Let's play: Buzz Aldrin's Race Into Space

[PeZook]

Administrative note: Due to a paperwork mishap, comrade Belyayev turned out to, in fact, be named Boris Borisovich Borisov. Investigation into the cause of the recent rash of paperwork problems is ongoing, and many, many suspects have already been arrested.

[PeZook]

Also: comrade Pavylyvych forgot that advanced training costs 3 megrubloids per cosmonaut, and since his budget plans leave zero, no cosmonaut will go to training this season.

[Scottish Ninja]

I've also just emailed Fritz Bronner that image, in the hopes that he will sell me a copy of Liftoff! so I can inflict this game on three friends at once. I'll let you know if I hear back from him.

[PeZook]

MISSIONS LAUNCH
VOSHKHOD III, OCTOBER 1964

Engineers worked night and day to remove the problems with Voshkhod and its launch vehicle, the radical new design of a boosted A-Series rocket.

Throughout endless late-night meetings, prototyping sessions and systems analysis, they have prepared for the upcoming test launch as best they could.



And the result was most encouraging. Comrade Pavylyvych congratulated the program heads as they began to leave the mission control bunker ; They would now go out onto the field, recover the capsule and make last modifications before the manned flight this December.

But between now and then, the Murcans had another flight planned, and comrade Pavylyvych couldn't help but wonder how it would go for them. He wished all the best to the astronaut, even if he couldn't say this out loud.

***

MERCURY XVI, NOVEMBER 1964

"Okay, gentlemen. Let's get this mother off the pad!", Common Carter Connoway said to his crew. His boys. His little nerds. Since coming here, he has come to...know...all of them, very intimately. Especially that last night's pillow fight bolstered team morale excellently and...oh, yeah. He had a flight to run.

"All checks out? We're oiled up, pumped and ready to go? Awesome! Resume the countdown!", he yelled. Some of the engineers winced, since his mike was hot and they got the full load of his oral enthusiasm right into their ears.

"Right", Barn Est The First said to himself, before putting his headset back on. He'd serve as Bob's CAPCOM this mission, "Bob, we have resumed countdown. The mission is a go. How are you feelin', buddy?"

"Like a million dollars, Barn! Can't wait to get this party started."

Est held out his raised thumb for CCC's benefit. The flight controllers reported readiness, and with a well-practiced ritual, once the countdown ended, the rocket lit off - exactly as planned.



"We have good liftoff Sixteen, reading you right down the line."

The controllers observed the liftoff with practiced professoinal detachment, reporting on its performance. It didn't fail to deliver - staging went perfectly, then it was burn to orbit time.



"And...MECO!", FIDO barked out, "Good flight, good flight. Orbital insertion complete."

"Flight controller,stand by. I want a go/no go for orbital stay."

The controllers began checking out their stations. High above, Bob held up a pencil and let it go, then watched it stay in place, maybe drift off to the side just a little bit. He pushed on one end and it spun.


I'm IN SPACE., he thought.

It was the greatest thing ever.

He did his checklists and his tests, ate the horrible food they had provided for him (Though it was no worse than many things he'd had in the navy and still much better than a few things he had in college...), and began to daydream.

Bob staggered out of his thermodynamics final and stumbled his way back to the dining hall. After the all-nighter, he just wanted something to eat before he went to bed.

There were exactly two food selections: soggy mushy peas and soggy mushy waffles. The peas were brown. The waffles were green. He was exhausted, but his eyes glazed over the scene and knew that he was in a no-win scenario.

"Sixteen, do you read?"

Startled, Bob fumbled a bit with his radio switches before replying, "Uh, yeah, I read. This is great! I'm IN SPACE!"

"Copy that Sixteen. Uh, we might be having a minor problem here, could you give a reading on main bus A voltage?"

"Uh, stand by...reading is...right down the middle."

"Copy that. Stand by."

Bob sighed. Glitches. It could be a while before mission control gave him the go-ahead for orbital stay, so he decided to make himself a bit more comfortable. He twisted around in his very limited room, but it was all okay, because he was IN SPACE. It made up for everything. No matter what mundane thing it was, it was IN SPACE and that made it precious and special. Bob allowed himself a single manly tear at the thought; the tear pooled up on his eye and blurred his vision so he had to wipe it away, noting all the ways that being IN SPACE was different. They took so many things for granted with the gravitational pull.

