Chapter 4: Enter Valiant
Hello you lovely people, it's time for something you've all been waiting for... OV-102!
While I'm sure this scenario will not appease everyone's desire's for the outcome, I hope it provides a cool "what if" for the orbiter and that you'll come along for the ride as we explore this wacky alternate world. I would love to extend my greatest thanks to my dear friend Tracker, who did so many incredible images for this post and is a trooper for putting up with all of my design changes.
Chapter 4: Enter Valiant
NASA’s shuttle program had been hurried into existence by the dramatic turn towards climate awareness, with scientific representatives from NASA, NOAA and the EPA touting a system of both human and robotic observation to maintain awareness of the state of the planet. Engineers had pointed out that rapid, reusable vehicles would only advance life on Earth, perhaps solving the needs of billions of people and ensuring American leadership in the global technosphere. Both Ford and Carter’s administrations had been sold on the idea of reusable, common and world leading space travel; and in 1977 Congress acted to ensure greater funding in the program’s infancy. Work by Rockwell and Aerojet had been slow to start, but quickly picked up as the Space Shuttle Main Engine issues were resolved. The Department of Defense had been quick to fund additional capabilities, and in many ways, had shaped the program’s overall design. However, with the additional scientific capabilities, and talks of repurposing Skylab or even building a new station, the DoD’s dedicated missions had been pushed further down the flightline. For many years since the start of the Space Age, the Air Force had been interested in flying their own crew on their own vehicles, separate from the scientific focus of NASA’s human spaceflight office, and more importantly, free from safety constraints that may restrict their ability to act in national interest. In the 60s, programs like the Manned Orbiting Laboratory had promised to revolutionize the practice of observation. Internal support for these programs had dwindled, largely due to automated spy satellites taking over from crewed observation. However, crewed spaceflight remained on the Department of Defense's radar, and the capabilities of the Space Shuttle system were not to be ignored.
As NASA had taken delivery of their Space Shuttle fleet, there had been a noticeably missing component, the first space-capable orbiter off the line. Despite the tremendous support from the federal government, something had gone wrong. As Rockwell had worked to fine tune the vehicle over the course of production, it became apparent that OV-102 was coming in way over the weight advertised to NASA, which would end up losing capability. This was to be expected, OV-102 was in many ways a prototype, and manufacturing would be refined as the program went on. Later vehicles, such as OV-103 and OV-104 would be refined with lessons learned from OV-102’s time at Palmdale. Small cracks in the airframe and damage to the nose tiles during a mating test to the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft only furthered the problems with the vehicle, and the final blow was dealt in the summer of 1978. The mostly completed vehicle, scheduled to be flown from Palmdale to Dulles International Airport for an exhibition on human spaceflight, was being prepped for loading onto the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft. Lifting was underway on the Mate Demate Device, and the vehicle was roughly 35 feet off the ground when the two forward cables supporting the orbiter snapped. The nose of the orbiter slammed into the ground, bending the airframe and shattering the incomplete thermal protection system, scattering around the vehicle like broken teeth. For the lift crew, there was a moment of deep and profound silence. For NASA, their plans for a fleet of reusable vehicles seemed to be up in the air. Rockwell was already in panic mode, OV-102 seemed like a total loss, the first orbiter of five and it could not even be delivered. The public fallout was immense, and an image of the orbiter, milliseconds from contacting the ground taken by a lucky photographer, was the front page of the Los Angeles Times, the headline; “NASA’S NEW SPACE SHUTTLE IN PIECES”
A crisis meeting was immediately held, and the options were presented to NASA. A structural test article, OV-099, could theoretically be quickly converted into a new orbiter. Parts for OV-103, Discovery, were already arriving at the Palmdale facility for assembly, Converting OV-101 Enterprise would be a more difficult endeavor, as the vehicle would essentially need to be rebuilt from the ground up. NASA had agreed to pursue OV-099’s conversion, and allocated the required funds. OV-102, in its sorry state, would be brought back into the production facility where it would sit. In late 1979, after the upgrades to Challenger had begun to enable the automatic flight planned for STS-1, NASA would declare OV-099 their first orbiter; leaving OV-102 in the factory, and later declaring that they would not accept the vehicle given the immense stress the airframe had undergone. NASA management was troubled by the incident, for sure, and paid close attention to the construction of both OV-099 and OV-103, while their perhaps misplaced confidence and lack of oversight with OV-102 had led to the accident with the MDD.
