The Future Of Energy Isn’t Fossil Fuels Or Renewables, It’s Nuclear Fusion
“Nuclear fusion as a power source has never been given the necessary funding to develop it to fruition, but it’s the one physically possible solution to our energy needs with no obvious downsides. If we can get the idea that “nuclear” means “potential for disaster” out of our heads, people from all across the political spectrum just might be able to come together and solve our energy and environmental needs in one single blow. If you think the government should be investing in science with national and global payoffs, you can’t do better than the ROI that would come from successful fusion research. The physics works out beautifully; we now just need the investment and the engineering breakthroughs.”
Climate science is a hotly debated area, with many disputing the robustness and ethical motivations of the scientists in the field. But even if you throw everything we know about carbon dioxide, global warming, and climate change away, there’s still an energy crisis coming in the long term. The fact is, fossil fuels will someday, hundreds of years from now, run out if we extract and burn them all. Meanwhile, solar, wind, hydroelectric and other renewables will forever be inconsistent, and the infrastructure needed for using both generates large amounts of pollutants. But there is one power option that could satisfy everybody, while eliminating both pollution and the risks of running out of fuel or power inconsistency: nuclear fusion. While nuclear fission does have substantial downsides, there’s no risk of a meltdown with fusion.
Since 1997, the U.S. Air Force and Lockheed Martin-led A-10 Prime Team have worked closely to significantly digitize the A-10A Thunderbolt II close air support fighter to its A-10C configuration, enabling employment of the new GPS and inertially-guided munitions.
Quando qualcosa finisce, ammettiamolo, finiamo un po’ anche noi. Restiamo là, immobili e inerti e pensiamo a tutto ciò che abbiamo fatto, tutte le scelte e i passi che avremmo dovuto evitare. Ma la verità è che quando qualcosa finisce, non c'è nient'altro da fare, nient'altro da dire, nient'altro a cui pensare. È finita. E non dobbiamo tormentarci con “quel che poteva essere se solo fosse durata”. Non poteva essere nient'altro. Quando qualcosa finisce c'è sempre quello che soffre e non vive più e quello che se frega completamente; quello che alla fine riesce a superare il dolore e quello che dopo un po’ si pente e torna indietro, ma troppo tardi. È vero il dolore passa e ci segna inevitabilmente. Dovremmo capire che se le persone vanno via è perché non vogliono più restare nella nostra vita. Forse siamo stati noi a dare loro troppa importanza, un'importanza che non meritavano. Questo è l'errore che commettiamo: siamo sempre disposti a mettere gli altri prima di noi stessi. E alla fine restiamo delusi perché gli altri non fanno lo stesso con noi. Non dovremmo riporre la nostra felicità nelle persone, perché queste ci lasceranno. E poi? Non dovremmo più vivere? Dovremmo essere infelici per il resto della nostra vita solo perché incontriamo le persone sbagliate? No. L'unica persona su cui dovremmo fare affidamento in qualunque momento della nostra esistenza siamo noi stessi. Perciò quando qualcosa finisce, è vero ci stiamo male e piangiamo molto, ma il tempo passa e guarisce. Quando qualcosa finisce, iniziamo noi.
This has a happy ending, I swear, and no trauma to Peter. :)
“Steve, you’re taking Peter to school today!” Tony called
out from the bathroom. He shoved his toothbrush into his mouth and worked it
vigorously over his teeth. He didn’t have time for the extensive dental care
routine he usually adhered to like a religious conviction. It was going to bug
him all day, but he needed even those few precious minutes if he was going to
be on time for his meeting.
Steve, looking sleepy and rumpled and oh so unfairly sexy,
leaned into the bathroom and blinked slowly at Tony’s reflection. He yawned,
curled one hand up to scratch at his side like a monkey, and the other up to
grab the top of the door frame… also like a monkey. Tony had been watching way
too many cartoons. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Steve had grabbed the
frame and dangled from it.
“I thought you were doing that this morning?” he asked at
the tail end of his yawn. “I didn’t get home until almost four last night,
Tony. I’m tired.”
Tony stamped down on the immediate urge to snap that he was tired
too. He hadn’t been in bed much earlier than Steve, and he’d been running
around with Peter all night while simultaneously trying to meet a deadline. He
spat out the mouthful of toothpaste and swished half a cap of Listerine around,
holding up one finger while Steve swayed tiredly.
“I’m sorry, babe, I know you’re tired. But I have got to
meet this deadline.” He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. “I am so
late already. Please, please with sugar, and kisses, and so on, and so forth.”
When Steve made an unhappy mewling sound (Seriously, Captain America he may be,
but morning person he was not) Tony said, “We could have Happy do it today. He
Loved was maybe a
strong word, but as much as Happy blustered and complained that he wasn’t a
babysitter, Tony had found more than one unauthorized treat hidden in the car
after a school pick up. Steve tilted his head and actually did let his weight
hang on his fingertips for a second before straightening up.
“No,” he said with a sigh, “We promised that one of us would
do it at least once a week. It’s Friday. But you owe me.”
“Deal,” Tony said immediately, darting forward to kiss Steve’s
cheek and then detouring to seal their mouths together. Steve had morning
breath, but his body was still loose from sleep, and his lips were soft and
plaint under Tony’s. They shared a long kiss, and then Tony reluctantly pulled
away. “You,” he said, wagging a finger at Steve’s sleepy smile, “You are the
Devil.” He pressed another quick kiss to Steve’s jaw, and then ducked under his
arm. “Peter has a field trip today! Don’t forget!” He called over his shoulder
on the way out the door.