"Sixteen, could you give me a rundown of your status lights?", his daydream was interrupted again.

"Uh, sure...lights are...CPC green, Retro green, chute deploy no light, backup chute no light, landing bag deploy no light, life support green, main bus a green, main bus b green, periscope green. Are you having trouble with telemetry, Cape?"

"No, we just need to confirm something. Stand by."

Bob sighed again and glanced back at his pencil.

No downwards pull...which meant...

And then Robert “Bob” Johnson had an epiphany, a vision of the possibilities of the future most glorious, magnificent, beautiful beyond all the wildest dreams he had ever had before. But now, now in the most rarefied airs of the highest atmosphere, with a sunrise and sunset every ninety minutes, above all the concerns of the cloud-swirled globe below, he could envision things truly great, his mind freed of former shackles and left to rise above as he had. He felt as if he stood on the threshold of the sublime.

As he thoughts unfolded, Bob knew one thing, beyond all doubt:

They needed titties in space.

No more sagging, so no more need for constraining 'support,' liberated from the tyranny of gravity! The aether whispered in his ear, and so saith it: breasts bobbing beautifully and quivering delightfully in response to every weightless movement. He wanted to step through that shining threshold and embrace that wonderful, exquisite, jiggly goodness to his own bosom.

But then the slightly-more-mundane world returned to him as his radio squawked at him, "Sixteen, we have a problem."

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

While up above Bob was dreaming about titties, down at THE CAPE, the mission control room was full of people who didn't usually come in. They were poring over capsule schematics and telemetry printoffs.

There was a problem with the retropack.

"This thing is absolutely foolproof!", the engineer who designed the pack was screaming, "There's nothing to break in there! Nothing! It lighted before, just fine, no problems!"

"Listen, the diagnostics showed a problem indicator", Connoway was explaining to the engineer a third time what they wanted to do, "I need to know if it's an instrumentation problem, or something real?"

"In my opinion, we have nothing to fear.", the engineer didn't sound very sure. He was staring intently at his schematics while talking, "...unless...huh..."

"Unless WHAT?"

"...uh, there might a slight possibility that...maybe vibration could..."

"Oh, screw this. This is a critical system, I am not taking the risk it will not fire.", the Flight Director leapt to his console, "Flight controllers, we are initiating an abort. Let him know of that. I want to bring him down at site C."

"Copy that, flight", Barn Est nodded and flipped the switch, "Sixteen, we have a problem."

"Uh...", Bob's voice seemed more confused than scared, "Elaborate?"

"There might a problem with the retros, we fear they might not fire. We are initiating an abort."

"Copy that, abort."

"Run program 21, we're bringing you down at Site C."

The large mission clock reset, and began counting down to the deorbit burn. Silence fell across the room as the seconds counted down.

Then it went to zero. FIDO glared intently at his screen.

"Flight...we...no ignition...Jeebus..."

"I need answers, people! We are not losing this man! Wake everyone who ever worked on that capsule: WE ARE BRINGING THIS MAN DOWN, you hear me?!"

The control room erupted with activity.



Bob looked out through the periscope, at the brilliant blue ball below. He knew by now the retros didn't fire - Mission Control kept reassuring him they were working on the problem...but he had nothing to do, and so he watched the Earth below. He had plenty of supplies.

He could see continents move, blue reflections off the oceans glistening in the sun. Sunrise and sundown, two per hour...clouds, swirling in the wind, brilliant and white. He could stare at it forever.

And two days later, he learned that this would indeed be the case. There was a procedure for that, in fact. The controllers could do nothing, they tried six dozen possible solutions and none worked. The retropack would remain silent - so they were now silent, and let him transmit freely. And so the entire world could hear Bob Johnson's last words, as his capsule completed his revolutions around the Earth.

"I...really don't know what to say to the people down there, listening to me. You could say I am a bit disappointed, really...I know I am going to die. There is no escaping this: the orbit is too high, it will not decay before I run out of oxygen.

But I figure that, you know...there are worse ways to die, right? It was a day when I went INTO SPACE. Really, it was a good day, and I suppose one had to meet his end at some time. You could say that a day in which you have seen dozens of beautiful sunsets is a fine last day.”

