StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This is gonna drive me nuts tomorrow morning- do you think you could at least PM me the outcome so I'll know?

The capsule which was to be the home of two comrade cosmonauts for the next eight days was loaded to the limit. Designers worked day and night to accomodate the necessary supplies and equipment the scientifician technproletarians wanted to bring, while leaving enough elbow room for the cosmonauts not to go cranky and crampy and possibly homicidal upon their return.

Still, none of it mattered, for the capsule's occupants were used to such conditions. They were selected with utmost care and then trained and trained and beaten with sticks to toughen them up. Though to be honest, that last excercise was stricken from procedure after cosmonaut cadet Karelin seized the beating-stick and then threw the NKVDVDROM trainer through a concrete wall. He never became a cosmonaut - too much risk of capsule depressurization in flight - but the excercise was deemed too dangerous.

Either way, the day was here. Pyotr Klimuk and Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz were strapped in some time ago. They were as ready as they were going to be.



And inside the launch control bunker, tempers were short and nerves were strung tight. Already, an additional ventillation shaft had to be drilled in the bunker's thick roof, as otherwise the risks of death due to smoke inhalation would be unacceptable.

"I am uneasy about the pomp surrounding this flight, to be honest", Vasily Mishingun was starting one cigarette with another, and had been doing so for two hours now, "It smacks too much of Murcan hurrahoptimism."

"Da, I too would prefer a more reasoned approach to the flight, but you can't blame the Politburo for being excited", U.Z. Engineerski commented, "After all, we are doing a historic thing. Generations of patriotic technosocialist fiction writers, poets and thinkers dreamt of this singular moment."

Syrgy would have commented, but the comissar gave the sign.

"To your stations, comrades.", Syrgy commanded and took a piece of paper from the comissar. He then picked up a set of headphones and started reading.

"Comrades of the Baikonurek cosmodrome! It is fitting that on this day, the 54th anniversary of the great October revolution, we endeavor to bring the commienist spirit into the stars. Today, comrade cosmonauts of the Zond 1 mission shall push the boundaries and redefine the realms of possibilities. The eyes of the world are upon us. The thoughts of an entire nation and the well-wishes of its people shall follow the spaceship into the heavens. We have faith in your skill and spirit. Da. There can be no outcome but success.

Or else!"

Syrgy cleared his throat, "This letter was sent to us by the premier himself. I trust you will all devote yourselves fully to accomplishing this mission."

The Chief Designer's steely gaze swept across the room, stopping briefly as every station. Engineerskis toughened up, preparing for challenges of the coming days. The silence lasted for several long moments, before Syrgy finally removed the launch key from a chain around his neck and slid it into his console.



"We have ignition, comrades! Maximum thrust...umbilicals detaching...the rocket is clear of the launch pad!"

"Crew of Zond 1...", comrade Klimuk's voice was shaky and barely audible over the engine roar, "...wishes everyone at home good luck!"

"We copy that, Zond 1. Go with Lennon!"



The Proton launcher roared upwards, riding a massive collumn of flame.

"Hey, Pyotr...", Klimuk's copilot turned his microphone off, "...we forgot to pee on the bus."

"Pizdets! Damn. Well, it's no use worrying about that now. I'm sure we can get away with not doing it this one time."

"Come again, Zond 1? We didn't quite catch that last transmission..."

The cosmonauts cursed under their breaths and switched their radios back to active transmit setting, rather than passive microphone.

Suddenly there was a jolt, and the roar of second stage engines was replaced by gentler vibrations of the Proton's final stage.



The launch vehicle shut down safely after merely twelve minutes of flight. The Zond 1 crew carried out their proscribed checkouts dilligently, and found no problems.

After barely an hour of spaceflight, the moment finally came. Mission control gave the spacecraft permission to ignite the Comrade Module's mighty engine, which easily hurled Zond 1 out of low Earth orbit...and towards the Moon!

