Because space is vast and full of mysteries, NASA is developing a new rocket, a new spacecraft for astronauts and new facilities to launch them from. Our Space Launch System will be unlike any other rocket when it takes flight. It will be bigger, bolder and take astronauts and cargo farther than humankind has ever been – to deep space destinations like the moon, a deep space gateway or even Mars.
When you plan to get to space, you use ice and fire. NASA’s Space Launch System uses four rocket engines in the center of the rocket and a pair of solid rocket boosters on opposite sides. All this power will propel the Space Launch System to gravity-slaying speeds of more than 17,000 miles per hour! These are the things we do for space exploration, the greatest adventure that ever was or will be.
It is Known
It is known that according to Newton’s third law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. That’s how rocket propulsion works. Fuel burned in combustion chambers causes hot gases to shoot out the bottom of the engine nozzles. This propels the rocket upward.
It is also known that when you combine hydrogen and oxygen you get: water. To help SLS get to space, the rocket’s four RS-25 engines shoot hydrogen and oxygen together at high speeds, making billowing clouds of steaming hot water vapor. The steam, funneled through the engine nozzles, expands with tremendous force and helps lift the rocket from the launchpad.
RS-25: Ice King
It takes a lot of fuel (hydrogen) and a lot of oxygen to make a chemical reaction powerful enough to propel a rocket the size of a skyscraper off the launch pad. To fit more hydrogen and oxygen into the tanks in the center of the rocket where they’re stored, the hydrogen and oxygen are chilled to as low as -400 degrees Fahrenheit. At those temperatures, the gases become icy liquids.
The Fire that Burns Against the Cold
The hydrogen-oxygen reaction inside the nozzles can reach temperatures up to 6,000 degrees Fahrenheit (alas, only Valyrian steel could withstand those temperatures)! To protect the nozzle from this heat, the icy hydrogen is pumped through more than a thousand small pipes on the outside of the nozzle to cool it. After the icy liquid protects the metal nozzles, it becomes fuel for the engines.
Where is my FIRE?
The Space Launch System solid rocket boosters are the fire and the breakers of gravity’s chains. The solid rocket boosters’ fiery flight lasts for two minutes. They burn solid fuel that’s a potent mixture of chemicals the consistency of a rubber eraser. When the boosters light, hot gases and fire are unleashed at speeds up to three times the speed of sound, propelling the vehicle to gravity-slaying speed in seconds.
Testing is Here
To make sure everything works on a rocket this big, it takes a lot of testing before the first flight. Rocket hardware is rolling off production lines all over the United States and being shipped to testing locations nationwide. Some of that test hardware includes replicas of the giant tanks that will hold the icy hydrogen and oxygen.
As Rare as Dragonglass
Other tests include firing the motor for the solid rocket boosters. The five-segment motor is the largest ever made for spaceflight and the part that contains the propellant that burns for two fiery, spectacular minutes. It’s common during ground test firings for the fiery exhaust to turn the sand in the Utah desert to glass.
Hold the Door
When all the hardware, software and avionics for SLS are ready, they will be shipped to Kennedy Space Center where the parts will be assembled to make the biggest rocket since the Saturn V. Then, technicians will stack Orion, NASA’s new spacecraft for taking astronauts to deep space, on top of SLS. All this work to assemble America’s new heavy-lift rocket and spacecraft will be done in the Vehicle Assembly Building – one of the largest buildings in the world. Hold the door to the Vehicle Assembly Building open, because SLS and Orion are coming!
In German there are two words for knowing: “wissen,” which is associated with wisdom and learning, and “kennen,” which is like being acquainted.
Acquaintance is, by definition, a surface understanding, susceptible to manipulation. When you are “acquainted with” something it’s much easier to see only part of the whole. Especially if the other half of what you hear and see is appealing. Hitler brought back jobs and opportunity, restored national pride and told seductive, simplifying lies; in the beginning, my grandmother, like many Germans, believed, for instance, that Germany’s war against Poland was begun in self-defense. (In 1939, Nazi operatives donned Polish Army uniforms and staged a takeover of a German radio station at Gleiwitz that Hitler then held up as an act of provocation by the Poles.)
“But what did you think when you started hearing the rumors about concentration camps?” I would press her. “Didn’t you ever listen to the foreign news reports?”
“Allied propaganda” was my grandmother’s answer. That’s what Hitler said it was. And she, like many Germans, trusted him. Her trust, apparently, relieved her of the need to understand.
