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

Southwest Satellite Launch Center.

Under a gloomy sky, the distant mountains were shrouded in a thin mist.

Lin Xi, Lu Guoliang, and several system chief engineers were waiting on the platform half an hour in advance.

A long, drawn-out whistle sounded in the distance.

The special train slowly pulled into the platform.

When the carriage door opened, the first to jump down were a group of "mud people".

The uniforms and work clothes of the armed police officers and technicians were completely unrecognizable, covered with a layer of dried yellow mud.

Many people were so exhausted that they were unsteady on their feet.

Old Zhou walked quickly to Lu Guoliang.

He put his legs together, stood up straight, and gave a very imperfect but fully-fledged military salute.

"Reporting to the Chief Engineer!"

Old Zhou's voice was hoarse, and muddy water dripped down his trouser legs.

"The Red Star 2 core-laying module has been safely delivered."

"The outer casing is intact, and the air pressure is all normal!"

Lin Xi quietly looked at this group of people who were extremely exhausted.

His gaze passed over Lao Zhou and landed on the spotless white section of the arrow in the rear carriage.

An indescribable surge of emotion welled up within me.

He didn't say a single unnecessary polite word.

Faced with such dedication, any words seem inadequate.

Lin Xi stood at attention, back straight, raised his right hand, and gave a very solemn military salute to Lao Zhou and all the escort personnel.

Standing beside him, Lu Guoliang, along with all the base researchers, guards, and sentries on the platform, raised their right hands in unison at that moment.

On the silent platform, only the sound of military salutes cutting through the air and the echo of the mountain wind passing through the platform could be heard.

......

While preparations for the launch of the Red Star 2 satellite were in full swing, the international situation became somewhat strange.

Late April, Baikonur Cosmodrome, Sudan.

The muffled countdown echoed over and over on the radio.

The 400-ton Proton heavy-lift launch vehicle stood quietly in the center of the launch pad.

"Three, two, one, ignition!"

The earthquake trembled.

Six RD-253 engines simultaneously spewed orange-red exhaust flames, the fire and thick smoke instantly engulfing the entire bottom of the launch pad.

The deafening roar shattered the tranquility of the Central Asian steppes.

This heavy rocket, representing the pinnacle of Soviet industry, rose into the sky.

It supports the core module of the Mir space station, piercing the sky.

Ascend, program turns, first and second stage separation.

Thirteen minutes later, the core module precisely entered its designated orbit, and the solar panels successfully deployed.

A deafening cheer erupted throughout the launch hall. Engineers embraced each other, some even throwing their hats in excitement.

The news reached Moscow.

Inside the high-level meeting room, sliced ​​rye bread and red caviar were laid out on the table.

Viktor, the vice chairman of the Security Committee, pulled open his shirt collar, grabbed a bottle of vodka from the table, and poured a whole glass of vodka for Sergeyev across from him.

"Salute to the Peace!"

Victor raised his glass, the rim clinking together with a crisp sound, spilling wine onto the table.

"We won."

Sergeyev downed the liquor in one gulp, an uncontrollable fervor spreading across his chiseled face.

"To hell with the space shuttles of the beacon nation!"

"They're in low Earth orbit; they don't even have the right to follow us around and get our dust."

The two burst into laughter.

This sense of pride in being a space superpower is not blind.

Last May, in this quietly altered time and space, the United States' Space Shuttle Discovery suffered a catastrophic explosion during liftoff.

The payload, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, was reduced to ashes, and seven astronauts died.

This accident forced the United States to ground its space shuttle fleet indefinitely.

With one gain and one loss, the Soviet Union completely overwhelmed the United States in the space race.

"The people of the United States can only watch helplessly as we dominate near-Earth orbit."

Victor wiped the wine stains from the corner of his mouth.

"That Star Wars that Hollywood actors talk about all the time, now they can't even send a tin can to heaven!"

Another burst of laughter erupted in the conference room.

……

Suppression in space is only the first step.

An even more chilling reversal occurred deep in the ocean.

Three hundred meters below the icy waters of the North Atlantic.

The US's "SOSUS" underwater listening network, built at a cost of tens of billions of dollars, is operating day and night.

The sonar operator at the monitoring station, wearing noise-canceling headphones and holding a freshly brewed hot coffee, stared at the gently scrolling waterfall image on the screen.

The green lines occasionally flicker, a low-frequency call from a humpback whale in the ocean.

Everything was normal, so quiet it was almost sleepy.

The sonar soldiers had no idea that less than two nautical miles from the underwater listening cable array, a massive Soviet Akula-class attack submarine was silently gliding by like a ghost in the deep waters.

Propelling this massive 10,000-ton behemoth forward is a huge seven-bladed skew propeller at its stern.

A few months ago, it was Lin Xi's "guidance" in the Moscow basement that enabled the Soviet technicians to fully debug the Toshiba MBP-110 five-axis CNC machine tool and perfectly process this national treasure.

The extremely smooth, continuous curved surface suppresses the cavitation effect of seawater cutting to its physical limits.

The acoustic characteristics it creates in the deep sea almost blend into the natural background noise of the ocean.

Two hours later.

On the North Atlantic, the United States' seventh carrier strike group is conducting routine tactical formation exercises.

The seawater suddenly churned violently less than three kilometers to the starboard side of the aircraft carrier.

A massive black command tower emerged from the water without warning, the towering Soviet naval flag fluttering in the sea breeze.

The piercing battle alarm instantly blared across the entire carrier strike group.

The captain of the beacon nation gripped the railing, staring at the enemy nuclear submarine so close at hand, his voice trembling as he issued the anti-submarine command.

Because the distance is too close.

If this were a real battle, the aircraft carrier would have been torn to pieces by underwater torpedoes long ago.

When the news reached Washington, the Pentagon was completely breached.

The Chief of Naval Operations slammed the listening station's report onto the table. Their proud global anti-submarine surveillance network had become completely blind.

There is no way to ascend to heaven, and one loses one's sight when entering the sea.

……