The flight controllers couldn't listen anymore. They began to leave the flight control center.

Only Common Carter Connoway stayed. Alone in the dark room, he was in contact with Bob Johnson up until the last moment, when his oxygen ran out, and the astronaut slowly slipped into a peaceful slumber.

Forever.

***

VOSHKHOD IV, DECEMBER 1964

Someone, nobody knew who or when, painted a small epiphamy to Bob Johnson on the side of the Voshkhod capsule. It read:

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of; wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air;
Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark nor even eagle flew;
And while, with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

The Comissar launched an investigation, of course, but could not uncover the perpetrator: and it was too late to remove the poem, as it was discovered right before the launch, after both cosmonauts were already securely inside their capsule, and all preparations were finished.

It was a flight full of trepidatin from all involved. They all remembered listening to the last words of that Murcan astronaut, Johnson, as he passed over Zenobia. And nobody at Baikonurek could not notice that comrade Pavylyvych was more than a little worried about the Voshkhod's technical reliability.

Still, the Motherland demanded a duty of them. And thus, comrade cosmonauts Nikov and Mametov strapped in and awaited the launch.

With little ceremony, Syrgy Pavylyvych turned the launch key, and the rocket's engines ignited with a thunderous roar.



As it rose to the heavens, people inside the control center could hear Nikov's voice on the radio, yelling one word:

"Poyekhali!"



"Comrades, inform comrade Chief Designer the rocket performed perfectly! We are in orbit, and are preparing the spacecraft for our spacewalk.", Niko reported. The spacecraft has separated from the last booster stage. Cosmonauts would now go over all the systems, and immediately begin suiting up: no extended orbital stay was planned for this mission.



In less than two hours, everything was ready. The Voshkhod possessed a feature unlike any other spacecraft in the world: a compact, inflatable airlock attached to the hatch. Such a solution would allow cosmonauts to leave and enter the ship without depressurizing the cabin.

It was also crucial for the Voshkhod, as its electronics were air-cooled, and thus depressurization of the capsule would destroy them.

Syrgy listened intently as the cosmonauts reported on their progress.

An engineer was summarizing them, "Comrade Mametov is inside the airlock now...he is reports space is limited, and he had some difficulty operating the device's systems. The airlock is depressurizing...comrade niov has activated the outer camera, we should be seeing images...now."



Everyone watched the clear images of a son of the Motherland, floating freely in space now. He provided a steady stream of reports about his situation.

"There is no disorientation at all. I can move without any problems, any problems at all. It is best to move slowly and deliberately...it is beautiful, comrades. Absolutely beautiful."

After twenty minues, cosmonaut Mametov was back inside, and the crew prepared to land their spacecraft.



The most dangeorus part of the flight went splendidly. The heat shield held, and soon the capsule landed...softly.





"I am telling you, comrades, it was quite the ride!", Mametov joked as the doctors administered a battery of tests. Both cosmonauts were not allowed to leave their couches, which were removed from the capsule after landing, before the doctors gave the all-clear.



A day later, comrade cosmonauts Nikov and Mametov were both safely back at Baikonurek, giving their mission report to the Chief Designer.

[PeZook]

CHAPTER 7: POYEKHALI!
Time is: Spring 1965




MURCA
TEDDY SPACE CENTER

Aides and secretaries did their best to steer the Prime Minister of Anglia as far away from the Acting Director's office as humanly possible. It wasn't because it was a particularly foul place...well yes, it was, with copious amounts of empty bottles and crumpled paper laying everywhere, but that wasn't why the aides were doing what they were doing.

It was mostly because of the endless litanny of curses and yelling directed as pretty much everyone who entered the office, or even got near it.

Needless to say, the Acting Director wasn't in a very good mood. Especially since the retro problem wasn't a fluke - oh no, of course it had to turn out to be a major problem with the entire Mercury design!

"Aw, fuck this.", Fox Modem turned around without even approaching the office. He wanted to notify Mr. Gray that he got a job offer in private business, but seeing what was going on, he'd just take it. Screw this. Spaceflight was too dangerous.

And those fucking Zenobians of course pulled it off. The bastards.