It was a general agreement that Monday sucked. It was even more of an agreement that Monday mornings, specifically, sucked even more. In fact, it was common knowledge that Monday mornings were the moment when most hopes and dreams died. And when there was a Monday morning at the Agreste Headquarters, well, that was when all aspirations, happiness, self-esteem, and trust went down the gutter. Adrien’s included. He tried to put his best professional face to show that he was a very equilibrated man, who gets a full night rest and is nothing short of a responsible adult and a perfect CEO for the Agreste fashion empire. As he walked confidently through the building, the employees were greeting him with that usual air of ‘shit, that’s the boss’, so he assumed his façade was working.
(Honestly, was he that scary? He certainly hoped not.)
When he was finally in the privacy of his office, he let his head fall on the table as he groaned miserably. He had a night from hell. Not only was he left with a boner, but also tied to a chair. And it was very hard to try to get out of that death grip without knocking the candle overs and setting the whole Louvre on fire. He arrived home exhausted and only managed to get two hours of sleep. And just when the sleep was the sweetest that’s when his alarm decided to wake him up. Hell knows the dark circles under his eyes were only hidden because of that luxurious concealer he was wearing. Whining again softly, he rested his cheek against his desk considering taking a nap right that second. But of course, he didn’t have the chance. A cup of coffee and a bag with a pastry were put in front of him. And if there was one thing he loved more than sleep it was food. His head shot up immediately.
“A café noisette and a croissant with extra butter.” Marinette Dupain-Cheng declared. As he dug in his breakfast, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “And just in time. 9:15.”
“I never knew you were a morning person.” he remarked in between two sips of coffee.
“Oh, I’m not a morning person. I just had a very busy night and just didn’t go to sleep at all.” she said with a satisfied smirk.
Busy night? She must have worked on designs, Adrien thought. Marinette was, after all, an amazing designer. He had been impressed with her portfolio when she applied for the internship and he decided there was no way he would let her carry the coffee and lunch orders of everybody in the design department for the year long period of the internship. Well, she was still bringing him coffee, yes, but she was also able to work on her designs whenever she was done with the tasks he was giving her. And he knew all too well how cut throat the fashion industry was and how sabotage and mental games worked when it came to newcomers. And while Marinette was a force to be reckoned with, he would rather save her all that trouble. He had been dealing with those things since he began to walk, he would rather not have anybody go through the same thing if he could help it.
“So, what’s on today’s agenda?” Marinette asked as he finished his croissant.
“Just arrange the schedule for the week and then you are free to design. If anything else comes up, I’ll tell you.”
Marinette nodded with a smile, moving to her desk on the other side of the great room. Adrien finished his coffee, depositing the bag and the empty cup in the trash bin under his desk and decided to try his best to focus on work. The coffee had helped a little, but not enough to make up for all the lost hours of sleep. A low tune filled the air and his eyes slipped to Marinette, who got to work already while humming a familiar tune. It sounded like the last Jagged Stone hit. Ah, Marinette had really great taste in music. And video games. And fashion. And food. And… everything really. She was a very efficient assistant and just a lovely person to be around in general. Sometimes Adrien wished he had a friend like her. Huh, friend. He tilted his head, wondering if it was a good idea to ask.
“Hey, Marinette,” he called across the room, getting her attention. First name basis was something he insisted on. Monsieur Agreste sounded too much like his father and it was making him feel super weird. The only two instances when they used formal titles were when they were joking around or when they were in front of other people. “Do you… do you consider me a friend?”
Marinette blinked surprised and Adrien wanted to punch himself in the face for asking. Until her lips curled in a smirk and a mischevious glint appeared in her eyes. It almost gave him a feeling of deja vu, for whatever reason. “Oh, my, Monsieur Agreste, what an improper question. So unbusinesslike.” she teased, before she gave him a genuine smile. “Sure, Adrien. I can be your friend.”
“Thank you.” he breathed out, turning back to his work and missing the sad expression that took over her features.
“No need to thank me.” she said back with a fond smile.
Well, at least Marinette was considering him a friend. Her and the fluffy god of destruction currently sleeping in his pocket. What a squad. Sometimes he wished he would have went to school like everybody ese, and make friends who might have liked him for more than his money or looks. He never had that chance. And ever since his father died, well, being a CEO as we as a supe hero didn’t give him th chance to mingel. Adrien sighed and begann typing an email.
