NASA's Waterloo: A Realistic Mission to Mars Post Apollo

This has a couple of weirdnesses.
1) Jordan WANTING the West Bank. OTL, they turned it down, as it would have turned Jordan into a majority Palestinian state, and they did NOT want that. I don't see any drivers here to change that.
2) the odd Constitutional amendment. A simple act of Congress is apparently all that's needed to admit a new state. But a constitutional amendment requires supermajorities in Congress, and the approval of 75% of states. Why a majority of Republican legislatures would agree to hand a major victory to the Democrats, I'm sure I don't know.
2a) the convenient lack of an expiry date.
Edit. Oh. OK, I could have sworn that all modern amendments had an expiry date attached. But that's not the case. 20 and 21 have it, 22,23,24,25 and 26 don't. 27 doesn't count since it passed Congress in 1789!!
 
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Jordan WANTING the West Bank. OTL, they turned it down, as it would have turned Jordan into a majority Palestinian state, and they did NOT want that. I don't see any drivers here to change that.
When? As far as I've seen, they annexed it in '48 and held it as a province until Israel took it in the Six-Day War.

EDIT: yeah, they did, and they also gave everyone in the West Bank Jordanian Citizenship.
 
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This has a couple of weirdnesses.
1) Jordan WANTING the West Bank. OTL, they turned it down, as it would have turned Jordan into a majority Palestinian state, and they did NOT want that. I don't see any drivers here to change that.
2) the odd Constitutional amendment. A simple act of Congress is apparently all that's needed to admit a new state. But a constitutional amendment requires supermajorities in Congress, and the approval of 75% of states. Why a majority of Republican legislatures would agree to hand a major victory to the Democrats, I'm sure I don't know.
2a) the convenient lack of an expiry date.
Edit. Oh. OK, I could have sworn that all modern amendments had an expiry date attached. But that's not the case. 20 and 21 have it, 22,23,24,25 and 26 don't. 27 doesn't count since it passed Congress in 1789!!
I made it an amendment because I figured that, even with the states needing a supermajority, I thought that to be more likely than congress legislating away their special district into a state. Like I said, this part is not my area of expertise. Take this part a little less seriously than the space stuff.
 
Part V Chapter 10
Part V Chapter 10:

Earth is beautiful from space, but nowhere is more beautiful than China. From the mountains of Tibet, to the Gobi desert, to the jungles in the south, to the lights of Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and the other great cities of China, shining through the dark of night.”

-Dong Xiaohai, first Chinese Taikonaut in space on Longzhou 1


China was determined to prove herself on the world stage, and one of the central battlegrounds she engaged in was the exploration of space. While China was not nearly as rich as the other nations traveling into space, they would make up for it by spending a significantly higher fraction of their budget on spaceflight. After all, the USSR never matched the US, France, the UK, or Japan in terms of GDP, and yet they had established themselves as the second greatest power in space. After becoming only the third nation to launch men into space, China continued the Longzhou program, making steady, incremental progress. By 1987, they had flown seven Longzhou missions, with Wu Hien on Longzhou 7 spending six days in orbit, pushing the capsule to its absolute limit. However, Wu returned to Earth, Longzhou missions slowed down. There was only so much that they could accomplish using the single man Longzhou-A spacecraft, and once the initial goals of the program were reached, those in charge saw no reason to continue spending money and putting taikonauts at risk by continuing the missions unnecessarily. The later Longzhou flights had been aimed at demonstrating rendezvous capability, using the on board maneuvering system to make very close approaches to target vehicles. These trials provided valuable practice and data for future plans. The upcoming Longzhou-B would be a much more capable vehicle, and would be capable of carrying two crew members, and docking, factors that would allow it to support a Chinese space station.


These capabilities would be enabled by the upgraded Long March 2E booster, which debuted in 1987. The Long March 2E improved the payload capabilities of the Long March family via minor upgrades to the core Long March 2C, and the addition of four strap on liquid boosters. This more than doubled the payload to LEO, from 3.8 metric tons, to 8.5 metric tons. After several test flights, military launches, and launching a few communications satellites to GTO, a Long March 2E lifted off on October 2, 1988, carrying the first prototype Longzhou-B. The upgraded capsule would have a stretched service module, larger solar panels, and a cylindrical orbital module. Once the prototype reached orbit successfully, it would be remotely instructed to perform several orbital adjustments, testing out the maneuvering system. The capsule also carried a pair of simulated astronauts, mannequins wearing flight suits, that also carried CO2 generators. This allowed a full up test of the life support system, which was run for 10 days. This proved the extended endurance of the new design. After all the tests were run, the Longzhou performed a deorbit burn, jettisoned the orbital and service modules, and reentered to a landing in the Gobi desert, where it was successfully retrieved for further study and analysis. With the test being judged a success, the go ahead was given for the inaugural manned flight of the Longzhou B. On March 23, 1989, Longzhou 8 sat on the pad, waiting to carry taikonauts Li Wei and Wang Jun into orbit. Finally, it lifted off, carrying the two to space. Longzhou 8 would perform several tests of the new spacecraft, performing maneuvers and spending five days on orbit. On day three, the orbital module of the Longzhou would be depressurised, and Wang Jun would climb out, embarking on the first Chinese spacewalk. While remaining tethered, Wang would drift away, and photos and videos of the event would be broadcasted all over Chinese state TV. After 43 minutes, Wang would reboard the capsule. The two would perform more tests on the spacecraft, before returning on March 28.


