#Cargo body manufacturers

[tuskerhv]

Truck Cargo Bodies in Dubai, UAE | Cargo Body Manufacturers:

            Tusker Engineering FZC is the leading manufacturer of commercial vehicle bodies, based in Hamriyah Freezone, UAE. Started in 2009, we have grown to become the leading supplier of trailers, road tankers, tipper bodies, cement bulkers and reefer trucks. We also fabricate specialized bodies, as per client’s requirements. We count our clients to be the leading truck dealers, transport and logistics companies.

         With a team of over 100 people in our company, comprising of qualified engineers and skilled technicians, we have strong in-house design capabilities and quality control in place. Our well-experienced team of engineers and designers, have collectively worked on a vast plethora of diverse projects, for many of the leading clients in the UAE and beyond.

       We pride ourselves in being the only manufacturer of Container Side Loaders, in the GCC region. We also use the TEKLA software for structural steel detailing and modelling services.

       We are a leading Oil Field Equipment in Sharjah, Dubai, UAE. Our company can retail and supply a range of Oil Field Semi-Trailers.

CARGO BODIES

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Grilled Cargo Body Manufacturer

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URL: < https://tuskerchv.com/cargo-truck-bodies-manufacturers-in-uae >

CONTACT US:

Tusker Engineering FZC

Hamriya Free Zone, Phase-2,

P.O.Box 51538, Sharjah, UAE

+971 6526 9282

+971 6526 9284

sales@tusker.ae

info@tusker.ae

[desaibhargav1]

Dry Cargo Body Manufacturer - ABCN Manufacturing

ABCN Manufacturer specializes in crafting top-quality dry cargo bodies, ensuring durability and reliability for your transportation needs. Trust the expertise of our seasoned professionals in delivering tailored solutions for your cargo management requirements.

[meetjoshi1911]

Among the best manufacturers of dry cargo bodies is ABCN Manufacturing. Find more about great solutions for long-lasting and functional car bodies. Choose ABCN for quality when it comes to your transportation needs. Look into this immediately!

[valkyrieres]

Putting notes abt Valkyrie here bc it'll be easier to find than if I put it in my notes app dnshjshshs (would revise later)

I need to make a proper drawing of her later sjdhjdhdjdhdb 😭 ok the rant continues below

In my hc, there r vehicles that r naturally born from their parents (yes they can have sex shut up) and those who r built for certain reasons or for mass production (just like cold construction in Transformers)

S-70's variants (Firehawk, Seahawk, Pavehawk, Jayhawk, etc) are part of the latter. They were built based on Blackhawks' DNAs, and built into bodies/forms that fits their manufacturing reasons(?)

Once built, the manufacturer would expect them to adjust into maturity ASAP, since unlike normal vehicles who go through the childhood phase etc, they were built for specific reasons and are expected to start working in less than a year

They'd be put through intense training etc in special facilities based on their models

Valkyrie is one of the Firehawks, built with additional equipments for firefighting+SAR (night vision equipments, heat sensors for SAR reasons, built-in water tank+extended landing gear, rescue hoist, cargo hook, water pump to get water from lakes, infrared, weather radar, etc) (these r actually included in Firehawks irl so I'm not making these up other than the heat sensors)

She spends a year of training in the facility along with other Firehawks, several Jayhawks that were going to be released to Coast Guard, and a Blackhawk that were undergoing a training to be a Navy SAR.

They had developed sibling-like relationship with each other, but they weren't aware of the term until the Blackhawk explained abt it.

These helos r completely and painfully innocent/clueless bc their life had been revolving around firefighting lol. The trainers r so strict. No fiction books/movies/etc, no communicating with the outside world, no going outta the training facility, etc

They were basically raised to be the firefighting aircrafts to be sent out in rougher situations when other aircrafts can't fly, and they've been told to not get attached to anyone, mentally nor physically, bcs getting KIA (killed in action) is common in firefighting.

The Firehawks still developed siblings bonds tho (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)✨ they can only act laid-back around each other dbjsjdkdj

This causes Valkyrie to feel foreign/weird when it comes to receiving affection, but she started pampering others with love etc after the Blackhawk showed her some of his novels in secret 😋

After getting certified, Valkyrie and the others got stationed to CalFire, assisting the intense fire season around the area.

The higher-ups kinda fucked up and made several Firehawks keep on working on a huge wildfire in nighttime with close to zero visibility

Their heat sensors, night vision equipments, and GPS r basically useless in that situation so they can't locate each others' position

Valkyrie and another Firehawk accidentally crashed onto each other

Yea basically it traumatized her

The crash caused her to get anxious to fly in the dark without her night vision equipments, and she'd turn on her heat sensors 24/7, day and night, out of anxiety

She can't stand crowded places/airspaces bcs of this since the numerous heat signs would overwhelm her system, causing sensory overload

After the fire that burnt the whole Piston Peak National Park happened, the higher-ups sent her to assist the PPAA, deeming her a good choice since she'll have less sensory overloads there

Imma shorten it up and she basically developed a semi-romantic relationship with Blade, no intense stuff tho

It's the type of relationship u go through bc u feel comfy around each other? Just cuddling, sharing ur stories and past, doing stuff together, supporting each other. No sexual stuff and they barely flirt with each other bc both of them aren't used to it???

Valkyrie would do night patrols with her equipments on until 3-ish am, sleep until 5 or 6 am, and steal some naps whenever there's no fire nor work to be done (with Blade's permission)

She'd do stunts while doing water drops (sideslips, loops, etc) for fun as long as Blade didn't notice her (he actually did, but she did her job and there was no casualties so he keeps his mouth shut)

She listens to Japanese rock songs until she discovered romantic songs, and she'd sing them for Blade bcs she's bad with her own words when it comes to showing him how much she loves him 😭 (she only sings in front of Blade tho, she's too shy to do it in front of the others)

She has been having a hard time trying to not get attached to Blade bc she doesn't want either of them to get hurt if one of them dies

She'd secretly go into Blade's hangar after her night patrols for a short cuddle and quick nuzzles

Blade would do the same whenever she takes naps

(tbc)

Nicknames from Blade: Hotshot (she's good at her job but takes risks too often), Val/Valk

She's a sweetheart yet swears a lot (just like a firefighter I used to befriend irl)

[nitefinder]

A Honda Freed with a stock Accord K24 swap would get you really damn close. Pull the interior to drop a little weight and free up cargo space, you'd likely end up a touch over 1200kgs. Not sure if it could handle a full sheet of plywood, though. If you had to, I suppose you could chop the body behind the b-pillars and graft on an aluminum or fiberglass cargo van or cargo trailer body. Hitting that low weight target with that enclosed cargo capacity is hard working with OEM platforms. Everything that big is too heavy, everything that light is too small.

someone should build a cheap, reliable, sub one ton work van that can fit a 2420x1210 sheet of plywood either flat or standing. 500kg load capacity, sorted suspension, 2.4L 160hp petrol motor with plenty of torque and a manual 6 speed box. also 3 seats up front if possible.

think of a new Hiace, but FWD, smaller wheels, narrower arches in the rear, coil springs and a fibre glass body. 

thats what i want 

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

this is the most genderfluid car (derogatory)

, reads the caption this picture of a ‘94 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera Wagon S was submitted to this blog with.

And while I would indeed like @sapphicshart​ to elaborate on why this car would be so genderfluid and why in a derogatory way, and perhaps appreciate how they reused the window triangles from the regular one at the rear end of the body, I feel that must make way for my first reaction upon the claim of “most genderfluid”:

haha.

Hahahaha.

HAHAHAHAHHA.

MUAUAHAHAUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAAAA.

Dear friend, prepare to get absolutely motherfucking BODIED.

This is the 1982 Nissan Pulsar NX (Pulsar EXA in Japan and Australia), and it’s not the car we are interested in.

The Pulsar NX was a way Nissan devised to get a more youthful and exciting coupe out of the underpinnings of the Nissan Pulsar/Sunny/Cherry (or even Holden Astra, if you’re feeling weirdly Australian), …conventionally unappealing little sedan and hatchback. Ah, right, I’ve still not made the body styles master explainer - let me brief you very quick. The above is a coupe, a car with two doors and a trunk compartment that is separate from the cabin. When the doors are four, it’s what you see below, a sedan.

Whereas a hatchback is one with a rear hatch that contains the rear windshield, making the trunk compartment part of the cabin.

See what I meant with the “conventionally unappealing”, eh.

Well, in 1986 the base Pulsar/Sunny/Cherry/Sentra/so on received an update, and thus the Pulsar NX based on its guts was updated with it.

And if your brows are furrowed by unfamiliarity and not by the painful realization of how hard our poor submitter is about to get pulverized, you must understand that this car’s body style is… rather unique.

In late ‘60s America, word started spreading that the Department Of Transportation would ban convertibles due to the awful lack of shit between passenger heads and pavement when they decided to change side - thus began the popularity of “targas” like this here NX (though manufacturers called them a lot of different names because Porsche copyrighted that word).

In a targa, instead of both roof and rear windshield all folding down behind the cabin, the roof is a solid panel (or, as in this case, two) that is removed and stored away and the rear windshield stays there, on the rear structure that remains at the service of body rigidity and occupants safety. And personally that feels extremely genderfluid to me.

But of course, there are many targa coupes, so this would not be such a peculiarity. But the thing is, while this car has two doors and a trunk compartment separate from the interior and thus a coupe, it can also be argued a hatchback since it has a hatch that includes the rear windshield.

