I have no idea, frankly. I have just ran a couple lunar passes from the last save, and the slight yellow bar is present during re-entry, so pilot skill should matter.Simon_Jester wrote: 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?
Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Moderator: Thanas
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11
Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.
MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
Re: Fall 1968 status
CHAPTER 10: THE CHROME AGE
Time is: Spring 1972
Launch windows: Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn
MURCA
TEDDY SPACE CENTER
"FUCKER!"Time is: Spring 1972
Launch windows: Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn
MURCA
TEDDY SPACE CENTER
The Director was drunk. That was pretty much the default state of things at THE CAPE right now. His underlings attempted to shield Johny von Braun from congress and their meddling, since in the current political climate, it was likely a new apointee would start changing things around: and that would be bad. Really bad, seeing as MASA worked like a well-oiled machine by now, and was only starting to slowly regain the lead.
"SON OF A BITCH!"
But now, Johny von Braun insulted the President himself. And while Dick Trickson, the famous "Dicky Trick", was merely a spineless Demonrat, he was the sort of rat that slid into your bed at night and chewed through your Achilles sinews.
Colorful metaphors aside, it was bad. Very very bad.
The media presented that scuffle as "heated discussion", at least, but the Director ranted and raged at the President since then, and unfortunately, did so loud enough for everyone to hear.
"FUCKING BASTARD COMMIENIST IDIOT CU...uhh....err...", herr von Braun leaned forwards and fell asleep on his desk.
"Jawohl!", Wehrner von Shapp said, putting a pillow under the Director's head, "Now, Maximillian, go ahead and run to the budget meeting. I can handle things here, jawohl?"
"Woof!", the Thanasian shepherd grabbed a bunch of binders and ran out. He was already late, and there was much to discuss, such as the recent wave of training accidents, and of course the way John May expressed his dissatisfaction with the crew assignments: that is, by playing his buttpipes all night long under Fred Haise's window.
For the last six weeks.
Code: Select all
Current funds: 125 megabucks
Astronauts in XMS-2 program:
Crew I:
OLDS - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 0, DOCK 3, END 3 ; MOOD: 33 (Pilot)
GORDON - CAP 0, LM 1, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 3 ; MOOD: 61 (LM Pilot/EVA specialist)
WILLIAMS - CAP 1, LM 3, EVA 1, DOCK 2, END 1 ; MOOD: 71 (Docking specialist)
Crew II:
HAISE - CAP 4, LM 3, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 2 ; MOOD: 52 (Pilot)
ANDERS - CAP 0, LM 2, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 1 ; MOOD: 47 (LM Pilot/ EVA Specialist)
MAY - CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 2, DOCK 4, END 2 ; MOOD: 57 (Docking specialist) - will retire next year
Crew III:
BROWN - CAP 4, LM 2, EVA 2, DOCK 1, END 2 ; MOOD: 29
CUNNINGHAM - CAP 1, LM 2, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 4 ; MOOD: 83
MCCANDLESS - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 0, DOCK 2, END 2 ; MOOD: 78
Crew V:
LOOPY - CAP 4, LM 1, EVA 2, DOCK 3, END 2 ; MOOD: 42
COLLINS - CAP 0, LM 3, EVA 4, DOCK 1, END 1 ; MOOD: 80
SUITCASE - CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 2, DOCK 4, END 3 ; MOOD: 67
Unassigned astronauts:
RAVENSBURG - CAP 3, LM 3, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 4 ; MOOD: 21
EISELE - CAP 0, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 1, END 3 ; MOOD: 44
ROCKET - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 2 ; MOOD: 84
CHAFFEE - CAP 0, LM 1, EVA 2, DOCK 3, END 2 ; MOOD: 84
Astronauts in training:
BRAND - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 2, END 2
BEAN - CAP 2, LM 2, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 1 - INJURED, laid up in hospital
ENGLE - CAP 3, LM 3, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 1
EVANS - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 1, DOCK 2, END 1
FREEMAN - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 1
MUSGRAVE - CAP 4, LM 0, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 2
CRIPEN - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 0, DOCK 4, END 3
FULLERTON - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 1, END 1
HARTSFIELD - CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 1
OVERMEYER - CAP 3, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 4
PETERSON- CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 0
MCKAY - CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 4
HENIZE - CAP 1, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 2
Other astronauts:
CARR - physical washout, spring 1972
TRULY - physical washout, spring 1972
WEITZ - physical washout, spring 1972
SWIGERT - retired spring 1972, elected to Congress.
CONRAD - retired fall 1971
BARNESTI - retired spring 1971
REXMODEM - retired fall 1968
BORMAN - retired fall 1968
KNIGHT - retired fall 1967
FLASHHEART - retired fall 1967
MODEMJR - retired spring 1965
CUNTSER - retired fall 1965
KELLY - retired spring 1965
MCCAIN - retired fall 1963
HARDBEEF - retired spring 1963
OHJESUS - DECEASED, MERCURY IX
JOHNSON - DECEASED, MERCURY XVI
Programs running: Explorer, Ranger, Mighty Strapons, Atlas, Titan, Mercury, XMS-2, EVA Suits, Kicker-B, Docking
Launch pads: 3
Scheduled missions:
Launch Pad A, Manned orbital docking (ORBIT) Duration-D, XMS-2/B-Titan, Crew III/Crew I
Launch Pad B, None
Launch Pad C, None***
ZENOBIA
BAIKONUREK
You are in an OFFICE. The OFFICE is very SPARTAN. The OFFICE is INSIDE a BUNKER.
There are copious PAPERS. There are many NKVDVDROM BUGS everywhere. There is also a YOUNG HEAT SHIELD SCIENTIST. The YOUNG HEAT SHIELD SCIENTIST is very NERVOUS. He has been recently TRANSFERED to WORK at BAIKONUREK.
YOUNG HEAT SHIELD SCIENTIST Says: I have been ordered to report to your office, comrade. Here are my transfer papers.
YOUNG HEAT SHIELD SCIENTIST has IMPRESSIVE CREDENTIALS from TOP UNIVERSITIES in <REDACTED> ALLIED COUNTRIES. It is REMOTELY POSSIBLE he comes from a SECRET COMMIENIST SATELLITE. He WOULD NOT SAY.
FUCKER NEWTONSKI is NOT AMUSED. He BIDS to USE his mastery of THERMODYNAMICS to DEFEAT all WORK of YOUNG HEAT SHIELD SCIENTIST and MAKE him RUN to his MAMUSHKA.
What do you do? _
Code: Select all
Current funds: 88 megarubloids
Cosmonauts in Voskhod program:
Crew II:
BORISOV - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 1, END 1 ; MOOD: 25
NEFARTNYI - CAP 2, LM 2, EVA 1, DOCK 3, END 2 ; MOOD: 46
Cosmonauts not assigned to programs:
KARZANOVSKI - CAP 4, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 3 ; MOOD: 50
ZHOLOBOV - CAP 1, LM 3, EVA 1, DOCK 1, END 3 ; MOOD: 70
LAZAREV - CAP 1, LM 3, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 2 ; MOOD: 47
FILLYERESKI - CAP 1, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 3, END 1 ; MOOD: 49 - will retire next season
YEBANOVY - CAP 2, LM 3, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 2 ; MOOD: 49
GRECHKO - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 3, END 2 ; MOOD: 61
KOVALYANOK - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 3, DOCK 1, END 4 ; MOOD: 53
MAKAROV - CAP 0, LM 2, EVA 1, DOCK 3, END 2 ; MOOD: 48
Cosmonauts in training:
JKERMAN - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 0, DOCK 2, END 1
LEBEDEV - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 2, DOCK 0, END 4
SEREBROV - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 1, DOCK 4, END 2
BEREZOVOI - CAP 2, LM 3, EVA 2, DOCK 1, END 2
GURRAGCHAA - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 3
SAVINYKH - CAP 4, LM 0, EVA 1, DOCK 1, END 2
STREKALOV - CAP 4, LM 2, EVA 1, DOCK 2, END 1
ATKOV - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 3, DOCK 1, END 3
IVANOV - CAP 3, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 2, END 1
JAEHN - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 3
VOLISHIN - CAP 2, LM 2, EVA 2, DOCK 0, END 2
BELOUSOV - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 1
ZYKOV - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 1, END 3
ZAIKIN - CAP 2, LM 2, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 3
REMEK - CAP 1, LM 0, EVA 4, DOCK 2, END 2
Other cosmonauts:
SOLOVYEV - Physical washout, Spring 1972
KLIMUK - Deceased, Zond 1, Fall 1971
BRZECZYSZCZ - Deceased, Zond 1, Fall 1971
RUKAVISHNIKOV - retired spring 1972
SMIRNOFF - retired spring 1972
IVANCHENKOV - retired fall 1971
LEBEDEV - retired fall 1971
MAMETOV - joined the Red Army in 1969.
PETROV - imprisoned for re-education in Spring 1969
FAAABIO - retired spring 1969
BEREGOVOY - retired spring 1969
YEBANOV - retired spring 1968
ALEXANDROV - washed out in training, fall 1967
DIGADITCH - left to join the Red Army, spring 1967
NIKOV - retired Fall 1966
DOSTAROVASKI - Forcibly retired, Fall 1964
TITOV - Retired Spring 1964
IVANOVICH - Grounded due to lung cancer
VLADIMIRENSKY - Deceased, training accident
IVANOV - Deceased, VOSTOK VII
Programs running: Sputnik, Cosmos satellite, Lunar Probe,A-Series, Proton, Booster stage, Voskhod, EVA Suits, Docking module, Lapot, Kicker-B, N-1
Launch pads: 3
Scheduled missions:
Launch pad A, Unmanned suborbital, Lapot/B-A Series
Launch pad B, Unmanned suborbital, Lapot/B-A Series
Launch pad C, None
Interesting...several cosmonauts got huge morale boosts this season? And the overall morale drop in the cosmonaut corps is...pretty small, mostly one point here and there. Murcans were hit much worse thanks to their incompatible Hermes crews (poor poor Fred Haise...)