---

Flight Day 4

Reel-to-reel tape recorders rolled quietly in the side room, recording every word spoken by the cosmonauts for posterity. In a mission full of historical moments, yet another was coming up, and it would be meticulously recorded. Photographers snapped photos of the mission control room, every word and gesture and decision would be recorded and filed and archived so that the world could marvel at the genius of the proud Zenobian Onion.

"We are both feeling just fine. The trip did not bother us at all. Our physical and mental condition is excellent. According to our dosimeters, we have received very modest radiation doses, far below the mission limit.", comrade cosmonaut Brzęczyszczykiewicz was giving his daily report on crew and payload biomedicals, "The insects are also active and do not seem to mind the trip at all. We have had some minor problems with urine removal systems, but that has since been fixed with duct tape."

"We are receiving you Zond 1. We wish you good luck on your flight around the far side. Hurl a shoe at the Moon for comrade premier!"

"We will see about that, mission control.", the signal was beginning to break up, "Looking forward...to..."

"This is it, comrade Chief Designer. They are out of communications for now."

Syrgy nodded, "Start the clock, please."

The control bunker had several clocks, all of which had a precisely defined purpose. The most important one of all was, of course, the mission elapsed time clock, which was also the biggest and most pronounced. However, there were several others: most of them counted down the time to several important events, such as the next maneuver, next scheduled transmission...right now, one of them began counting down the time to reacquisition of signal from the capsule.

Everybody present froze, and stared at the slowly descending numbers. There was silence at the control bunker, despite the fact no engine burn was actually needed.

And then, suddenly, it was over, and the first transmission came through. It shocked everyone even more, for it was not just strange, but also ideologically unsound.

It went "Boshe moi..."

Flight Day 7

"If you don't mind, comrades, I have here a couple of congratulatory telegrams we have received within the last couple of days, which I would like to read to you."

"Of course, go right ahead!"

"Very well. The first one reads: My greatest congratulations to the brave crew of Zond 1. You have fulfilled the dream of Vladimir Pavlovich Barman and Yurij Kobratyuk. The Motherland salutes you, the world looks upon you with envy, and much medals and corn await you upon your return!"

Chuckles sped across the lifeless void. They'd be carefully edited out by the state media before the recording's official release in thirty years, of course.

"That was from comrade premier himself, of course. The second telegram comes from an Anglian lady named Valerie Pringle. I'm sure it's not a name any of you recognize, it's just something the NKVDVDROM approved. Mrs. Pringle writes very simple: You have saved 1971."

The cosmonauts were silent for a moment, remembering the events of the last year. It was indeed a tumultuous one in the world. Perhaps their flight would help...perhaps the people of Earth would stop for a moment and contemplate what transpired during this long flight.



But they had very little time for musings. Outside the capsule's tiny windows, the Earth, their home, grew larger and larger. One more task remained that would close down their long voyage from the Earth to the Moon. One more task upon which their lived depended.

The Zond spacecraft oriented itself, guided unerringly by its onboard computronic systems, and fired its engine. Groundside stations confirmed their new trajectory.

"Comrades, that was your last maneuver, and it went perfectly. Prepare to jettison the Comrade Module, and get ready for your first atmospheric skip."

With a shudder, the capsule separated from its comrade. All that remained was...to wait.

Groundside, moods within the control bunker were elated. A special bottle of vodka was placed in the middle of the room in a bucket of ice, to be shared upon landing by the crew. Gone was the opressive atmosphere of tobacco smoke and sweat.

Today was to be a very good day.

"The capsule has finished their initial entry and pull-up maneuver. They are on top of the skip."

"All systems nominal. Velocity within parameters. Final re-entry in two minutes."

"We are coming up on entry, comrades", came a last transmission from comrade Klimuk, "We expect a warm welcome!"

The signal crackled, and the wall clock began counting the time to reacquisition of signal.

"Four minutes. No signal."

Syrgy began pacing around the room, glancing at consoles. They were empty, no telemetry data could get through the entry blackout.

"Five minutes. No telemetry."