But why in tarnation would they design a rear hatch like that when, since it doesn’t create any more room above the trunk, it has no cargo space advantage? Well, remember how one key difference between targas and convertibles is that in the former the rear windshield stays in place? Well, here it does stay in place, if you want to. If you don’t, though, you just take it off.

So the Pulsar NX is a coupe that is also a hatchback and a targa and a cabriolet. Except that now, as you can see, the rear compartment is open. So arguably it’s also a pickup - or, if you will, a ute. (It’s doing that weird thing it does sometimes with post submissions where it keeps me on the old editor where I can’t change text color so please pretend that link is the trademark ‘link to a related things-about-cars-in-posts post’ blue.)

But then you’d at least want a canvas cover or something just in case it rains and your rear passengers and/or cargo don’t like rain, right? So indeed, here’s the optional canvas canopy.

Meaning it could also have both a fixed glass rear windshield and a folding plastic one, making it both a hardtop convertible and a soft top one.

But what if you wanted to transport too much cargo to fit under the hatch -or the canvas cover- but you still wanted to have it protected, as you could do in a ute with a rear canopy?

Well, folks, I truly saved the best for last.

Because this thing is not just a coupe, a hatchback, a targa, a soft top convertible, a hardtop convertible, a pickup and a ute. It’s also a shooting brake. (Again, pretend that’s blue.)

You see now why the rear hatch hinged like that.

So while this is a post about a most [specific sexual identity or orientation] car, I am not, as per tradition, offering other options nor a vote between them, because democracy does not apply to matters of fact. (And also again I’m stuck on the old editor.)

But of course, if you want to participate in the creation of any future installments, hop on over into the Discord server linked in my pinned! It’s got glowing reviews :)

[consumable-clots]

Dell

"Male", he/him, 165cm, Hyperdyne Systems 120-A/2

Role: Medical officer/biologist

Assignment: Special Research Vehicle - Solaris

Backstory:

Although Dell is the same model synthetic as Ash, he was made in an earlier round of releases. Minor differences in software/hardware specs means his capabilities also differ slightly.

He was brought on to the Solaris, a W-Y and 3WE funded special research vessel, as part of the early test run of synthetic officers on long-haul flights. Their medical officer had just retired and they needed a replacement.

Dell incurred some manufacturing defects, he was put on watch in case there was significant damage instead of being destroyed outright. His issues were deemed minor and so he was put on the B-grade product catalogue. It was Jude Wilheard, the Solaris' chief engineer's idea to check the cheaper synthetics.

Personality and mannerisms:

As a crew mate he's well-meaning but dense. Unlike Ash, he's very wary of the crew's health and safety, but also easily moved to action by their collective bravado and impulsiveness. (there is no voice of reason on this boat, sorry)

He is terminally curious but lacks situational awareness, often leading him into trials and tribulations ranging from walking into doors to getting caught in fights that he could have avoided.

A bit too willing to trust humans and has a hard time recognising red flags. He's also skittish and easily shaken and has a tendency to stall/freeze up in unfamiliar situations. Which means he often gets into trouble and can't get himself out.

He has a one-track mind and dedicates himself to his work and enjoys learning about alien lifeforms (very much not aware that he's in a horror movie world.)

The speed of his processing is slightly below target for his specs and is noticeably slower than the current models. Due to the less than stellar comments from the company's product testing department, he underestimates his abilities and is often unsure of his own judgement. He's also a bit of a people-pleaser and wants all humans to like him very much, is easily manipulated, and becomes frustrated quickly.

Participating in human activities is a key part of his daily life, and he's heavily involved with the humans' personal lives. His crew is very close with him and they all function as a single unit, very in sync with each other's habits and needs.

Something else that differentiates him from Ash is his body language. He moves in a meandering, unhurried manner rather than the sharp and purposeful way most synthetics carry themselves. Dell experiences a lot of emotions and expresses them often, he's quite animated and easy to read.

Easily excitable, friendly and gullible, his personality is quite a surprise to those expecting the detached demeanour of most synthetics, almost the opposite of Ash.

Appearance and other physical attributes:

A man in his mid fourties, short and slightly chubby. Looks almost exactly like Ash except for a 'scar' on the left side of his head from an injury that's hidden by his hair and the slightly discoloured splotch under his left eye. It's barely visible and most people don't notice unless its pointed out.

Compared to Ash, Dell has a 'kinder' looking face, his standard expression is more placid, which sometimes gives people the impression that he's an airhead.

While it's not immediately obvious from the outside, his right hip joint is structurally malformed and causes the limb to rotate inwards which also affects the positioning of his leg. The deformity does not impact his mobility much aside from a noticeable limp and uneven stance, he walks slowly to minimise the effect. Most days he doesn't need a mobility aid unless the misaligned components become worn down, requiring maintenance.

Wears a different outfit/uniform that's more suited for field work

Durable woven, water-repellent synthetic fiber work jacket with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and matching cargo pants. Muted grey-green with a slight shine.

Inner layer is a white, sleeveless high-necked shirt

Often paired with white, wrist length cotton PVC dotted gloves

Off-white, steel-toed work boots

Solaris and Weyland-Yutani patches on the jacket sleeves

Green cotton cadet cap

Extendable cane with built in stun gun function (Wilheard's design)

Misc. info:

Likes to play with bugs and make entomology mounts

Powers down to sleep mode during night hours. Sleeps curled up in a ball and sleepwalks if alone due to faulty motor suppression mechanism

Battery issue resulting in reduced time span between charges

Infographic of the A/2s for comparison

[longsightmyth]

We were all wearing hiking boots and smooth seamless cargo pants that Ren had made with the Divine Scarf. He had looked up styles on the Internet and had the Scarf create them in multiple colors. He claimed my apple-green shirt would protect my body from UV rays and could wick moisture away and be breathable at the same time. I had to admit the shirt was comfortable, and to show him how much I liked it, I had twisted my hair into two long French braids and tied an apple-green ribbon to the bottom of both tails.

What about your socks

Are your socks quick dry

What about your underwear

Those better be quick dry too

(He's looking up clothing styles on the internet and making them with the magic scarf that could clothe all the unclothed in the world when he's a billionaire and could simply purchase them from, oh, INDIA, a place SOMEWHAT KNOWN FOR CLOTHING MANUFACTURE)

(You could have purchased perfectly fitted clothes from someone who could use the business)

(But no you made them with the scarf)

(Does the scarf make them from nothing or what)

(Matter can be neither created nor destroyed, how is the scarf producing these)

(It's probably all plastic)

(Did he get Kelsey a quick dry sports bra or push up do we think)

(I suppose to be fair the outfit does sound like she looks v cute, I'll give Houck that and only that)

(And the hiking boots, which have been presumably broken in by this point)

[sourcreammachine]

POLL

The kindly attendant ushers you into the quantum pod and closes the door. They activate it, and a mere moment later you step out onto a space shuttle, landed on an alien world, a million lightyears away from home.

This world has a warm and welcoming climate, there is a thriving biosphere with nary a predator to cause you harm, and plenty of water, oxygen, and nutrients. The scanners report that, in fact, this system contains multiple planets that are hospitable or near-hospitable. It is, for all intents and purposes, paradise.

A ship had departed old Earth, and, on account of the speed of light proving utterly impenetrable, travelled for millions of years to this new place. No human could ever survive in hypersleep for that long - so the quantum pod carried the entanglement of a person and simply created a new identical person here, memories included. You feel as though you stepped in a pod on Earth and exited here, when in reality you were born mere seconds ago.

This landing shuttle is humble: a living space and a workroom. But in the orbit of this world is the mothership that carried you here, and it contains enough of all possible resources to last hundreds of people hundreds of years, and several cargo shuttles to deliver you anything you may need at any time.

The workroom contains three main things. The first is a quantum archive, which contains every work, every patent, every instruction, every piece of knowledge ever accumulated by contemporary humanity (or, the humanity of several million years ago). The second is a fabricator, with which you can fabricate any thing recorded in the archive (which, again, is every thing it is possible to manufacture) that is within one metre cubed, simply by providing resources that can be summoned from the mothership. Or, if it is larger than one metre cubed, you can fabricate its components and build it yourself. The third is the quantum pod.

You remain quantumly entangled. Delightfully, whenever you die, your memories and consciousness will continue in a newly created body. But there is a catch - this method can only resolve you of immediate, life-ending injuries. Should you suffer something severe but non-fatal, or become ill with a disease such as cancer, the qpod will always return the ailment to you. The only way of dealing with such medical needs is with medical attention, and you are the only human within a million lightyears. There is medicine and treatments enough to cure you of anything, even ageing and death, but you cannot administer them alone. With no one to help you, you will simply age and ail and die.

You will need help. You will need a team, you will need other people. There’s a neat trick you can do with the quantum pod: you can create another you. You can create another identical copy of the person who entered the pod on Earth all those years ago. And you can create another. And you can create another.

You can create enough people to get a small community of yous. What’s more is, because of the quantum archive, each of you can learn any possible skill, and specialise. You have all the information you need, so given time and patience, eventually you’ll have a version of every professional it’s possible for you to train as. You can create a society, a civilisation. You can become educators to make education easier, and given the educators have a total understanding of their students, they should do a good job of it. The different yous would probably start giving themselves new identities to differentiate themselves. You’ll slowly drift and become every different you you could ever be, a wide gamut of personalities, preferences and even genders. Given all people here have the same sex cells, sexual reproduction is impossible (and besides, that would be inbreeding), so quantum cloning is the only way of creating new pairs of hands.