It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11
Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.
MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
-
Simon_Jester
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 30165
- Joined: 2009-05-23 07:29pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
SYRGY PAVYLVYCH looks at YOUNG HEAT SHIELD SCIENTIST.
"So tell me, what do you think of skip reentry trajectories?"
"...Very dangerous, to be avoided if at all possible. Prone to extreme accelerations, also to unpredictability of final descent position-"
"You'll do. You'll definitely do. I have a... recently vacated office in the Manned Shuttle Lab for you, in fact. Hopefully you can pick up where your predecessor left off- there is much work to do regarding modeling of the ZiG-105 shield's performance, especially from a trans-lunar trajectory."
Spoiler
"So tell me, what do you think of skip reentry trajectories?"
"...Very dangerous, to be avoided if at all possible. Prone to extreme accelerations, also to unpredictability of final descent position-"
"You'll do. You'll definitely do. I have a... recently vacated office in the Manned Shuttle Lab for you, in fact. Hopefully you can pick up where your predecessor left off- there is much work to do regarding modeling of the ZiG-105 shield's performance, especially from a trans-lunar trajectory."
Spoiler
This space dedicated to Vasily Arkhipov
-
OmegaChief
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 904
- Joined: 2009-07-22 11:37am
- Location: Rainy Suburb, Northern England
- Contact:
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
VERY UNNAMUSED COMMISSAR marches out of RECENTLY VACATED OFFICE after having insured UNPLEASENT THINGS had been performed on the approriate people in responce to the recent CATASTROPHIC FAILURE.
He SMILES UNNERVINGLY at the people he walks past, it had been a while since there was a CATASTROPHIC FAILURE after all.
Spoiler
He SMILES UNNERVINGLY at the people he walks past, it had been a while since there was a CATASTROPHIC FAILURE after all.
Spoiler
This odyssey, this, exodus. Do we journey toward the promised land, or into the valley of the kings? Three decades ago I envisioned a new future for our species, and now that we are on the brink of realizing my dream, I feel only solitude, and regret. Has my entire life's work been a fool's crusade? Have I led my people into this desert, only to die?
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
-
Simon_Jester
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 30165
- Joined: 2009-05-23 07:29pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Trouble is, two boosted Protons cost 32 MB per launch, and possibly require two kickers for extra cost depending on how we do the rendevous. One N-1, even boosted, saves us 10-14 MB per launch, and we're going to be doing a goodly number of launches.
Plus the first N-1 is effectively free- we got it as part of program startup costs. For the price of buying Protons to do that N-1's job, we could put four teams' research into N-1 and get it up to around 75% reliability or so.
I don't know what to say- I'm going to have to think about budget for next year and see whether the money's there.
Plus the first N-1 is effectively free- we got it as part of program startup costs. For the price of buying Protons to do that N-1's job, we could put four teams' research into N-1 and get it up to around 75% reliability or so.
I don't know what to say- I'm going to have to think about budget for next year and see whether the money's there.
This space dedicated to Vasily Arkhipov
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OmegaChief
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 904
- Joined: 2009-07-22 11:37am
- Location: Rainy Suburb, Northern England
- Contact:
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
We really do need to start up Duet ASAP too, we are starting to run low on time after all, on the upside switchign to lapots should save us on capsual costs.
This odyssey, this, exodus. Do we journey toward the promised land, or into the valley of the kings? Three decades ago I envisioned a new future for our species, and now that we are on the brink of realizing my dream, I feel only solitude, and regret. Has my entire life's work been a fool's crusade? Have I led my people into this desert, only to die?
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
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Scottish Ninja
- Jedi Knight
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- Location: Not Scotland, that's for sure
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
MASA Administration
The Cape
December 21st, 1971
The longest night of the year
The clock had struck eleven in Engineer’s office, where he expected to be for another few hours, going through the piles of reports that came into his office. Normally they got only a cursory glance before going in the out tray, but tonight he didn’t want to sleep - the nightmares had come back, along with a growing sense of unease bubbling in his stomach.
He was topping off his mug of now-cold coffee with a dash of whiskey when he realised his secretary was still at her desk outside the door. Something bothered him about that woman; it wasn’t really the too-long hair, completely out of style; that was too obvious in a world of subtleties.
Of course, that she was still here at this hour was too obvious to be ignored. Carrying the coffee mug to the door, he poked his head out and asked, “What are you still doing here?”
She didn’t even look up. “I go home when you go home, sir.”
Engineer frowned. “You don’t have to stay late just because I am, ah...” His brain desperately scrambled for her name; she’d been here since August, why couldn’t he remember? He saw her every day... “...Mira. Go on, go home, get some rest. You look like you need it.”
She didn’t look like she needed it at all. “I go home when you go home, sir.” More pointed this time.
“But you don’t have anything to do! Who could it hurt - I don’t have any appointments, do I?”
“No, Dr. Engineer, I don’t have much to do. That isn’t the same as nothing. Don’t worry about me - that isn’t your job. I’m sure you have plenty to do, so I’ll be right here in case you need anything.”
“In that case, do you think you could get me some fresh coffee? And, um, maybe... a little, er, extra spice to go with it?”
Engineer’s frown deepened as she walked away, slightly relieved she wasn’t looking at him. The unease rattling in his gut had just jumped up a notch. He couldn’t believe now that his secretary was nothing more than just a secretary. But what else?
December 22nd, 1971
Atwater had showed up bright and early that morning, surprising Engineer, since he’d closed his eyes around four and hadn’t realized it until his aide shook him awake in the darkness. The clock said 6:30 - he hadn’t dreamed, and suddenly felt better than he had in the last week.
“You ought to fire that secretary of yours,” Atwater said, “I came in and she had her eyes closed! I haven’t seen a worse example of such a lazy, ungrateful parasite. I tell you - this country is going to shake those kinds of people off some day, and when that day comes it will be glorious.”
“Hrm, what?” Engineer said, “Give her a break, she’s been here all night, don’t know why, refused to go home when I told her to.”
And she had indeed “spiced up” the pot of coffee she brought for him, with something that burned harder than RP-1 or hydrazine. Engineer had half a mind to ask her where she got it - alcoholic rocket fuel had fallen out of favor in the past decades, but this just might revive them, if his experience with it was anything to go by.
“Anyway, boss, I’ve got the report here on the lunar real estate scheme. It’s strange - doesn’t seem to have gone very far. We got one big sale - to Director von Braun, of all people, but otherwise there hasn’t been much interest. Not many people have taken it too seriously, but don’t worry, they’ll realize the opportunity it presents before too long. We’ll show the world that the good old Murcan free market can and will conquer the Moon. Other bad news is, Congress took our estimates at face value and reduced the budget accordingly.”
“I’ve got some ideas about how to get them to drive funding back up - some innovative political techniques, very sort of stealthy like, so the Congressmen we put pressure on don’t figure out where it’s coming from and take revenge. You see, we hire a polling company...”
“Another time, Lee. We’ve got too much to do as it is. How much money did you say the plan brought in?” Engineer scanned the document quickly. “Jeebus, that won’t even buy us a sounding rocket, let alone a Saturn V. I know - we’ll distribute the money as Christmas bonuses; that might help keep morale up.”
“To who, boss?”
“Everyone on the staff, of course, split it up evenly.” Engineer saw the look of sudden horror on Atwater’s face. “What - you mean everyone? Even the janitors?”
Engineer frowned again. “Well, why not? What’s wrong with Christmas bonuses?”
“It’s just that - “ Atwater remembered just in time that the Permanent Acting Underdirector did not quite share his views on ‘parasites’ - “well, some of them, some of the janitors - they’re furriners!”
“Huh? Let me see...” Atwater handed Engineer the staff directory, who leafed through it. “What are you worried about, Atwater? There’s not a single Ivanchenkov on the payroll. There are a few foreigners, right, that’s a Canuckistani, no worries there, two Mohicans, as if we could do without them, a Filipino, everyone knows they just want to be Murcans anyway...”
“What about Ivans, sir?”
“What about Ivans?”
“You said there were no Ivanchenkovs; what about other kinds of Ivans?”
Engineer went through the list again. “Nope, no Ivanovs, Ivanovichs, Ivanstenskys, Ivantabeers, no Ivans, Lee. Our secrets are safe.”
“What about this one? Ivan Mickey O’Rourke?”
“Oh, come off it, Lee, the Irish can be trusted, can’t they?”
Or could they? Come to think of it, his secretary was Irish-Murcan, wasn’t she?
“Lee, do you have any experience in counterintelligence?”
“Counterintelligence?” Atwater looked puzzled. “No, sir, I’m a student of politics. It may be a similar sort of game but they play in a different ballpark.”
“Hrmph. Keep an eye on that fellow though. Or have someone else keep an eye on him. Or something.”
MASA Christmas Party
December 25th, 1971
Unnamed MASA Engineer had a headache again - worse than ever before, and he hadn’t even touched any of the unmarked bottles that he suspected his secretary of having brought to the party. The punch had only been spiked with cheap bourbon, and he hadn’t even had much of that. Spirits were high - and flowing freely - after his announcement of the bonuses, and even Atwater had taken a few stiff drinks, enough to leave him practically tripping with every step, until someone had sat him down. The noise, though, had forced Engineer out into the dark and quiet hallways, where he paced, alone.