"Don't worry, they might've went in shallower than expected...", Vasily Mishingun reassured his boss.

"Seven minutes. No telemetry."

A VDV officer in the rear of the room was on the telephone. He put down the receiver, "Recovery helicopters do not see a parachute, comrade chief designer.", he reported.

"Nine minutes. No telemetry, no signal."

Slowly, it was becoming obvious. There was a problem. Just how bad? Nobody knew yet.

---

Flight Day 8
2 A.M., Boratistan time

The deathy silence of the control room was broken by the sound of opening doors. The VDV liaison officer walked in softly. He noticed the celebratory vodka bottle was already dry, and the engineerskis were nervous again.

Well...either way, he had to give the news.

"Comrade chief designer...we have just received word from search teams that they found pieces of the capsule. They were scattered over six hundred kilometres, and we are still finding new ones...I am sorry..."

Despite the ideological differences, the vicious rhethoric, the many, many, MANY proxy wars fought across the globe, the menacing swarms of battle tanks and missile batteries glaring at each other across the border between both Thanasias, there was a certain professional courtesy between the two great competing space agencies. A hole in the iron courtain, if you will, through which handshakes could occasionally be exchanged.

"Before we resume our countdown, I would like the people listening in to take a moment and pray for the souls of the two brave cosmonauts who so tragically lost their lives not two weeks ago.", the solemn tone did not mix very well with stereotypical Braskan drawl of the mission's commander, Fred Haise, nor with the cowboy hat he smuggled aboard.



"Aye, let's dis show on road, eh? I need a damn drink!"

"You ALWAYS need a drink, John. It's a wonder the flight surgeon didn't ground you yet."

"Errr, Odyssey, you're on Vox."

"BALLS!", said John May. That happened entirely too often in the Murcan space program. It was almost as if somebody deliverately set the radios to vox before strapping in the crew, just to see what embarassing thing they'd say on the next launch.

"We're ready. Vehicle closeout is complete. White Room retracted."

"Go for APU start."

"Verify range safety, safety & arm device armed."

"Go on range safety. LOX replenish terminated."

Common Carter Connoway was nervous, which didn't happen often. If the damn commies could get their incredibly rugged design to fail in new and exciting ways, what could happen to the vastly more complicated shuttle?

He went over the checklist once more. His people were working down through it methodically.

"T-2 minutes. Still go."

"Initiate LH2 repress. Closing LOX & LH2 outboard fill & drain. Deactivate booster heaters."

"GLS go for auto sequence."

"ARM cut off. Initiate RSL5."

"Booster APUs start. Twenty seconds."

"Activate sound supression water. Fifteen seconds."

"Booster MDMS lockout. 10 seconds. Free hydrogen burn off system ignitition."

"Go for final sequence. Ten. Nine. Go for main engine start. Eight. Seven. Six. Main engine start. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Booster ignition, liftoff!"



"We have liftoff! Jeebus I still can't believe this is the seventh minishuttle flight. Holy shit look at it go. Goddamn!"

"FIDO?", Connoway asked nervously. He couldn't help it.

"We're lookin' good flight, woof, right down the middle."

Fortunately for Connoway's nerves, the ascent went splendidly, and the Odyssey was in orbit after less than fiften minutes.



"Okay, that was a great launch, everyone! And from the telemetry, we're within range of the Agena. First orbit, hah!"

"MURCA FUCK YEAH!!!", someone yelled, which even the most die-hard capitalist lolbertarians present found to be in poor taste.

"Good. Listen, I think we'll start by testing the PLSS backpacks first. We'll see if astronauts can work with an independent life support pack in case of an emergency. The flight plan had us doing the EVA after docking, but..."

Johny Olds put out his cigarette. He was serving as CAPCOM for the mission, "Yeah, yeah. I got the gist of it."

The alternative flight procedure was relayed quickly, and the flight crew agreed it was a good idea.