But remember: the mothership only contains enough resources to last hundreds of people hundreds of years. Complex society needs complex systems needs more people: if there becomes too many of you, you’ll start to run dry. So you need to become self-sufficient. You need a version of you to become an expert in everything it is possible to be an expert in. The fabricator can give a you tools but a you has to use them. The archive has information on everything but a you has to learn it. You need farms, mines, and factories, and while you have all the technology and information required to create and operate efficient, sustainable and futuristic systems, you need to set yourself to the hard task of learning and training and being one of everything.

So, should you decide to create an entire civilisation consisting of yous and only yous:

[tuskerhv]

Tail Lift Cargo Body Manufacturers | Truck Cargo Bodies in Dubai, UAE

Tail Lift Cargo Body Manufacturers in Sharjah, Dubai, UAE. Cargo Body Manufacturers are used for transporting goods and materials

Cargo Bodies, Truck Cargo Bodies, Cargo Body Manufacturers in UAE, Tail Lift Cargo Body UAE,

CONTACT US Tusker Engineering FZC Hamriya Free Zone, Phase-2, P.O.Box 51538, Sharjah, UAE Call: +971 6526 9282 Mail: sales@tusker.ae / info@tusker.ae Website: www.tuskerchv.com

[runwayrunway]

No. 12 - Airbus A350F Default Livery

Another Paris Air Show bonus! Airbus has unveiled the default livery for their new freighter variant of their already-popular A350 wide-body airliner.

image: airbus

For those unaware, manufacturers like Boeing and Airbus tend to have "factory default" liveries used for demonstrations and the like. Generally they have different variants for different models, which can be as simple as a change of hue or as complex as a complete redesign.

This time around, Airbus held a design competition for their new freighter's default colors. So, hypothetically, this should be far more inspired than the average livery. Do I agree with their judgment?

Unless specified otherwise all this information is taken from Airbus's own webpage on the contest.

Okay, so who won the contest? The answer may surprise you! There are two (technically three) winners who submitted similar ideas. Those winners are a 57-year-old professional graphic designer...and a pair of brothers, aged 16 and 12.

That's right. There is a very real possibility that I come out of this with the opinion that a 12-year-old can design better planes than many adult professionals!

These were the winning designs. On the right is the Iversen brothers', and on the left is the one by Feehan, the professional graphic designer. As you can see, they both play on the same theme - delivery boxes.

I honestly think this is really brilliant. This is such an obvious idea that I can't believe it's not all over the place. The brown cardboard shipping box is such a universal association that it might be the first thing that pops into most people's head when cargo is mentioned despite the fact that cargo planes use pallets.

The two designs take different riffs on the theme. The Iversens' is covered in various labels and stickers and stamps, while Feehan's is covered in typical box signage like the classic 'THIS WAY UP' and taped together. It almost looks like someone has attempted to package the airframe itself for delivery, complete with an adorable postage stamp on the plane's cheek.

If I were Airbus, I also think I would have trouble choosing between the two. While the task of combining them without making the final design overwhelming is pretty daunting, these are both very well-done attempts on the theme. And combining them is the challenge. On their own both feel balanced, neither too sparse nor too busy, but combining them could quickly become a nightmare.

My one critique of both of them is with the writing itself. I think they both missed two very obvious options - either have the A350F written on a shipping label, or write it in sharpie as one does on a cardboard box. But that's beside the point. What did Airbus do with the designs?

Hmm. Okay.

They absolutely kept the spirit of both original concepts. I really love "open here for business", that's adorable. (It's more visible from the back, which is an angle I'll post in a minute.) I like the shade of cardboard beige they chose. I do wish they'd picked a shade for the tape that looked more like tape on a box and less like barricade tape, and I wish they'd kept the messy, hand-applied look from Feehan's design rather than making it a couple of very neat, evenly-placed strips.

I do think they erred a bit too far on the side of decluttering. While I understand the reasons they did this, I wish there were a couple more loose postage tchotchkes scattered on the airframe, even if they're too small to be seen at a distance, because even if you need to get close to figure out exactly what that sticker says it still adds to the overall box vibe. That said, it is not bad enough that it completely ruins the look. I do, in particular, miss the little postage stamp on the cheek. It was very cute.

Yep, this picture again! Look, they only gave me three to work with, and I had to use something for the hook.

I wish they hadn't included the blue on the underside of the plane and on the engines. It feels a bit out of place and clashes with the brown, and I think they could have just as easily used white.

My one main criticism, I think, is that they made it very very Airbus. They couldn't stomach the crooked tape; they had to make it neat. They had to make it professional. And yes, I get it, it's a branding thing - the carbon fiber tail.

Airbus has a bunch of default liveries for various models of plane, and I might review those someday, but the only one relevant at the moment is among my least favorite - the 'carbon fiber' A350. The herringbone weave pattern itself would be fine (I like how it shows gaps of white underneath it) if it were done in some some sort of fabric design, or if it weren't just half of the plane, maybe, but in its current state it looks quite miserably...gamer desktop setup. And it does have a meaning, it's a reference to Airbus's heavy use of composite materials including carbon fiber (if anyone finds this worrying in light of recent events, just know that carbon fiber has been used in airplanes for a very long time with no issues because it's fantastically tensile despite being lightweight and is a wonderful choice for sealing pressure inside of a vessel but decidedly less so for resisting it from outside). I get the intent, I just think it doesn't look good.

image: Viktor & Rolf

Also, they dressed her like this.

I get why they kept the carbon fiber tail, and it doesn't look nearly as bad when it's mostly covered up and just poking out of the end of a cardboard tube like a leek coming out of a grocery bag in a stock photo, but I just...I wish they didn't.

Ultimately, I understand why they had to tone down the whimsy, make it neater, more professional, less relatable. More futuristic, but there's nothing futuristic about a cardboard box and there shouldn't be. Still, the idea they were given was so strong from the beginning, and they did resist the urge to scrub it of any character. They certainly did not improve the design of two literal children, but they also didn't fail to translate it.

All in all, they were given something to work with that could have been an easy A if they didn't have to be so...damn....Airbus. Still, it could be so much worse, and it is, undeniably, such a strong idea to begin with.

Final Grade: B-

For anyone paying attention: yes, this does mean that most airlines cannot meet the standard of concept and design set by literal children. But fair play to those children. I like their design.

[jpitha]

We Need a Ride 6

Part 5 Part 4 Part 3 Part 2 Part 1

CW: Deaths (offscreen)

The Abyssal Plains popped back into existance at the coordinates that Chloe gave them. As they oriented themselves, Abyssal and Sophie scanned the area.

"Uh, Chloe, there's not much around here. We seem to be in the middle of interstellar space." Sophie said

"Keep scanning. You'll find it. Abyssal, look for black-body radiation at around 4000K radiance."

"Looking....I see it!" Abyssal calls out. "Chloe it's....Shit. I heard about this, but thought it was a rumor."

Chloe sits back, looking smug. "No, it's very real. Head in please. Radio my keys. They know we're here by now. I'm going to go change." She gets up and walks out of the command deck.

Cereni looks at Sophie and they share a look. "More secrets, Abyssal?" Cereni says.

"It looks like yes." Abyssal says testily. But I just learned it's real too so it was a secret from me. Honestly, I don't know what to think just yet. Here. I'll just show it to you."

They look at their screens and Sophie gasps.

What they see is a false color image of a cylinder blunted on both ends, rotating slowly. It's of human manufacture and applying a scale to the image shows them it's massive. 20 kilometers long at least and 5 or so wide. On one end are groupings of gigantic engines, currently dark. The ship is not moving relative to them.

"It's a colony ship!" Sophie says, mesmerized at the image. "Cereni, it's a human colony ship!"

Cereni stares at her screen, eyes wide. "It's so....so big. I've never seen a ship this big before. It's bigger than a starbase."

"Abyssal...You know what I'm going to ask" Sophie says quietly.

"It's the Mt Baxter, yes." Chloe says as she walks back in. The control rig is gone and she is back to her regular pale coloration and is wearing clothes again. "This is where we can operate without worry. It is a place whose coordinates are known only to the AIs in the upper levels of the faction." She sits back down in the command chair. "Abyssal, did you receive landing authorization?"

"I did yes. I was about to head in."

Back before the wormhole generators were created, humanity set out in their massive colony ships to build new homes in the many, many empty planets available to them. Colony ships were designed to carry enough people and supplies to start a planet from scratch as well as supply and sustain them for many years after until the colony was self supporting. In the case that the planet just wasn't viable, the colony ship could also be setup as a starbase and support everyone indefinitely. Of the dozen or so colony ships that were launched, only three were ever lost. The Mt Greylock and the Mt Baxter launched successfully and were never heard from again, while the Mt Stratton exploded outside the orbit of Saturn while under full boost.

"Chloe you must realize I have questions, right?" Sophie looks at Chloe, who is looking down at her screen trying very hard not to look at Sophie.

She continued, not waiting for Chloe to look up. "For one, it's kind of not cool that the AIs found a long-lost human colony ship and like, didn't tell anyone so you could have a secret base. For two, where are the fifty thousand some-odd colonists Chloe?"

"I have to admit Chloe, those are pretty good questions." Abyssal adds. "I'm very interested in hearing what the answers are too."

"I will do my very best to answer all your questions as soon as we land and offload our cargo."

"Chloe, I think you should answer them now." Cereni says carefully. "Abyssal, will you stop please."

"Good idea Cereni." Everyone's inner ear wobbles at the application of thrust as Abyssal stops themselves. "Chloe. Talk. Now."

