Live Stream 1980: Netizens Teach Me How to Make a Rocket by Hand

Mid-February.

A special plane pierced through the clouds and flew towards the northwestern desert.

Lin Xi leaned back in her seat, flipping through the documents in her hand.

All objectives have been achieved on this trip to Mozambique.

The Great Wall GW-1 of Red Star was brazenly driven into the heart of the Soviet Union's top secrets: Sukhoi, Rubin, and Southern Design Bureau.

In my mind, the live stream room, which had been silent for a while, was now flooded with comments:

[The anchor's move was brilliant! He used the same tactic with the European Space Agency before, and now even the Russians are falling for it!]

[That's the Ruby Design Bureau! The heart of nuclear submarine construction, and you managed to sneak in through a back door!]

[A cyberpunk version of the Trojan Horse, designed so that no one needs to be sent; the enemy sends it back to you automatically.]

A smile appeared on Lin Xi's lips.

The CAD software installed on the computers given to the Soviets was all a specially made version.

It contains a very subtle "crash snapshot" feature.

Those top engineers would definitely use CAD to process extremely large and complex 3D models of submarines or missiles.

When the computational load reaches a set critical point, the software will automatically "crash and shut down".

In the instant of the crash, the system will directly encrypt and package the core data of the military blueprints being rendered in memory into an inconspicuous "system error log".

Before long, these so-called error logs will be continuously sent back to the headquarters in Beijing through Red Star's after-sales channels in Mo City.

No need to send spies, no need to steal.

The most brilliant scientists in the Soviet Union would proactively pack up top-secret blueprints and deliver them to their door.

Meanwhile, along the broader Trans-Siberian Railway, trains laden with Red Star light industrial products were rumbling into Moscow.

Meanwhile, a Soviet special train carrying high-quality timber, special steel, and heavy engineering machinery was also traveling day and night, heading straight for China.

The price scissors between light and heavy industries began to reveal their terrifying harvesting power this winter.

……

While Lin Xi was stirring up trouble in the Soviet Union, preparations for the Red Star No. 2 bundle were also proceeding at a rapid pace.

Rewind to early February, in the Liangshan Mountains of Sichuan Province.

The No. 3 command post of the Southwest Satellite Launch Center is built halfway up the mountain. Water droplets seep into the concrete walls, and the window glass buzzes in the mountain wind.

Old Ding read the telegram over and over again three times.

The telegram was very short, sent from the capital, and stamped with the seal of the Finance Department of the Ministry of Aerospace Industry.

The first installment of RMB 50 million for the special infrastructure construction fund of Project 851 of Hongxing Technology Group was transferred to the special account of Southwest Launch Center on February 2.

Fifty million.

Mr. Ding dedicated his entire life to the launch site, and even at his most extravagant, his annual maintenance budget never exceeded 800,000 yuan.

Last winter, the heating pipes in the testing hall froze and cracked. He submitted three reports before finally getting approval for 4,000 yuan to buy welding rods.

Now, it's clearly written on the paper that it's fifty million.

It's not 50,000.

Not 500,000.

It's fifty million.

He handed the telegram to Deputy Commander Zhao, who was standing next to him.

Deputy Commander Zhao glanced at it, folded it up, and stuffed it into his overcoat pocket:

"It's good that you've arrived. The logistics department will start purchasing today."

"Three thousand tons of special cement, five hundred tons of diesel, and half a pound of pork per person per week."

"Prepare enough for three months."

Old Ding was stunned for a moment:

"Old Zhao, aren't you surprised?"

"What's so surprising?"

Deputy Commander Zhao turned to look at him.

"In 1962, when the Chengdu-Kunming Railway was being built, the central government issued an order and 100,000 people marched into the Hengduan Mountains."

"Back then, we didn't receive a single penny of funding, but we still kept going."

"Now that we have money, men, and explosives, why aren't we running wild?"

Old Ding didn't say anything more.

He looked down out the window.

In the valley, tents have already been set up halfway up the ditch.

Green, gray, and ochre-colored, they were densely packed together.

Smoke rose from all directions, mingling with the sputtering of diesel generators and the distant roar of stone crushers.

A team of engineers, the entire unit, has been here for six days.

Old Ding walked out of the command post and down the mountain along the gravel path.

The road was lined with engineering soldiers.

In February, temperatures in the Liangshan Mountains drop to minus ten degrees Celsius at night and only three or four degrees Celsius during the day.