Further spaceflights would be delayed by the Tiananmen Square protests in April and June of 1989, as the government attempted to put down the movement, and deal with the fallout. Finally, Longzhou 9 was launched in February of 1990. The crew of Longzhou 9 would be tasked with attempting the first hard docking. Launched 20 days prior was an unmanned docking target. After reaching orbit on the 15, the crew of Longzhou 9 would spend two days rendezvousing with the target, catching up with its orbit. Finally, after several hours of slowly approaching, and guided by rangefinders, periscopes, and docking cameras, Longzhou 9 made contact with the docking port. However, due to a failure of the grasping mechanism to maintain a hold between the two ports, hard docking would not be achieved. There was briefly some panic among the crew that the failure would prevent them from undocking, forcing them to jettison the orbital module and return to Earth early. Thankfully however, the port released successfully, and the crew were able to pull from the docking target safely. After their semi-successful docking, the crew of Longzhou 9 would spend an additional seven days on orbit, testing the endurance of the new craft. After their safe return, Longzhou 10 would launch on September 12, 1990. The mission was also planned as a docking test, a repeat of the previous mission with the issues hopefully addressed. This time, everything went smoothly, and Longzhou 10 successfully docked with the unmanned target on September 15. Because the target was little more than a satellite bus with a docking port attached, the hatches on the ports were not opened, and after three days, Longzhou 10 separated from the target. Longzhou 10 would spend five more days in space before returning to Earth. On March 12, 1991, just prior to the launch of Longzhou 11, another rocket lifted off, carrying an unmanned Longzhou-B spacecraft. This uncrewed vehicle would be used to perform a long duration test flight, to verify how the systems of the craft would fare after and extended stay in space. A clear understanding and demonstration would be necessary if Longzhou was to service the planned Chinese space station. In addition to the long duration test however, the unmanned Longzhou-B, referred to as “Longzhou T-10” would also serve as the docking target for Longzhou 11. After Longzhou 11 lifted off on April 4, 1991, the crew maneuvered to catch up with Longzhou T-10. This time, due to more accurate launch window, a more aggressive approach orbit, and relaxed margins, rendezvous was achieved in a record 31 hours after lift off. After performing a fly around, Longzhou 11 would slowly approach and dock to the forward port of Longzhou T-10. Once a firm connection was achieved, the crew would open the hatch, and board T-10. For the first time, a Chinese crew was transferring from one spacecraft to another. They climbed aboard Longzhou T-11 and began checking up on systems, seeing how the vessel had fared thus far. The expanded volume of two Longzhou-B spacecraft was like a small space station, and provided ample room for the crew. For the next seven days, the two spacecraft would remain linked, while the crew performed a few basic experiments that had been carried in the orbital module of Longzhou 11. They observed the effects of zero gravity on fruit flies, and used a small suite of instruments mounted on the orbital module to study the clouds and weather back on Earth. On April 13, the crew boarded Longzhou 11 once more, and pulled their two vessels apart. Longzhou 10 would safely return home the next day, while Longzhou T-10 would remain in orbit for an additional month. Finally, on May 21, after 70 days in orbit, Longzhou T-10 also jettisoned the service and orbital modules, and returned to Earth, parachuting into the plains of inner Mongolia. These three Longzhou missions had demonstrated crucial technologies, and the Chinese prepared for the next step.


On November 3, 1991 a Long March 2E rocket was rolled out to the pad at Jiuquan space center, carrying Tiangong (Heavenly Palace) 1, the first Chinese space station. Limited by the capacity of their largest rocket, Tiangong 1 was planned as little more than a demonstration station, massing in at just 9 metric tons. While the non crew rated version of the Long March 2E could lift slightly more payload than the version that lifted Longzhou-B, 9,000 kilograms was still much less than any previous space station. Tiangong 1 lifted off on November 20, 1991. The launch vehicle performed nominally, and placed the small station into an orbit of 345x345 kilometers, at an inclination of 42 degrees. Tiangong 1, which consisted of a small pressurised module, and a service module, unfolded its solar panels upon reaching orbit, and was switched on. After successfully bringing the station online, ground controllers would perform tests of the maneuvering system and raise the orbit slightly, lifting the apoapsis to 365 kilometers. A few orbits later, they raised the periapsis as well, leaving the station on a circular orbit at that altitude. On January 23, 1992, the crew of Longzhou 12 lifted off, to visit Tiangong 1 for the first time. Commanding the mission was Shen Guilin, veteran of Longzhou 2. Shen was the first Taikonaut to travel to space twice, and would be joined on this mission by Zhang Wei. On January 25, Longzhou 12 successfully rendezvoused with Tiangong 1, with the station coming into view. The crew would perform a fly around and visual inspection, checking the station for any obvious issues. The small station was not much bigger than the Longzhou-B itself, and compared to Zvezda, or Liberty, or even Salyut, it was positively dinky. Nevertheless, it was a space station, making China only the third nation to operate one. After the fly around was successful, Longzhou 12 began its approach to the station.


Under Shen's control, Longzhou 12 docked to the forward port of Tiangong 1. Just two hours after docking, the hatches were opened, and for the first time, a Chinese crew boarded a space station. Owing to its small size, Tiangong 1 was less of a full fledged station, and more of an extension to the Longzhou-B spacecraft, providing extra living space, and scientific equipment. Indeed, the crew would still sleep in their Longzhou, and much of the supplies and consumables for their stay had been carried up not with the station, but in the orbital module of their spacecraft. Shen and Zhang would film several videos of themselves floating around inside Tiangong 1, which would be broadcast on Chinese state television, and would be briefly reported on in Western nations. Though the Chinese were accomplishing great feats in a surprisingly short time frame, the program had not received too much coverage in the west after the shock of Longzhou 1. Between the Ares missions, the International Lunar Mission, Space Station Liberty, the craziness going on in Eastern Europe, and in early 1992, the presidential primaries, the Chinese space program was drowned out somewhat. Soviet media covered it a bit more, being that the Chinese were their fellow Communists, but still, the accomplishments of China seemed like peanuts compared to the big space powers. Shen and Zhang would spend 20 days in space aboard Tiangong 1, setting a new Chinese record. They would take many photos of the Earth, especially China, from space, and would conduct a variety of zero g experiments. Most notably, they would attempt growing crystals in zero g, the first of many Chinese experiments testing the feasibility of in space manufacturing. On February 14, Longzhou 12 undocked from Tiangong 1, and returned home safely. The station would see another crew in Longzhou 13, which would launch in October of 1992, and would stay aboard for 40 days. The third and final crew to visit Tiangong 1 would be the crew of Longzhou 14 in May of 1993. The crew of Longzhou 13 had planned to stay aboard for 60 days, but when they arrived at Tiangong 1, the station was beginning to show signs of age. Though less than two years old, the station was suffering from several issues, most notably, a loss of power. The sun tracking servo motors mounted on the port side solar panel had failed on the station leaving it with anywhere from 80% to 50% of maximum power output at any given time. In addition, the toilet had stopped working, three maneuvering thrusters had failed and the crew noticed a growth of mold aboard the station. After just 24 days on orbit, mission control decided to call the mission short, as to station was beginning to have issues with its thermal control system due to power loss. The crew would return to Earth, and on August 12, 1993, Tiangong 1 was deorbited, ending its life in a fireball over the south Pacific.