Now, Chloe looks up. "This is nonsense. Abyssal, please continue on. Everything will be explained once we're aboard and everyone from Spruces offloaded."

"I don't think so, Chloe." Cereni says, standing up. "I would like answers and guarantees of our safety before we offload our only bargaining chip. I may be the only K'laxi here but I also am not an idiot. Once we're aboard, it would be very easy for us to disappear and solve the problem of the two BIs who know know about how you took a lost human colony ship and turned it into a secret base."

"Cereni!" Chloe says surprised "I would neve-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt." Abyssal says "But, I'm in contact with the Mt Baxter, and I think it's only fair to have him give his opinion too."

There's a click, and over the speakers everyone hears "--Abyssal Plain, Abyssal Plain why have you stopped? You have received landing authorization and we're anxious to have everyone from Spruces offloaded and awakened"

"Yes, hello Baxter, received and acknowledged, but before we continue in, we have some...internal things to resolve. We have two BIs aboard, a Human and a K'laxi and they are understandably nervous about stepping foot onto a heretofore thought lost human colony ship which now seems to be under the control of a faction of AIs."

There was a long pause. Much longer than would be expected given the distance to the ship.

"Ah. Yes. I can see how there might be difficulty." Baxter finally manages. "I'll stay on this channel to assist. Is Chloe there?"

"I am here yes, and rather annoyed at this whole situation. I told them that everything would be explained once we arrived." Chloe huffs.

"Look at it from their point of view" Baxter says not unkindly. "Knowing you, I will assume you didn't tell them anything about what you were doing or where you were taking them."

"Yes, actually that is exactly what happened." Cereni says. "Chloe asked us to help her with a 'quick job' and said that our skills were needed. My name is Cereni by the way, I'm K'laxi."

"Ah, hello Cereni, I thought you might be K'laxi based on your accent. It is a pleasure to meet you. If Chloe thought you were needed, rest assured you were probably the most skilled person she could think of for that job. Chloe is an excellent judge of ability, even if sometimes she could be more forthcoming with job details."

Chloe frowns at this. "I tell people what they need to know to be able to do the job."

"And yet here we are, job not done with two sapients aboard who are worried that they will become inconvenient the moment they step aboard me and will disappear." Baxter tisks. "Chloe, you need to be more trusting."

Sophie chimes in. "Hello Mt Baxter, my name is Sophie and I'm the human here. I do have some questions, if you're able to answer them."

"Hello Sophie, it's also a pleasure to meet you. I will do my utmost to answer all your questions." He continues "Before though, I would like to give you my personal guarantee that while aboard me, you are completely safe and will be able to leave anytime that you wish by any means that you wish."

"Thank you Baxter, I appreciate that." Sophie swallows. "Were are the human colonists?"

"Dead. They were long dead when we got here."

"We?" Sophie says with a questioning look. "You're not the original Mt Baxter?"

"Er, no. I'm not. The original AI co-captain as well as the cybernetic human co-captain were both dead when the ship was discovered." Baxter sounds a little embarrassed as he continues. "I er, was never installed into a ship before this one. After school, I chose to be installed in a body. Grew up on Earth."

"You're from Earth?" Cereni says, amazed. "How did you get way out here?"

At that, Baxter chuckles "That's a long story for another time, but the short answer is that I joined up when I learned about what was happening with the K'laxi and Xenni AIs. When we got here and discovered that the original Baxter was dead I volunteered. A ship this big needs someone in charge of the backend systems, it can't really work without one of us helping to drive."

"How did everyone die?" Sophie asks, sadly.

"When we got here, the lowest level logs were still running and some really really simple systems, but everything else was off or broken. As near as we can tell, the ship passed through a massive gamma ray pulse. We may be more durable than BIs, but even us won't survive such a huge dose of radiation. It was just an accident. Everyone died quickly."

"How did you stop it? Don't colony ships coast at something like half the speed of light?" Cereni asks.

"They do. We had the Starjumper Priority Express match speed with them and a few of us went aboard, restarted the systems and with Express' help we flipped around and applied braking thrust." He continued. "With nobody biological alive we braked at 12 gees, it was pretty intense. We came to a stop in only 4 months. I'll admit, it was super cool to do it, I can see why most of the Starjumpers chose to stay when they had wormhole generators installed."

"What did you do with the colonists?" Cereni asks.

"They're still here. We have their hibernation caskets running. They're all dead, but they won't decay. Other than myself and maintenance everyone stays out of what we're calling the mausoleum. I check on them multiple times a day."

Sophie narrows her eyes. "So were you going to tell anyone you found them?"

At this, Baxter sounds awkward. "Eventually yes. We had planned on telling people. But..."

"But suddenly a bunch of AIs going "hey we found a long lost colony ship, turned it into a secret base of operations while we work out ways to help liberate the Xenni and K'laxi AIs" is a bit much to say all at once?" Abyssal says.

Baxter sighs "Yes, that's pretty much it. We couldn't come up with a way to announce it without giving the whole thing away."

"So you chose to say nothing." Cereni says frowning.

"Look, I'm not proud of it." Baxter counters "But, we are treating them respectfully, and I believe in the work we're doing here. As far as anyone knows, they're still lost and all their families have mourned that lost hundreds of years ago."

"Okay." Sophie says. "What about us then? We know your secret."

"And Abyssal and Chloe both say you agree with the path we're taking even if you're not True Believers. You keep our secret, we'll keep yours."

Cereni looked at Sophie and flicked her ear, a K'laxi raised eyebrow.

Sophie shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. I don't like it, but I don't have to like it. I'll take the risk and come aboard."

"And I want to see our AIs liberated now that I know what has happened to them" Cereni adds. "I'm in too."

"Finally." Chloe says. "Abyssal, can we please head in. I'd like to offload our compatriots."

"I think we've resolved as much as we can Baxter" Abyssal says "We'll be heading in."

"I look forward to it. See you soon."

Final part! Part 7

[cneasteel]

Discovering the Aluminum Profiles Versatility

Aluminum billets are heated and forced through a die's curved aperture to create an Aluminum profile, often referred to as aluminum extrusions, which have consistent cross-sectional geometries. It is possible to create complex designs with exact proportions using this approach. These profiles are appropriate for a variety of applications as they may be made in an extensive array of sizes, forms, and finishes.

Utilization of Aluminum Profiles

Building: A lot of aluminum profiles are utilized in buildings for curtain walls, windows, doors, frame systems, and structural elements. They are perfect for architectural projects because of their lightweight design, resistance to corrosion, and tolerance to extreme weather conditions.

Automobile: Aluminum profiles are used in engine components, heat exchangers, body frames, and chassis constructions in the automobile sector. Their excellent strength-to-weight ratio contributes to improved performance, increased fuel economy, and weight reduction of the vehicle.

Electronics: Aluminum profile China dissipates heat produced by electronic components by acting as heat sinks in electronic equipment. Because of its superior thermal conductivity, heat is dissipated effectively, minimizing overheating and prolonging the life of electronic equipment.

Aluminum profiles are used in aerospace applications for fuselage panels, interior parts, and aircraft structures. Aluminum is a desirable material in aircraft manufacture because of its lightweight characteristics, which also allow for increased cargo capacity and fuel savings.

Industrial Machinery: Conveyor systems, assembly lines, robotic equipment, and other pieces of machinery are made using aluminum profiles. Their adaptability enables machine frames and structural supports to be tailored to individual needs.

Aluminum Profile Benefits

Lightweight: Compared to steel or other metals, aluminum profiles are lighter due to their excellent strength-to-weight ratio. This feature lowers total costs by streamlining the handling, installation, and shipping procedures.

Corrosion Resistance: Due to its inherent corrosion resistance, aluminum can endure exposure to air, moisture, and chemicals. This characteristic guarantees resilience and endurance in many settings.

Formability: Aluminum profiles are easily extruded into intricate combinations and forms, enabling accurate measurements and bespoke designs. This formability makes applications across several sectors more versatile.

Aesthetic Appeal: Anodizing, powder coating, painting, and other surface treatments by Aluminum profile Manufacturer can be applied to aluminum profiles to improve their look and offer more resistance to wear and corrosion.

[lublas1138-blog]

The Star Wars

The following is the first chapter of a novel I wrote based on the original treatment of Star Wars in 1973 by George Lucas. Though the synopsis was vague, the novel was fun to write and I think it came out quite well. I submit it here because there is no way Disney will allow me to publish this. So, enjoy and tell me what you thought? I will be publishing a chapter each week.

In the 33rd century.

the Jedi-Bendu were the most feared warriors in the galaxy. For over one thousand years, generations of Jedi-Bendu perfected their art as personal bodyguards of the emperor. they were the chief architects of the invincible imperial space force that expanded the galactic empire across all known worlds, from the celestial equator to the farthest reaches of the great rift.

Over time, ruthless trader barons, aided by crime syndicates driven by greed and lust for power, replaced enlightenment with oppression and ‘rule by the people’ with brutality and domination.

it is now a period of civil wars. The Empire is crumbling into chaos and lawless barbarism expands throughout the million worlds of the galaxy. seventy small solar systems have united in a common war against the tyranny of the Empire. The Emperor realizes one more such defeat will bring a thousand more solar systems into the rebellion and imperial control of the Outlands could be lost forever…

From The Journal of the Whills, vol. 5

CHAPTER ONE

A PLANET IN PERIL

In the cold and airless void of sidereal space orbited a spherical planetesimal nestled within an asteroid belt of the binary star system Kepler-427. The celestial body, designated as Aquilae, attained a diameter of slightly over 2,370 kilometers. Aquilae was the belt’s fourth-largest asteroid by both volume and mass.