But after heavy physical labor, the young soldiers had long since abandoned their cotton-padded coats.

Some people were swinging sledgehammers while wearing only a single layer of clothing.

Some people simply went shirtless, sweat streaming down their backs, and when the mountain wind blew, white vapor rose out in layers.

There was a young soldier who looked to be under twenty years old, squatting in front of the rock wall, drilling holes.

The hammer pounded down again and again, the iron spade embedding itself into the granite, and stone dust flew everywhere.

Sweat beaded on his nose, his ears were red from the cold, and he was breathing out white breath as he counted the beats.

"One, two, three—switch!"

The comrade next to him took the iron shovel.

He stood up and shook his arms, his palms covered in a hard crust of blisters and calluses.

Old Ding stopped.

Looking at these young men, he remembered the number on the telegram.

Fifty million.

When it's put on paper, it's just a few Arabic numerals.

Falling into this ravine means becoming fuel for heavy machinery, rice, noodles, and meat for soldiers, and an extra stove of coal burned in the tents during winter.

It also meant that these kids would have a few less nights of freezing cold.

However, when Old Ding looked down, his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

Designed according to the "three-vertical model" proposed by Lin Xi.

Here, a nearly 100-meter-high VAB assembly plant will be built, and special seamless steel rails connecting the two launch towers will be laid in parallel.

The task was to carve out a huge flat area of ​​hundreds of thousands of square meters from the originally narrow valley.

The scale of this project is staggering.

The conventional approach is to peel off the layers one by one by blasting.

From the top of the mountain down, they blasted and cleared the rocks layer by layer, using excavators and transport vehicles to haul away the rubble.

Safe and controllable.

But it will take at least six months.

Deputy Commander Zhao did not live for six months.

Orders for commercial launches are piling up, Hughes is pushing for the maiden flight timetable of the Red Star 2 rocket, and the milestones of Project 851 are written down in the documents.

Old Ding pointed to the huge rocky mountain on the north side of the site.

"Old Zhao, at the current pace, even with drilling and blasting layer by layer, it will take more than half a year to flatten that side peak."

"If this mountain isn't removed, we can't build the foundation for the final assembly plant."

Deputy Commander Zhao stubbed out his cigarette and put his hands on his hips:

"Who has time to follow him for six months?"

"I'll just scatter it!"

He turned and took a military demolition blueprint from his adjutant, slamming it onto the wooden table in front of him.

"We're not going to divest ourselves."

"Go straight to the chamber and conduct a controlled blast!"

Upon hearing this term, Old Ding's expression changed drastically, and he quickly went over to look at the dosage parameters on the drawing.

Three hundred tons?!

"Old Zhao, have you gone mad!"

As Mr. Ding pointed his finger at the detonation point on the drawing, his voice rose two octaves:

"You stuffed three hundred tons of high explosives inside the mountain?"

"It's less than three kilometers from our old launch tower No. 1!"

"What if ground resonance causes the old tower's foundation to subside, or if flying debris damages the radar? Who will be held responsible?"

The old launch tower is currently the only launch pad at the base capable of carrying out commercial launches. It is the lifeline of the entire base and will also serve as the test site for the upcoming Red Star-2 rocket. No mistakes can be tolerated.

Deputy Commander Zhao stood in the cold wind, patted his chest, and burst into laughter:

"Old Ding, don't worry!"

"That's nothing!"

He pointed to the contour lines on the blueprint, his eyes revealing a sharpness honed by countless battles:

"During the 1960s, when we were building the Third Front and constructing the Chengdu-Kunming Railway, I led my troops to blast three mountains flat!"

"Back then, we didn't even have proper pneumatic drills. We relied entirely on the soldiers hanging from the cliff with ropes around their waists to drill blasting holes."

"Now all the machinery is ready, and the comrades from the Geological Exploration Bureau have done the stratigraphic strike modeling in advance."

"The explosive equivalent is calculated precisely based on the parameters of directional blasting."

He traced the fault line northward with his finger.

"Once the explosion occurs, the thrust will push the mountain northward along the fault line."

"The recoil caused the mountain to be swallowed up."

"Over there on the old tower, it's like a big truck passing by, giving you a bumpy ride."

He stared at the obstructive side peak, his tone firm:

"These 300 tons of explosives are just for our Project 851, to make a sound!"