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Rated: E · Chapter · Other · #1946196
The Journal of Kerbal Space Program Director Kurt Kerman
Stowaways!

We seem to have a small problem developing.

Having taken command of the program, I’ve dedicated the past few weeks to developing new, successful and sane rockets while enforcing a strict “no-needless-slaughter-of-Kerbals” program. Thus far, drones do not have feelings and do not mind being sent to their doom en masse instead. I’m sure at some point some enterprising engineer will ruin that by helping them achieve sentience and causing them to demand similar treatment.

Such is the life of administration.

Anyway, the problem: We’ve finished the general launch vehicle, KD-GLV, which one of the geniuses in marketing has declared the official name to be “Kerbal Doom,” a decision I will never understand. The rocket was designed to be a simple multipurpose vehicle and our first actual mission launch would be sending the primary habitation module of our new station into orbit.

The day was beautiful, the sky clear and the rocket squatted on the pad in stark contrast to the world around it. Resting atop was the new station module, and it was with no small amount of pride I ordered the launch to proceed.

And that’s where it all went wrong.

As the six solid rocket boosters ignited followed by the six assist engines and single main, I heard over the radio a sharp keening overlapping with a whoop of joy; to my horror, I discovered Jebediah and Bill had slipped aboard the new station module. Bill, I didn’t understand why he’d done so; he was one of the few sane ones the program had left and if not a little dim, he knew enough to be terrified and thus the screams over the main channel.

Jeb on the other hand, was a problem. He is the best we’ve got, but it seems he’s absolutely bug-nuts crazy, likely caused by one of Cleetus’ final disasters which was truly epic in scale. The engineer team had surpassed most mad scientists and strapped so many engines together the rocket barely fit on the pad. At the very top, a single-man pod rested, waving in the breeze and likely held to the main body of the rocket by used duct tape and discount bailing wire. Upon ignition, the aircraft did not so much lift off as much as explode and launch pods in every direction, creating a fireball that singed observers in their offices at the Vehicle Assembly Building and engulfing that one, poorly constructed and barely secured death trap pod in an expanding fireball.

Several hours later, we had cleared the pad and finally found Jeb’s pod was not there. After a small search, we found it charred and driven into the ground several miles away. Iinside a crispy but otherwise grinning stupidly Jeb greeted the rescue crews with “Hey, let’s do that again!” Upon seeing his file, I recognized him for the mad-Kerbal he was and revoked his flight status.

Now the two of them were riding this experimental rocket, in an untested station module, without any return vehicle even DESIGNED yet. My first mission launch was quickly going to turn into a disaster, and I looked on in horror. Forty-five seconds later, the horror turned to abject terror as the SRB’s separated upon burnout—except for number three. The automated systems were unable to compensate for the added drag of the stuck booster and the rocket began to roll and list out of control and Bill’s wailing took on a new octave.

It was Jeb who saved the mission, cutting over to manual control and wrestling the struggling rocket onto a manageable flight path. He established the orbit himself, though due to circumstances it is no longer equatorial as intended but instead at a forty-five degree angle. Unfortunately, Kerbal Ingenuity took over once the orbit was established and Jeb jettisoned the boost module that was still full of fuel instead of fixing the orbit.

Now the two of them are stuck and we have no recovery ship even designed, much less a qualified pilot; most of us are still trying to figure out the math for an orbital rendezvous as it is! At least once I ordered the two of them to the crew rest area of the module, Bill stopped screaming.

Addendum: A report just arrived on my desk detailing the lower stage recovery; it appears the module with the stuck booster struck a fishing trawler, killing all aboard.

I’m going to prison, I know it.


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