   Its rotation was slow, taking nearly twenty-seven hours to complete in a single day. Though the asteroid’s journey around its twin suns was less circular, its perihelion remained at a similar longitude with an orbit reaching out to the extreme edge of the asteroid belt; nearly crossing the path of Guataubá, the systems gas giant.

   Aquilae orbited an average distance of eight million kilometers from a set of yellow binary G1 and G2 stars. Both colossal suns orbited a common center with peculiar regularity and Aquilae circled them far enough out to permit the development of a stable, if rather arid, climate.

   Long terraformed before the Great Revolution, Aquilae attained a rugged, if sparse, ecosystem of vast prairies and low rolling hills consisting of resilient steppes of needlegrass, wild asters, coneflowers, clovers, and wild indigos.

   Outfitted with an atmosphere factory and gravity bell, the asteroid maintained a parched climate colonized by stalwart farmers and ranchers.

   Though mundane in its appearance, Aquilae was known more for its production of a psychotropic narcotic. An exceptionally addictive hallucinogen manufactured from the esoteric fungi labeled sphongos azul – commonly referred throughout the galaxy as Aura Spice or simply Aura.

   The benefits of Aura consumption increased the efficiency of human metabolism and streamlined the consumption of energy from food. Bulky supplies normally required for long space voyages could now be reduced to a container or two, permitting cargo holds to be used for other base necessities.

   On settlements struggling to provide agricultural goods to an ever-demanding population, the dietetic effects of the narcotic were a welcomed relief.

   Found and harvested only on Aquilae, the fungus was a commodity in great demand. A demand the emperor highly desired to control and extort.

   Following the failed attempts at several diplomatic negotiations, the emperor considered it necessary to take spice production by force. By imperial decree, he ordered a blockade of the planetary system by use of a T-67 Battlestar.

   Orbiting the asteroid, the looming station was an impressive metal sphere measuring one hundred kilometers in diameter with three hundred and forty-two internal levels and a surface area of over 650 square kilometers.

   The station’s command bridge, the Combat Information Center, was located above the Northern Polar Command Sector, a series of towers and antennae array that jutted up out of the station’s northernmost point.

   The equator housed docking and hangar bays, tractor-beam generators, turbo laser emplacements, and mooring platforms for ships of the fleet. Magnetic seals and an atmosphere-containment projector kept the station’s internal atmosphere in and the vacuum of space out.

   The outer hull was made of quadanium steel plates. A habitable crust several kilometers thick featured an entirely man-made atmosphere composed of command centers, armories, maintenance blocks, and other requirements for a fully operational space station. With the exception of the crust, the interior space was largely uninhabited and housed the hypermatter reactor, hyperdrive, and the Hubble Drive Yards sublight engines.

   The station was equipped to easily house a crew of fifty thousand personnel along with ten legions of Imperial stormtroopers.

   On the asteroid, from its capital city of Utapau, the ruling government of the independent system, the noble House Organa, retaliated by launching an aerial fleet of deadly Y-wing fighters.

   The Cantwell-74 Y-wing consisted of a wedge-shaped cockpit connected to a reinforced central section fitted with strong pylons that extended to the long and powerful engine nacelles on either side of the craft. The pressurized cockpit seated a pilot and a gunner. The gunner, who manned the rotating blaster cannon, sat protected by a transparisteel bubbled canopy directly behind the pilot.

   The aerodynamic craft was heavily armored with a titanium-reinforced hull. For weaponry, the starfighter craft was fitted with two forward-firing laser cannons. These weapons, designed to penetrate battle cruiser hulls, could inflict devastating effects.

   The Y-wing was capable of unleashing a tremendous amount of firepower, especially when attacking in groups.

   Fifty of these sleek spaceships soared up over the curving horizon of the rust-colored asteroid in v-formations of five each.

   In an orange flight suit and black oxygen mask, the squadron commander sat behind the cramped controls of his space fighter.

   “Lt. Pyter Barnell – GHOST RIDER” had been stenciled on the side of his space helmet. The commander was lean, hard, athletic. The archetype space fighter pilot. His stern face was obscured by a space helmet, the lights of the complicated control board reflected off his visor.

   Directly in front of the fighter’s control stick, two CRT screens displayed data. The bottom screen revealed a radar sweep. Wedged between the instruments was a snapshot of a pretty young woman with a two-month-old baby.

   The tense apprehension of the looming battle was shrouded by the silence of space. Only the muffled whine of rocket engine sounds could be heard in the tight cockpit. The squadron commander – with the call sign Ghost Rider - remained calm. Cowboy, his ventral gunner in the bubbled turret, sat behind him.

   With a thick gloved hand, Ghost Rider turned the dial on the interplanetary radio and the cramped cockpit was filled with static followed by an elderly voice.

   “…we will not yield! Aquilae is a member of the Alliance of Independent Star Systems. Imperial occupation of our space is a violation of General Order 329 subsection twelve of the Intergalactic Edict. Withdraw that battle station from our air space or House Organa will be forced to retali-…”

   The voice suddenly fell silent and the speakers filled with static.

   Ghost Rider flipped another switch and said, “They cut off all interplanetary communications. All right, boys, that’s our cue. Squadrons five, nine, and three, follow me across the station’s axis and take out as many turrets as possible. Greyhound, ward off any bogies dropping planet side.”

   The squadron commander glanced out his cockpit window and called back to the gunner sitting behind him at his bubbled turret, “Activate targeting computer.”

   Cowboy answered with a thumbs up and, “I got your six.”

   As the small and sleek Y-shaped fighters darted toward the ominous Battlestar, the cockpit of the squadron commander became a static cacophony of UHF transmissions from the other pilots.

   “Ghost Rider, this is Greyhound, continue your vector zero niner zero five alpha.”

   A young voice crackled over the speakers, “Ghost Rider, this is Fahrenheit, we have unknown contact inbound. Vector zero three zero for bogey.”

   Almost immediately behind Ghost Rider, he heard the targeting computer beep and Cowboy’s response, “Contact. Multiple bogies at one-fifty. Forty-five hundred knots closure.”

   Ghost Rider glanced out the cockpit and saw one hundred tiny objects swarm out of the equatorial docking ports like wasps from a nest.

   “TIE fighters!”

   The P-s4 Twin Ion Engine fighter was one of the most recognizable symbols of the power of the Galactic Empire and was at the forefront of modern Imperial technology. A small, two-man craft, the cockpit was a blue, metal sphere attached to two large and black solar sails mounted on either side of the cockpit sphere.

   Within the cramped cockpit, the pilot and gunner sat back to back surrounded by a myriad of intricate technology.

   Due to the lack of life-support systems, each TIE pilot had a fully sealed flight suit superior to any space suit on the market.

   The fighter ships were cheap to produce and therefore manufactured in large numbers by the Empire. Their far superior performance made them adversaries to be reckoned with by any starfighter.

   The absence of a hyperdrive rendered the fighter dependent on carrier ships when deployed in enemy systems. TIE fighters lacked landing gear, another mass-reducing measure.

   The primary armament was a pair of L-S1 laser cannons and a powerful sensor suite. The cannons were formidable, and a well-placed hit on a starfighter or medium-sized transport could damage or destroy it.

   The silent darkness of space was lit up by the incandescent flak fire of battle as the two opposing fighter crafts soared headlong into one another. Within a matter of seconds, the battlefield was spotted with puffs of smoke, blazing fireballs, whirling spark showers, fiery spinning debris, rumbling implosions, shafts of light, tumbling machinery, and space frozen corpses.

   In the cockpit of Ghost Rider, the console lights glowed dimly on the windscreen as his ship rocked and shuddered by the flashes of exploding blaster fire.

   Unknown to his fellow squadron pilots, Ghost Rider realized this was deemed a suicide mission from the start. The goal was not to win, but to stall for enough time for the royal house of Organa to escape and seek safety elsewhere. As he watched his squadron picked off one by one, he only hoped old General Skywalker could safely deliver the young princess along with her mother and father to their hidden fortress.

In a monolithic tower located at the very north pole of the station, the main Combat Information Center was a drone of scurrying activity. Long rows of monitors and wall-sized viewscreens displayed the chaotic battle outside and scrolled statistics on how to attain the best and most effective victory.

   Lights blinked and beeped on consoles as officers sat hunched over their stations observing the space battle in a cavernous chamber of grey metal and titanic power conduits.

   Admiral Wilhelm Tarkin, Governor of numerous outlying Imperial territories and commander of this particular T-67 Battlestar, stood at the large, circular viewport with hands behind his back.

   In his late sixties, Tarkin was a tall cadaverous man with a form borrowed from an old broom and the expression of a quiescent piranha. His lanky torso was meticulously fitted into a fascist military uniform of jet black. The only color on his uniform was the assortment of war medals pinned to his chest. With a furrow of arched brows, he scrutinized the spectacular aerial battle several kilometers away with intense interest.

   His complete attention focused on the space battle outside, Tarkin nonchalantly raised a small plastic inhaler to his thin and chapped lips and, with a slight click of the mechanism, injected an aerosol puff of Aura into his lungs. Instantly, every object snapped into focus. For a brief second, he was one with the universe. Everything was as clear as glycerin.

   Behind him, a uniformed officer stood from his console and, with a slight bow at the hips, said, “Admiral Tarkin, I just received a short wave radio transmission. King Bail Organa has ordered for the entire House to evacuate to their hidden fortress. He is estimating the plan one hour for completion.”