In addition to manned spaceflight endeavours, China sought to prove its worth with unmanned spacecraft as well. Though Chinese probes thus far had been mainly military or communications, with only a few scientific satellites, on March 18, 1993, a Long March 2F (a variant of the Long March 2E with only two boosters) lifted off from Jiuquan carrying the Xuntian-1 scientific satellite. The 6,000 kilogram Xuntian-1 was designed as an astronomy satellite, specifically designed to study the Sun. Over its six year lifespan, Xuntian 1 would make several important discoveries related to the Corona and Solar Wind. In July of 1995, the Chinese would launch another space probe, this time aboard a Long March 2E. Chang'e 1 was China's first interplanetary probe, intended to study the Moon. On July 12, Chang'e 1 entered into orbit around the Moon. The probe was designed to image and map the lunar surface, potentially allowing for a future probe to land on the Moon. Chang'e 1 would also study the composition of the Moon, and would search for both water and Helium-3. China intended to eventually, at some distant future point, land men on the Moon, and Helium-3 mining would be an an excellent goal for such a mission. Chang'e 1 would study the Moon for three years, before contact was mysteriously lost in September of 1998. In addition to military and scientific probes, by the mid 90s, China began launching commercial payloads. After the death of Chairman Lin Biao in 1985, Deng Xiaoping had taken over as leader of China. As part of attempts to modernise China, he would allow some level of market capitalism in certain parts of China. One consequence of this was that China began launching satellite payloads for paying customers. The low cost of labor, and simplicity of the Long March rockets led to one of the lowest prices on the market, and soon launching commercial communication satellites to GTO began making a lot of money for China. The Long March 2e could lift 3.5 metric tons to GTO, while the planned Long March 3 family would increase the cap to around 5.1 metric tons. Suddenly, China's space program, which had been developed for military and national prestige reasons, was now earning money that would help cover the budget of the program. This new income would allow the Chinese to accomplish more in space, while spending essentially the same percentage of the budget on the program.


On October 3, 1994, the successor to China's first station, Tiangong 2 was launched. In many ways, Tiangong 2 was a repeat of the first station, with some minor upgrades to hopefully improve the longevity of the station. Like Tiangong 1, Tiangong 2 was intended as more of a testbed for future stations. After reaching orbit successfully, Tiangong 2 would see its first visitors in Longzhou 15 on November 18, 1994. The crew of Longzhou 15 would stay aboard the station for 33 days, performing experiments, observing Earth, and even performing two spacewalks to place and retrieve externally mounted experiments. These experiments would expose a variety of materials and electronic components directly to the harsh environment of space, and would test to see which ones tolerated the ordeal the most. After the crew of Longzhou 15 returned home, the station was manned yet again by Longzhou 16 in April of 1995. This time, the crew of Longzhou 16 would stay aboard for 62 days. Longzhou 16 would be followed by Longzhou 17 in December of 1995, who would stay for 87 days. After this third mission departed in early 1996, the Tiangong 2 station would be retired. It had served as a valuable testbed for space station technologies, but it was past its time. To replace it, the Chinese were planning an evolved module, that would be launched by the new Long March 3D. The Long March 3D was part of the Long March 3 family, a series of rockets largely derived from the Long March 2, but with a smaller second stage, and a hydrogen/oxygen third stage. Though the family was originally intended for launching Geosynchronous satellites, the Long March 3D was a variant of the four booster Long March 3B, but optimised for LEO payloads, capable of lifting 12,500 kg into Low Earth Orbit. This extra capacity would be used to build a larger and more complex station module for Tiangong 3. Tiangong 3 would be larger, with longer solar panels, and, in an evolutionary step very similar to the Soviet Salyut program, the new module would be equipped with two docking ports, one on each end. This would allow direct crew handover, and long duration “double shift” flights, as well as keeping the door open for dedicated resupply missions, and expansion of the station by adding additional modules. Tiangong 3 was originally scheduled to launch in mid 1996, but launch was delayed by a tragic mishap. On February 15, 1996, a Long March 3B lifted off from the Xichang launch center, on its maiden flight, carrying the commercial payload Intelsat 708. However, less than a second into the flight, the rocket veered off course, and impacted the ground, destroying a nearby village. Official Chinese sources reported six dead, but international observers estimated that perhaps 200 people or more were killed. The Chinese had built their launch centers inland, originally for secrecy, and this was a consequence of that. The entire Long March family was grounded, and, in an unprecedented move, the US government decided to regulate satellite technology under the ITAR restrictions, meaning that any American satellite technology could not fly on Chinese rockets, as a matter of law. After the cleanup, investigation, and several test flights, Tiangong 3 was finally launched on March 3, 1998. Four weeks later, on April 4, the crew of Longzhou 18 would arrive, and would stay for 96 days. Between 1998 and 2002, Tiangong 3 would see nine crews, all staying for at least three months. The Chinese space program moved along slowly, but steadily, forging a completely independent path to the heavens.
 
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Part V Chapter 11
Part V Chapter 11:

Democracy is the wholesome and pure air without which a socialist public organization cannot live a full-blooded life.”

-Mikhail Gorbachev, 8th General Secretary of the Soviet Union


Author’s Note:

This chapter contains more history and politics than usual, and in an area where I am a complete amateur. There may be mistakes, and there is a large amount of speculation and somewhat unrealistic occurrences. Please be forgiving, and point out any glaring inconsistencies/mistakes. Thanks, enjoy!