Code: Select all

Current funds: 80 megabucks

Astronauts in Mercury program:
MODEMJR - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 1, END 2 (Mercury/I) - will retire next year
FLASHHEART - CAP 1, LM 0, EVA 4, DOCK 1, END 1 (Mercury/II) ; MOOD: 37
BARNESTI - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 4 (Mercury/III) ; MOOD: 72
REXMODEM - CAP 3, LM 3, EVA 3, DOCK 1, END 0 (Mercury/IV) ; MOOD: 63
RAVENSBURG - CAP 3, LM 3, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 2 (Mercury/V) ; MOOD: 67
CONRAD - CAP 4, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 3 (Mercury/VII) ; MOOD: 75
BROWN - CAP 4, LM 2, EVA 0, DOCK 1, END 2 (Mercury/VIII) ; MOOD: 77

Unassigned astronauts:
CUNTSER - CAP 3, LM 3, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 1 - will retire next seaso
BORMAN - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 3 ; MOOD: 81
KNIGHT - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 0, END 1 ; MOOD: 71
GIVENS - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 0, DOCK 3, END 3 ; MOOD: 81

Other astronauts:
KELLY - retired spring 1965
MCCAIN - retired fall 1963
HARDBEEF -  retired spring 1963
OHJESUS - DECEASED, MERCURY IX
JOHNSON - DECEASED, MERCURY XVI

Programs running: Explorer, Ranger, Atlas, Titan, Mercury, EVA Suits

Launch pads: 3

Scheduled missions: 
Launch Pad A, unmanned lunar flyby, Ranger/Titan
Launch Pad B, none
Launch Pad C, none

ZENOBIA

[/size]

BAIKONUREK

"I must say, comrade", Shroomanski's voice on the phone was extremely enthusiastic, "I had my doubts, but please accept my congratulations! Splendid job! Splendid! And just in time for celebrating the twentieth anniversary of the Great Salvation War: Part Deux! Da! Zenobia is on top again, da? We are in the driver's seat! Ha!"

The Chief Designer was only listening with one ear. He had a pile of paperwork on his desk: most of it related to various awards, both material ones and medals, that began to rain on the crew of the cosmodrome after the succesful Voskhod IV flight. But what worried him was the budget report on EVA suits: it wouldn't hurt right now, as the suits were pretty much as good as they were going to get, but there was this nagging thought that if costs could be understerminated once, they could most definitely be underestimated twice, and for some other program.

"...and I want to see you for dinner in Moosecow, comrade!"

Syrgy's labored, "Of course, Comrade First Secretary!" was uttered just in time, it would seems.

Code: Select all

Current funds: 95 megarubloids

Cosmonauts in Voshkhod program:
NIKOV - CAP 4, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 0, END 2 (CREW I/PILOT) ; MOOD: 40
MAMETOV - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 2 (CREW I/SPECIALIST) ; MOOD: 88

KARZANOVSKI - CAP 4, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 0, END 3  (CREW II/PILOT) ; MOOD: 72
YEBANOV - CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 4, DOCK 0, END 1 (CREW II/SPECIALIST)  ; MOOD: 72

DIGADITCH - CAP 4, LM 1, EVA 2, DOCK 2, END 3  (CREW III/PILOT); MOOD: 55
BORISOV - CAP 3, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 1, END 1 (CREW III/SPECIALIST)  ; MOOD: 64

PETROV - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 0, DOCK 3, END 2 (CREW IV/PILOT) ; MOOD: 54
BEREGOVOY - CAP 2, LM 1, EVA 1, DOCK 3, END 0 (CREW IV/SPECIALIST) ; MOOD: 65

Cosmonauts not assigned to programs:
FAAABIO  - CAP 2, LM 0, EVA 2, DOCK 0, END 3 ; MOOD: 49
BRZECZYSZCZ - CAP 3, LM 2, EVA 0, DOCK 3, END 3  ; MOOD: 54

Other cosmonauts:
DOSTAROVASKI - Forcibly retired, Fall 1964
TITOV - Retired Spring 1964
IVANOVICH - Grounded due to lung cancer
VLADIMIRENSKY  - Deceased, training accident
IVANOV - Deceased, VOSTOK VII

Programs running: Sputnik, Cosmos satellite, A-Series, Proton, Booster stage, Voshkhod, EVA Suits

Launch pads: 2

Scheduled missions: 
Launch pad A, Unmanned suborbital test, Voshkhod/A-Series
Launch pad B, Unmanned suborbital test, Voshkhod/A-Series

GM Notes:

Fate is a fucker, eh?