I can’t write anything for these two without it turning into a sappy mess. Eurgh!
“How about lake swimming?” Sara leaned back in her
seat and folded her arms behind her head. She would have crossed her ankles up
on the flight console too, but she had a feeling that might give Reyes a heart
“No. Never.” Reyes glanced at her out of the
corner of his eye, though Sara suspected he didn’t really need to watch the
console readouts half so closely as he pretended. “But perhaps you could
talk me into trying it.”
Sara knew exactly where that particular avenue of
conversation would lead - and she would be more than happy to follow it later.
“But you have been hiking,
Reyes shrugged. “That depends on your definition. Does
it count if I didn’t wear all the fancy gear?”
“What about if it was on business?”
Reyes shrugged. “Well then. I haven’t been hiking,
Sara shook her head in wonder. “If my dad knew I was
with a man that had never been hiking before -”
“Do you really think it’s the hiking that would bother him?”
She flashed him a grin. “Well I’m not saying he’d be
thrilled about the crime boss thing…”
Reyes scoffed, but he was smiling. That question flashed
through Sara’s mind again - what about
your parents, Reyes? - but she’d seen the answering shadows in his eyes one
too many times.
So she let the silence stretch.
Kadara’s jagged ranges were miles below them. They looked
like patterns on a tablecloth; green and amber zigzags stretched over winding
blues and greys. The shuttle’s display dimmers kept the sun’s brightness down
to a pleasant glow. It was all psychological, because the hull was
double-layered with thermal insulation, but Sara swore she could feel the
sunlight warming her skin. The sky was blue. The clouds were fluffy.
It was a perfect day for exploring, and Sara intended to
make the most of it.
She’d blacked out twenty-four hours on her schedule. Reyes
had promised to turn his omnitool off. Sara figured that last part was a little
white lie - because there was no way in hell the Charlatan would take that kind
of chance - but she’d be happy if he just kept up the pretence. SAM had filled
Sara’s omnitool with lovely navpoints; mountaintop crater lakes and sheer,
sweeping canyons, and Sara had borrowed an extra jump jet from the Tempest’s armoury.
They were flying out beyond the northern reaches of Haarfel.
Just Sara and Reyes - and Kadara’s wild beauty.
She was hard-pressed to think of anything better.
Suddenly, though, she didn’t want to sit in the co-pilot’s
chair. She wanted to touch him.
Reyes watched her out of the corner of his eye as she moved
to stand behind him, a quizzical little frown furrowing his brow. “What
are you doing?”
She leaned up against the back of his seat, smoothing her hands
down over his shoulders. Reyes chuckled when she rested her chin on his head, her
fingertips marking narrow paths along his sternum.
“That’s a little distracting,” he breathed.
“Only a little?” Sara leaned down to brush her
lips over the shell of his ear. Her voice dropped to a purr. “Then I’m
clearly not trying hard enough.”
“Are you trying
to distract your pilot?” There was a smile in his voice. “Am I just
that handsome, or do you just enjoy the danger?”
Sara kissed his pounding pulse point, smirking as she
dragged her lips down the curve of his neck. “You can blame me if we wind
up splattered all over a mountain somewhere.”
That hit a nerve. He tensed beneath her, and Sara could see
his indignation reflected by the flight console. “Who do you think you’re
talking to? No one is distracting enough to make me crash a shuttle.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Reyes didn’t respond. He shifted in his chair instead, muttering
some good-natured curse that Sara’s translator didn’t quite pick up.
Sara sighed contently. She didn’t really want to challenge
him right now. She wanted to enjoy him; to relish every moment of closeness for
every minute that they had it - so she just stood there, mouthing gentle kisses
into the soft skin of Reyes’ neck as the Kadaran wilderness rolled away beneath
them. He was monitoring the flight computer, making quick adjustments every now
and then, but Sara still suspected there wasn’t much he had to do.
She smoothed a gentle palm up over his throat, turning him
by the chin to meet her lips - and caught him in a kiss that made his breath hitch.
She was gentle and insistent; yielding and demanding. He gave a contented
little moan, his eyelids fluttering closed - and Sara figured her hypothesis
was more or less confirmed.
She drew back with a smile. “Do you think you can teach
“What?” He blinked at her a little dazedly, amber eyes
Reyes hesitated - then frowned, nose wrinkling up like a
puppy. “Piloting isn’t something that’s learned in a single afternoon,
“I know that. But over time?”
He shrugged, turning back to the display as if he’d suddenly
remembered he was meant to be flying - and paused, one hand hovering over the
console. “Perhaps. When would you like to start?”
She settled on his lap like she didn’t notice his sudden
interest. Her knees wouldn’t fit under the flight console, so she sat with her
legs canted to the side. Reyes braced her against his chest and slid his palms
down over her arms. He guided her hands to the controls with a firm but gentle
His breath was hot on the back of her neck. “How does
Despite herself, Sara shivered. Part of it was his closeness.
Reyes made her feel like a glacier touched by a star; melting, collapsing and
combusting all at once - but part of it was
the danger. She was treading a line between excitement and actual fear, because
Kadara’s surface was an awfully long way down. One screw up - one mistake -
But Reyes’ hands were steady, and the kiss he pressed to the
base of her neck sent trails of warmth spiralling down her back. He wouldn’t
let disaster strike.