Even before Zvezda was launched, Soviet engineers were looking towards the future. They wanted, after Zvezda was up and operational, to pursue a program of lunar exploration, and pick up where the Rodina program had left off. Since it appeared that the Americans had no clear plans for future manned missions beyond Low Earth Orbit, this might be a chance for the Soviets to jump ahead once more. A variety of plans to use the Energia rockets for missions to the Moon and beyond had been drafted during the development of Energia, and so a framework already existed for mission planners. However, when looking to actually apply these ideas into reality, where they would be constrained by budgets and politics, planners ran into some issues. With few exceptions, all plans called for the development of an advanced Energia rocket, termed the “Energia 5V”. Energia 5V would replace the Block 2 upper stage common between all Energia variants, with a new larger stage, powered by either a single chamber, vacuum optimised variant of the RD-140 first stage engines, termed the RD-150, or new hydrogen powered engines, possibly derived from the RD-130 upper stage engines. The new heavy rocket would be capable of lifting more than 60 tons to orbit, and two of them would be used for each lunar mission. However, with the development bill for the entire Energia family still fresh on the table, and the projected high costs of operating Zvezda, there was little will among Soviet leadership to fund the development of an expensive new Energia variant. And so the studies went back to the drawing board, to see if there was a way to implement a similar program using existing rockets. Quickly, the came up with a new idea that was slightly less ambitious, but much more reasonable, and that could be implemented on a much quicker timescale. The new plan called for an upgraded variant of the Block R, termed the Block RT, to be developed. The new stage would mass in at 38 metric tons, and would be powered by two RD-56 engines instead of one. When used in concert with the Energia 5 launch vehicle (a combination known as the Energia 5T), the Block RT would be able to push 15.8 metric tons onto a trans lunar trajectory, or insert 11.4 metric tons into lunar orbit. This would allow for a Rodina LOK to be directly inserted into lunar orbit. Soviet planners concocted a plan that would involve building a small space station in lunar orbit, built up from three to four 11 ton modules. The lunar orbit station would be supplied by Progress M spacecraft launched by Energia 5T’s, and would be visited by three man crews aboard LOKs once a year. Crews would stay for three or four months, and would study the Moon from orbit. Eventually, a reusable lunar lander would be positioned at the station, where it would be refueled by a tanker launched by an Energia 5T. This would allow for two of the crew to descend to the surface, staying for a week or so, with each mission only requiring two launches of an Energia 5T. Eventually, the Energia 5T would be used to launch cargo landers, which would be able to deposit five ton modules on the surface. This would allow a lunar base to be built up, initially supporting longer surface stays by all three crew members, lasting perhaps one to three months, and eventually building towards a permanently occupied lunar base. Mission planners also envisioned eventually replacing the expendable cargo landers with reusable ones based off the reusable crew lander, and enabling more cargo to be carried by producing ascent propellant in situ from lunar oxides or water ice. This plan was very popular, as it was incremental, and did not require a lot of development up front, and it would build on Soviet strengths.


However, all Soviet plans for the future would be brought to a screeching halt by the events that were set into motion by 1989. Communism in Europe was on its last breaths. In 1985, reformist Mikhail Gorbachev became the leader of the Soviet Union. Unlike his predecessors, Gorbachev was open to allowing the Eastern Bloc countries more freedom, and was pursuing a policy of liberalization and reform. He began a policy of Glasnost, or “openness”, removing the shroud of secrecy with the West by a little bit. However, some saw these attempts at reform as an opportunity, and in 1989, the first domino fell. After a period of social unrest, in Poland, free elections were held for the first time since 1928. The previously banned trade union Solidarity was allowed to participate, and they swept to victory in the elections. This set in progress a series of events that would eventually lead to the fall of communism in Poland. The wave this kicked off would see the nations of the eastern bloc to abandon communism, and begin a transition to democracy and market economies. Over the next few years, anti communist revolutions would occur in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, Albania, and a violent revolution in Romania. The Berlin Wall would fall, and in 1990, East and West Germany would be reunified. In 1993, Czechoslovakia would peacefully split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Communism would fall in Yugoslavia, and after war, revolutions, ethnic cleansing, and even genocide, the nation would split into the independent nations of Slovenia, Macedonia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and a rump Yugoslavia, known as “Serbia and Montenegro”. By the year 2006, this rump state would break apart further, leading to the independence of Montenegro, Serbia, and Kosovo.

Meanwhile, Gorbachev sought to liberalise the Soviet Union, without it breaking apart. After preventing a coup in 1991, Gorbachev gathered the republics of the USSR to sign a treaty, referred to as the “New Union Treaty”. This treaty would reorganise the Soviet Union into a confederation of the separate republics, granting autonomy to each republic. In addition, the name of the new nation would become the Union of Soviet Sovereign Republics, in order to retain the name Soviet Union, and the acronym USSR/CCCP. Negotiations between the individual republics and the central government went down to the wire, with the Ukrainian Republic coming very close to walk away from the table and declaring independence. The republics of Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, Georgia, Armenia, and Moldova refused to sign the treaty or even take part in the negotiations, and would later become independent, but the Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Azeri, Kazakh, Uzbek, Turkmen, Kirghiz, and Tajik Republics all signed the treaty, which went into effect on January 1, 1992. Eventually, democracy was also introduced, and the Communist Party was no longer the sole permitted party. Also, market capitalism would be allowed, being introduced slowly. Gorbachev stated that his goal was to adopt a system similar to the Nordic model, with capitalism allowed under state control and regulations, with a dedicated welfare state, implementing many socialist policies. The political system was overhauled as well, and democracy was introduced. Each Republic would have its own assembly, elected by the people, and would also elect a President of the Republic. There would also be a central Soviet Assembly, and a President, and Vice President of the Soviet Union, both of whom would be elected by the people. Elections were to be held every four years, and there were no term limits for President, or members of the assembly. In addition to the President, the leader of the largest party in the national assembly would be appointed Prime Minister of the Soviet Union, who would serve as the head of the assembly, and would be the second in command to the President, superseding the Vice President, who, like the American Vice President, was mainly there as a backup. Though Gorbachev would be elected president in the first Soviet elections on June 12, 1992, the Communist Party as a whole lost many seats, in both the Soviet general assembly, and many of the local assemblies in the republics. Only in the Belarusian assembly did the Communist Party retain a majority. The two main opposition parties were the National Liberal Party, and the Democratic Union Party. The National Liberal Party were a more center left party, who favored social democratic policies, but also supported more economic liberalisation and market deregulation than the Communists. They advocated allowing more power in the hands of the republics, not in the central government. In the 1992 presidential election, the NLP would nominate Aman Tuleyev as their candidate. The Democratic Union Party was a center right party, who called for a reduction in social spending, more free markets, and a stronger central government, granting more powers to the president. Additionally, the party was more nationalistic and anti-Western than the others. All these qualities were evident in the party’s founder, and candidate for president in 1992, Vladimir Zhirinovsky. One of these two parties, or one of their affiliate parties would win power in the assemblies of all the rest of the republics, with the NLP winning a plurality of seats in the Soviet national assembly, and forming a coalition with the Communists. Many smaller parties also cropped up, some becoming the second most dominant party in their republic, like the National Conservative Party of Uzbekistan, a conservative, Islamist party, who would end up forming a coalition with the DUP. Many of those elected across the Union were formerly members of the Politburo, or other parts of the government. Adjusting to Democracy was tough for many, as they had to get used to appealing to the people, and compromising with the opposition. For the populace of the USSR, the transition was very abrupt and took some getting used to. Though a majority of the public supported the increased level of democracy, for a population that had never before participated in their government like this, it took some getting used to. The entire period, from 1990-1992 would be referred to as “The Second Russian Revolution”, or “The January Revolution”, after the month the New Union Treaty was signed.