The Portable Life Support System backpacks on all three suits worked great, both during stand-up EVA in the open cockpit canopy as well as during work. And there was plenty of work to be done, photographing the Odyssey's heat shield, setting up materials experiments to test for radiation impact and other tasks.



The Agena hanged off to the side of the ship, the first-orbit rendezvous between two orbiting objects completed well before the EVA was even started. While the crazy haggistani wanted to stay outside to, in his words, "Watch the mating", the flight director sadly did not give his go-ahead.

"Okay, we are back in the cabin now...we're pressurized and are approaching the Agena. Radar working good. RCS to docking mode."

"Roger, RCS to docking mode", the Haggistani sounded utterly professional now that the two spacecraft were closing in on each other while flying 7 kilometres per second, "Got a lock."

"Closing in...wait, something's wrong..."

Silence fell across the link, "Uh, we have a problem. I can't line up in docking mode."

"What? Say again, Odyssey?"

"RCS is all wonky. Yaw doesn't work, pitch is reversed...I'm going to aux and will try to...shit!"



The engineer at the guidance station leapt up suddenly, "Flight, we've lost telemetry!"

"Odyssey!", Olds began to call out, "Come in, Odyssey!"

Boshe moi!

I'd rather have slammed into the moon...

Murca's got a much better shot now, but... damn.

Damn.

Also, fucking docking, right? But that just pales in comparison.

I hope it doesn't come to this, but what happens if neither party makes it to the moon by 1977, the game's end?

Then a huge "YOU SUCK, MORON!" will be displayed on the end screen ?

It would have been funny if the capsule would have slammed into the moon and the politburo would have claimed a controlled landing, with brave Zenobian cosmonauts having volunteered for a no-return mission for the benefit of the Great Onion!

Flight Day 1

"It's all dead!"

"Are we having a power problem? Please tell me it's not a power problem."

"I don't think so...shit, we're right next to the Agena! Okay, easy. Let's start resetting the circuit breakers..."

"No, I have a better idea. Reset the computer."

May glanced sideways at Anders, but shrugged and did so. The darkened cabin of the Odyssey suddenly came to life.

"....come in!", the radio squawked.

"This is Odyssey, we're having computer problems. Something related to the RCS docking mode."

"Uh...copy that Odyssey. Stand by."

The flight controllers rushed to their handy ten-kilogram binders. Within five minutes, the guidance engineer presented an answer, though it wasn't a very good one.

"I think there's a software problem. I don't think we can correct it in orbit."

"Aww...god dammit! Fine. Wake the programmers and have them work on a solution. If we can't get it solved before we have to shut down the Agena, the mission is scrubbed."



Unfortunately, try as they might, the biggest, sweater-vest and thick-rimmed glass wearing nerds in all of Murca were not able to figure out a solution. Thus, with a weary sigh, Common Carter Connoway ordered the mission to be aborted, and the spaceplane brought back.



At least they had this much luck, and nothing broke on the way down.
The vile, foul, commienist Zenobians have failed. Their nation was in mourning over the loss of two brave cosmonauts, the crew beloved for their antics in deep space, the brave Heroes Of The Onion.

Due to this fanfare, the media have missed another event, one much less bombastically announced after the disaster of Zond 1.



Cosmonaut Karzanovski bit his lip as he gently guided the first manned version of the Lapot minishuttle on its glide flight.

"Final approach. Pitch holding, no vibrations...I can see the runway.", he reported via radio. He could scarcely believe it: they were hurled into the skies on a rocket, went through the inferno of re-entry, and now were guiding their comrade shoeplane down!

It was great.

"Velocity is now below 200, gear deployed..."



"...touchdown!"

---

GM Note: God, this update took a lot of work. And it's not even entirely done yet!

FaxModem1 wrote:I hope it doesn't come to this, but what happens if neither party makes it to the moon by 1977, the game's end?

Uh, basically what LaCroix said. The game ends and tells you how much you suck.

You only have ten turns left ; Get on it!

I was worried there when I saw the "loss of telemetry" shit for Hermes VII. Thank jeebus it was just a failed docking, losing a minishuttle would sink us permenantly I think.