He saw a dark shape move in the corner of his eye; he whipped around, but there was no one there, down the corridor. Engineer stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe; there had been an incident two days ago when a routine satellite launch had gone completely out of control, refusing to respond even to the range safety self-destruct, and impacted on a La Banana beach, and Castrol had promised Cubic’s revenge on MASA. Was this it, then? Cubic terrorists attacking a MASA party?
The moment his breath came back, Engineer ducked into the first door he got to, which confusingly was his office - hadn’t he been down by Accounting a moment ago? He got to his desk, yanked open the top left drawer, and drew a Small & Weak .38 revolver.
When he tried to swing out the cylinder, he discovered that he’d made a mistake; the gun wasn’t a Small & Weak at all, but an Anglian .455 Webbing Mk. VI, or was it? The maker’s mark stamped on the revolver said Webley; that was only made less strange by the fact that he’d accidentally gone into his secretary’s desk instead of his and still come up with a gun.
Come to think of it - as hard as that was at the moment - where was his secretary? Engineer had seen her early on at the party - overhearing a few snide remarks about her fashion sense from a posse from the secretary pool - but he didn’t recall seeing her when he made his announcements earlier, when he’d been looking over everyone, and he was sure he’d have remembered seeing her then.
Engineer stumbled through the inner door, checked his desk for the S&W, took it and the scotch, and opened the window. The sweet, cold sea air helped clear his mind considerably; the scotch did not.
There was a long, low rumble of thunder from out to sea; Engineer stuck his head out of the window, to see the dim silhouette of a ship illuminated by a distant flash of lightning. And was it just his imagination or were those specks on the water boats? But the image was gone, almost instantly, and lost in the deeper darkness.
There was a creak behind him; he jumped, before he realized that it was only the wind blowing against the door inside. He closed the window as another bolt of lightning struck far out on the water; had that been a flash of light in the hallway, or just a reflection of the lightning?
He made his way out of the office; past his secretary’s desk, where he replaced the Webbing, without thinking; thought about it, and then left it there; then out past the door that said “Permanent Acting Underdirector, Dr. U.M. Engineer”, and out into the hallway, with the revolver in one hand, the scotch in the other, and the flashlight in the last.
Wait. He didn’t have a flashlight. Or three hands.
No, someone else had the flashlight - he put his hand up, with the bottle of scotch in it, to ward off the glare; he realized soon it was one of the security guards, who looked poised to perpetrate some act of wannabe-police brutality, before the guard realized exactly which armed intruder Engineer was, and asked if he was all right, and he would probably do well to put the bottle and the gun away, and Engineer stammered out something about terrorists, and the guard told him that he and the rest of the security staff could handle any Yurpans who tried to sabotage the rockets, and no he meant Cubic terrorists, and what was this about Yurpans, then he had to sit down.
Apparently there was a new Yurpan Space Administration around, and the Stenchies and Thanasians and all the rest of them had designs on the Moon as well, and there was a COLON report going around that they planned to sabotage both the Murcan space program as well as the Zenobians, and that was in fact the cause of the deaths of the cosmonauts that had been filling his dreams.
“Unbelievable,” Engineer spat.
“That was the content of the COLON report that we received, sir.”
Engineer sighed, still sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. “Well, how about you help me up, and guide me to the exit. I can’t navigate too well right now, but I think I’d like to talk a walk outside...”
“It’s pretty cold out there, sir, are you sure?”
“I’m from Minisofa, kid, the summers are colder than this. I’ll be fine - and I’ll leave this with you,” Engineer said, thrusting the bottle of scotch at him. The guard couldn’t be more than nineteen, he saw; he would do anything the Underdirector told him; he wouldn’t know any better.
Outside, Engineer walked with only a slight stagger through the parking lot; the shivering guard followed him for a short while then at Engineer’s urging headed back inside. The wind was whipping hard across the Cape now; the gap between the lightning and thunder was growing shorter. A bolt of lightning suddenly leapt out to strike the tip of a sounding rocket on its pad to the north, and arced down the fuselage to the ground. “Shit!” Engineer said, then his brain flashed an alert at him; there had been a group of people on the grass between the parking lot and the launch pads, doing something. He began walking in their direction, then running, before his brain barked out a warning at him, but he kept jogging towards them until finally his brain refused to let his legs carry him any farther, and yanked him down behind a car. Or had he done that? It had felt weird, like an unseen force had pulled at him. He started to pull himself up behind the car, when the lightning struck again - this time in the parking lot itself, less than a hundred yards away. The thunder crashed in his ears, and the wind of the bullet’s passage past his ear was the only indication that oh shit someone was shooting at him. He reached over the hood of the car and fired blindly at where he had seen the people on the grass - four shots, one empty chamber.
Then he ran, furiously, towards the vast, towering white bulk of the VAB in the distance; they were coming for his Saturn V, he knew it.
Luckily he didn’t actually stop when he realized that the VAB was still an increasingly filthy and dilapidated corrugated iron hangar, and that it certainly held no Saturn V yet. He took refuge behind a small hillock to catch his breath and reload his revolver, before he reached into his pocket and found that he hadn’t brought any spare ammunition.
A lightning bolt lit up the advancing Cubic terrorists - or Yurpans? Or what?
The lightning bolt had gone horizontally. Terrified, Engineer pulled himself as flat as he could against the ground behind the hillock, as he was almost reassured by the swarm of red fireflies that descended upon the attackers from the roof of the VAB; those were good ol’ Murcan heavy machine gun tracers. He crawled away, towards the VAB, only to be cut off by another group of dark figures approaching from the old Mercury complex; he ran full tilt towards the satellite labs, hoping to find some guards or to get a phone and call for help or something; a red bolt flashed out from the corner of the building, away from him - that was no tracer round, whatever it was, and then he thought that he had seen someone with quite long hair disappear back behind the building.
He kept running - called out, confused and frightened still, when he reached the corner of the building. There was no one there now, but - behind him - another group of attackers.
Frozen in place, pressed up against the wall, Engineer heard them speak - a strange language that he didn’t recognize - and then lightning flashed again, sideways, rightways, up, down, around, he couldn’t tell, but when he looked down there was a submachine gun there, a Greasy Gun with a great big silencer. Moments later he stepped around the corner with doom in his eyes and the gun spat brilliant red fire, strontium nitrate fire. The terrorists crumpled, and then something blasted a chunk out of the white concrete wall behind him and more light came his way. He ran again, tossing away the empty gun, and tried the side door to the labs - locked - and kicked the glass - only managing to stub his toe.
So he ran again, his lungs burning with the raw cold air, this time straight for the VAB, now across the open ground. He collapsed at the hangar door, ten feet ajar; a rifle shot crashed out above his head, and suddenly there were hands under his arms, dragging him inside.
He looked up, and it was his secretary? But wearing black combat gear, and there were others, and there was something strange about her, about her head, something on her belt, but he couldn’t focus, neither his eyes or his mind, in the darkness and confusion.
“You’ll be all right,” she said, and touched his cheek, and he couldn’t feel anything anymore.
Vehicle Assembly Building
The Cape
December 26, 1971
Unnamed MASA Engineer woke, startled, with a crick in his back; he’d been sleeping sitting against the nosewheel of Odyssey. The small door at the end of the main hangar door was open, and a security guard was walking towards him; the young one, who had helped him find his way out last night.
“There you are, sir!” The guard’s face wrinkled in a frown. “Have you been here all night? Nobody saw you go home from the party last night.”
The fog cleared from Engineer’s mind; he snapped up, jumped to his feet, grabbed the guard by his lapels and said, “What about the attack?”
“Attack, sir? What are you talking about?”
“The terrorists! Yurpan - probably, they weren’t speaking any language I knew of - they were all over, we were fighting them, I was fighting them, my secretary was fighting them - “
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir? That drink can’t have done you much good - and I heard you haven’t been sleeping well - “
“I HAVE BEEN SLEEPING PERFECTLY WELL, THANK YOU!” Engineer yelled. “And this was real - there was gunfire all over the place, other things too - you must have seen something - heard something -”
“Maybe you should see a doctor, Dr. Engineer, a medical doctor. Sir, if there was a fight here, I would’ve been the first to know about it.”
“I can show you - I swear, look at the ground, the buildings - they’ve been ripped up with bullets - you didn’t hear anything?”
“Sir, the grounds are as neat as St. Andrews golf course, I can assure you. Please, sir, I’ll get my Geeper and drive you to go see a doctor in Orseado; no one else needs to know. It’s all perfectly fine, sir; just that the press might consider it embarassing.”
Unnamed Engineer finished deflating, and quietly followed the guard out of the VAB; but one thing was still real in his mind, and that was the future of this building. The first stage was finished at Michoud; now he just needed to make his vision real.
Unnamed MASA Engineer's MASA Plan, Spring 1972
Notes: Well, dammit. The Zenobians can take solace in one thing; the failure of the Zond flight has thrown my plans for a loop. I was expecting to be able to delay Saturn V development, knowing I wouldn't likely catch you in lunar flights, to develop the Eagle...
So otherwise, this will be pretty simple: mostly like the Spring 1971 Plan 2.
Hardware Purchase
1x Saturn V (90 MB)
Remaining Budget: 35 MB
Research & Development
3x teams on Saturn V (18 MB)
3x teams on Kicker-B (6 MB)
Astronaut Management:
Break up the incompatible crews; try and form new ones as you are able.
