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My Rocket Is Flight!; Chapshire space program
Topic Started: May 7 2013, 02:34 PM (319 Views)
Fien
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[ *  *  *  * ]
Quote:
 
We at The Most Innovative of Socialist Republics of Chapshire are pleased to announce the successful test flight of the Willywacker 5 high altitude test plane last Sunday. The WW5 slowly ascended to a height of around 100,000 feet without losing a wing this time, much to the delight and surprise of all assembled. Celebrations have commenced and medical personnel are standing by to deal with the expected injuries and merriment catastrophes.

With this amazing achievement that few other nations could compete with, the Federated Republic stands ready to continue all the way into space and beyond! The data gathered from this flight will prove vital to understanding conditions in the upper atmosphere and allow highly advanced rockets and craft to be built to break free of the hold that gravity has on us, allowing the Great and Entirely True Message of Socialist Freedom to reach to the stars themselves. Reports abound that several rocket designs are already being built and possibly tested, showing the speed and efficiency of the program even in these early days. Volunteers are being conscripted from employment agencies throughout the country to rocket this project even faster forward and to replace the reasonable and acceptable losses to personnel that have been accrued so far.

So we of the Great and Powerful Federated Socialist Republic of Chapshire, Soon to be Space-Faring, welcome the whole world to watch this amazing display of human scientific triumph as it speeds towards the stars. If any foreign peoples should wish to defect to our glorious nation now, seeing the tides of history shifting in our favour as we speak, now is the time to do so. Please smuggle yourself by boat or plane to the capital as soon as possible and find one of them many friendly Commissars to help guide you on your journey of citizenship and freedom. Stay tuned, and Trust In Chapshire(C)


Head Secretary Plimbucket Fallyfellow sat at his desk, reading the latest post from the news department and scratching his head. He picked up his phone and dialed a number in, the mechanical shhhk of the dial spinning back into position after each number filling the room. A few moments of silence before Plimbucket spoke.

"Yes, Jarvis? It's Plimby. Two things; since when have we had a space program and how are we paying for it......mostly that second one, if you don't mind."
Edited by Fien, May 7 2013, 02:35 PM.
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Fien
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"We just need a lot of rockets right? All that matters is thrust, the rest is just details."

"Details that stop the rocket from going off course...or....you know...EXPLODING!"

"We'll tweak the design if it does, don't worry about it."

"I'm fairly certain the cosmonauts will worry, considering they'll be riding it."

"Whatever, we have more of those. Wait...I thought we were sending up dogs and monkeys first."

"Cosmonauts are cheaper and easier to train, now seriously, what are we going to do about the stabilization problem?"

"Spin it, that works for military rockets right?"

"Hmm......yeah ok, let's try that."


Quote:
 
The 3rd attempt by scientists to launch the KV-5 rocket into low orbit failed once again due to severe stabilization issues. the project leads have blamed this on the rocket not spinning fast enough. They have recommended small side mounted boosters to forcibly spin the rocket to the desired RPM. Enclosed are further details.


Plimbucket sat with his head in his hands after reading the memo from the space program. He eventually found the energy to write a note to himself to cut their wages before remembering they didn't have any.....his head returned to his hands.
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Fien
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"Well the bad news is that our current design is completely unworkable, we'll have to start over from scratch." The man from the Cosmonaulogy Commission said.

Plimbucket Fallyfellow sighed and looked up from the report. "And the good news?"

"Hmm? Oh there's no good news. We completely shit the bed and it's going to take months to get back to testing again. Why would you think I had good news?"

"Why indeed..." Plimbucket said as he caressed he temples for a moment. "So do you at least have some new designs proposed?"

The man shrugged. "Nah, we were going to sketch out some new designs over rationed drinks after work. I figure we'll get a good couple designs from that and choose the best one."

"Just out of curiosity, how did you come up with this first design?"

"Hmm? Oh, same way. But I'm sure we'll get it right this time."

"And why is that?" Fallyfellow asked, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.

The man returned his annoyance with an oblivious smile. "Well we have a lot more drink rations saved up this time. I'm sure we'll have a winning design ready by the end of the week. Shouldn't take more than 3 months to get the next test flight off the ground."

".......just get out."

"Yes sir, I'll mail you a carbon of our winning design tomorrow afternoon!" The man said with that smile still on his stupid face. The hurriedly walked out the room. Once the door closed Plimbucket reached into his desk and pulled a large bottle out onto the desk.