“Sara?” His voice was coloured with concern.
“Are you okay?”
“It feels amazing,” she whispered. Right now, she
was lighter than air; buoyed by sudden freedom, and outside the pull of
gravity. “What do I do?”
Reyes smiled against her ear. “This input controls
forward thrust,” he murmured. He guided her hand down until her fingertips
grazed the console. “Do you want to go faster?”
“Press that button.”
Sara felt the inertial dampeners kick in as the shuttle
began to accelerate. She shivered again, and Reyes chuckled.
“Can we go higher?”
He pointed her to another input area; pressed her fingers
against another set of controls. The hairs on Sara’s arms were standing on end.
The impromptu lesson took on an impromptu rhythm as Sara peppered him with
questions, his tactile responses swift and unhesitating. Up and down; left and
right - he helped her swing the shuttle’s nose around until they were looking
back at Kadara Port. Altitude had shrunk the city to the size of a model
display, its shadow lying flat along the badlands’ spine.
Sara could feel the empty space below them like the distance
had a grip on her waist. Her skin was crystallized fire. Her chest was full of
But Reyes’ body was warm against her back. His right hand
left hers, and Sara felt a moment of panic - but he only placed his palm atop
her thigh, fingertips tracing lazy patterns against the seam of her pants. He
whispered in her ear, and the sound sent sparking chills down her spine.
“You do like
He kissed her neck again, open-mouthed and lingering. Sara
tried to hold back a moan - and failed miserably. Reyes hummed in satisfaction,
fingers digging deeper into her flesh.
“Distracting, isn’t it?”
“That is not
what I was doing to you.”
“But you’re doing well,” Reyes murmured. She could
hear the laughter in his voice. “Are you sure you haven’t done this
Sara knew a white lie when she heard one - and was preparing
to tell him so when he copied the move she’d used before. His hand left her
thigh to smooth its way up over her throat; to cup her cheek and turn her
towards him, her skin aflame and her eyes unseeing -
He kissed her hard enough to make the world shake - and so
deeply as to stir the stars in their cradles.
Sara’s composure shattered. “Damn it, Reyes.”
He chuckled quietly, warm breath tickling her skin. “Do
you want me to take over?”
“Not. A. Chance.” Reaching up to tug his hand away
from her cheek, she turned back to the flight controls. She was sturdy. She was
resolute. “You just point the way, baby. I’ll get us there.”
But she didn’t complain when his hand went straight back to
The Saturn rocket series’ biggest brother, the culmination of America’s efforts during the Cold War Space Race against the Russians, and the paragon of human spaceflight achievement, The Apollo program’s primary tool was the mighty Saturn V, the pride of American space exploration, and NASA’s poster child. Designed by Wehrner von Braun, the massive rocket took 24 astronauts beyond Earth’s orbit, 12 of which walked on the Moon.
The Saturn V dwarfed every previous rocket fielded by America in the Space Race, remaining to this day the tallest, heaviest, and most powerful rocket ever brought to operational status and still holds records for the heaviest payload launched and largest payload capacity. On the pad, she stood 363 feet (111m) tall, taller than the Statue of Liberty by 58 feet, with a diameter of 33 feet (10m), and weighed 6.5 million pounds fully fueled. Her designed payload capacity was rated at 261,000 pounds (118,000 kg) to Low Earth Orbit and 90,000 pounds (41,000 kg) to the Moon, but in later missions was able to carry about 310,000 pounds (140,000 kg) to LEO and sent up to 107,100 lb (48,600 kg) worth of spacecraft to the Moon.
The total launch vehicle was a 3 stage vehicle: the S-IC first stage, S-II second stage and the S-IVB third stage. The first stage used RP-1 for fuel, while the second and third stages used liquid hydrogen (LH2), with all three using liquid oxygen (LOX) for oxidizer.
The first stage of the Saturn V is the lower section of the rocket, producing the most thrust in order to get the vehicle off the pad and up to altitude for the second stage.
The Rocketdyne F-1 engine used to propel the rocket was designed for the U.S. Air Force by Rocketdyne for use on ICBM’s, but was dropped and picked up by NASA for use on their rockets. This engine still is the most powerful single combustion chamber engine ever produced, producing 1,522,000 lbf (6,770 kN) at sea level and 1,746,000 lbf (7,770 kN) in a vacuum. The S-IC has five F-1 engines. Total thrust on the pad, once fully throttled, was well over 7,600,000 lbf, consuming the RP-1 fuel and LOX oxidizer at a jaw-dropping 13 metric tonnes per second.
The launch sequence for the first stage begins at approx. T-minus 8.9 seconds, when the five F-1 engines are ignited to achieve full throttle on t-minus 0. The center engine ignited first, followed by opposing outboard pairs at 300-millisecond intervals to reduce the structural loads on the rocket. When thrust had been confirmed by the onboard computers, the rocket was “soft-released” in two stages: first, the hold-down arms released the rocket, and second, as the rocket began to accelerate upwards, it was slowed by tapered metal pins pulled through dies for half a second.