Mission Scheduling:
No missions for Fall 1972.
Mission Go/No-Go Status:
SCRUB all missions. Saturn V eats the budget.
Remaining Budget for Fall 1971: 11 MB
The Cape
December 21st, 1971
The longest night of the year
The clock had struck eleven in Engineer’s office, where he expected to be for another few hours, going through the piles of reports that came into his office. Normally they got only a cursory glance before going in the out tray, but tonight he didn’t want to sleep - the nightmares had come back, along with a growing sense of unease bubbling in his stomach.
He was topping off his mug of now-cold coffee with a dash of whiskey when he realised his secretary was still at her desk outside the door. Something bothered him about that woman; it wasn’t really the too-long hair, completely out of style; that was too obvious in a world of subtleties.
Of course, that she was still here at this hour was too obvious to be ignored. Carrying the coffee mug to the door, he poked his head out and asked, “What are you still doing here?”
She didn’t even look up. “I go home when you go home, sir.”
Engineer frowned. “You don’t have to stay late just because I am, ah...” His brain desperately scrambled for her name; she’d been here since August, why couldn’t he remember? He saw her every day... “...Mira. Go on, go home, get some rest. You look like you need it.”
She didn’t look like she needed it at all. “I go home when you go home, sir.” More pointed this time.
“But you don’t have anything to do! Who could it hurt - I don’t have any appointments, do I?”
“No, Dr. Engineer, I don’t have much to do. That isn’t the same as nothing. Don’t worry about me - that isn’t your job. I’m sure you have plenty to do, so I’ll be right here in case you need anything.”
“In that case, do you think you could get me some fresh coffee? And, um, maybe... a little, er, extra spice to go with it?”
Engineer’s frown deepened as she walked away, slightly relieved she wasn’t looking at him. The unease rattling in his gut had just jumped up a notch. He couldn’t believe now that his secretary was nothing more than just a secretary. But what else?
December 22nd, 1971
Atwater had showed up bright and early that morning, surprising Engineer, since he’d closed his eyes around four and hadn’t realized it until his aide shook him awake in the darkness. The clock said 6:30 - he hadn’t dreamed, and suddenly felt better than he had in the last week.
“You ought to fire that secretary of yours,” Atwater said, “I came in and she had her eyes closed! I haven’t seen a worse example of such a lazy, ungrateful parasite. I tell you - this country is going to shake those kinds of people off some day, and when that day comes it will be glorious.”
“Hrm, what?” Engineer said, “Give her a break, she’s been here all night, don’t know why, refused to go home when I told her to.”
And she had indeed “spiced up” the pot of coffee she brought for him, with something that burned harder than RP-1 or hydrazine. Engineer had half a mind to ask her where she got it - alcoholic rocket fuel had fallen out of favor in the past decades, but this just might revive them, if his experience with it was anything to go by.
“Anyway, boss, I’ve got the report here on the lunar real estate scheme. It’s strange - doesn’t seem to have gone very far. We got one big sale - to Director von Braun, of all people, but otherwise there hasn’t been much interest. Not many people have taken it too seriously, but don’t worry, they’ll realize the opportunity it presents before too long. We’ll show the world that the good old Murcan free market can and will conquer the Moon. Other bad news is, Congress took our estimates at face value and reduced the budget accordingly.”
“I’ve got some ideas about how to get them to drive funding back up - some innovative political techniques, very sort of stealthy like, so the Congressmen we put pressure on don’t figure out where it’s coming from and take revenge. You see, we hire a polling company...”
“Another time, Lee. We’ve got too much to do as it is. How much money did you say the plan brought in?” Engineer scanned the document quickly. “Jeebus, that won’t even buy us a sounding rocket, let alone a Saturn V. I know - we’ll distribute the money as Christmas bonuses; that might help keep morale up.”
“To who, boss?”
“Everyone on the staff, of course, split it up evenly.” Engineer saw the look of sudden horror on Atwater’s face. “What - you mean everyone? Even the janitors?”
Engineer frowned again. “Well, why not? What’s wrong with Christmas bonuses?”
“It’s just that - “ Atwater remembered just in time that the Permanent Acting Underdirector did not quite share his views on ‘parasites’ - “well, some of them, some of the janitors - they’re furriners!”
“Huh? Let me see...” Atwater handed Engineer the staff directory, who leafed through it. “What are you worried about, Atwater? There’s not a single Ivanchenkov on the payroll. There are a few foreigners, right, that’s a Canuckistani, no worries there, two Mohicans, as if we could do without them, a Filipino, everyone knows they just want to be Murcans anyway...”
“What about Ivans, sir?”
“What about Ivans?”
“You said there were no Ivanchenkovs; what about other kinds of Ivans?”
Engineer went through the list again. “Nope, no Ivanovs, Ivanovichs, Ivanstenskys, Ivantabeers, no Ivans, Lee. Our secrets are safe.”
“What about this one? Ivan Mickey O’Rourke?”
“Oh, come off it, Lee, the Irish can be trusted, can’t they?”
Or could they? Come to think of it, his secretary was Irish-Murcan, wasn’t she?
“Lee, do you have any experience in counterintelligence?”
“Counterintelligence?” Atwater looked puzzled. “No, sir, I’m a student of politics. It may be a similar sort of game but they play in a different ballpark.”
“Hrmph. Keep an eye on that fellow though. Or have someone else keep an eye on him. Or something.”
MASA Christmas Party
December 25th, 1971
Unnamed MASA Engineer had a headache again - worse than ever before, and he hadn’t even touched any of the unmarked bottles that he suspected his secretary of having brought to the party. The punch had only been spiked with cheap bourbon, and he hadn’t even had much of that. Spirits were high - and flowing freely - after his announcement of the bonuses, and even Atwater had taken a few stiff drinks, enough to leave him practically tripping with every step, until someone had sat him down. The noise, though, had forced Engineer out into the dark and quiet hallways, where he paced, alone.
He saw a dark shape move in the corner of his eye; he whipped around, but there was no one there, down the corridor. Engineer stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe; there had been an incident two days ago when a routine satellite launch had gone completely out of control, refusing to respond even to the range safety self-destruct, and impacted on a La Banana beach, and Castrol had promised Cubic’s revenge on MASA. Was this it, then? Cubic terrorists attacking a MASA party?
The moment his breath came back, Engineer ducked into the first door he got to, which confusingly was his office - hadn’t he been down by Accounting a moment ago? He got to his desk, yanked open the top left drawer, and drew a Small & Weak .38 revolver.
When he tried to swing out the cylinder, he discovered that he’d made a mistake; the gun wasn’t a Small & Weak at all, but an Anglian .455 Webbing Mk. VI, or was it? The maker’s mark stamped on the revolver said Webley; that was only made less strange by the fact that he’d accidentally gone into his secretary’s desk instead of his and still come up with a gun.
Come to think of it - as hard as that was at the moment - where was his secretary? Engineer had seen her early on at the party - overhearing a few snide remarks about her fashion sense from a posse from the secretary pool - but he didn’t recall seeing her when he made his announcements earlier, when he’d been looking over everyone, and he was sure he’d have remembered seeing her then.
Engineer stumbled through the inner door, checked his desk for the S&W, took it and the scotch, and opened the window. The sweet, cold sea air helped clear his mind considerably; the scotch did not.
There was a long, low rumble of thunder from out to sea; Engineer stuck his head out of the window, to see the dim silhouette of a ship illuminated by a distant flash of lightning. And was it just his imagination or were those specks on the water boats? But the image was gone, almost instantly, and lost in the deeper darkness.
There was a creak behind him; he jumped, before he realized that it was only the wind blowing against the door inside. He closed the window as another bolt of lightning struck far out on the water; had that been a flash of light in the hallway, or just a reflection of the lightning?
He made his way out of the office; past his secretary’s desk, where he replaced the Webbing, without thinking; thought about it, and then left it there; then out past the door that said “Permanent Acting Underdirector, Dr. U.M. Engineer”, and out into the hallway, with the revolver in one hand, the scotch in the other, and the flashlight in the last.
Wait. He didn’t have a flashlight. Or three hands.
No, someone else had the flashlight - he put his hand up, with the bottle of scotch in it, to ward off the glare; he realized soon it was one of the security guards, who looked poised to perpetrate some act of wannabe-police brutality, before the guard realized exactly which armed intruder Engineer was, and asked if he was all right, and he would probably do well to put the bottle and the gun away, and Engineer stammered out something about terrorists, and the guard told him that he and the rest of the security staff could handle any Yurpans who tried to sabotage the rockets, and no he meant Cubic terrorists, and what was this about Yurpans, then he had to sit down.
Apparently there was a new Yurpan Space Administration around, and the Stenchies and Thanasians and all the rest of them had designs on the Moon as well, and there was a COLON report going around that they planned to sabotage both the Murcan space program as well as the Zenobians, and that was in fact the cause of the deaths of the cosmonauts that had been filling his dreams.
“Unbelievable,” Engineer spat.
“That was the content of the COLON report that we received, sir.”
Engineer sighed, still sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. “Well, how about you help me up, and guide me to the exit. I can’t navigate too well right now, but I think I’d like to talk a walk outside...”
“It’s pretty cold out there, sir, are you sure?”
“I’m from Minisofa, kid, the summers are colder than this. I’ll be fine - and I’ll leave this with you,” Engineer said, thrusting the bottle of scotch at him. The guard couldn’t be more than nineteen, he saw; he would do anything the Underdirector told him; he wouldn’t know any better.