I must say I expected the Zenobians to fail far more than Murcans. Then again, the difference in the majority stages was slight (84% for Mercury vs. 81% for Voskhod), but the Zenobians did snatch the major reward.

On the other hand, Murcan research into Titan is proceeding really well: it may be them who, in fact, snatch the lunar flyby prestige first!

One thing is certain: the winner of this race is far from decided.

Current prestige summary:

[Scottish Ninja]

Petr Petrovich folded up a letter and stuffed it into an envelope. The NKVDVDROM would surely read it, for it was addressed to the MASA astronaut corps...

...I write to you now not as a Zenobian, or a communoid, or a competitor, but as a man who has lost a dear friend to this great quest for space in which we are engaged. Your comrade Johnson showed incredible bravery in the face of death - not the figurative "certain death" which many survive, but the starkly defined moment of doom which he knew the hour and the minute. Few men could have been so resolute, but Johnson's quiet dignity, though the voice of tragedy, also defines us. I know my friend Ivan Ivanov, if given a second chance, would have chosen again to fly. Though the mission is dangerous, we are also privileged to take part in it, for the coming years will define all of mankind and propel it towards a brighter future. If we, the astronauts and cosmonauts who have taken up this task, were to back down in the face of danger, that would be a greater tragedy than the men who have been lost, for their deaths would then be in vain. It is in their names in which we must stand with new determination to achieve ever greater progress. It is in their names that we will continue to fly.

I wish all of you the best of luck in the future.

signed Petr Petrovich Petrov

That done, he headed towards the celebrations for the return of comrades Nikov and Mametov, looking for a bottle of champagne with which to spray them.

[FaxModem1]

Fox answered the phone.

"Yes, yes. Mr. Hoos. I can work for your company next year. No, I didn't know him that well. Yes, it is a tragedy."

He listened to a very long rant.

"No, I had no idea milk was so important. No, I don't have any germs. No sir, I don't think they would be willing to sell their quarantine devices, but I'll ask."

Fox knew his new boss was wacky, but this took the cake. At least he paid very well.

----

Rex toasted a beer to the radio. It had played Johnson's last words. He drank the last of the can and threw it against the wall, where it joined the stack of eight empty cans that had cluttered the hallway. His first real friend here, and the man had died in space. And now his brother was quitting. His oldest brother was in prison, the younger ones were serving overseas after being drafted. He was it, if he died, the Modem family would be done for.

[LaCroix]

OOC: Can you hear me, Major Tom Bob? (I now have that song stuck in my head...)

That was a great scene, good writing.

[PeZook]

OOC: Can you hear me, Major Tom Bob? (I now have that song stuck in my head...)

That was a great scene, good writing.

Most of Bob's thoughts were written by Mayabird. I did the scene after mission control learned of retropack problems.

[fnord]

Nikov was a little woozy after the obligatory celebratory pissup in Voskhod IV's aftermath - for example, he wasn't too sure what day it was, having been running on adrenaline since he and Mametov had bailed out over the ass-end of Boratistan, having stuck it to the Murcans by putting a multi-man crew in orbit.

As his head throbbed, some of the memories filtered through, in rough time with his heartbeat...

A thoroughly-plastered Digaditch and Borisovich dancing by, living up to their reputation as the loudest crew thus far, bawling... something ... at the top of their lungs, which may or may not have had any relation to the thing called "music" - or "caterwauling". The two had afterwards claimed it was Kalinka, but Nikov had his doubts.

Him and Mametov, each diagnosing the other's increasing stages of inebriation.

Hearing about the Chief Designer's "invitation" to dinner with the General Secretary - Nikov had downed an extra glass in sympathy. At least the General Secretary wasn't going to speech at him yet.

Omeganski seemed to have looked pretty pissed off (or personally affronted) that happiness was happening on his watch.


Head still sore, Nikov ambled his way to the Chief's office, to both see how he had fared with his close encounter of the Shroom kind, and to find out if he and Mametov were going to be similarly stressed.