"And here goes my drink ration for the week..." he said uncapping the bottle
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Fien
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"The new fuel gives us a 13% increase in thrust for only a 4% increase in weight. I whole-heartedly suggest switching to it for all future designs."

"Yes, but it markedly less stable. You had 3 test engines explode didn't you..."

"Well yes, but that can be solved with a few simple safety regulations and procedures. I don't see it being much of a problem."

"...out of 4..."

"Look, progress has its risks. We just slap some signs on the rockets and have a few seminars on how to properly handle the new fuel, it'll be fine."

"I keep listening to you....why do I keep listening to you...."


A bright, crisp morning dawns on the launch pad as the test rocket Havelwocky 19 stands tall and ready to launch. In the control tower half a mile away the mission-controlmonauts stand ready and count off data. Calls are made, faxes sent, technicians scurry about making final preparations as the cosmonaut ascends the tower to load into the rocket. He will guide the rocket into orbit and back for the first time in officially recognized Caprecian history. Soon everything is ready and all wait with breaths baited.

"Final countdown to launch, in T minus 30...29...28...27..."

Steam began to billow from the launchpad, obscuring the view. The mission-controlmonauts began to count off a great deal of data and confirm procedures. the level of activity reached a frenzied pace.

"13...12...11...10..."

The signal was given to start the engine and ignite the fuel. One controlmonaut looked out onto the tarmac to see a technician running out in front of the control tower waving his arms. The controlmonaut looked at him puzzled for a few second and picked up his phone to yell at him.

"Technician, this is the control tower. Get off the tarmac immediately, we're starting the engine."

"Cancel that order, control, we left the gas-cap off!"

"...(...4...3...)...what?"

On the launchpad there was suddenly a massive eruption of fire. The glass in the control tower exploded and cut many of the controlmonauts as the wind rushed in along with a deafening roar. After a minute people began to rise to their feet again. One headed over and picked up a small whiteboard with 19 tic-marks on it and added a 20th before hanging it back on the wall with a sigh.

200 miles away Plimbucket Fallyfellow sat watching the rocket continue to burn with a bottle of brandy in one hand, his face in another.

"Why do I keep listening to him..."
Edited by Fien, May 18 2013, 09:53 PM.
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Fien
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High above the sky, in low Orecian orbit, a small sphere with many long, thin antenna rushed around the planet at incredible speed. Below in the Most Glorious and Spaceworthy of Federated Socialist Republics of Chapshire the technicians and engineers that had just put the bowling ball sized craft into orbit cheer and drank and broke shit in joy. The Commissarial had to be called in to avoid further damage and destruction, a sign of success and joy to be sure. To all in range it sent out a simply message in Morse code, repeating endlessly.

JOY TO THE PEOPLE FOR WE HAVE BROKEN THE HEAVENS, STOP, GLORY TO THE REVOLUTION AND THE SOCIALIST SPIRIT, STOP

It had taken 34 tries, and 4 different designs to finally accomplish, but at long last they had put a man-made object into orbit. In his apartment many miles below the object, the rightly named Billywackershireston 1, Plimbucket Fallyfellow smiled as he listened, fourth glass of brandy in his hand (or fifth......or....wait...). He had spent the last few months and an obscene amount of the military's R&D budget to achieve this, as well as several ulcers, but finally it came. He opened the drawer on the large metal desk in front of him and pulled out a large remote. He walked over to the window with it in one hand and looked up at the night sky. Above him he could just barely see a small white dot streak by, his people's glorious achievement. He watched it as it sped off to the west, then looked down at his remote and pressed the single button on it. The single speed out to the Billywackershireston 1 as it sped out of view. Plimby set the remote down on the windowsill and went back to his chair, intent on finished the bottle on the desk in front of him. Today was indeed a good day.

Above, in low orbit, the Billywackershireston 1 received the signal and after every fifth loop of it's standard message a new one played a total of 2 loops.

LANANIA IS BALLS, SOREN LICKS GOATS

Below once more Plimbucket laughed. The satellite would remain in orbit for 56 days. 'Suck on that, wage slaves' he thought.
Edited by Fien, May 23 2013, 09:55 AM.
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Lines
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"Suck on that, wage slaves," said the prestigiously-mustached man, stroking said mustache in an erotically suggestive manner. The officers around him were similarly adored. "Fire ze missile!"