Outside, Engineer walked with only a slight stagger through the parking lot; the shivering guard followed him for a short while then at Engineer’s urging headed back inside. The wind was whipping hard across the Cape now; the gap between the lightning and thunder was growing shorter. A bolt of lightning suddenly leapt out to strike the tip of a sounding rocket on its pad to the north, and arced down the fuselage to the ground. “Shit!” Engineer said, then his brain flashed an alert at him; there had been a group of people on the grass between the parking lot and the launch pads, doing something. He began walking in their direction, then running, before his brain barked out a warning at him, but he kept jogging towards them until finally his brain refused to let his legs carry him any farther, and yanked him down behind a car. Or had he done that? It had felt weird, like an unseen force had pulled at him. He started to pull himself up behind the car, when the lightning struck again - this time in the parking lot itself, less than a hundred yards away. The thunder crashed in his ears, and the wind of the bullet’s passage past his ear was the only indication that oh shit someone was shooting at him. He reached over the hood of the car and fired blindly at where he had seen the people on the grass - four shots, one empty chamber.
Then he ran, furiously, towards the vast, towering white bulk of the VAB in the distance; they were coming for his Saturn V, he knew it.
Luckily he didn’t actually stop when he realized that the VAB was still an increasingly filthy and dilapidated corrugated iron hangar, and that it certainly held no Saturn V yet. He took refuge behind a small hillock to catch his breath and reload his revolver, before he reached into his pocket and found that he hadn’t brought any spare ammunition.
A lightning bolt lit up the advancing Cubic terrorists - or Yurpans? Or what?
The lightning bolt had gone horizontally. Terrified, Engineer pulled himself as flat as he could against the ground behind the hillock, as he was almost reassured by the swarm of red fireflies that descended upon the attackers from the roof of the VAB; those were good ol’ Murcan heavy machine gun tracers. He crawled away, towards the VAB, only to be cut off by another group of dark figures approaching from the old Mercury complex; he ran full tilt towards the satellite labs, hoping to find some guards or to get a phone and call for help or something; a red bolt flashed out from the corner of the building, away from him - that was no tracer round, whatever it was, and then he thought that he had seen someone with quite long hair disappear back behind the building.
He kept running - called out, confused and frightened still, when he reached the corner of the building. There was no one there now, but - behind him - another group of attackers.
Frozen in place, pressed up against the wall, Engineer heard them speak - a strange language that he didn’t recognize - and then lightning flashed again, sideways, rightways, up, down, around, he couldn’t tell, but when he looked down there was a submachine gun there, a Greasy Gun with a great big silencer. Moments later he stepped around the corner with doom in his eyes and the gun spat brilliant red fire, strontium nitrate fire. The terrorists crumpled, and then something blasted a chunk out of the white concrete wall behind him and more light came his way. He ran again, tossing away the empty gun, and tried the side door to the labs - locked - and kicked the glass - only managing to stub his toe.
So he ran again, his lungs burning with the raw cold air, this time straight for the VAB, now across the open ground. He collapsed at the hangar door, ten feet ajar; a rifle shot crashed out above his head, and suddenly there were hands under his arms, dragging him inside.
He looked up, and it was his secretary? But wearing black combat gear, and there were others, and there was something strange about her, about her head, something on her belt, but he couldn’t focus, neither his eyes or his mind, in the darkness and confusion.
“You’ll be all right,” she said, and touched his cheek, and he couldn’t feel anything anymore.
Vehicle Assembly Building
The Cape
December 26, 1971
Unnamed MASA Engineer woke, startled, with a crick in his back; he’d been sleeping sitting against the nosewheel of Odyssey. The small door at the end of the main hangar door was open, and a security guard was walking towards him; the young one, who had helped him find his way out last night.
“There you are, sir!” The guard’s face wrinkled in a frown. “Have you been here all night? Nobody saw you go home from the party last night.”
The fog cleared from Engineer’s mind; he snapped up, jumped to his feet, grabbed the guard by his lapels and said, “What about the attack?”
“Attack, sir? What are you talking about?”
“The terrorists! Yurpan - probably, they weren’t speaking any language I knew of - they were all over, we were fighting them, I was fighting them, my secretary was fighting them - “
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir? That drink can’t have done you much good - and I heard you haven’t been sleeping well - “
“I HAVE BEEN SLEEPING PERFECTLY WELL, THANK YOU!” Engineer yelled. “And this was real - there was gunfire all over the place, other things too - you must have seen something - heard something -”
“Maybe you should see a doctor, Dr. Engineer, a medical doctor. Sir, if there was a fight here, I would’ve been the first to know about it.”
“I can show you - I swear, look at the ground, the buildings - they’ve been ripped up with bullets - you didn’t hear anything?”
“Sir, the grounds are as neat as St. Andrews golf course, I can assure you. Please, sir, I’ll get my Geeper and drive you to go see a doctor in Orseado; no one else needs to know. It’s all perfectly fine, sir; just that the press might consider it embarassing.”
Unnamed Engineer finished deflating, and quietly followed the guard out of the VAB; but one thing was still real in his mind, and that was the future of this building. The first stage was finished at Michoud; now he just needed to make his vision real.
Unnamed MASA Engineer's MASA Plan, Spring 1972
Notes: Well, dammit. The Zenobians can take solace in one thing; the failure of the Zond flight has thrown my plans for a loop. I was expecting to be able to delay Saturn V development, knowing I wouldn't likely catch you in lunar flights, to develop the Eagle...
So otherwise, this will be pretty simple: mostly like the Spring 1971 Plan 2.
Hardware Purchase
1x Saturn V (90 MB)
Remaining Budget: 35 MB
Research & Development
3x teams on Saturn V (18 MB)
3x teams on Kicker-B (6 MB)
Astronaut Management:
Break up the incompatible crews; try and form new ones as you are able.
Mission Scheduling:
No missions for Fall 1972.
Mission Go/No-Go Status:
SCRUB all missions. Saturn V eats the budget.
Remaining Budget for Fall 1971: 11 MB
"If the capsule explodes, heroes of the Zenobian Onion will still rain upon us. Literally!" - Shroom
Cosmonaut Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov (deceased, rain), Cosmonaut Petr Petrovich Petrov, Unnamed MASA Engineer, and Unnamed Zenobian Engineerski in Let's play: BARIS
Captain, MFS Robber Baron, PRFYNAFBTFC - "Absolute Corruption Powers Absolutely"
-
Scottish Ninja
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 964
- Joined: 2007-02-26 06:39pm
- Location: Not Scotland, that's for sure
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Dr. U.M. Engineer's Plan Revision:
2x teams on Kicker-B, instead of 3 (4 MB).
Remaining budget for Fall 1972 should be 13 MB; giving me more flexibility on whether to do 1 or 2 teams on the Saturn V in the fall.
You are now: VASILY MISHINGUN, UNNAMED ZENOBIAN ENGINEERSKI
SAY, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-"
2x teams on Kicker-B, instead of 3 (4 MB).
Remaining budget for Fall 1972 should be 13 MB; giving me more flexibility on whether to do 1 or 2 teams on the Saturn V in the fall.
You are now: VASILY MISHINGUN, UNNAMED ZENOBIAN ENGINEERSKI
SAY, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-"
"If the capsule explodes, heroes of the Zenobian Onion will still rain upon us. Literally!" - Shroom
Cosmonaut Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov (deceased, rain), Cosmonaut Petr Petrovich Petrov, Unnamed MASA Engineer, and Unnamed Zenobian Engineerski in Let's play: BARIS
Captain, MFS Robber Baron, PRFYNAFBTFC - "Absolute Corruption Powers Absolutely"
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Simon_Jester
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 30165
- Joined: 2009-05-23 07:29pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
That is already on my plan draft, Comrade Commissar; we will be beginning Duet this very season.OmegaChief wrote:We really do need to start up Duet ASAP too, we are starting to run low on time after all, on the upside switchign to lapots should save us on capsual costs.
Also, Fuuuuuuuuuu-
This space dedicated to Vasily Arkhipov
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Oh God, every MASA official seems to be slowly descending into alcohol and stress-fuelled insanity 
It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11
Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.
MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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LaCroix
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 5193
- Joined: 2004-12-21 12:14pm
- Location: Sopron District, Hungary, Europe, Terra
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
That psychotic episode sounds like you did a cross-over with our UFO-game currently running...
A minute's thought suggests that the very idea of this is stupid. A more detailed examination raises the possibility that it might be an answer to the question "how could the Germans win the war after the US gets involved?" - Captain Seafort, in a thread proposing a 1942 'D-Day' in Quiberon Bay
I do archery skeet. With a Trebuchet.
I do archery skeet. With a Trebuchet.
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OmegaChief
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 904
- Joined: 2009-07-22 11:37am
- Location: Rainy Suburb, Northern England
- Contact:
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
I would hazard the only reason that the Zenobians don't is 1) The superior Zenobian liver, used to such volumes of alcohol and 2) We have a much higher turn over rate in our officals.PeZook wrote:Oh God, every MASA official seems to be slowly descending into alcohol and stress-fuelled insanity
This odyssey, this, exodus. Do we journey toward the promised land, or into the valley of the kings? Three decades ago I envisioned a new future for our species, and now that we are on the brink of realizing my dream, I feel only solitude, and regret. Has my entire life's work been a fool's crusade? Have I led my people into this desert, only to die?