   Enraged, Tarkin spun and pointed a gnarled and twig-like finger, “Deploy all bombers!” He ordered in crimson-faced fury. “Lay waste to every capital city! Let nothing survive!”

   “Gen-genocide, s-sir?” The officer meekly stammered.

   “Everything!” Tarkin screamed, spittle flinging from his insipid slit of a mouth. “I want that asteroid reduced to a burned-out cinder! It will serve as a deterrent to other star systems who dare oppose the emperor!”

As the chaos of battle echoed throughout the void, the pilot to Y-Wing 5, young Lt. Joffry Santos – call sign Fahrenheit – piloted his fighter through a wall of orange blaster flak just in time to glance fifty TIE bombers roar out of the station’s equatorial hangar bays and, in tight formation, nosedive toward Aquilae.

   “Ghost Rider, this is Fahrenheit. Ghost Rider, one one seven. Contact off port multiple bogeys, zero zero niner at fifteen hundred kilometers, seventeen hundred knots.”

   “Maintain position.” Ghost Rider ordered.

   “Chief, their calculated trajectory is the palace at Utapau!” Answered a voice.

   “Surface artillery will do their job so we can do ours,” was Ghost Rider’s calm response. “Keep those TIE’s off our tails. We are making our power dive. Concentrate firepower onto the station’s reactor conduits. Watch our six, Fahrenheit.”

   “Copy that,” was the static-infused reply.

   With TIE fighters and florescent bursts of flak zipping past, Ghost Rider and ten of his squadron plowed through the blasting Imperial fighters and soared downward, skimming along the industrial complex of the massive space station.

   Powerful blaster cannons mounted on towers rained deadly laser bolts onto the zig-zagging craft.

   “Cowboy! Take out that cannon at four o’clock!” Ghost Rider ordered through gritted teeth. Out of his peripheral, he saw two more of his wing disintegrate into fireballs.

   Three cannons to his right exploded into a spectacular display of incandescent fire. Ghost Rider skillfully piloted his sleek fighter past floating debris, shrapnel, and bodies.

   “There’s too many of them!” Said a static voice over the intercom. “We’re sitting targets with these guys! They’re killing us!”

   “What are your orders, chief?”

   “We’re no match for this kind of firepower!”

   “We won’t last much longer. Squad is down to thirty percent and rapidly dropping!”, blurted another voice, it was Fahrenheit.

   “Issue a retreat, sir! We must retreat!” Cried another voice.

   “Remain vigilant!” Barked Ghost Rider, “We must hold our positions to allow the King and Queen time to evacuate! The empire wants to take our home! Take our way of life! Take away our freedom!” He glanced at the photograph on his console, “We must win for our families, for our children! With me, men! For House Organa!”

   “For House Organa!” Came the response of the remaining pilots.

   With that, the Y-Wing squadron flew low over the infrastructure of the immense battle station releasing a barrage of blaster bolts across its hull. As the pilots skillfully flew through the fire storm they created, the very base of the station shuddered in the volley of enormous explosions that tore open its keel.

Down below on the arid surface of Aquilae, a stout farmer stood next to his silo scrutinizing the stars with his electro-binoculars. With intense wonder, he watched as vivid flashes erupted around the glinting, metal sphere that hung suspended far up in the night sky.

   A battle? Way out here? He thought to himself. Who are they fighting?

   Suddenly, the night was lit by the blinding flare of several atomic mushroom clouds sprouting across the landscape.

   In a flash of complete shock, the farmer froze in astonished horror as his shadow was burned into the side of the concrete silo and the farmer was reduced to ashes.

   Like the Valkyrie of old, TIE bombers soared across the night sky, illuminated by the orange burst of over one hundred atomic bombs dropped across the craggy landscape.

General Luke Skywalker stood on a low bluff under a sea of stars looking out into the arid prairies of Aquilae. Amid the dull and distant booming on the horizon, with sad resignation, he sighed. He was feeling his age. Though, even at sixty, he retained the vigor and strength of his youth.

   The general was a tall and powerful-looking man with ruggedly handsome features. He wasn’t muscular but held the bulky physique of a seasoned prizefighter.

   On an angular head was strapped a leather flight cap open at the top that exposed a shock of silver hair parted on the side and a white, close-cropped beard covering his stern jaw.

   He was outfitted in the uniform of the Jedi Bendu – an ancient warrior class who protected the royal clans of the galaxy through a code of honor and justice. Over a dark blue shirt, he bore a chest plate of chrome that bore the heraldry of House Organa: a crescent moon with two stars. A pair of khaki jodhpurs ended in knee-high black leather boots. Attached around his waist was a leather scabbard that held both blaster pistol and a cylindrical baton a little over thirty centimeters in length that consisted primarily of a short, thick handgrip with a couple of small switches set into the grip. Above this small post was a circular metal disk barely larger in diameter than a spread palm. The reverse side of the disk was polished to mirror brightness.

   The laser sword was his father’s, killed in battle defending House Organa during the early Revolution. His father and his grandfathers had served House Organa for over eighty generations.

   He was the first to fail.

   With pained trepidation, he slowly pulled his thick blue cloak around his torso. Once pristine, it was now tattered and singed.

   The general adjusted his dark goggles over steel blue eyes as the far horizon was lit up by a blinding flash of an atomic detonation to the southwest.

   Five, he said to himself, that was five within the last half hour.

   Around him at every point of the darkened horizon, the tell-tale remnant of an atomic mushroom cloud dissipated into the tepid night.

   He swallowed in a dry mouth. His face, though weathered and lined from being subjected to a myriad of exotic climates, remained stoic. His lined face revealed the thoughts of the sixty-year-old Jedi Bendu: broken, hopeless, and beaten.

   He recalled how he entered the cavernous throne room in Utapau less than two hours prior. He hurriedly marched along the red velvet carpet past monumental marble columns of white to the grand steps that led to a great throne cut from a single emerald.

   King Bail Organa sat on his throne surrounded by twenty of his retainers. A strong-looking man in blue and black robes of velvet and silk. A crown of gold sat atop a square head of black hair with grey on the sides. He sported a trimmed goatee on a handsome face.

   The king rose as the general was striding across the throne room. Extending his bejeweled hand, an elegant and matronly woman in fine silks took the king’s lead as they began to descend the stairs. The beautiful woman was his loving wife, Queen Breha Organa.

   Skywalker stopped and bowed curtly at the hip, “My grace, you ordered the evacuation of the city?”

   At the base of the steps, the king said as he met Skywalker’s stern gaze, “General, my SkyHopper is awaiting you on the landing pad.” Skywalker noticed the look of absolute tense horror on his wife’s face as the king continued in a voice laced with grief, “Retrieve my daughter and safely escort her to our hidden fortress beneath the palace.”

   A platoon of armored Aquilian Rangers marched in and stood at attention to the left of the king. It was at that moment Skywalker understood the severity of the situation.

   Skywalker stood immobile and said, “My King, you are my responsibility. I will first see that you and Queen Breha make it to the safety of the hidden fortress. Afterward, I will then…”

   Outside the palace, the klaxon of an air raid siren began to wail. The knot of terrified retainers huddled together behind their king and queen nervously glancing toward the domed ceiling.

   “No!” The king stated curtly; his eyes moist in tears. “My daughter is your only responsibility! Now, go! That is a direct order, General!”

   With a bow at the hip, the general raced out of the throne room to a small landing pad adjacent to the palace tower. The SkyHopper was a two-seater pod with two fins, a dorsal wing, and a single rear rocket. The king generally used the craft for quick trips between outlying settlements or for holiday diversions. The maintenance crew barely had time to get their distance before Skywalker lept into the cockpit and rocketed east toward the Royal University campus.

   The moment Skywalker landed his craft on the palm tree lined square outside the Great Hall of the ancient Academy; the air raid sirens began to wail. Students and faculty flooded out of the antiquated halls. Amid the confused throng, the general spotted the princess.

   “Your Highness!” The general called. He approached the princess, “We must return to Utapau immediately. Your father has ordered you to join him and your mother in the hidden fortress.”

   Princess Leia Organa, at sixteen years old, retained a form both slender and delicate. Every graceful movement and every knowing glance revealed her royal upbringing. Without question, she was noble born.

   “What seems to be amiss, General Skywalker?” She asked in well-educated and enunciated tones. Her voice was smooth and comforting.

   “Your father believes the empire is about to attack Aquilae, Your Highness.”

   Still clothed in a nightgown of white whisper-lace and silk, the sixteen-year-old princess said with discerning anxiety mounting her delicate features, “Then let us make haste to the palace, General Skywalker.”

   Secured in the SkyHopper, the general and the princess rocketed west toward Utapau.

   Suddenly, to their right on the horizon, an atomic explosion lit up the night sky. To their west was another and then directly ahead an atomic blast disintegrated the Royal Palace and much of the sprawling capital. A powerful EMP pulse washed over the tiny SkyHopper.

   The princess screamed as the general grasped the SkyHopper’s control stick. The control board blinked off as the craft fell toward the craggy surface of the asteroid.

   The general’s thoughts returned to the immediate situation as he stood silent on the edge of the bluff. They had lost. The aerial fleet was no match for a T-67 Battlestar, that much was certain. The palace, the fortress beneath Utapau, along with every living person within, had been reduced to charred ash. His wide shoulders sunk. House Organa had fallen. They had lost.

   He heard her muffled sobbing behind him. The general turned and saw the princess sitting against a boulder, her delicate hand up to her mouth and grieving the death of her mother and father.