"With pleasure, sir!" replied the strange sailors.

"Gud, gud!" returned the prestigious captain. "The Länlanians offered good money for this! Even supplied ze missile."

"Missile away, sir!"

"Gud, gud! Come gentlemen, let us celebrate with wine and whores!" He glanced at a nearby sailor, smiling eerily as a rocket popped out in the background. The missile streaked away skywards, flying from the Tethys Sea towards the coordinates provided by Länlanian satellite. Within minutes, the Billywackershireston 1 would find itself stumbling towards Oracia to burn in the fiery pits of the atmosphere.

A few days later, unmarked drones of Wraith Arsenal make found themselves weaving through the Chap countryside, loudly declaring, "Plimbucket sucks butt, love goat feces."

((OOC: Fuck it, it's as ridiculous as you taking these slights. >_> ))
Edited by Lines, May 23 2013, 11:23 AM.
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Fien
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By this time of day, Plimbucket was completely wasted and in a quite giggly mood. The aid that presented him with news of the Billywackershireston 1's destruction as somewhat relieved by this as it made his job much less painful.

"I'm sorry sir, but it's completely destroyed."

Plimbucket laughed uproariously for a few minutes before finally collecting himself.

"Oh my....Prepare a package to the Soren Compound, listed as my personal and express apologies for this slight. Oh, and stick around for a minute, I'll be right back."

Plimby went into his adjoining bathroom for about twenty minutes before leaving with a small paper bag and spraying a can of air freshener behind him.

"WOO! Don't eat the E-rations! Anyway, I send this gift with the package, I'll write up a letter of absolute and sincere apologies in a few minutes."

The aid took the paper tentatively and looked to the Head Secretary. "Will there be anything....else....sir?"

"Yeah, give me a few minutes and a glass of water and I'll have something for those fascist Estovzian bastards too...hehehe...." Plimbucket said with a sly smile.
Edited by Fien, May 23 2013, 11:49 AM.
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Lines
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Esteemed Comrade Plimbucket Fallyfellow,

Of course your apology is accepted! I'm glad we were able to diplomatically and rapidly defuse this situation! Attached is a gift from the Commonwealth to yourself... I did hear you've an affinity for it.

With Affection,
Soren Bonde


The Chap delivery boy cleared his throat and pointed to the large crate a few steps behind him.

"There's the package, sir."

As if by fate, the device cracked open at just that moment. Immediately, the courtyard was flooded with a most foul of stenches, accompanied with a gift only a hundred--nay, a thousand goats, all at once--could have produced.
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Fien
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"Atmosphere cleared, orbit confirmed. Status of the subject?"

"Life-signs nominal. Heart rate elevated, though within normal bounds. Air supply nominal."

"Confirmed, status of heat shield?"

"Holding and ready for reentry."

"Confirmed, deploy antenna."


Miles below Plimbucket Fallyfellow sat at his window, a receiver attached to the windowsill and pointed up and connect to a radio. He sat with a glass of brandy, one of many he had received for his generous donation of manure to the Chapshire Agricultural Department. A crackle sounded on his radio and he sat up and listened close. A series of beeps then came on.

-... .- .-. -.- / -... .- .-. -.- / -... .- .-. -.- / .. .----. -- / .- / -.. --- --. / .- -. -.. / ... --- -.-. .. .- .-.. .. ... -- / .. ... / --. .-. . .- - / .- -. -.. / ..-. .-. . . .-.-.- / .-.. .- -. .-.. .- -. .. .- / .. ... / ..-. .- .-.. ... . / .- -. -.. / ... --- .-. . -. / . .- - ... / -- -.-- / -... .-. --- - .... . .-. ... / ..-. --- .-. / .... . / .. ... / .- / -- --- -. ... - . .-. .-.-.- / .-. . ...- --- .-.. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / - .... . / -... --- ..- .-. --. . --- .. ... .. . / -- .- ... - . .-. ... / .- -. -.. / .--- --- .. -. / - .... . / .-. . ...- --- .-.. ..- - .. --- -.

He smiled and finished his glass. 'Shoot this one down you spoiled brat' he thought to himself as it sped out of range and towards the east. 'Prove us right.'

Edited by Fien, May 26 2013, 11:29 AM.
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Fien
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After several orbits of broadcasting its message for the world to hear it began to fall back into the atmosphere. A flurry of activity began in the control room.