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
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Eternal_Freedom
- Castellan
- Posts: 10369
- Joined: 2010-03-09 02:16pm
- Location: CIC, Battlestar Temeraire
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
"Superior Zenobian liver? I portest that insult sir! I, the
legendary Director Johhny von Braun have been bingeing on Whiskey every nbight for the past decade and a half! And I am perfectly healthy thank you!"
von Braun's secretary popped her head round the door.
"Who are you shouting at Sir?"
"Uhhh....no-one Jessica. Ummm....can you bring me the latest budget plan from the Underdirector's office, and my usual mid-morning drink?"
"Certainly sir." His gorgeous secretarty dropped the budget sheets on his desk, knowing he'd be wanting them, and left to fix his usual drink: a pint mug of tea with a triple Irish whiskey added for good measure.
Meanwhile, Johnny scanned Dr. Engineer's plan, and reached for his rubber-stamp. His secretary had given it to him as a Christmas present, thinking it would be amusing for him to actually have an "Approved by the Director" stamp.
Moments later, the plan was approved and in the out tray, and Jessica would send it on it's merry way when she returned with his drink.
So, his work done for the day6, he rocked back his chair and began daydreaming of shooting Srgy Pavlyvich in the face with a .44 Magnum in the Sea of Crises....
----------------------------------------------
Ed Ravensburg heard about his friend's planned retirement and went to see him for one last drinking binge. He'd known something was up; whilst John loved playing his Buttpipes, he'd never played them under someone's window for six weeks straight before.
"John, buddy, why you leaving...." Ed's comment was cut off when he suddenly found fimself hanging by his ankle from the ceiling with a shotgun pointed in his face.
"Ach, it's you. I geuss I should let ye doon."
Moments later, Ed was sprawled unceremoniously on the floor.
"I thought ye wer that damned Director coming back ter steal me booze. I've had enough of that."
"You're leaving the space program because you're fed up with the Director raiding our liquor store?"
"Pretty much. Plus I get the feeling I aint too welcome here after I tossed that caber through his office window. So yer, I'm going. I've handed in ma notice, and I'm oot o here in six months. Back to Haggistan, where me heart is."
legendary Director Johhny von Braun have been bingeing on Whiskey every nbight for the past decade and a half! And I am perfectly healthy thank you!"
von Braun's secretary popped her head round the door.
"Who are you shouting at Sir?"
"Uhhh....no-one Jessica. Ummm....can you bring me the latest budget plan from the Underdirector's office, and my usual mid-morning drink?"
"Certainly sir." His gorgeous secretarty dropped the budget sheets on his desk, knowing he'd be wanting them, and left to fix his usual drink: a pint mug of tea with a triple Irish whiskey added for good measure.
Meanwhile, Johnny scanned Dr. Engineer's plan, and reached for his rubber-stamp. His secretary had given it to him as a Christmas present, thinking it would be amusing for him to actually have an "Approved by the Director" stamp.
Moments later, the plan was approved and in the out tray, and Jessica would send it on it's merry way when she returned with his drink.
So, his work done for the day6, he rocked back his chair and began daydreaming of shooting Srgy Pavlyvich in the face with a .44 Magnum in the Sea of Crises....
----------------------------------------------
Ed Ravensburg heard about his friend's planned retirement and went to see him for one last drinking binge. He'd known something was up; whilst John loved playing his Buttpipes, he'd never played them under someone's window for six weeks straight before.
"John, buddy, why you leaving...." Ed's comment was cut off when he suddenly found fimself hanging by his ankle from the ceiling with a shotgun pointed in his face.
"Ach, it's you. I geuss I should let ye doon."
Moments later, Ed was sprawled unceremoniously on the floor.
"I thought ye wer that damned Director coming back ter steal me booze. I've had enough of that."
"You're leaving the space program because you're fed up with the Director raiding our liquor store?"
"Pretty much. Plus I get the feeling I aint too welcome here after I tossed that caber through his office window. So yer, I'm going. I've handed in ma notice, and I'm oot o here in six months. Back to Haggistan, where me heart is."
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
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OmegaChief
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 904
- Joined: 2009-07-22 11:37am
- Location: Rainy Suburb, Northern England
- Contact:
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
... has Director von Braun consumed so much alcohol he has developed ESPer like powers to spy on the Zenobian space program?!
The NKDVDROM must invest in anti-psychic defences it seems!
The NKDVDROM must invest in anti-psychic defences it seems!
This odyssey, this, exodus. Do we journey toward the promised land, or into the valley of the kings? Three decades ago I envisioned a new future for our species, and now that we are on the brink of realizing my dream, I feel only solitude, and regret. Has my entire life's work been a fool's crusade? Have I led my people into this desert, only to die?
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
-Admiral Aken Bosch, Supreme Commander of the Neo-Terran Front, NTF Iceni, 2367
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Eternal_Freedom
- Castellan
- Posts: 10369
- Joined: 2010-03-09 02:16pm
- Location: CIC, Battlestar Temeraire
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Perhaps....
Or perhaps that is merely what we want you to think, to persuade you to spend billions developing defences against weaponry that doesn't exist...
Or perhaps, like all my "Let's Play" characters, Johnny can dimly sense some intelligence pulling strings and orchestrating events from afar. Like Einstein before him, he feels he is in a vast library of books, written in a totally foreign language, but he can sense a distinct order in the way they are arranged....
Or perhaps that is merely what we want you to think, to persuade you to spend billions developing defences against weaponry that doesn't exist...
Or perhaps, like all my "Let's Play" characters, Johnny can dimly sense some intelligence pulling strings and orchestrating events from afar. Like Einstein before him, he feels he is in a vast library of books, written in a totally foreign language, but he can sense a distinct order in the way they are arranged....
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
-
ChaserGrey
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 501
- Joined: 2010-10-17 11:04pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Checking back in, sorry for the absence. The good news is that I have a new place to live and am no longer in danger of having to switch career tracks into the exciting and growing field of homelessness. Yeah, it's been a fun month.Simon_Jester wrote:That is already on my plan draft, Comrade Commissar; we will be beginning Duet this very season.OmegaChief wrote:We really do need to start up Duet ASAP too, we are starting to run low on time after all, on the upside switchign to lapots should save us on capsual costs.
Also, Fuuuuuuuuuu-
Good to see my little meme is still here, though.
Will try to get back up to speed.Lt. Brown, Mr. Grey, and Comrade Syeriy on Let's Play BARIS
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ChaserGrey
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 501
- Joined: 2010-10-17 11:04pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
"Good to have you back, Sir!" The MASA security guard's smile lasted for approximately five seconds, until he caught Chase R. Grey's eye and saw the look there. Grey had been rather abruptly bundled off to the newly opened Betty Fnord Center for Mentally Unhinged Engineers after he'd started screaming something about a man in a giant squirrel suit one night and had to be sedated with a sturdy two-by-four. His thrashing had scrambled some of the paperwork in the Astronaut Office, mixing up medical charts and leading to several medically unfit astronauts being accepted for training. Grey was back now, but there was still something...troubling in his eyes. As he opened the door to his office, an unnamed mission planner turned to his office mate and whispered,
"I thought they said the boss was better?"
"They did."
"You sure?"
"Um." The other man picked up a memo and scanned it. "It says, 'We have concluded that Mr. Grey's time will not be well spent pursuing further treatment'. That's gotta mean he's better, right?" The two MASA employees looked at each other.
"Oh, shit."
****
Chase Grey looked at the papers on his desk. Words. Numbers. Words and numbers jumbled like a crossword Scrabble. Scrabble...scribble. Scribble pictures, get away from the numbers that had crowded in and failedandohgodkilledbobcant-
Grey took a breath. Then he took a shot of whiskey, so he could take a whiskey breath. That was the stuff. Now if he could just find a pencil-
By the end of the day Grey's office wall was covered in loose diagrams, connected by arrows, each bubble labeled "Saturn V", "Master Budget Level", "Bavarian Illuminati", "Price of Cheese", and other such relevant titles. They all converged, indicating continued R&D on the Saturn V and the Kicker, with plans for another orbital docking mission and a lunar pass as soon as the booster package was ready, and a MASA-sponsored expedition to the Galapagos Islands to check for signs of Commienism among the iguanas there. Couldn't be too careful. Now, the diagram was on the wall...he could send the wall to the Director, but that would take a lot of work and he didn't want to get plaster on his good suit. Grey thought. Then thought some more. Then he took a Polaroid camera out, snapped a picture of the "Conclusions" part of the wall, right next to the "No Smoking" sign, dropped the picture in an interoffice mail envelope, and sent it off.
Good day. It had been a good day. Just like before.
[I'm not going to be around as much as before, sorry. But I thought I'd let Grey back into the storyline now that things are a little better.]
"I thought they said the boss was better?"
"They did."
"You sure?"
"Um." The other man picked up a memo and scanned it. "It says, 'We have concluded that Mr. Grey's time will not be well spent pursuing further treatment'. That's gotta mean he's better, right?" The two MASA employees looked at each other.
"Oh, shit."
****
Chase Grey looked at the papers on his desk. Words. Numbers. Words and numbers jumbled like a crossword Scrabble. Scrabble...scribble. Scribble pictures, get away from the numbers that had crowded in and failedandohgodkilledbobcant-
Grey took a breath. Then he took a shot of whiskey, so he could take a whiskey breath. That was the stuff. Now if he could just find a pencil-
By the end of the day Grey's office wall was covered in loose diagrams, connected by arrows, each bubble labeled "Saturn V", "Master Budget Level", "Bavarian Illuminati", "Price of Cheese", and other such relevant titles. They all converged, indicating continued R&D on the Saturn V and the Kicker, with plans for another orbital docking mission and a lunar pass as soon as the booster package was ready, and a MASA-sponsored expedition to the Galapagos Islands to check for signs of Commienism among the iguanas there. Couldn't be too careful. Now, the diagram was on the wall...he could send the wall to the Director, but that would take a lot of work and he didn't want to get plaster on his good suit. Grey thought. Then thought some more. Then he took a Polaroid camera out, snapped a picture of the "Conclusions" part of the wall, right next to the "No Smoking" sign, dropped the picture in an interoffice mail envelope, and sent it off.