This just proves how much of a bastard the BARIS programmers are methinks.

Damn it! We were so close! But I salute our brave Cosmonaughts, for we are at least still significantly ahead of the Muricans, and I won't hear otherwise!

OmegaChief wrote:Damn it! We were so close! But I salute our brave Cosmonaughts, for we are at least still significantly ahead of the Muricans, and I won't hear otherwise!

Wait until you see your new budget

Oh dear, losing ten prestige on something like this is going to be bad. Not to mention the massive safety hit the Zond is going to take.

Eternal_Freedom wrote:Oh dear, losing ten prestige on something like this is going to be bad. Not to mention the massive safety hit the Zond is going to take.

The net prestige hit is only -2, but there is a random component to budgeting that I hadn't quite figured out. Or maybe it's not random at all and manned catastrophes just hit more? I don't know.

I would think manned catastrophes would hit you more. If nothing else they are going to be more expensive, as not only have you lost the equipment but the two pilots, and the two million dollars you spent training them, and now you have less pilots and less flight crews and it all goes to shit.

In Liftoff, at least, prestige doesn't exist as a separate idea - the charts for what is prestige in this game is simply budget modification; those numbers directly affect your next year's budget.

The other part of it is that every event card (excepting the events which directly modify your budget) has a small budget modification chart; you find the range your budget is in (it goes something like 0-50, 51-100, 101-150, 151+) and you apply the corresponding budget bonus or penalty to next year's budget. At the bottom end is almost always big budget boosts; at the top end is budget penalties. In the middle ranges it can go either way. There doesn't seem to be a strong relationship between the event and the budget modifiers, though, and since BARIS doesn't show you that chart it's difficult to tell exactly what the changes were. My guess would be though that there was also a hidden budget hit on the "Proton problem" event that the Zenobians got at the beginning of Fall 71; that's why it's important to keep track of the "projected budget" number in the Budget Office under Administration.

I just dug out the "Minor Rocket Problem; pay 10 MB or -5% on next mission" cards; one of them is +1 for 101-150, the other is -5 in the same range. But by PeZook's tone, that doesn't seem to quite account for whatever the overall budget hit was.

AAAAGH.

I'm sorry, comrades...

OK, damage control factor: this does not impact Lapot reliability. On the other hand, it means I'll need to fly a Lapot lunar pass along with everything else.

Of course, if my budget goes to shit to the point where I can't afford launches, this becomes kind of irrelevant.

I can't do a full scale turn update right now (maybe later in the evening though), so I'll just say this:

Zenobians have 88 megarubloids, Voskhod took a huge reliability hit.

Murcans have 125 megabucks with no particular problems.

Wait, we're down to 88?

Oh god.

EDIT: We may still be able to do this- lunar module development plus Lapot testing is still practical for next year. We can get to on-schedule-ish that way, and we don't have any more large capital investments to make short of the moon.

But... aaargh.

Sigh.

I will need to sit down and figure out whether joint launches would be a cheaper plan than 'historical' launches. Paying for two Protons, especially two boosted Protons, ain't cheap, but it would save us the cost of N-1 research...

Also, I'm trying to figure something out. The mission rolled a 98 on reentry, but it's "91 vs 98." That means the 'target number' was 91, da...

Which makes sense if I'm flying a 92% reliable Voskhod capsule with a -1% for it being a record-setting mission (FUCK SO CLOSE AARGH WHY COULDN'T THEY HAVE REMEMBERED TO PISS ON THE BUS), but where'd the 4% for Hero-Comrade of the Zenobian Onion, Pyotr Klimuk, super-space-pilot go?

Indeed Comrade, from now on pissing on the bus will be Mandatory on pain of NKDVDROM stickbeatings, that should avoid this kind of bad luck from showing up again.

Oh man, is this becoming a horserace?

Just thought I would mention that Sam is still watching quietly from his design bunker. And he is loving the mini shuttles