"Heat rising but staying with acceptable bounds."

"Confirmed, eject heat shield when ready."

"Ejecting in five....four....three....two...one....ejecting heat shield."

"Ejection confirmed, deploy parachutes when ready."

"Deploying three......two.....one.....deploying parachutes."

"Confirmed, landing point calculated, sending trucks now."


In the western part of Chapshire in an open field, a large metal sphere floated down to the ground suspended by four large parachutes. It landed on the hard dirt heavily, leaving a small dent in the ground but remaining together. Within minutes many trucks and other vehicles surrounded it, soliders jumping out and setting up a perimeter while men in hazmat suits rushed up to it and sprayed it down with foam. After a few moments they wrenched the hatch open and a small dog jumped out and into the arms of one of the suited figures, licking their face shield enthusiastically and shaking. The figure petted the creature as the other suited crew scanned it with various instruments.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We at the Chapshire State News Network are happy to announce the save landing of Wooflyston III, proud cosmocanine who preformed 7 orbits around the planet today. Broadcasting a message of socialist freedom and revolution as well as condemnations against Soren Bonde for his nation's villainous destruction of Chapshires first orbital object. With this glorious accomplishment Chapshire has proven its technological and scientific might and paved the way for the expansion of the Revolution into space itself!"
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Fien
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"Orbit achieved, shutting off engines."

"Affirmative Mibleywombet 5, activating RCS and orient craft for reentry burn in 4 orbits."

"Confirmed Command, activate and adjusting."


In low Oracian orbit speeding along at thousands of miles per hour stood a small capsule attached to a only slightly larger engine, slowing turning to face opposite of the direction it was heading. Inside the incredibly cramped capsule sat Nigel Centurius, first Chap in space and orbit of Oracia. He looked at his screen that looked out the back of the capsule as he finished his turn, seeing the sun barely risen over the curve of the planet. Beautiful, blue, skies clear and endless. Even from his grain camera it was like staring out at a giant blue marble as flea....no...an amoeba. He felt unimaginable joy at this sight and a feeling of smallness he could never truly describe to another human being who did not sit with him at this height. His exaltation was interrupted by a glint off in the distance. He quickly focused his camera on it and thumbed his radio button.

"Command, unidentified object off my bottom catching in the sun, focusing camera on it now."

"Confirmed, get as as close a picture as you can."


Nigel carefully zoomed in on the object as much as his unimpressive camera would allow. It was incredible for a camera, certainly, but hardly meant for this kind of job. It hadn't been meant to do much more than give him and the people they would broadcast the edited footage to a look at the planet from low orbit so it could only zoom in just enough to make out the basic shape of the object, slowly getting closer though clearly on a lower orbital plane. Regardless, even at this distance with this poor a view the mystery died as soon as it began.

"Command, object appears to be a drifting rocket motor, probably left up by the Noberians or someone. Continue scan?"

"Affirmative Mibleywombet 5, see what else is up there while you have the chance."


Over the course of the few hours it took him to make his four orbits Nigel found another object: a broken solar panel. Nigel lamented this, knowing how sad it was that he could even visually find a single object in the vastness of the orbit. He'd heard that the eggheads were researching the Kepler Syndrome problem and he had a feeling this would not ease them in any way. It certainly didn't make him feel any better about the state of their planet. However on his second orbit he saw something that lifted his spirits. Glistening like the thinnest thread of spider silk in the sun was the Andresian Space Elevator. Now that was an achievement Nigel could be proud of as a human being. After passing it he kept his eyes out from the Sainamese elevator to the north in the Cartic. On his final pass through the area he could have sworn he saw a small glint for a second towards the area it was supposed to be, but couldn't be sure. He'd have to look through the footage when he landed.....if he landed. 'Well actually the landing part is fairly certain...' he though as he began his retrograde burn to bring him back to Oracia '...it's just the surviving part that I have to worry about'.

But despite his fears Nigel managed to burn perfectly and land only a few miles off the coast of Chapshire....at which point his still hot capsule met the cold sea and cracked, leaking water into the cabin. Nigel quickly deployed his flotation vest and waited for teh Chap Navy to rescue him.

All in all a far more successful and safe mission than many had expected. A recovery vessel salvaged the craft and the film and Nigel drank all of the celebratory booze.

All of it.
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