Within the agency, the consequences of the accident were beginning to be felt. While OV-099 could be brought into service fairly quickly, the delay had its repercussions. The longer Skylab spent in orbit untended, the more difficult it would be to deal with. The sun had entered a period of solar maximum, increasing drag on the station, and there was only so much the Titan Boost module could correct for. Payloads for the space agency were also nearing completion, and time spent sitting in a warehouse would only cut down on-orbit lifetimes. Under executive branch directive, NASA pushed Rockwell to return the funding for the vehicle, under the charge that it would only delay the further advancement of human spaceflight. Rockwell, in a negotiated deal, would agree to keep the payment and produce a sixth orbiter, Intrepid, while allowing the company to continue to fiddle with the undelivered vehicle in an attempt to reduce weight, with the hopes that perhaps the vehicle could be delivered if NASA required it. This was a massive public relations nightmare for the company, as journalists decried the workmanship of the Palmdale facility and the company’s management in general. It became such a bloated issue that NASA spokespeople became involved, defending the performance and reputation of their vehicle, and demonstrating their capabilities on subsequent flights. For Rockwell, OV-102 would remain a reminder of their own shortcomings for the foreseeable future.
OV-102 would sit dormant in the Palmdale facility for several years, as the team worked to correct issues with the vehicle, being powered up semi-regularly to check systems and keep the vehicle functioning. In 1982, with 4 orbiters of NASA’s fleet delivered, several members of Air Force seniority arrived at the Palmdale plant and presented Rockwell with the problem at hand; the Atlas, Titan and Delta family was aging rapidly, and iterative designs of these vehicles could only go so far. Reliability in manufacturing had also been a concern, noted on Titans that had been assembled for both ICBM and launch vehicle use. Rather than wind down these programs and wait for available NASA shuttles to fly their payloads on, they would instead be interested in purchasing OV-102 for use out of both the East and West Coast. NASA had looked, rather intensely, at the West Coast launch site, and had even assisted in the renovation of Space Launch Complex-6, but no mission so far had warranted a California launch. The Air Force, in a matter of relative redundancy, would keep some of the Atlas, Titan and Delta vehicles on reserve, but looked to maximize their flights on this new vehicle. However, there was a serious caveat: Rockwell would have until the end of the year to apply the weight saving measures found on the NASA shuttles to OV-102, as well as install new ELINT equipment and radiation hardening measures. Faced with an uncertain production future now that only Intrepid remained to be delivered to NASA, OV-102 would be brought into the production line again, and considerable weight removed from the vehicle in order to enable the kind of payload performance the Air Force was looking for out of both Vandenberg and Kennedy Space Center. The Air Force, in a public ceremony in Washington DC, would name this new spacecraft SV001 Valiant.
The vehicle rolled out into the California sun in November, over a month ahead of schedule, and was handed to the 77th Valiant Operations Wing, a special division of the Vandenberg Air Force Base operations. This delivery also left the Air Force with another issue: who would be available to fly her? Two months ahead of the projected delivery, recruiters from Vandenberg traveled to a variety of facilities eager to find airmen to pilot the shuttle, as well as payload specialists. Training operations would be carried out at Edwards Air Force Base, initially in conjunction with already flying NASA astronauts. After the first round of airmen would be trained, they would then go on to fly on Valiant, before returning to Edwards to train other rookie airmen. The Valiant Operations Wing would also take delivery of 6 escort F-15s, and a dedicated C-25 Shuttle Carrier Aircraft, a modified Boeing 747-200 to serve as the equivalent to NASA’s fleet. As with orbiter Enterprise in years prior, Valiant would roll to the pad at SLC-6 for its own series of fit checks in preparation for a debut flight in 1983. These would see a novelty among the twin space shuttle programs, a grey tank with an Air Force roundel, much like the white tanks of the early shuttle missions. The vehicle was a striking comparison to the shuttles NASA flew, a dark and almost sinister vision shrouded in a good deal of secrecy. This would change fairly early in Valiant’s life, as Martin Marietta aimed to keep cost and weight down by producing identical tanks for both the Air Force and NASA, and soon, the only discernible difference would be the tail markings on the USAF Orbiter and the Air Force Star on the solid rocket motors. Soon, Valiant would see final checks for the maiden flight for the Air Force’s dedicated orbital vehicle.