It took about 12 seconds for the rocket to clear the tower. During this time, it yawed 1.25 degrees away from the tower to ensure adequate clearance despite adverse winds. (This yaw, although small, can be seen in launch photos taken from the east or west.) At an altitude of 430 feet (130 m) the rocket rolled to the correct flight azimuth and then gradually pitched down until 38 seconds after second stage ignition. This pitch program was set according to the prevailing winds during the launch month. The four outboard engines also tilted toward the outside so that in the event of a premature outboard engine shutdown the remaining engines would thrust through the rocket’s center of gravity. At this point in the launch, forces exerted on the astronauts is about 1.25 g.
At about T+ 1 minute, the rocket has gone supersonic, at which point, shock collars form around the rocket’s second stage separator. At this point, the vehicle is between 3 and 4 nautical miles in altitude.
As the rocket ascends into thinner atmosphere and continues to burn fuel, the rocket becomes lighter, and the engine efficiency increases, accelerating the rocket at a tremendous rate.
At about 80 seconds, the rocket experienced maximum dynamic pressure. Once maximum efficiency of the F-1 engines is achieved, the total thrust peaks at around 9,000,000 lbf. At T+ 135 seconds, astronaut strain has increased to a constant 4 g’s.
At around T+ 168 seconds, the engines cut off as all fuel in the first stage is expended. At this point in flight, the rocket is at an altitude of about 36 nautical miles (67 km), was downrange about 50 nautical miles (93 km), and was moving about 6,164 miles per hour (2,756 m/s). The first stage separates at a little less than 1 second following engine cutoff to allow for engine trail-off.
Eight small solid fuel separation motors backs the S-IC from the rest of the vehicle, and the first stage continues ballistically to an altitude of about 59 nautical miles (109 km) and then falls in the Atlantic Ocean about 300 nautical miles (560 km) downrange. Contrary to the common misconception, the S-IC stage never leaves Earth’s atmosphere, making it, technically, an aircraft.
The second stage is responsible with propelling the vehicle to orbital altitude and velocity. Already up to speed and altitude, the second stage doesn’t require as much Delta-V to achieve it’s operation.
For the first two unmanned launches, eight solid-fuel ullage motors ignited for four seconds to give positive acceleration to the S-II stage, followed by start of the five Rocketdyne J-2 engines. For the first seven manned Apollo missions only four ullage motors were used on the S-II, and they were eliminated completely for the final four launches.
About 30 seconds after first stage separation, the interstage ring dropped from the second stage. This was done with an inertially fixed attitude so that the interstage, only 1 meter from the outboard J-2 engines, would fall cleanly without contacting them. Shortly after interstage separation the Launch Escape System was also jettisoned.
About 38 seconds after the second stage ignition the Saturn V switched from a preprogrammed trajectory to a “closed loop” or Iterative Guidance Mode. The Instrument Unit now computed in real time the most fuel-efficient trajectory toward its target orbit. If the Instrument Unit failed, the crew could switch control of the Saturn to the Command Module’s computer, take manual control, or abort the flight.
About 90 seconds before the second stage cutoff, the center engine shut down to reduce longitudinal pogo oscillations (a forward/backward oscillation caused by the unstable combustion of propellant). At around this time, the LOX flow rate decreases, changing the mix ratio of the two propellants, ensuring that there would be as little propellant as possible left in the tanks at the end of second stage flight. This was done at a predetermined Delta-V.
Five level sensors in the bottom of each S-II propellant tank are armed during S-II flight, allowing any two to trigger S-II cutoff and staging when they were uncovered. One second after the second stage cut off it separates and several seconds later the third stage ignited. Solid fuel retro-rockets mounted on the interstage at the top of the S-II fires to back it away from the S-IVB. The S-II impacts about 2,300 nautical miles (4,200 km) from the launch site.
The S-II would burn for 6 minutes to propel the vehicle to 109 miles (175km) and 15,647 mph, close to orbital velocity.
Now in space, the third stage, the S-IVB’s sole purpose is to prepare and push the Command, Service, and Lunar Modules to the Moon via TLI.
Unlike the two-plane separation of the S-IC and S-II, the S-II and S-IVB stages separated with a single step. Although it was constructed as part of the third stage, the interstage remained attached to the second stage.
During Apollo 11, a typical lunar mission, the third stage burned for about 2.5 minutes until first cutoff at 11 minutes 40 seconds. At this point it was 1,430 nautical miles (2,650 km) downrange and in a parking orbit at an altitude of 103.2 nautical miles (191.1 km) and velocity of 17,432 mph (7,793 m/s). The third stage remained attached to the spacecraft while it orbited the Earth one and a half times while astronauts and mission controllers prepared for translunar injection.
This parking orbit is quite low, and would eventually succumb to aerodynamic drag if maintained, but on lunar missions, this can be gotten away with because the vehicle is not intended to stay in said orbit for long. The S-IVB also continued to thrust at a low level by venting gaseous hydrogen, to keep propellants settled in their tanks and prevent gaseous cavities from forming in propellant feed lines. This venting also maintained safe pressures as liquid hydrogen boiled off in the fuel tank. This venting thrust easily exceeded aerodynamic drag.
On Apollo 11, TLI came at 2 hours and 44 minutes after launch. The S-IVB burned for almost six minutes giving the spacecraft a velocity close to the Earth’s escape velocity of 25,053 mph (11,200 m/s). This gave an energy-efficient transfer to lunar orbit, with the Moon helping to capture the spacecraft with a minimum of CSM fuel consumption.
