... thirty years ago this week, actually. After that, all mentions of the very idea of sending Kerbals back into space has been shunned and all who propose it are practically burned at the stake."

"Your point being?" It was the same angry, pompous voice as before. "It was an expensive and dangerous program, not worth the risk! It was taking up far too much money that could have been going into our own pockets!"

There was a general chatter of agreement and utterances of "quite" and "indeed" amongst the crowd. Harrison rolled his eyes. He tugged a walkie-talkie out of his back pocket, muttered something into it, and put it away. Then, like an instant sunrise, the area behind him lit up. The sound of the massive floodlights switching on reverberated through the night. It was a launch pad with a rocket mounted to its service structure what looked like only a hundred meters away.

mkOpPtt.png

"This, my friends, is the Sargon medium-lift launch vehicle, and atop--"

"Okay? You've built a rocket. We've been building rockets for fift-"

Harrison countered the interruption with one of his own. "Not just a rocket. Please direct your attention to the nose section."

The crowd obliged, looking up at the topmost section of the launcher. They saw a ladder. They saw a hatch. They saw a window.

And then it clicked. Their eyes grew wide.

Harrison smiled seeing the realization on this group of naysayers' faces that he'd done just what they thought him too eccentric, too old, and too discouraged to accomplish. A countdown clock illuminated, and the crowd began shuffling back nervously.

Five...four...

He turned around, podium to his back as he braced against it. "Bear witness to the future, gentlemen!"

Three...two...

"You also might want to duck."

One... Zero.

The engines and solid boosters ignited with a blast that knocked several of the VIPs flat onto their backs, all but forcing them to look up at the sky as the rocket carved its incandescent path across it.

aKJ1b7p.png

Clide Kerman sat patiently aboard Forsythia-Sargon 1. What kind of name was that, anyway? He surmised Harrison must have a thing for kings and foliage. As he was occupied contemplating the meaning of the mission's title, Clide hadn't been listening to his audio feed for some time. Launch came as quite a surprise. His precious orange juice was jolted out of his hand before being pulled down by the sudden large acceleration as the rocket ignited with VIP-toppling force.

O1yUL8X.png

He was smushed back into his seat from the G-forces, which only let up after the jettison of the solid rocket boosters at roughly T+30 seconds.

Wnm5RM2.png

Beyond that point, it was a fairly smooth ride.

d2CLVrd.png

kZU1kxu.png

EBMALTH.png

Under five minutes later, he had escaped the atmosphere. For the first time in thirty years, Kerbals had conquered space!

UJu5RbE.png

He loosened his seatbelt as the final burn finished and he became weightless. Unfortunately, his orange juice had become weightless as well. He considered trying to drink some of the floating orange droplets but decided against it when he realized they'd just been sitting on the greasy and gross capsule floor.

HuoGJVZ.png

Forsythia would go on to complete four more orbits of Kerbin before the next challenge came - returning the first astronaut in thirty years, and returning him alive.

The deorbit burn and reentry were nominal. Better than nominal, in fact. They were perfect. Clide himself was impressed, and he had helped build this very capsule. Actually, that would be a good reason for nervousness.

d0RYjy6.png

There was, however, a slight miscalculation in the deorbit burn, and the spacecraft came down a little off-target.

LKdolbr.png

Kerbals are varied beasts. Differing opinion, taste, hopes, dreams, desires. But all of them share one inexplicable ancestral trait - if something is falling from the sky, watch it, and watch it closely.

And the populace of St. Bognose did just that as the tiny capsule drifted lazily down into the middle of town - pressing their faces against windows, stopping in the street and on the sidewalks, dropping whatever they were doing. The younger of the observers did it out of mere curiosity. But the older folk knew what the object was, and could scarcely believe it!

Harrison Kerman hadn't yet made his plans public. He'd been planning to hold a press conference shortly after the capsule landed regarding both the kidnapping of 17 VIPs from a political ball and the first manned spaceflight in 30 years, but the unexpected landing in the middle of downtown St. Bognose meant he had to make it a bit informal.

But, the point had been made - Like it or not, Kerbals in space would be a fact of life from this point on!

At the meeting, Harrison also revealed (via sketch on a cocktail napkin) a ribbon-based system of progress monitoring for his private spaceflight endeavors.

image.php?user_ribbon=558

"Yes, it's mostly empty. Yes this is a cocktail napkin. No, the mission wasn't fake."

In the end, the landing in St. Bognose was a happy accident. The publicity drummed up from it was better than any advertisement money could buy, and it immiedietely enticed Kerbals of all ages - the old generation out of a nostalgic dream to see the return of manned spaceflight, and the new generation for the never-ending novelty and innovation of the very concept.

To be continued in Part 2: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Robots

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NovaSilisko

NovaSilisko

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Nova, is this a story about (in some amazing way) "Career Mode"? Even if it isn't, it's an ASTOUNDING STORY. KEEP THE PARTS COMING!

Nah, it's just intended as a recording of some possible history of Kerbin. I hope to get it out to multiple thousands of years of spaceflight history.

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Needles_10

Needles_10

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Nah, it's just intended as a recording of some possible history of Kerbin. I hope to get it out to multiple thousands of years of spaceflight history.

I understand. Still! I love this! (If you ever plan on introducing the DSK, look to my first thread.) Keep it up, Nova!

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Deadweasel

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I'm guessing he just gave up on this... or the next part will be awesome!

Good writing takes time.

I guarantee Nova read and re-read everything he's put down on this story multiple times before he hit the post button. Shoot, probably previewed more than once as well to make sure the image size and placement looked right.

I, for one, embrace our new developer/writer/builder overlord. :D

(oh, and subbed!)

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