The decline of communism in the USSR did not come out of nowhere. The Soviet economy had been under severe strain for the past few decades. The Soviet GDP had never been on par with the western powers, and with the price of oil falling throughout the 80s, it stagnated. Increasingly, to maintain military parity with the West, the Soviets spent a greater and greater percentage of that GDP on the military. The massively expensive war in Afghanistan did not help matters either. As a result, the Soviet government spent less and less on the actual wellbeing of its citizens, which, since a planned communist economy prevents the potential for upward mobility under capitalism, meant that their quality of life suffered. While Gorbachev only sought to reform the Union, his new policies of Glasnost meant that much of the veil of secrecy was removed, not just for those looking in, but for those inside looking out as well. When the Soviet people began to see the quality of life that citizens of the western capitalist nations enjoyed, they grew more and more disgruntled with the communist system. There were famous stories of Soviet leaders having their faith in communism shattered when they visited the US, saw a supermarket, and then realised that this was not something for the super rich, but the common citizen. As a result, the transition away from pure communism was not due to Gorbachev’s own desire for reform, but a loss of popular support for the system, not just from the common people, but from many in Soviet leadership as well.

Once the Communist Party lost power across the Union, it was the beginning of the end for communism. The Communist Party’s platform would shift over time to be closer to democratic socialism, a bit to the left of what was normal in the West, but nowhere near as extreme as the party that had ruled over the Union for the majority of the century. The transition was messy. The Soviet economy as whole was shocked by the shift from state run communism, to market capitalism. Unlike in China, where the transition was much more controlled and limited, the Soviet Union would go from a Communist planned economy, to a capitalist free market economy in just a few years. Hundreds of industries would be de-nationalised, shifted to the private sector. Publicly owned assets were made private, in a very short time, in what became known as “Shock Therapy”. Many citizens who had previously been employed by the state were forced to find new jobs in the private sector. In the chaos, much of the wealth would wind up in the pockets of a crafty few, who would come to be known as “The Oligarchs”, the first millionaires and billionaires in the Soviet Union. The 1990s would be a very tough time economically for the Soviet Union, and Eastern Europe as a whole.


In addition to the economic shock, there was also several instances of political and military conflict in the years after the revolution. The republics saw some violence immediately after independence, with Armenians rising up in the Nagorno-Karabakh region of the Azeri Sovereign Republic, support by the newly independent Armenia. In Georgia, shortly after independence, there were uprisings by ethnic minorities in Abkhazia and South Ossetia, seeking to create independent states of their own. The newly independent Moldova held a referendum in 1994, that saw 53% of voters choosing to join with their fellow Romanians in Romania, and thus, the government of Moldova began negotiations with the Romanians to unify the two states. However, opposed to the union and to remaining part of Moldova at all, were the inhabitants of the Transnistrian autonomous region. Along the banks of the Dniester river, the skinny territory was mostly populated by ethnic Russians and Ukrainians, and they rose up in revolt against the Moldovan government. After several years of fighting Transnistrian rebel groups, the Moldovans, pressured by the Romanian government, allowed a referendum on the future status of Transnistria to take place in 1997. The results of the referendum came back in favor of joining the Soviet Union, and so in January of 2000, Transnistria joined the Ukrainian Republic, becoming an autonomous republic within it. In June of 2000, the union between Moldova and Romania was made official, joining the two for the first time since 1940.

The Red Army would crack down on the Nagorno-Karabakh rebels in the late 90s, occupying the territory, as well as placing an embargo on Armenia. They threatened military action against Armenia unless they stopped funding the rebels, and began helping with the peace process. The government of Armenia, not looking to lose their new independence, agreed, and ceased their support for the Nagorno-Karabakh rebels. The Soviet and Azeri military would embark on a brutal campaign against the rebels, and the results would be horrible. Over 3,000 ethnic Armenian civilians would be killed in bombings, by famine or disease, or by reprisals from ethnic Azeris or Russian security forces, and tens of thousands would be displaced. The brutal crackdown would lead to thousands of ethnic Armenians fleeing the USSR for Armenia, fearing a repeat of the genocide committed by the Turks 80 years prior. In 1997, the leadership of Armenia, the USSR, the Azeri Republic, and the Nagorno-Karabakh rebels would sign the Baku accords, ending the conflict. The Nagorno-Karabakh region would gain some autonomy within the Azeri Republic, but would remain firmly a part of it. By the end of the conflict, more than 40% of the pre war population of the autonomous oblast were gone, either dead or refugees, mostly in Armenia and Georgia. Similar uprisings in Chechnya, and other Caucasus areas were also suppressed by the Soviet Army. In the newly independent Republic of Georgia, a war had raged in Abkhazia and South Ossetia since before independence. The Soviet government would help supply the rebels, but never enthusiastically, and they would stop after 1995. The uprisings would be put down by the year 2002, and the war would lead to over 11,000 deaths in Georgia. Like the Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh, many Abkhazians and Ossetians would flee Georgia, mostly to the USSR.