After the TLI, the Saturn V has fullfilled its purpose of getting the Apollo crew and modules on their way to the Moon. At around 40 minutes after TLI, the Command Service module (the conjoined Command module and Service Module) separate from the LM adapter, turns 180 degrees, and docks with the exposed Lunar Module. After 50 minutes, the 3 modules separate from the spent S-IVC, in a process known as Transposition, docking and extraction.
Of course, if the S-IVC were to remain on the same course (in other words, if they leave it right there unattended), due to the physics of zero gravity environments, the third stage would present a collision hazard for the Apollo modules. To prevent this, its remaining propellants were vented and the auxiliary propulsion system fired to move it away. Before Apollo 13, the S-IVB was directed to slingshot around the Moon into a solar orbit, but from 13 onward, the S-IVB was directed to actually impact the Moon. The reason for this was for existing probes to register the impacts on their seismic sensors, giving valuable data on the internals and structure of the Moon.
Launch Escape System
The Saturn V carries a frightening amount of potential energy (the Saturn V on the pad, if launch failed and the rocket ruptured and exploded, would have released an energy equivalent to 2 kilotons of TNT, a force shy of the smallest atomic weapons), which luckily was unleashed as planned without incident. However, this being NASA, precautions were made to save the crew in event of a catastrophic failure.
The LES (Launch Escape System) has been around since the Mercury Program as a way to get the crew capsule away from a potential explosion on the pad or in early launch. The idea is that a small rocket would take the capsule far enough away from the rocket that parachutes could be deployed.
The LES included three wires that ran down the exterior of the launch vehicle. If the signals from any two of the wires were lost, the LES would activate automatically. Alternatively, the Commander could activate the system manually using one of two translation controller handles, which were switched to a special abort mode for launch. When activated, the LES would fire a solid fuel escape rocket, and open a canard system to direct the Command Module away from, and off the path of, a launch vehicle in trouble. The LES would then jettison and the Command Module would land with its parachute recovery system.
If the emergency happened on the launch pad, the LES would lift the Command Module to a sufficient height to allow the recovery parachutes to deploy safely before coming in contact with the ground.
An interesting factoid is how much power the LES possesses; in fact, the LES rocket produces more thrust (147,000 pounds-force (650 kN) sea level thrust) than the Mercury-Redstone rocket (78,000 pounds-force (350 kN)) used to launch Freedom-7 during the Mercury program.
After budget cuts necessitated mission cancellations and the end of the Apollo program, NASA still had at least one Saturn V rocket intended for Apollo 18/19. Luckily, in 1965, the Apollo Applications Program was established to find a use for the Saturn V rocket following the Apollo program. Much of the research conducted in this program revolved around sending up a space station. This station (now known as Skylab) would be built on the ground from a surplus Saturn IB second stage and launched on the first two live stages of a Saturn V.
The only significant changes to the Saturn V from the Apollo configurations involved some modification to the S-II to act as the terminal stage for inserting the Skylab payload into Earth orbit, and to vent excess propellant after engine cutoff so the spent stage would not rupture in orbit. The S-II remained in orbit for almost two years, and made an uncontrolled re-entry on January 11, 1975.
This would be NASA’s only Saturn V launch not associated with the Apollo program, and unfortunately, would prove to be the Saturn V’s last one. There were other concepts for Saturn V’s as launch vehicles, including a space shuttle design, but none of these ever came to fruition.
From 1964 until 1973, a total of $6.417 billion ($41.4 billion in 2016) was appropriated for the Saturn V, with the maximum being in 1966 with $1.2 billion ($8.75 billion in 2016).
Displays and Survivors
There are several displays of Saturn V rockets around the United States, including a few test rockets and unused ones intended for flight. The list below details what and where they are.
Two at the U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville:
SA-500D is on horizontal display made up of S-IC-D, S-II-F/D and S-IVB-D. These were all test stages not meant for flight. This vehicle was displayed outdoors from 1969 to 2007, was restored, and is now displayed in the Davidson Center for Space Exploration. The second display here is a vertical display (replica) built in 1999 located in an adjacent area.
One at the Johnson Space Center made up of first stage from SA-514, the second stage from SA-515 and the third stage from SA-513 (replaced for flight by the Skylab workshop). With stages arriving between 1977 and 1979, this was displayed in the open until its 2005 restoration when a structure was built around it for protection. This is the only display Saturn consisting entirely of stages intended to be launched.
One at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex, made up of S-IC-T (test stage) and the second and third stages from SA-514. It was displayed outdoors for decades, then in 1996 was enclosed for protection from the elements in the Apollo/Saturn V Center.
The S-IC stage from SA-515 is on display at the Michoud Assembly Facility in New Orleans, Louisiana.
The S-IVB stage from SA-515 was converted for use as a backup for Skylab, and is on display at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C.
Wishes Note: I kind of took it literally and made them monsters…
You were in the coffee house that you always went to write. Your eyes didn’t move from your computer screen even as he walked. His eyes glancing around the shop, and finally landing on you. Taking in a deep breath he walked over to your table pulled out the chair and sat down. Startling you as with his smile.
“I think we know each other.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Reaching across the table he gripped your hand, flashing his red Alpha eyes at you. Yours flashed a matching red.
“From one Alpha to another, why don’t we talk about working together.”
“What does my pack have to do with yours.”
“Well for starters there all female.”