Maybe he will just have a peaceful day for once.
(Spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)
He and Marinette were just exiting the building, deciding to go to get some dinner, cause they will be stuck at work over the program yet again. That was when four police cars with the sirens ringing passed by fastly. Adrien wanted to scream. Seriously? Again? Didn’t Miss Fortune have a life to take care of that didn’t imply robbing every museum in Paris?
“I wonder what that is.” Marinette thought out loud.
“A robbery, most likely.” Adrien said, while checking his pocket for Plagg. “You know, Marinette, why don’t you just go home. I’m giving you a free night.”
“Wait, where are you… ?” she didn’t have the chance to ask because he already took off running.
“I just forgot something I need to take care off.” he called over his shoulder. “Have a nice evening!”
And with that he disappeared around the corner, leaving a very confused Marinette behind him.
As it turned out, it hadn’t been Miss Fortune this time. Just a gang trying to steal from a jewelry store. Honestly, the fight didn’t last that long, but they had the boss of the store and two employees taken as prisoners so he had to get them out first. Chat Noir dropped in a dark alley, making sure no one was around as he dropped his transformation. Catching a yawning Plagg in his hands he snorted.
“Me too, buddy. Let’s go home.” the kwami didn’t even bother to ask for cheese.
As he made his way out o the alley carefully, he didn’t notice the pair of striking blue eyes following his every move.
“My, my,” a sweet voice mocked. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Why did you think going to a graveyard at 3 A.M was a good idea hm?
“Don’t leave me in the dark!”
“Why are we HANDCUFFED together?”
Word count: 2207
I might’ve gotten a little overboard. I hope you like it!
Y/n silently wanting to curse herself for involving herself into the Flash super team. She wanted to kick herself for meeting Barry, who introduced her to Julian, aka the man who dragged her out of bed before the sun even rose. She wondered to herself why she agreed to wake up at 3 in the fucking morning to meet him in the fucking graveyard. She shone her flashlight around her, letting the light guide her way around the bumpy and gravelly ground.
Anti’s cold shell seemed to have broken. Everyone was laughing and talking around the fire, with cookies and hot chocolate made by Chase and Stacy. No one said anything, but they were still in complete shock that Anti had not gone back to sulking. Though no one was complaining. When he wasn’t his normal self, he was actually quite funny. Marvin had done card tricks for the kids. Chases son had watched from Anti’s lap. When Schneeplestein’s daughter accidentally dropped her cookie, Jackaboy Man ran to the kitchen and got her another, making her giggle.
“Doc, I think it’s time!” Chase yelled over the laughter. Schneeplestein nodded and pulled out a book. The kids began giggling and cheering. It was always amusing when the doctor read in his accent.
“What story is it?” Chases son yelled from Anti’s lap.
Schneeplestein displayed the book.
“‘How zhe Grinch Ztole Christmas’,”
Anti rolled his eyes. He felt, somehow, the book choice was intentional.
The kids all hopped from their spots to gather around Schneeplestein, who looked at Anti and smirked. He chuckled in response.
‘Guess the book was intentional’
Schneeplestein began to read, making the kids giggle with his accent. Anti sat cross-legged on the couch next to Chase, Marvin and Jackaboy Man sitting in front of the couch.
“But perhaps, zhe most likely veason of all, could’ve been zat his heart vas two sizes too small.”
Chase nudged Anti with a smirk, earning him a playful punch in the arm.
Stacy watched quietly from the kitchen doorway. She chuckled as she reminded herself of the book.
“…stood puzzling and puzzling, 'How could it be so?’”
It was certainly difficult to believe. The same man whom she had to protect her family from was now sitting quietly, the thought of harming anyone barely passing his mind. There was always the more dismal option, he was manipulating them. She shook her head, dismissing the thought. He seemed to genuine. If he was being manipulative, he would have done it another way.
As the story began to draw to a close, Anti felt his eyelids drooping. Between the hot cocoa, the heat of the fire, and the exhaustion of the snowball fight, he was fading fast. Right before he fell asleep, he caught the last few words on the page.
“And vhat happened zhen? Vell in Whoville zhey say, zat zhe Gvinches small heart,” Schneeplestein looked up past his small audience, meeting Anti’s tired gaze, “Grew three sizes zat day…”
((Austhors note: sorry this ones kinda short, little bit of writers block. Chap 6ll be longer))