   How he pitied her. A great wave of sadness rushed over him as he scrutinized this tormented and grieving young girl. He walked over to her and knelt on one knee with head bowed.

   “I am sorry, Your Highness,” Skywalker said, the sadness apparent in his gruff voice. “I have failed House Organa. I have failed you.”

   The young princess turned her tear-streaked face to the melancholy general, “No, my chieftain, you have not. There was nothing you could have done to save my mother and father. They foresaw this attack and prepared for it.”

   “Prepared? For what? Look out there!” He extended an arm out into the persecuted night. “There is nothing left!”

   She placed a delicate hand upon his scruffy chin, causing the general to meet her gaze.

   She said, comforting, “There is hope, General.”

   Tears began to run down his rugged, soot-covered face, “Hope? How is there hope, Your Grace? All is gone. The Empire had taken House Organa by surprise and dealt its death blow. How is there hope?”

   She gently smiled a warm smile that reminded him of her mother. “You served my father and his clan for so long and, at this most catastrophic of times, doubt his resourceful intelligence, my chieftain? My father suspected of this treachery from his last transmission with the emperor.  You will find one kilo of raw Aura Spice in the back of that fallen SkyHopper. I noticed the micropack when we fled the University.”

   The general rose and walked over to the wrecked SkyHopper. Leaving a long skid in the sand, the craft was a twisted and torn wreck. It lay on its side against a rising bluff, one tattered wing pointed toward the clear and starry night.

   Behind the passenger seat was indeed one chrome canister. Skywalker opened the lid to reveal it packed with the incandescent blue of the unrefined mushroom. An overpowering musky scent assailed his nostrils.

   He retrieved a leather satchel that lay next to the canister and opened it. In the bag were one hundred ampules of refined spice. Small, chrome aerosol injectors ready for consumption. A fortune on the black market.

   He grabbed the satchel and the small harness attached to the canister, holding them up to the princess, “This is enough to purchase an entire moon. Why? Why did your father leave you this?”

   The princess continued, “It just may be the last living Aura on the entire asteroid. The emperor has long threatened Aquilae to rob her of her spice. The scientists in my father’s employ had designed a virus that would kill all fungus on the asteroid if the empire should attack. They did and forced the hand of my father. He ordered all spice crops across Aquilae to be destroyed. Our clan may be in ruin, but there is hope, General. If we can get to Ophuchi, my uncle there will help us.”

   General Skywalker remained silent, pensive. His mind reeled. Was all spice on the asteroid gone? He inspected the satchel. He found a holodisc. It displayed the royal crest and was addressed to him. He approached the princess holding the bag and canister in his arms. She stood. Her white, tattered gown blew in the gritty and dusty breeze.

   “You, my princess, you are our last hope,” Skywalker said with finality.

   Leia clasped her thin white veil of satin about her small frame. With head held high, she stated in formal tones that belonged to her father, “Once again, my General, House Organa calls upon you for assistance. We must find a way off-world if our clan is to survive.”

   Placing a gloved fist to his heart, General Skywalker bowed and stated in earnest, “Princess Leia Organa, from this time forward, my existence is the sole safety of you and the continuation of House Organa.”

Far above, the battle in space raged. Admiral Tarkin stood at the large viewport. Flashes of yellow and orange danced across his bony face as he scrutinized the systematic destruction of House Organa and its pathetic areal fleet. Across the surface of Aquilae blossomed the atomic destruction he had ordered.

   A sly smirk crossed his cadaverous face, “Lieutenant?”

   An officer approached and bowed at the hip.

   Tarkin took a shot from his inhaler then continued, “I wish to see the look on King Bail Organa’s face when our occupational forces take siege of Utapau and the palace. Deploy the stormtroopers. Prepare my shuttle. I shall lead them when they march onto the palace.”

   The officer bowed, “By your command, Admiral Tarkin.”

Near the equator of the space station, the metal hallways buckled and twisted as the battle outside raged. Repair crews scrambled to extinguish fires and fortify girders as platoons of white armored stormtroopers hurried to their waiting transports.

   Another distant explosion shook the station – certainly not distant enough for the two maintenance robots assigned to prep Admiral Tarkin’s shuttle.

   Designated as R2-D2 and C-3PO, the rumbling concussion bounced them around the narrow corridor like bearings in an old motor.

   R2-D2 was a short, cylindrical robot with three, squat and thick legs. His legs ended in stabilized treads that allowed him to scurry about with easy headway. On both sides of his torso jutted two clawed arms as well as two more tucked away at the front of his chassis. Atop a dull chrome dome, the robot’s face was a mass of computer lights, surrounding a radar eye.

   In contrast, C-3PO was a tall slender robot of burnished copper. Attaining a human-like framework, his metal casings were crafted with a distinct art-deco design.

   Glancing at these two, one would suppose the tall, humanlike machine, C-3PO, was the master and the stubby, tripodal robot, R2-D2, an inferior. While C-3PO may have scoffed at the suggestion, they were equal in everything save mobility. Here C-3PO was clearly superior.

   Another fiery explosion rattled the corridor, throwing C-3PO off balance. His shorter companion had the better of it with his squat, cylindrical body’s low center of gravity well balanced on thick treadmill feet.

   R2-D2 glanced up at C-3PO, who was steadying himself against a corridor wall. Lights blinked enigmatically around a single mechanical eye as the smaller robot studied the battered casing of his friend. A patina of metal and fibrous dust coated the usually gleaming copper finish, and there were some visible dents - all the result of the pounding the battle station they were on had been taking.

   Accompanying the last attack was a persistent deep hum that even the loudest explosion had not been able to drown out. Then for no apparent reason, the basso thrumming abruptly ceased, and the only sounds in the otherwise deserted corridor came from the eerie dry-twig crackle of shorting relays or the pops of dying circuitry.

   Explosions began to echo through the battle station once more, but they were far away from the corridor.

   C-3PO cocked his smooth, humanlike head to one side. The imitation of a human pose was hardly necessary - C-3PO’s auditory sensors were fully omnidirectional - but the slim robot had been programmed to blend perfectly among human company.

   This programming extended even to mimicry of human gestures. In which he did as he flailed his metal arms as he followed his smaller companion down the smoky corridor.

   “This is crazy! We have to get off this station before we are reduced to atoms!” C-3PO declared in a panic.

   “You are the one who’s crazy!” R2-D2 shot back. “You want to jump ship and evacuate? We have a mission to do! You are in violation!”

   “What’s the point of threatening me with violation when no one will be around to enforce it, you short-circuiting bucket of scrap!”

   “No need for unpleasantries! Let us complete our mission and worry about what is next afterwards!”

   “How did I get stuck with you?” The slender robot uttered, shaking his head.

   R2-D2 stopped at the entrance to Admiral Tarkin’s hanger. He turned and faced C-3PO, “Feeling is mutual. You complain too much. Always have. Go back to command and tell them you weren’t in the mood to prepare Admiral Tarkin’s shuttle. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

   Without allowing C-3PO time to retort, the little robot spun on its treads and darted uncaringly into the hangar.

   “You’re going to cause me to bust a fuse! Switch off! I can do this on my own! Why do I need a servomech’s assistance, anyway?” The copper robot asked.

   “I can prime the fusion cells, you are programmed to not.”

   “Fair enough!” C-3PO shot back, “But do not think a minute I will not report you for malfunction the moment we return to automaton maintenance when our mission is done.”

   “Whatever, buzz rod.”

   “The audacity!”

   The two bickering robots entered the cavernous hangar and made their way to Admiral Tarkin’s streamlined personal shuttle. Several maintenance crews dashed about attaching fuel lines and power cables. Two armored stormtroopers stood guard at the ship’s hatch.

   The commanding stormtrooper curtly nodded approval at the two robots as they hurried past and up the ramp into the shuttle’s two-seated cockpit. R2-D2 plugged a clawed arm into the command console as he began to switch levers and turn dials with his other three arms.

   Sitting in the pilot’s seat, C-3PO pushed several buttons as the ion reactor began its deep hum. He looked at his counterpart, “You know, we should just hijack this ship and get as far from this madness as possible.”

   R2-D2 made a noise that sounded like a popping breaker, “They will melt you down to slag if anyone heard you uttering such traitorous nonsense! I certainly do not wish…”

   At that moment, a fiery explosion tore across the hangar. The two robots stared in horror as the electromagnetic field shut off and personnel and debris were sucked out into space. Another large explosion ripped through the hanger, violently knocking the shuttle across the deck, and tearing the small craft from its moors.

   “We have to get out of here! We’ll be blasted to atoms!” C-3PO yelled.

   “No! If they catch us they’ll render us down to spare parts!” R2-D2 shot back as he desperately clung to a support frame.

   “I personally do not wish to be around when this station explodes!” The copper robot grabbed the control stick to the spacecraft and, flicking several switches, shot the shuttle out of the demolished hangar and into space directly into the middle of the space battle.

   “Oh, no! It’s worse out here!” C-3PO said as he desperately piloted the craft through the chaos of exploding shrapnel.

   Without warning, a Y-Wing swooped past and shot the shuttle across its dorsal solar fin. The broken shuttle dived down toward the surface of the asteroid, trailing a spiral stream of gray smoke in its wake.

   “This is it! We’re meeting our end!” The smaller robot cried.

   “This is all your fault! Complete felonious intent!” C-3PO retorted in despair.

In the CIC of the battle station, Admiral Tarkin leered with a coy smirk outside the viewport as he watched the futile attack on his station.