“Yours is all male.” He smiled as he let go of your hand.
“Don’t you think we complement each other nicely?”
“You need a mate this bad?”
“No.” Leaning across the table, he shut your laptop. “I need a queen.”
You looked at yourself on the hospital bed. Wires and tubes sticking out of you. Your mom crying next to your bed holding onto your hand begging you to come back. The beeping noise of the monitor wasn’t there anymore. The nurse had turned it off as you looked at the blood and cuted up face. Your arm broken in places you didn’t know that could break.
“Car accident?” A deep voice rang next to you.
“Yeah.” Looking at the hooded figure you let a couple of tears drop.
“Did it hurt?” He asked, true wonder on his voice.
“No. My neck is snapped.” You mentioned to the ex-ray above your head. It was an inertial decapitation. “I was dead at the scene, but I had a pulse at the time so they rushed me here.” Turning you looked at the stranger who looked just alike any handsome man you meet on the street.
“Will this hurt?” You ask.
“No.” He whispered. “Do you see the light?” You nod our head as you look back at your mother.
“Will you walk me there?” He nods his head, reaching out his hand.
Sitting up, you looked at the back of a man standing looking out a window.
“Why did you bring me here?” You asked. One moment you were picking flowers in the garden and the next this handsome man was dragging you down into the underworld.
“You didn’t belong there.”
“I don’t belong here.” Turning from the window you held in the gasp that would have let your lips as he walked over. His open rob, showing his toned his skin. He really did have the body of a god, of course he was a god. Sliding up on the bed, his face hovered in front of yours.
“You’re the one who watches me when I’m in the garden.” He smirked as he reached to the side table holding up an apple.
“If you wish to stay take a bite of the apple. If you wish to go, don’t.”
“My mother will speak to Zeus about this.”
“Probably, but my little brother can’t do anything about it. It’s your free will.” Looking at the apple in his hands, you looked at his eyes which showed only interested and adoration. Leaning in, you took a bite, crewing the fruit softly.
“I thought you forgot about me.” You swallowed the apple.
“Why would I forget about my one true queen?”
“You play the most Devilish tricks.” You whisper as he kissed you, a smirk still evented on his lips.
Grouchy superhero Rodney McKay meets charming supervillain Sheppard for the au thing.
Ugh, right after my own heart, anon. I’ve thought before about doing a silly superhero fic, though this is actually very cool because I always pictures Rodney as the super-villain and John as the hero, so the switch is making my brain work extra hard! Let’s see :)
- If Rodney hadn’t been born with super powers, he never would have gotten into this line of work in the first place, he’s sure of it. It wasn’t like the comic books, where there was always a beautiful blonde to be saved, the hero wooshing in to vanish the evil in just a matter of seconds before they got to stroll through the cheering crowd, adoring maiden on their arm. No, people were complete idiots and Rodney had fallen into the role of hearing “help me, Supernova!” when a car was being towed, or “save me, Supernova!” when their iPhone fell in a puddle. After 5 years, pulling someone from a fiery wreck was more of a hassle than a reward and he generally spent his time giving his rescues a lecture on safe automobile operating practices and telling them that “You got your one free save from me but never again, do you here me? A superhero’s assistance is a luxury not a privilege!”
Stupid idiotic human race.
- Rodney had amassed a great fortune by inventing a revolutionary kind of power generation, building up a company around his ZedPMs and had become a billionaire of safe and clean power generation. In the eyes of the public, he had effectively retired at age of 26, leaving the board to deal with things like shareholders and stocks and taxes (things he couldn’t possibly care less about) and the tabloids had labelled him a recluse, someone akin to Howard Hughes, probably going insane all alone in his massive mansion. Rodney knew better and had fashioned himself more closely after his idol, Bruce Wayne (minus the dead parents and need for righteous vengeance, of course). He spent his “reclusion” building amazing weaponry and technology for himself, things like personal shields and spaceships and matter manipulators. Sure, he had super powers, but it was really his tech that gave him the edge and the one thing that kept him going was seeing what new ways he could try to save idiots with the least amount of effort possible. It lead to some astonishing breakthroughs and he was always driven to discover more and more about the universe.
- He first met the odd and confusing “super-villain” when he was responding to a notice of a stolen airplane from his local Air Force base. There had been a GPS tracker in it and while it had been deactivated, Rodney had gotten it back online and was able to follow it to a hideout up in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. He’d prepared himself for laser blasters and doomsday devices but instead found himself in a weird, haphazard kind of evil-car-garage-repair-shop but also for planes. There were half tinkered with vehicles everywhere and the man standing before him was in the middle of creating some kind of spaceship (Rodney could tell from the hull that was being reinforced to survive atmospheric re-entry). They stood in a long silence, just staring at each other until the “villain” smirked and Rodney felt his stomach drop out at the attractiveness and his grouchy-guard came slamming back up into place.
- “Who are you?”
“My super-villain name? I don’t know, I haven’t settled on one yet. Maybe Nighthawk.”
“You can’t be Nighthawk.”
“There’s already a Nighthawk in Sweden.”
Rodney huffed. “So, you can’t have 2 superheroes with the same name.”
“I’m a super-villain. He’s a superhero. It’s perfectly fine.”
“Are you this annoying because it’s fun or is it some kind of weird quirk to support your diabolical plan to rule the world?”
“Who said I wanted to rule the world?”