While I'm sure this scenario will not appease everyone's desire's for the outcome, I hope it provides a cool "what if" for the orbiter and that you'll come along for the ride as we explore this wacky alternate world. I would love to extend my greatest thanks to my dear friend Tracker, who did so many incredible images for this post and is a trooper for putting up with all of my design changes.
Chapter 4: Enter Valiant
NASA’s shuttle program had been hurried into existence by the dramatic turn towards climate awareness, with scientific representatives from NASA, NOAA and the EPA touting a system of both human and robotic observation to maintain awareness of the state of the planet. Engineers had pointed out that rapid, reusable vehicles would only advance life on Earth, perhaps solving the needs of billions of people and ensuring American leadership in the global technosphere. Both Ford and Carter’s administrations had been sold on the idea of reusable, common and world leading space travel; and in 1977 Congress acted to ensure greater funding in the program’s infancy. Work by Rockwell and Aerojet had been slow to start, but quickly picked up as the Space Shuttle Main Engine issues were resolved. The Department of Defense had been quick to fund additional capabilities, and in many ways, had shaped the program’s overall design. However, with the additional scientific capabilities, and talks of repurposing Skylab or even building a new station, the DoD’s dedicated missions had been pushed further down the flightline. For many years since the start of the Space Age, the Air Force had been interested in flying their own crew on their own vehicles, separate from the scientific focus of NASA’s human spaceflight office, and more importantly, free from safety constraints that may restrict their ability to act in national interest. In the 60s, programs like the Manned Orbiting Laboratory had promised to revolutionize the practice of observation. Internal support for these programs had dwindled, largely due to automated spy satellites taking over from crewed observation. However, crewed spaceflight remained on the Department of Defense's radar, and the capabilities of the Space Shuttle system were not to be ignored.
As NASA had taken delivery of their Space Shuttle fleet, there had been a noticeably missing component, the first space-capable orbiter off the line. Despite the tremendous support from the federal government, something had gone wrong. As Rockwell had worked to fine tune the vehicle over the course of production, it became apparent that OV-102 was coming in way over the weight advertised to NASA, which would end up losing capability. This was to be expected, OV-102 was in many ways a prototype, and manufacturing would be refined as the program went on. Later vehicles, such as OV-103 and OV-104 would be refined with lessons learned from OV-102’s time at Palmdale. Small cracks in the airframe and damage to the nose tiles during a mating test to the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft only furthered the problems with the vehicle, and the final blow was dealt in the summer of 1978. The mostly completed vehicle, scheduled to be flown from Palmdale to Dulles International Airport for an exhibition on human spaceflight, was being prepped for loading onto the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft. Lifting was underway on the Mate Demate Device, and the vehicle was roughly 35 feet off the ground when the two forward cables supporting the orbiter snapped. The nose of the orbiter slammed into the ground, bending the airframe and shattering the incomplete thermal protection system, scattering around the vehicle like broken teeth. For the lift crew, there was a moment of deep and profound silence. For NASA, their plans for a fleet of reusable vehicles seemed to be up in the air. Rockwell was already in panic mode, OV-102 seemed like a total loss, the first orbiter of five and it could not even be delivered. The public fallout was immense, and an image of the orbiter, milliseconds from contacting the ground taken by a lucky photographer, was the front page of the Los Angeles Times, the headline; “NASA’S NEW SPACE SHUTTLE IN PIECES”
A crisis meeting was immediately held, and the options were presented to NASA. A structural test article, OV-099, could theoretically be quickly converted into a new orbiter. Parts for OV-103, Discovery, were already arriving at the Palmdale facility for assembly, Converting OV-101 Enterprise would be a more difficult endeavor, as the vehicle would essentially need to be rebuilt from the ground up. NASA had agreed to pursue OV-099’s conversion, and allocated the required funds. OV-102, in its sorry state, would be brought back into the production facility where it would sit. In late 1979, after the upgrades to Challenger had begun to enable the automatic flight planned for STS-1, NASA would declare OV-099 their first orbiter; leaving OV-102 in the factory, and later declaring that they would not accept the vehicle given the immense stress the airframe had undergone. NASA management was troubled by the incident, for sure, and paid close attention to the construction of both OV-099 and OV-103, while their perhaps misplaced confidence and lack of oversight with OV-102 had led to the accident with the MDD.