Good day. It had been a good day. Just like before.
[I'm not going to be around as much as before, sorry. But I thought I'd let Grey back into the storyline now that things are a little better.]
Lt. Brown, Mr. Grey, and Comrade Syeriy on Let's Play BARIS
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FaxModem1
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 7700
- Joined: 2002-10-30 06:40pm
- Location: In a dark reflection of a better world
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
A man in a squirrel suit emerged from the closet of Mr. Grey's office.
"So what's next?"
"So what's next?"
-
ChaserGrey
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 501
- Joined: 2010-10-17 11:04pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
[Been waiting to do this for a while...]
Grey took one look. Blinked. Took another.
And then MASA Headquarters rang with his scream as he sprinted for the front doors, eyes wide and smelling like a whiskey distillery and shouting, "GYAAAHH! DEMON SQUIRREL!"
Fortunately for Agent Squirrel's cover, nobody really noticed. This was, after all, MASA.
Grey took one look. Blinked. Took another.
And then MASA Headquarters rang with his scream as he sprinted for the front doors, eyes wide and smelling like a whiskey distillery and shouting, "GYAAAHH! DEMON SQUIRREL!"
Fortunately for Agent Squirrel's cover, nobody really noticed. This was, after all, MASA.
Lt. Brown, Mr. Grey, and Comrade Syeriy on Let's Play BARIS
-
Scottish Ninja
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 964
- Joined: 2007-02-26 06:39pm
- Location: Not Scotland, that's for sure
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
(And a perfect excuse to do a follow-up to U.M. Engineer's little adventure...)
Office of the Permanent Acting Underdirector
Unnamed MASA Engineer did hear the scream, and went for the top left desk drawer immediately. Just outside, his secretary did the same.
Hang on a second... I dropped my gun outside that night, he thought. Yet it was there, nonetheless, and loaded; he checked the drawer below it, which contained the bottle of scotch, which he'd left with the guard.
He burst out of the door and confronted his secretary with the last bit of information he'd noticed: "Mira, why do you have a gun?"
"Why would I have a gun, sir?"
"Ah, err, for, um, I suppose..." Engineer didn't really know how to answer that. "Anyway, can you call that young guard in here? Whatshisname, Trentson."
Minutes later...
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, Trentson, I need you to explain one last thing: I distinctly recall taking this revolver with me when I left my office on Christmas. How did it get back here?"
"I put it there, sir," Trentson said, "I brought it back here when you went for your walk the other night, same as with the scotch. I thought it would be safest there. Did I do something wrong?"
"Ahm, no, I suppose, thank you then, that's - no, that's not all. I was wondering if you could help me with something. I was doing some research..."
One week later.
"Package for you, sir." Mira came in and set down a long box on Engineer's desk, marked "Par Avion Internationale, Brassiele". He cut it open immediately; he had some ideas now about the threats to MASA, and how now to defend it. They wouldn't get so lucky next time...
Office of the Permanent Acting Underdirector
Unnamed MASA Engineer did hear the scream, and went for the top left desk drawer immediately. Just outside, his secretary did the same.
Hang on a second... I dropped my gun outside that night, he thought. Yet it was there, nonetheless, and loaded; he checked the drawer below it, which contained the bottle of scotch, which he'd left with the guard.
He burst out of the door and confronted his secretary with the last bit of information he'd noticed: "Mira, why do you have a gun?"
"Why would I have a gun, sir?"
"Ah, err, for, um, I suppose..." Engineer didn't really know how to answer that. "Anyway, can you call that young guard in here? Whatshisname, Trentson."
Minutes later...
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, Trentson, I need you to explain one last thing: I distinctly recall taking this revolver with me when I left my office on Christmas. How did it get back here?"
"I put it there, sir," Trentson said, "I brought it back here when you went for your walk the other night, same as with the scotch. I thought it would be safest there. Did I do something wrong?"
"Ahm, no, I suppose, thank you then, that's - no, that's not all. I was wondering if you could help me with something. I was doing some research..."
One week later.
"Package for you, sir." Mira came in and set down a long box on Engineer's desk, marked "Par Avion Internationale, Brassiele". He cut it open immediately; he had some ideas now about the threats to MASA, and how now to defend it. They wouldn't get so lucky next time...
"If the capsule explodes, heroes of the Zenobian Onion will still rain upon us. Literally!" - Shroom
Cosmonaut Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov (deceased, rain), Cosmonaut Petr Petrovich Petrov, Unnamed MASA Engineer, and Unnamed Zenobian Engineerski in Let's play: BARIS
Captain, MFS Robber Baron, PRFYNAFBTFC - "Absolute Corruption Powers Absolutely"
-
Simon_Jester
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 30165
- Joined: 2009-05-23 07:29pm
Re: Plan Pavylyvych Spring 1972
Plan Pavylyvych Spring 1972
Comrades, we all mourn the loss of the great heroes of the Zenobian Onion, the cosmonauts Pyotr Klimuk and Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz, the first men to fly to the moon. I myself will never forget my many conversations with them while they were on their lengthy and ambitious missions, and I am sure that all of us have similar memories. The words and deeds of these giants will be recorded forever in the story of humanity's exploration of the universe.
But we must look to the future! While Comrades Klimuk and Brzęczyszczykiewicz were the first men to fly to the moon, they will surely not be the last. Our own super-ship, the ZiG-105 'Lapot' space shuttle, is at last stretching its variable-geometry wings to transcend the limitations of the old warhorse that was Zond.
For this reason, the Zond program is closed; the recently revealed dangers of skip-reentry trajectories are not expected to be resolved during foreseeable future. All future lunar missions are to rely on Lapot, which can maneuver so as to survive translunar reentry without the difficulties of a skip.
The shuttle Potemkin has already flown a full-up test of its heat shielding and landing capabilities under the able control of Comrade Yorgi Karzanovski and his fellows. Further automated tests for Potemkin, along with his brother ship Avrora, will be the focus of our spaceflight efforts in 1972, in preparation for a record-setting twelve-day manned orbital flight in Avrora at the end of the year.
In addition to this, it pleases me to announce that after extensive consultation with the Unmanned Planetary Lab and their successful lunar landerbot designs, the Planetary Landing Facility has now expanded and is beginning development of a two-man lander for the lunar surface. Development will take some time, but I anticipate great progress in this area.
Let us all return to our tasks with the resolve that Comrades Klimuk and Brzęczyszczykiewicz shall not have died in vain. As we did after the loss of Comrade Ivanov all those years ago, we must ensure new achievements that transcend the limits naysayers would seek to impose upon us. Onward, and upward!
Budget: 88 megarubleoids
Research and Development
Begin Duet Lunar Lander: 35 MB
5 teams' research on Duet: 10 MB
Total: 45 MB
Remaining budget: 43 MB
Sacrosanct Research Budget
5 teams' research on Duet: 10 MB
Remaining unallocated budget: 33 MB
Sacrosanct Hardware Budget
3 A-Series Rockets: 9 MB
2 Booster Stages: 8 MB
1 Docking Module: 2 MB
Total: 19 MB
Remaining unallocated budget: 14 MB
Hardware Purchase
Purchase 2 A-Series Rockets: 6 MB
Purchase 2 Booster Stages: 8 MB
Total: 14 MB
Remaining unallocated budget: 0 MB
Cosmonaut Management
Disband Zond crew BORISOV/NEFARTNYI.
Pull CAP 4 cosmonauts SAVINKYH and STREKALOV from training. This gives us three CAP 4 pilots around which to form crews.
Assemble Lapot crew
KARZANOVSKI/ZHOLOBOV/???
Assemble second Lapot crew, if possible, around one of the CAP 4 pilots:
SAVINKYH/???/??? or STREKALOV/???/???
Assemble third Lapot crew:
BORISOV/NEFARTNYI/???
Pull a few individuals from training if necessary, but do not pull any CAP 3 cosmonauts from training unless there is no other way to form the minimum of two compatible teams with CAP 4 pilots. I am particularly hoping that Comrade Kerman will prove suitable as a mission pilot.
Note that a (SAVINKYH or STREKALOV)/NEFARTNYI/BORISOV would be quite satisfactory to me, so long as the CAP 4 guy gets in the driver's seat.
Top priority is on placing CAP 4 cosmonauts in pilot slots of two teams; second priority on high docking skill in docking slot; third priority on high endurance.
Schedule Missions
Schedule unmanned suborbital Lapot flight on Pad A- Space Shuttle Potemkin
Schedule manned joint orbital docking-EVA-Duration D Lapot flight on Pad B- Space Shuttle Avrora
(Docking module to be launched on separate A-Series rocket; this is a good deal cheaper than having to launch a Lapot-DM stack on a boosted Proton, we could practically afford a whole 'nother shuttle launch for that)
Primary crew will be SAVINKYH/???/??? or STREKALOV/???/???
Backup crew will be KARZANOVSKI/ZHOLOBOV/???