“Everyone wants to rule the world.”
“Do you want to rule the world?”
Rodney ruffled. “That’s not the point.”
‘Nighthawk’ smirked again and Rodney ruffled up further, trying to push off his charming demeanor.
“Your ship’s never going to make it past 10,000 feet,” Rodney snapped and somehow they veered off into a full 2 hour conversation on inertial dampeners and power requirements for breaking atmosphere before Rodney got a call about an earthquake in LA and reluctantly left the mountain, not having done a thing to impede ‘Nighthawk’s progress or ‘evil ways’.
- Nighthawk kept stealing stuff and Supernova kept having to yell at him to give it back. The biggest problem was the former would smirk and smile and charm his way into being gifted a lot of the “stolen” goods and Rodney kept wondering if he was using some kind of pheromone manipulator to get the job done. Nighthawk actually caught Rodney using a scanner on him to try and settle the issue but luckily he only raised an eyebrow in response, smiled at Rodney as he said, “It’s all natural.” Rodney of course blush and stomp away from him, thoroughly pissed at Nighthawk’s face and overall existence.
BONUS: They kept this kind of a routine up until Nighthawk got his spaceship done and Rodney had to finally face the fact that he couldn’t let it launch. That is, until Nighthawk told Rodney his real name was John and he was just trying to get back to his people in a different galaxy (”sorry for acting like a super-villain, I just needed stuff”) and wouldn’t Rodney like to come along? It would be fun. Rodney didn’t hesitate to say yes.
Since 1997, the U.S. Air Force and Lockheed Martin-led A-10 Prime Team have worked closely to significantly digitize the A-10A Thunderbolt II close air support fighter to its A-10C configuration, enabling employment of the new GPS and inertially-guided munitions.
“This is our ship,” Evfra said,
approaching an angaran lounging by what appeared to be a small freighter; the
pilot, Ryder guessed. He straightened at attention with a sinuous grace that
spoke of combat training as soon as he recognized Evfra, just as the slash
across one eye spoke of battlefield experience, though he didn’t seem to be the
same as other fighters she had seen around. “Veraan,” Evfra nodded to him in
“Evfra,” the pilot responded with
a grave nod of respect, then turned to Ryder with a disarming smile. “Captain Veraan
Tavre, at your service. I know, of course, who you are.” He looked back to
Evfra. “I understand I am to make a special delivery to Voeld?” By his accent
he was native to Aya.
“Yes. You will be taking us,”
Evfra said, gesturing at Ryder, himself and the coterie of angara standing
Lettre de Gérard Depardieu à sa mère
Ma Lilette, dans tes silences, ton abdication, tes cris, ton irritation, il y avait un amour fou.
Gérard Depardieu (né le 27 décembre 1948), monstre sacré du cinéma, a tourné environ 150 films avec les plus grands cinéastes français.
Avant de devenir une star mondialement connue, il connut une enfance misérable à Châteauroux avec ses frères et sœurs.
Dans cette lettre très émouvante qu’il adresse à sa mère, sa « Lilette », il lui témoigne son attachement indéfectible et se rappelle son enfance mouvementée, peuplée de turbulences et de cris.
Hé oui ! ma chère mère… Cela t’épate, ma Lilette. Je ne t’avais encore jamais appelé comme ça.
C’est peut-être pour cette raison que tu tenais tellement à m’envoyer à l’étude du soir. Pour qu’un jour, je t’envoie une lettre, une longue lettre commençant par :
« Ma chère mère… »
Maintenant, tu dois te demander ce qu’il m’arrive, qu’est-ce qui me prend de t’écrire ? Cela n’a jamais été le genre de la famille de passer aux aveux, de dire les choses tout simplement. Dans notre cabane à Châteauroux, notre grotte, c’était plutôt la loi du silence. Un silence bruyant ! Parce que ça gueulait tout le temps.
J’ai d’abord appris à crier avant de savoir parler. A tel point que lorsque je pense à vous, j’entends des cris. Des cris de toutes les couleurs. De joie, de colère, de souffrance aussi…
Mais d’abord, j’aimerais te faire une drôle de confidence : j’ai toujours trouvé que tu ressemblais à une vache. Oui, ma Lilette, tu ressembles à une vache. Te vexe pas, c’est très bien une vache. C’est le lait, la viande, le sang… Mais pour moi, surtout, c’est l’immobilité, une inertie chaude et rassurante, un certain fatalisme. Alors, évidemment, je songe à toi. A ta placidité, ta résignation.
Tout est allé beaucoup trop vite pour toi. Mariée au Dédé à 20 ans, les petiots sont sortis de ton ventre à une cadence industrielle, de vraies balles de ping-pong ! T’en es restée comme stupéfaite, pétrifiée… De ton temps, l’aiguille à tricoter ne remplaçait pas la pilule. Tiens ! Il m’arrive aujourd’hui de me réveiller en sursaut en me palpant le haut du crâne pour voir s’il ne me reste pas quelques cicatrices… Bon, tu dois encore te dire que je dérape…
En tout cas, je t’ai toujours connu avec le ventre plein, ce gros ventre qui prenait toute la place dans cet appartement aux pièces trop étroites. Il était là tout le temps, ton ventre, obsédant, j’avais vraiment l’impression qu’il me narguait.