Within the agency, the consequences of the accident were beginning to be felt. While OV-099 could be brought into service fairly quickly, the delay had its repercussions. The longer Skylab spent in orbit untended, the more difficult it would be to deal with. The sun had entered a period of solar maximum, increasing drag on the station, and there was only so much the Titan Boost module could correct for. Payloads for the space agency were also nearing completion, and time spent sitting in a warehouse would only cut down on-orbit lifetimes. Under executive branch directive, NASA pushed Rockwell to return the funding for the vehicle, under the charge that it would only delay the further advancement of human spaceflight. Rockwell, in a negotiated deal, would agree to keep the payment and produce a sixth orbiter, Intrepid, while allowing the company to continue to fiddle with the undelivered vehicle in an attempt to reduce weight, with the hopes that perhaps the vehicle could be delivered if NASA required it. This was a massive public relations nightmare for the company, as journalists decried the workmanship of the Palmdale facility and the company’s management in general. It became such a bloated issue that NASA spokespeople became involved, defending the performance and reputation of their vehicle, and demonstrating their capabilities on subsequent flights. For Rockwell, OV-102 would remain a reminder of their own shortcomings for the foreseeable future.
OV-102 would sit dormant in the Palmdale facility for several years, as the team worked to correct issues with the vehicle, being powered up semi-regularly to check systems and keep the vehicle functioning. In 1982, with 4 orbiters of NASA’s fleet delivered, several members of Air Force seniority arrived at the Palmdale plant and presented Rockwell with the problem at hand; the Atlas, Titan and Delta family was aging rapidly, and iterative designs of these vehicles could only go so far. Reliability in manufacturing had also been a concern, noted on Titans that had been assembled for both ICBM and launch vehicle use. Rather than wind down these programs and wait for available NASA shuttles to fly their payloads on, they would instead be interested in purchasing OV-102 for use out of both the East and West Coast. NASA had looked, rather intensely, at the West Coast launch site, and had even assisted in the renovation of Space Launch Complex-6, but no mission so far had warranted a California launch. The Air Force, in a matter of relative redundancy, would keep some of the Atlas, Titan and Delta vehicles on reserve, but looked to maximize their flights on this new vehicle. However, there was a serious caveat: Rockwell would have until the end of the year to apply the weight saving measures found on the NASA shuttles to OV-102, as well as install new ELINT equipment and radiation hardening measures. Faced with an uncertain production future now that only Intrepid remained to be delivered to NASA, OV-102 would be brought into the production line again, and considerable weight removed from the vehicle in order to enable the kind of payload performance the Air Force was looking for out of both Vandenberg and Kennedy Space Center. The Air Force, in a public ceremony in Washington DC, would name this new spacecraft SV001 Valiant.
The vehicle rolled out into the California sun in November, over a month ahead of schedule, and was handed to the 77th Valiant Operations Wing, a special division of the Vandenberg Air Force Base operations. This delivery also left the Air Force with another issue: who would be available to fly her? Two months ahead of the projected delivery, recruiters from Vandenberg traveled to a variety of facilities eager to find airmen to pilot the shuttle, as well as payload specialists. Training operations would be carried out at Edwards Air Force Base, initially in conjunction with already flying NASA astronauts. After the first round of airmen would be trained, they would then go on to fly on Valiant, before returning to Edwards to train other rookie airmen. The Valiant Operations Wing would also take delivery of 6 escort F-15s, and a dedicated C-25 Shuttle Carrier Aircraft, a modified Boeing 747-200 to serve as the equivalent to NASA’s fleet. As with orbiter Enterprise in years prior, Valiant would roll to the pad at SLC-6 for its own series of fit checks in preparation for a debut flight in 1983. These would see a novelty among the twin space shuttle programs, a grey tank with an Air Force roundel, much like the white tanks of the early shuttle missions. The vehicle was a striking comparison to the shuttles NASA flew, a dark and almost sinister vision shrouded in a good deal of secrecy. This would change fairly early in Valiant’s life, as Martin Marietta aimed to keep cost and weight down by producing identical tanks for both the Air Force and NASA, and soon, the only discernible difference would be the tail markings on the USAF Orbiter and the Air Force Star on the solid rocket motors. Soon, Valiant would see final checks for the maiden flight for the Air Force’s dedicated orbital vehicle.
The AF looks to be embracing the Shuttle even more than OTL.