The West was shocked by the downfall of Communism in the East, but celebrated it, and continued trying to improve relations with the new Soviet Union. President Hart commended Gorbachev as a reformer who “had brought freedom to his people”. While optimistic, the West was also wary of some extremist group seizing power in the chaos. They remembered that many idealists in the West had celebrated the overthrow of the Tsar in the Russian Revolution, only to be horrified when Lenin and the Bolsheviks seized power. However, by the mid 1990s, most in the West found themselves pleasantly surprised by what the USSR had transitioned into. Though there was corruption in the new democracy, oligarchs gaining wealth, a few local conflicts, and chaos in the new economy, the transition of power was peaceful, and the new majority political parties were reasonable, with any extremist left or right wing parties being pushed to the fringes, not by government suppression, but by electoral failure. It would eventually dawn on everyone that the Cold War had basically ended. Though there was still a bit of tension between the two superpowers, for many, it felt like the knife edge tension, with nuclear armageddon as the stakes, that they had endured for decades, might finally be over. Foreign companies began to invest in the new open Soviet economy, and for the first time, free movement of people existed throughout most of Europe. What had seemed impossible just a few years prior, was now happening.


All of this was bad news for the Soviet space program. With the economy in shock, all future plans, including the lunar station, and Energia 5T were indefinitely postponed. Indeed, with the worsening economic situation, even maintaining Zvezda became challenging. To reduce operational costs, starting in mid 1991, Zvezda would be reduced to a crew of just three. This severely limited the amount of science that could be performed aboard the station, and the expedition crews found that more and more of their work days were taken up with station maintenance. In addition, expeditions typically were longer than the usual six month rotation, ostensibly to get more data on long duration spaceflight, but in reality it was to lower costs further by flying less rockets. The entire program seemed to be on life support for the time being. The Soviet government began searching for ways to make money with the space program in order to cover some of its costs. One way was to revamp the Interkosmos program by simply charging a fee to launch any nations’ crew to Zvezda for a short stay. This would earn a bit of money to cover ongoing spaceflight endeavours, and several nations, including Malaysia, Indonesia, South Africa, and Argentina would fly their first men into space by taking advantage of the program. The government also began to final allow commercial satellite launches to make money. A government owned company, Star Launch Services, was established to market Soviet rockets for foreign satellite launches. This opened a veil of secrecy, and introduced a new player to the commercial launch market. Soviet launchers were, like the Chinese, cheaper than other expendable rockets, due to the lower cost of labor, and government control of much of the production process. This made Soviet launch prices quite competitive, with some of the lowest price per kilogram offerings on the market. They immediately began selling the Energia 1 for launching communications satellites, while also offering up former ICBMs like the Dnepr and Kosmos launchers, for smaller LEO payloads. Soon, the Soviets were earning quite a bit of money by launching satellites into orbit for a variety of customers. True to the new free market direction that the USSR was heading, the Soviet space program now was earning a bit of its budget back through commercial operations. These austerity measures, combined with the Soviet economy climbing out of a slump by the end of the decade, meant that by 1996, Zvezda could be brought back up to a full crew of six. While any future plans for lunar exploration remained on hold indefinitely, the Soviet space program, like the rest of the union, was beginning to recover from the chaos.
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Part V Chapter 12
Part V Chapter 12:

We need affordable space travel to inspire our youth, to let them know that they can experience their dreams, can set significant goals and be in a position to lead all of us to future progress in exploration, discovery and fun.”

-Burt Rutan


A little farther out of the public eye than the flashy NASA missions, the military's reusable launch vehicle test program proceeded steadily. The Prometheus launch system was making great progress. Though the team had planned to begin booster tests by 1988, they were delayed by the development of the RL-51. This was not unexpected, as the RL-51 was a supremely complex and impressive engine. The requirements imposed upon the engine by the reusable vehicle programs were daunting. It would need to be the most powerful hydrogen fuelled engine ever built, producing more thrust than the J-2S, with a specific impulse close to that of the RL-10. It would need to be reusable, with minimal refurbishment between flights, and certified for over 100 relights. To support the landing system of the Prometheus Booster, would need to be restartable in the air, and capable of deeply throttling. Despite these incredible requirements, Pratt and Whitney managed to deliver the engine with minimal delays. By early 1989, the first prototype Prometheus booster had been fully constructed, with the engines being one of the last things integrated. It measured 6.6 meters in diameter, the same as a Saturn II first stage, and over 30 meters long, and massed in at 29 metric tons. It given the serial number PB-01T. Though Grumman had built and flown the X-29 all alone, for Prometheus they partnered with Boeing. A plant to assemble the boosters was built in Washington State, just outside of the city of Seattle. This was seen as controversial, as the expensive plant was largely funded by taxpayer money, and, if things went well, would only assemble half a dozen or so boosters. Critics argued that it would be cheaper to use existing facilities, like the Marshall Space Flight Center or the Michoud Assembly Facility. However, the military wanted the vehicle to be built on the west coast, so as to be closer to the intended launch site, and so, like with many military projects, they received the necessary funds. By July, the assembled vehicle was shipped from the factory in Washington, down the Pacific coast, to Vandenberg Air Force Base for the first static fire tests. The first static fire occurred on August 11, testing the structural integrity of the booster, and the capabilities of the engines, including their ability to relight. Several more static fire tests occurred, and in between each one, the vehicle was carefully inspected, to see how well the engines had survived, and how much refurbishment was necessary. The engineers at Pratt and Whitney had done their job, and the RL-51s proved themselves to be robust and reusable.