[PeZook]

You didn't bail out. Voskhod lands with its crew, hence the huge dust cloud when the capsule gently slammed into the steppe

[fnord]

OOC - That was deliberate - Nikov's currently running on the fumes of adrenaline from Voskhod IV and the vodka he has consumed. Like Rogatien Remillard, he's a less-than-perfectly-reliable narrator.

How far are us mob off (penalty wise) a manned lunar pass? And, comrade Chief Designer, when are you wanting to start docking tests?

[LaCroix]

Comrade, docking tests are under-way, I have all angles covered...

[PeZook]

If you wanted to do a manned lunar pass next season, without first doing Duration-C and an unmanned pass, you'd get a -17% penalty on all mission rolls.

You'd also need a kicker-A module to pull this off with Voskhod.

[Shroom Man 777]

MOOSECOW



PREMIER Stanislav Shroomanski presents great award to the hero cosmonauts of space - comrades Nikov and Mametov - for bringing pride to the proletarian peoples of the Zenobian Onion for great justice! Chief Syrgy Pavylyvych is also given award for great efforts and successes despite the sabotages of treacherous Thanasian hunchbacks.

There is much drinking and smoking of vodka cigarettes and caviars. Corn is had by all. A moment of silence, for the loss of the Murcan astronaut Bob Johnson, and a lengthy speech extolling the noble endeavor of bringing proletarian liberation of space, and the sacrifices this entails, for all humanities.

Somewhere along the line, Shroomanski drunkenly suggests the prospects of sending women into space - to further bolster the egalitarian exertions of the Motherland, as a statement towards Murcan degeneracy and bourgeoisie wastefulness of oils and lubricants. Da. Shroomanski suggests a candidate, whose athletic and aeronotical exploits the NKVDVDROM have documented quietly as they search for ideologically acceptable candidates.

After that, Shroomanski staggers off and there is more boisterous merrymaking. At the end of the night, Shroomanski wanders home barefooted, most curiously.

[fnord]

OOC - Crap, spoke too soon. Got speeched at.

[Shroom Man 777]

[PeZook]

I have gazed many years ahead into the future, but alas, I am afraid no women will fly in space before 1970 at least.

[HMS Sophia]

Spoiler

I'm back fuckers! and in the shit already

Sam sat down at his desk. His first day back, and already he was having problems. A man was dead. Another man. And it was his teams shitty designs that did it. He downed the last dregs of a second bottle of crap whiskey and flung it at the door. The bottle smashed, throwing glass shards across the room, as well as a few final drops of precious amber alcohol. He slammed his hand down on his desks intercom, calling his secretary
"Mabel... get me another bottle!" he shouted, drunk. He slumped back into his chair, thinking about the accident. The man slowly collapsed in on himself, and began to sob.



Barnest1 was still sitting in the control room. He'd been coming back every day since the accident, watching the track of the mercury pod that was still hanging in orbit. He was silent, and had barely spoken to another soul since he had acted as CAPCOM on Bob's doomed flight. Poor bob. All he wanted was a nice girl, and all he got was a slow death...

[LaCroix]

OOC: How long would a Mercury stay in orbit until decay pulls it into re-entry? Could you safely land it (brakes were off-line, but the chutes and stuff should still work on remote control, given the power holds long enough...) and retrieve his remains?

[PeZook]

A few weeks, probably. The problem is that without retros to ensure a proper moment of re-entry, it would land...somewhere.

Of course, the danger of groundside landing is of no concern in this situation...

[LaCroix]

OOC: If he comes down on Boratstani steppes, the Onion will of course graciously return him to Murca. After inspecting the capsule very thoroughly, of course. (There is still the problem with lingering contamination and other concerns, right?)

[Mayabird]

Booooooooob! Noooooooooo!

And he never got to share his dream either.

[PeZook]

He could've shared it privately with Common Carter Connoway

[Akhlut]

Manshuk had the hugest grin on his face.

I have walked in outer space.

Manshuk was the first human being to brave space outside of a capsule. And, of course, it was a Boratistani to be the first man to do that. Who else would have the beets to do that?

As he drank his vodka, he ruminated very deeply.

It's good to be a Cosmonaut. Da.