J’en ai donné des coups de poing dedans ! J’avais envie de crier :
« De l’air ! J’étouffe ! … »
Non, décidément, tu as toujours été enceinte. Tu prenais à peine le temps d’accoucher !
Tes accouchements, c’était la fête. Une fête et une communion familiale, une cérémonie occulte. Ce sang que tu perdais, c’était celui d’un amour que tu ne pouvais pas exprimer. C’était un beau sang sans douleur. T’en fais pas qu’il le savait bien le Dédé. Trop même. Fallait le voir détaler au bistrot du coin dès les premières contractions, filer noyer sa grande frousse, sa grande pudeur dans l’alcool.
Vous avez fait six enfants ensemble parce que vous étiez incapables de vous dire : « Je t’aime » autrement. Vous étiez deux paumés en train de saigner l’un à côté de l’autre, sans cesse en train de se jeter des cris et des insultes à la figure, attachés viscéralement par une haine animale, car votre amour était une grande force qui allait… comment dire… qui allait toujours contre. C’est bien cela, vous alliez passionnément l’un contre l’autre. […]
Mais toi et le Dédé, vous auriez été capables de vous laisser mourir de faim plutôt que de déranger le monde. Ça vous aurait plu de passer inaperçus, d’être invisibles. On était une espèce de tribu, une race d’Indiens en voie de disparition, tapie dans sa grotte. Vous ne vouliez surtout pas avoir de problèmes avec les autres. Vous ne vous affichiez pas comme ces blaireaux triomphants, au milieu de leur frigidaire et de leur marmaille. Quand les allocations familiales oubliaient de tomber en fin de mois, vous n’osiez même pas aller les réclamer.
Quelquefois aussi, tu en avais marre de cette vie-là, ma Lilette, marre des cris, du Dédé, de cette histoire d’amour sourde et muette. Assez de perdre ton sang et ta jeunesse. Assez de m’avoir tout le temps dans les pattes. Tu m’expliquais que si tu n’avais pas eu un troisième enfant, il y a longtemps que tu serais partie, très loin, en voyage, en voyage pour toujours. Le troisième enfant, c’était moi. Quand je me suis sauvé de la maison, c’étaient bien tes fugues avortées que j’avais dans les jambes, le cœur. Je suis parti à ta place, pour toi…
Lors de ton dernier accouchement, le sixième, la fête a bien failli tourner au drame. Tu as été prise d’une hémorragie interminable, un torrent, une bourrasque. Ton lit était rouge de ton sang. Tu te noyais littéralement. Tu avais un regard de haine, de peur, de mort. Tu étais épuisée, à bout de mise au monde. Cela ressemblait à un massacre. J’ai revu en un éclair l’expression de ces chevaux que l’on conduit à l’abattoir. Enfant, j’allais très souvent traîner aux abattoirs. Pendu au plafond à un crochet, le cheval devine que la mort est là. Il a un ultime galop dans l’espace, une valse funèbre. Je pensais à tout cela en te regardant, impuissant, souffrir le martyre. On a appelé le médecin. On a prévenu mon père qu’il se passait quelque chose de grave chez lui. Il a cru qu’il y avait un incendie. Il est arrivé avec une voiture de pompiers, il est monté avec la grande échelle jusqu’à la fenêtre de la chambre à coucher. Ensuite, tout se perd dans mon esprit. La frayeur immense du Dédé, ton visage quasi mortuaire après que tout fut fini, que le médecin nous ait rassurés.
Ma Lilette, dans tes silences, ton abdication, tes cris, ton irritation, il y avait un amour fou. S’il pouvait être dit, cela serait un amour de poète. Tu ne m’as pas envoyé en pleine tronche toute ton affection comme une mère du Sud possessive : « Je te donne tout mon fils ! Prends, prends, c’est pour toi, pour mon fils ! » Non, il y avait toujours une distance, une dignité.
Tu t’es sacrifiée pour nous, tout de suite, à vingt berges. Tu étais une femme de charme, comme Catherine Deneuve, tu t’es transformée sans comprendre, sans réaliser, en pondeuse. Tu m’as tout donné discrètement. Mais jusqu’à l’épuisement, presque jusqu’à la mort.
Alors, à présent, tu ne pourras pas m’empêcher de te dire ce que tous vos bruits et vos hurlements ont vainement tenté d’étouffer. Cette phrase tabou, cette phrase minuscule que les cris ont si longtemps contenue, cette phrase dont nous avions tous peur, je te l’écris, ma Lilette, simplement : « Je t’aime… »
Il vero inferno è una cosa senza rumore. Esso non delira o infuria, non è una bestia feroce, ma un che, un qualcuno di sordido e molle che s'insinua in noi, quando con noi non nasca, e a poco a poco riempie tutte le nostre cavità, fino a soffocarci. Esso è fatto di giorni inerti… d'infedeltà a noi stessi, di continui cedimenti.
E dai continui compromessi, dai “ ma sì, pazienza” “non vale la pena opporsi…”
therock Nice way to wake ya up and set your adrenal glands on fire. Massive
C-17 with the entire back of the plane blown out, 35,000ft in the air
and nose diving an inertial trajectory so fast I’m experiencing zero-g.
(no g-force). These scenes are intense. Physically and mentally
draining.. but at least I smell good and have multiple unattractive
intensity veins in my forehead. Pack a lunch, it’s gonna be a long day. #PartyInHell#RAMPAGE4-20-2018