Finally, in November, the booster was readied for the first “hop” tests. This part of the program would be similar to the flights performed during the X-29 program. In order to prevent damage to the launch pad, these initial hops would be performed at the specially designed landing pad. A bonus benefit of performing the tests here was that the booster recovery infrastructure could also be fully tested, and booster turnaround could be optimised. The huge booster, much bigger than the X-29, was incredibly daunting to ground engineers as it towered over them, like a skyscraper. It had intimidated those designing it just as much. The titanic stage was much bigger than the X-29, and thus would be slower to turn or react in flight. This meant that it needed to much smarter, with the flight software being totally automated, planning out everything in advance, and accounting for many factors, far in advance. The actual landing was a bit more complex than that of the X-29. The booster would need to burn once to return to the launch site, and then again to land. The booster would need to be able to accurately hit the landing pad. For touchdown, the RL-51 would be able to throttle down to 40% thrust. This lowered the the thrust to weight ratio enough that, while the vehicle certainly couldn't hover, with some very precise timing, it would be able to perform a “suicide burn” and touchdown safely on one engine. Everything would have to go right for the landing to be successful.

Everyone involved the program that had also worked in the X-29 knew that this was a whole 'nother ballpark. The first hop took place on November 23, reaching an altitude of just 100 meters. Seeing the massive stage rise into the air was awe inspiring for all witnessing. And watching come down was even more impressive. The landing system performed correctly, with the vehicle soft landing on its exhaust flame, like something straight out of Flash Gordon. After landing, the vehicle was recovered and returned to the Vehicle Processing Facility, a specially built facility nearby where it would be inspected and refurbished. After 43 days, the vehicle was returned to the test site for a second hop. This time, the vehicle reached 3 kilometers, once again touching down perfectly. This flight used the reaction control thrusters much more than the first test, and to test vehicle maneuverability, involved horizontal translation. The vehicle was purposefully steered away from the landing pad, over the ocean, so that the booster would have to correct itself in order to land safely. Over the next six months, the vehicle would perform six additional hop tests, reaching up to 20 kilometers, and introducing significant horizontal movement. Between each flight the vehicle was carefully inspected, with ground crews learning from every flight. They managed to lower turnaround time, even with more inspections than planned for the actual flight article, to an average of 29 days. After the success of the hop tests, for the eighth flight test, the vehicle was moved to the actual launch pad first time. This flight would be much closer to the actual launch profile, with the vehicle reaching supersonic velocities, and traveling far down range. Flight 8 lifted off on June 15, 1990. Unlike the hop tests, where the fuel tanks had only been filled to a small fraction of full capacity, on flight 8 the vehicle would carry a little over half the nominal fuel load. It flew far out over the Pacific Ocean, fading from view for observers. It traveled hundreds of kilometers downrange, and reached a maximum altitude of 70 kilometers. During the flight, the booster would experience similar aerodynamic and thermal stresses to an actual launch. It successfully performed the boost back burn, and oriented itself for landing. Unlike every other test, flight 8 started with its landing gear retracted, and extended them as it approached the pad. However, despite the rest of the flight going perfectly, as PB-01T came in to land, it suffered a sticky gimbal on the center engine, which led to it coming down with too much horizontal velocity. The huge booster crashed into the pad and exploded, creating a sizable crater.


Even with the spectacular ending, the flight accomplished many of its goals, proving that vehicle could survive the flight and return to the launch site. In fact, many engineers were impressed that the vehicle even hit the launchpad at all. Thankfully, a failure at some point had been planned for, and a second test vehicle, booster PB-02T. Compared to the first vehicle, PB-02T was closer to an actual flight booster. Unlike PB-01T, which had been built purposefully overweight, with much wider margins, the second booster was very close to the final dry mass of the finished product. The landing gear, which on the first booster had used disposable crushable foam, now had actual shock absorbing hardware. This was a bit heavier, but much more reusable, as the previous landing gear had to basically be completely disassembled after every flight. Also, the new booster was equipped with a set of small aerodynamic fins Midway up the vehicle, to better steer it during descent and reentry. Most notably however, instead of beginning its career with short hops from the landing pad, PB-02T would be lifting off from the launch pad from the very start. The first flight of the new booster occurred on September 3, 1990. It basically flew a repeat of the first booster’s final flight. However, this time, it stuck the landing.

Additional flights followed, in November, December, and January, each pushing the envelope a little farther. On the fifth flight on February 4, 1991, the booster crossed the Karman line for the first time, becoming the first vehicle to travel into space and propulsively land back on Earth. The booster repeated this feat on March 17, becoming the first reusable spacecraft. On April 3, for its seventh flight, the booster looked markedly different. The nose cone used for test flights normally was gone, replaced instead with an interstage, which allowed a boilerplate centaur upper stage and payload fairing to be carried. This would better approximate an actual launch, both in terms of mass and aerodynamic loads. The seventh flight would also mark the first time that the booster would lift off with a full fuel load. Flight seven went smoothly, with the booster jettisoning the boilerplate stage after main engine cutoff, simulating how an actual flight would go. While the centaur mass simulator would plunge into the Pacific Ocean, PB-02T would successfully return to the launch site, touching down on the pad. Prometheus seemed to be getting closer and closer to an actual launch system.