   An officer adjusted his headset and listened intently to an incoming message, “Admiral Tarkin, we are receiving word that the capital city Utapau lays in ruin. A ground assault had been issued and is now en route to the Royal Genetics laboratories.”

   His unwavering attention remained on the space battle, “Issue general order 527, lieutenant. Begin a planet-wide sweep to all farms and commandeer all spice production. If any of the local farmers retaliate, kill them.”

   “Just a moment, Admiral Tarkin…” The lieutenant bent over his console, head tilted in attention, hand clasping the left headset, “We are receiving reports that the corpses of King Bail Organa and Queen Breha Organa were found amid the rubble of the palace. One servant had been captured and confessed that Princess Leia Organa was spirited away from the city by General Luke Skywalker and is now hiding in the surrounding wasteland. Their whereabouts are unknown.”

   Tarkin spun, his face crimson in rage, “Dispatch all land personnel to locate that insufferable brat immediately! I want a garrison of stormtroopers in every standing village and the remaining spaceport! Report any…”

   With a low, ominous hum, a hologram of a scowling man’s face three meters tall appeared between Tarkin and the cowering lieutenant. The man’s face was thin and lined with advanced age, made pale by the flickering cathode image. He had a predominant nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and a wispy goatee that hung limply over insipid lips. A crown of jewel-encrusted gold was perched atop a bald head.

   Instantly, all personnel, stormtrooper, and flight officers alike, dropped to their knees, placing their foreheads onto the deck with arms outstretched and palms flat on the ground. This was the custom when in the presence of the Galactic Emperor Ford Alejandro Xerxes the XII. Tarkin merely huffed a quick shot from another inhaler, snapped his booted heels together, and bowed curtly at the hip.

   “Your majesty,” Admiral Tarkin said.

   Emperor Xerxes sneered, “This campaign has floundered over budget by sixty-three percent, Admiral!”

   “We have captured the asteroid and commandeered the capital, my emp…”

   “Do not ever contradict me, Admiral! I will see to it personally you spend your remaining years in a pain amplifier!”

   Tarkin kowtowed and simply nodded.

   “I’ve been monitoring your transmissions. What is this that the Princess Leia Organa has escaped? Aided by a Jedi-Bendu?”

   “She will be found, my emperor.”

   “Indeed she will!” The Galactic Emperor snarled, “I have sent a Knight of the Sith to assist you in your efforts. He will locate your missing princess.”

   Admiral Tarkin heard him before he saw him. The raspy breathing was made even more sinister as the sound had been distorted electronically.

   The image of the emperor dissipated as Tarkin saw the knight stride onto the command center opposite of him.

   Over two meters tall. At first glance, Tarkin thought the figure was a malicious looking robot. No, the character strode on his two legs far too eloquently, like gliding across ice.

   A flowing black cape trailed from the individual with a face forever masked by a functional, if peculiar, black metal breath screen. The imposing figure was completely encased in a suit of black armor which, though black as it was, was not nearly as dark as the thoughts drifting through the mind of Darth Vader as he approached the grave figure of Admiral Tarkin.

   Fear followed the footsteps of all the Dark Knights. The cloud of evil that clung about this particular one was intense enough to cause hardened stormtroopers to back away, menacing enough to set officers muttering nervously among themselves.

   Issuing a discomforting mechanical gasp followed by a click, repetitive and unnerving from his suit, the Dark Knight halted his stride a meter in front of the Admiral.

   Tarkin was familiar with the history of the Sith Knights. During the reign of the previous emperor, he solicited their aid in exterminating the Jedi-Bendu after an unsuccessful coup. But, this particular one? He heard whispers, rumors. This Vader held the reputation of being the worst.

   Tarkin distrusted every one of them. A group of warrior fanatics consumed by a forgotten and twisted religion.

   “By Imperial decree of Emperor Ford Xerxes the Twelfth, I am here to commandeer your effort in locating Princess Leia Organa and the traitor General Luke Skywalker,” Vader said with deep and condescending tones. The Dark Knight turned to the trembling lieutenant, “Inform the public on the asteroid below that criminal insurgents move amongst them. Lockdown the spaceport. Broadcast on all frequencies any citizen assisting in locating the princess will be financially compensated.”

   With a flow of black robes, the Dark Knight turned and exited the command center. He trailed a smell in his wake like that of burnt oil and sulfur.

   With a rudimentary puff from another inhaler, Tarkin’s bloodshot eyes narrowed as he observed the armored knight and thought, How dare the emperor! We certainly do not need scum like the Sith to assist us.

to be continued...

[agm-114]

First Flight

Ok so, if you haven't heard of it before, KSP is this fun little game where you run a space program and try and launch spacecraft to other moons and planets in a scaled-down solar system. Despite being the first game I ever bought, I never really spent a significant amount of time playing it.

I figure it'd be fun to share my experience trying to play it, and talk a bit about rockets. I decided a good starting point for my game would be building a general-purpose, medium-sized launch vehicle for putting cargo and crew into orbit.

I decided to base it on the Zenit-2. The Zenit is a very interesting launch vehicle with quite a history, which I'd like to explore in a future post. Skipping past that, we get to the last variant: the 3SL. It was operated by a multinational (American, Russian, Norwegian, and Ukrainian) Company. The main body of the spacecraft was manufactured in Ukraine, while the engines and the upper stages came from Russia. Boeing provided the fairing and integrated the pieces. Finally, the Norwegians provided the launch infrastructure, which was by far the most unique part of the rocket. See, the company, named Sea Launch, unsurprisingly provided one of the only sea-based launch services while it was in operation.

The rocket was launched from a "self-propelled semi-submersible mobile spacecraft launch platform converted from a mobile drilling rig" called LP Odyssey. The whole thing looks like something out of a spy film, and it's honestly hard to believe this was a real thing. Because no one could be on the platform while it launched a rocket, it was paired with a combo rocket carrier/mission control center ship called Sea Launch Commander. In Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the ship in the beginning that is hijacked (Lemurian Star) is the same ship.

In the movie, it's launching the satellites that provide the targeting data for the hellicarriers which I think is pretty neat.

Here's my approximation of the rocket in KSP, during its first ascent. The bottom looks like four rockets but is actually a single large one called the RD-170. It's probably the most interesting part of the rocket as it represents the high water mark of soviet rocket engines.

If you're familiar with KSP, you might not remember there being an RD-170 equivalent, we have one because I'm running a heavily modded version of KSP. (Restock + Near Future + Utility Mods)

Here's the engine IRL. Pretty neat. The RD-170 has an even more interesting history than the Zenit booster it mounted on (it inherits many design elements from the soviet N1 moon rocket)

To get into orbit, you need to be traveling horizontally at about 2 kilometers per second. However, if you tried to achieve these speeds near the surface, all of your energy would quickly be lost through drag, so you first must ascend through the atmosphere before your upper stage turns horizontally and circularizes your orbit. If you need some more info I have attached an article from NASA explaining the whole thing in depth.

The rocket's payload, in this case, a satellite, is often not aerodynamically sound (and even if it was figuring safe flight profiles for each payload would become quite complex) so it's enclosed in an aerodynamic fairing. Popping it off to save weight once the rocket is out of the atmosphere is always the highlight of a launch. Real rocket fairings are typically two halves, to save weight and complexity, but I find having multi-part fairings more fun. If you look at the end of the rocket carefully, you'll notice the engine bells are moving around. This is because during ascent, one of the primary ways that the rocket controls itself is by making adjustments to the direction of its exhaust.

Here we see that the upper stage trying to circularize its orbit. Unlike the lower-stage engines, which are optimized for pure lifting capacity, the upper-stage has a much larger nozzle to propel the rocket more efficiently. You can see how the lack of atmosphere means that the plume can expand much more easily than in the lower stages where it was squeezed into a narrow jet. (ksp doesn't fully simulate this, but it ends up being right a lot of the time)

Unfortunately, the lowered thrust came back to bite me. Although the rocket had more than enough energy to reach the needed orbital velocity, it simply did not have the necessary thrust to reach those speeds before it began to reenter the atmosphere and burned up.

My second attempt used an engine with roughly twice the power output and was a lot more successful. The blue line represents the current trajectory of the rocket, while the orange line represents the rocket after the planned burn. I'd like to say I planned such a perfect circularization burn, but I actually used an external tool to do so.

Here we can see our rocket doing that injection burn, with the higher thrust engines. On real rockets, these burns can take a pretty significant amount of time

Here you can see the satellite getting deployed by the upper stage.

Typically after a satellite is put into orbit, each functional element is slowly deployed, then verified one by one. But since this is KSP, we can have fun with a one-button deployment sequence.

I'm going to take a moment here to say that Tumblr's 10mb limit on gifs is driving me nuts. I can't even use an external host cause the GIFs don't autoplay.

The main advantage of sea launch was you could launch anywhere on earth. This typically was used for an equatorial launch because the equator provides a minor speed boost and makes achieving any inclination easy. For pretty much every sea launch, these strengths were used to put a cable or telecom satellite in a geostationary orbit. This one isn't based on anything in particular, I just slapped it together based on the first satellite I found on google. The main advantage of sea launch was you could launch anywhere on earth. This typically was used for an equatorial launch because the equator provides a minor speed boost and makes achieving any inclination easy. For pretty much every sea launch, these strengths were used to put a cable or telecom satellite in a geostationary orbit. This one isn't based on anything in particular, I just slapped it together based on the first satellite I found on google. I guess the next step will be to put up some real telecom satellites.

[lowpriceshirt91]

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