Mission Go/No-Go Status:
We are GO for unmanned suborbital Lapot flight on pad A- Space Shuttle Potemkin
We are GO for unmanned suborbital Lapot flight on pad B- Space Shuttle Avrora
Comrades, we all mourn the loss of the great heroes of the Zenobian Onion, the cosmonauts Pyotr Klimuk and Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz, the first men to fly to the moon. I myself will never forget my many conversations with them while they were on their lengthy and ambitious missions, and I am sure that all of us have similar memories. The words and deeds of these giants will be recorded forever in the story of humanity's exploration of the universe.
But we must look to the future! While Comrades Klimuk and Brzęczyszczykiewicz were the first men to fly to the moon, they will surely not be the last. Our own super-ship, the ZiG-105 'Lapot' space shuttle, is at last stretching its variable-geometry wings to transcend the limitations of the old warhorse that was Zond.
For this reason, the Zond program is closed; the recently revealed dangers of skip-reentry trajectories are not expected to be resolved during foreseeable future. All future lunar missions are to rely on Lapot, which can maneuver so as to survive translunar reentry without the difficulties of a skip.
The shuttle Potemkin has already flown a full-up test of its heat shielding and landing capabilities under the able control of Comrade Yorgi Karzanovski and his fellows. Further automated tests for Potemkin, along with his brother ship Avrora, will be the focus of our spaceflight efforts in 1972, in preparation for a record-setting twelve-day manned orbital flight in Avrora at the end of the year.
In addition to this, it pleases me to announce that after extensive consultation with the Unmanned Planetary Lab and their successful lunar landerbot designs, the Planetary Landing Facility has now expanded and is beginning development of a two-man lander for the lunar surface. Development will take some time, but I anticipate great progress in this area.
Let us all return to our tasks with the resolve that Comrades Klimuk and Brzęczyszczykiewicz shall not have died in vain. As we did after the loss of Comrade Ivanov all those years ago, we must ensure new achievements that transcend the limits naysayers would seek to impose upon us. Onward, and upward!
Budget: 88 megarubleoids
Research and Development
Begin Duet Lunar Lander: 35 MB
5 teams' research on Duet: 10 MB
Total: 45 MB
Remaining budget: 43 MB
Sacrosanct Research Budget
5 teams' research on Duet: 10 MB
Remaining unallocated budget: 33 MB
Sacrosanct Hardware Budget
3 A-Series Rockets: 9 MB
2 Booster Stages: 8 MB
1 Docking Module: 2 MB
Total: 19 MB
Remaining unallocated budget: 14 MB
Hardware Purchase
Purchase 2 A-Series Rockets: 6 MB
Purchase 2 Booster Stages: 8 MB
Total: 14 MB
Remaining unallocated budget: 0 MB
Cosmonaut Management
Disband Zond crew BORISOV/NEFARTNYI.
Pull CAP 4 cosmonauts SAVINKYH and STREKALOV from training. This gives us three CAP 4 pilots around which to form crews.
Assemble Lapot crew
KARZANOVSKI/ZHOLOBOV/???
Assemble second Lapot crew, if possible, around one of the CAP 4 pilots:
SAVINKYH/???/??? or STREKALOV/???/???
Assemble third Lapot crew:
BORISOV/NEFARTNYI/???
Pull a few individuals from training if necessary, but do not pull any CAP 3 cosmonauts from training unless there is no other way to form the minimum of two compatible teams with CAP 4 pilots. I am particularly hoping that Comrade Kerman will prove suitable as a mission pilot.
Note that a (SAVINKYH or STREKALOV)/NEFARTNYI/BORISOV would be quite satisfactory to me, so long as the CAP 4 guy gets in the driver's seat.
Top priority is on placing CAP 4 cosmonauts in pilot slots of two teams; second priority on high docking skill in docking slot; third priority on high endurance.
Schedule Missions
Schedule unmanned suborbital Lapot flight on Pad A- Space Shuttle Potemkin
Schedule manned joint orbital docking-EVA-Duration D Lapot flight on Pad B- Space Shuttle Avrora
(Docking module to be launched on separate A-Series rocket; this is a good deal cheaper than having to launch a Lapot-DM stack on a boosted Proton, we could practically afford a whole 'nother shuttle launch for that)
Primary crew will be SAVINKYH/???/??? or STREKALOV/???/???
Backup crew will be KARZANOVSKI/ZHOLOBOV/???
Mission Go/No-Go Status:
We are GO for unmanned suborbital Lapot flight on pad A- Space Shuttle Potemkin
We are GO for unmanned suborbital Lapot flight on pad B- Space Shuttle Avrora
This space dedicated to Vasily Arkhipov
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
MASA Administrative Offices
December 27, 1971
Inside the many long corridors of MASA headquarters at THE CAPE, designed by a radical architect to resemble...something or other and elicit...things from the onlookers, hanged a great many glass-encased cork boards.
Various memos, lists, orders, pizza delivery leaflets, prototype mission patches, commienist calls to arms and weather forecasts were continually displayed and torn down in there. But on that day, December 27th all of these boards were taken by another message entirely.
December 27, 1971
Inside the many long corridors of MASA headquarters at THE CAPE, designed by a radical architect to resemble...something or other and elicit...things from the onlookers, hanged a great many glass-encased cork boards.
Various memos, lists, orders, pizza delivery leaflets, prototype mission patches, commienist calls to arms and weather forecasts were continually displayed and torn down in there. But on that day, December 27th all of these boards were taken by another message entirely.
Congressman Swigert dies of cancerA long-time veteran of the astronaut corps, John L. Swigert Jr. had been pronounced dead today by doctors working at the Gorgetown University Hospital.
Congressman Swigert (R-Colonado) was scheduled to take office eight days from now, but developed a malignant tumor in his right nasal passage. Despite surgery and prompt treatment, the newly elected Representative lost his fight with the disease.
Congressman Swigert leaves no descendants, but is survived by his parents.
Funeral ceremonies are to take place on January 12th in his home city of Blender, Colonado.
It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11
Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.
MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Report from Cosmodrome's Psychologist Office
Comrade Chief Designer,
Taking your recommendations, as well as training reports, into account with respect to skills required for the upcoming shuttle flights, I have come up with a crew selection plan which should minimize the chance of frictions threatening team cohesion during spaceflight.
Comrade Karzanovski, Kovalyanok should be paired with hero-cosmonaut Zholobov.
I also recommend creating a Lapot crew of comrades Savinykh, Lazarev and Makarov.
Your final recommendation I find untenable ; I cannot take responsiblity for adding another crew member with comrades Borisov and Nefartnyi. However, comrade Strelakov's personality is well suited to form a new team around him, and thus I recommend a pairing of comrades Yebanovy and Grechko as his crew specialists.
Signed,
Dr. Grigorij Saakashvili, flight psychologist, Baikonurek Cosmodrome
Comrade Chief Designer,
Taking your recommendations, as well as training reports, into account with respect to skills required for the upcoming shuttle flights, I have come up with a crew selection plan which should minimize the chance of frictions threatening team cohesion during spaceflight.
Comrade Karzanovski, Kovalyanok should be paired with hero-cosmonaut Zholobov.
I also recommend creating a Lapot crew of comrades Savinykh, Lazarev and Makarov.
Your final recommendation I find untenable ; I cannot take responsiblity for adding another crew member with comrades Borisov and Nefartnyi. However, comrade Strelakov's personality is well suited to form a new team around him, and thus I recommend a pairing of comrades Yebanovy and Grechko as his crew specialists.
Signed,
Dr. Grigorij Saakashvili, flight psychologist, Baikonurek Cosmodrome
It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11
Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.
MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
MISSIONS LAUNCH
LAPOT II, APRIL 1972
"I love this angle, comrades...the Semyorka has such lovely curves..."
Confused expressions met the still-new (despite being an employee for years now) engineerski. Eventually, everyone shrugged, contemplating how weird behavior of this guy still managed to give them pause, and got back to their tasks. And these were complicated tasks! For before them lay an unmanned flight of a minishuttle, a task challenging and dangerous!
But ultimately very short. The Potemkin landed gracefully, guided by remote control and onboard navigational systems, which made the control room erupt in cheers.
***
LAPOT III, JUNE 1972
LAPOT III, JUNE 1972
"The Avrora's systems are much improved over his brother-ship. We have learned a great many lessons from April's flight, comrade premier...", Syrgy was giving Shroomanski a tour of the mission control facilities before the launch of this season's second unmanned minishuttle flight, "...I must say, we have done great strides in modelling the heat shield behavior with the copious data we collected. Our sliderules are red-hot from the strain, da!"
The engineerskis worked hard, not minding the two important men at all. Eventually, the premier retired to the VIP viewing gallery and the rocket soared into the heavens, for another short suborbital flight.
"Avrora has separated from the booster. Initiating command program."
Pause. Brief confusion.
"Command program ineffective. Resetting systems...", Unnamed Zenobian Engineerski was sweating profusely now, seeing the Comissar drift ever closer, "...uh, no response?"
There was no time to do anything. Barely had the massive binders of technical documentation been brought out, nary two or three ideas were tested, when observers of the designated landing site reported in.
It was a testament to its designers that the Avrora survived re-entry unguided, but unfortunatley, with its computertronic brain inert, it slammed into the ground at nearly 500 kilometres per hour.
It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11
Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.
MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
-
Simon_Jester
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 30165
- Joined: 2009-05-23 07:29pm
Re: Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space
Oh shit.
I am finding it increasingly hard to see a way to do this.
Shit shit shit shit shit...
I am finding it increasingly hard to see a way to do this.
Shit shit shit shit shit...
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