Meanwhile, Lockheed continued their own work on the X-31. Though the X-31 had initially been the favorite child in the ALDV programs, the X-29’s unexpected success had pushed the flyback booster to the outskirts, its funding slashed, with seemingly no future. Lockheed continued work on the vehicle though, sinking more of their own resources into it. The continued to promote their “StarClipper” design, which they had refined even further. By the time the second X-31 prototype flew for the first time in 1987, StarClipper was a fully defined proposal, incredibly fleshed out, if still just on paper. The final StarClipper design would use a massive winged booster, its main body 8 meters in diameter, powered by 5 RL-51s. It would use the same S-IVC upper stage as the Saturn II, but Lockheed had extensively studied a winged reusable upper stage for delivering cargo, or even crew. Unlike the medium class Prometheus, which could only deliver 6-7 metric tons to Low Earth Orbit, and around 2 mt to Geosynchronous Transfer Orbit, the baseline StarClipper would be a full heavy lift vehicle, capable of throwing 23 mt to LEO, and 7 mt to GTO. This would allow it to completely replace both the Saturn II and the Titan III, at perhaps ⅓ to ½ the cost. However, developing the massive StarClipper booster would a monumental undertaking, with a huge price tag, and no one seemed willing to foot the bill. The government, already working on Prometheus, did not see the point in developing a duplicate system, even one more capable. Reusable launch systems, for all their promise, had yet to prove that they could substantially reduce the cost of access to space, and if it turned out that they didn't, spending billions to develop two of them would seem rather foolish. Lockheed could not afford to develop it independently, and even if they tried to market it commercially, it might take decades to recoup the development costs. In addition, the technical challenges in building the StarClipper booster were substantially greater than those involved with the Prometheus booster. This was not just because StarClipper was a larger vehicle, but because it basically needed to fill two roles. In addition to being a reusable rocket, the StarClipper would also need to be an aircraft the size of a 747 that would fly faster than the L-2000. In an attempt to save the design, Lockheed studied the idea of converting the Saturn II first stage into a flyback booster. Because of the higher density of the kerosene fuel, this vehicle would be smaller while still offering similar performance to the baseline StarClipper. However, this design too was still a huge undertaking, and had its own complications, particularly in the way that carbon soot from the Kerosene fuel made reuse of the RS-27A engines much more difficult than was possible with hydrogen engines.

And so despite the second X-31 vehicle making more than a dozen test flights by 1989, it seemed to be destined to be little more than a curious museum piece. And so, Lockheed, looking to recoup the hundreds of millions of their own money that they had poured into the program, began looking for other applications. At first they offered the X-31 to the DoD and NASA as research vehicle. The DoD didn't show any interest, and while NASA did, the agency had only modest plans for the vehicle, and this alone would not help pay back the cost of development. And so Lockheed looked to their other options. There was no way that a massive booster derived from the X-31 could be developed. But the X-31 on its own was a capable vehicle, and perhaps could be used without significant modification. It was to this end that Lockheed began to explore the idea of developing the X-31 into a commercial launch vehicle in late 1989. Lockheed had pioneered the field of commercial launch services by flying commsats to GTO aboard Titan IIIs. They began to study how to turn the X-31, with minimal modifications, into an affordable system for getting payloads to orbit. Thus, the Lockheed “StarBooster” concept was born. StarBooster would involve taking the basic X-31, scaling it up slightly, and replacing the J-2SL with an RL-51. For an upper stage, Lockheed contracted with Thiokol to build an solid rocket upper stage. This stage, known as the Castor 30, had its roots in the Minuteman missile, and would mass in at 14,000 kg. By combining the Castor 30 with the booster, the StarBooster system could loft more than two metric tons into a sun synchronous orbit. For heavier or higher energy payloads, a Star 48 third stage could be used. By using lower cost solid rockets for the expendable upper stages, instead of an expensive Centaur, Lockheed hoped that they could offer a low cost launch vehicle for the lower end of the market. StarBooster was perfectly sized for rapid and cheap delivery of a single GPS satellite. It was also optimal for launching Low Earth Orbit communications satellites, like those for the planned Iridium array, being able to launch two or three satellites per flight. It could also lift NASA orbital payloads, and potentially even student payloads. With the Titan III becoming less and less profitable, due to the rising costs and more stringent regulations surrounding its hypergolic propellants, Lockheed hoped that the StarBooster would help them recapture the launch market.

After completing the contracted run of test flights for the military, Lockheed continued flying the X-31, in order to help develop the StarBooster. On one flight, the X-31 reached an altitude of 85 kilometers, very close to the edge of space. The vehicle was proving much more reusable this time around, with crews getting turnaround times down to just over 30 days. The issues with reuse involving the J-2 engine were ironed out, and inspection between launches was reduced to a minimum. Lockheed began construction on the first StarBooster in 1989. They hoped to operate two boosters, one for each coast, each flying maybe up to five or six times a year. X-31 tests continued flying, with each iteration helping develop the program. Despite being based on the X-31, the StarBooster would need to be more advanced, lighter, capable of withstanding higher temperatures, and flying farther distances, smarter, and improved in a little of other ways. Lockheed was determined however. The government showed some interest in StarBooster, and put forward a small amount of funding for its development, which certainly helped Lockheed, especially when higher level executives were considering ditching the program. The first prototype StarBooster first flew in October of 1992, and soon commenced a test program similar to the X-31. Though there were some inside Lockheed that pushed for an accelerated program that could potentially beat Prometheus to being the first reusable launch vehicle. However this was quickly rejected, as Prometheus had an advantage both in funding, and in schedule, and the engineers behind StarBooster did not want to rush face first into failure. With the StarBooster prototype flying the first propulsive tests with an upper stage mass simulator by spring of 1993, the launcher was projected to make its first orbital launch by early 1995.


The Prometheus test program was rapidly approaching its final phase throughout the last half of 1991. After flight seven, all launches carried boilerplate upper stages, and if all went according to plan, an orbital test launch was planned by flight 10, hopefully before the end of the year. Flight eight flew in late May, essentially as a repeat of the previous launch, with a successful landing. On the penultimate test flight, flight nine, on June 15, 1991, hopes were high. The ascent portion of the flight went beautifully, just as planned. However, while the return was uneventful, as the vehicle came in for final landing, one of the landing gear failed to lock in place. This caused the booster to tip over after touching down. Thankfully, it did not explode, but the test article was damaged beyond repair. A subsequent investigation would conclude that the cause of the incident was a failure of several bolts inside the landing leg, likely due to fatigue. Perhaps this was something fixable that had been missed during the rush to improve turnaround times? The investigation also noted that due to a minute mistiming on the booster's engine throttle, the touchdown had been harder than any other landing (excepting of course the fireworks display that ended PB-01T), which combined with the fatigue issue, caused the leg to fail on touchdown. The booster was judged damaged beyond repair, and would never fly again, ending up on display in the national air and space museum. There were delays as PB-03, which had been planned as the first operational booster, was prepared for the remaining test flights. Construction on the vehicle had been 95% complete when the failure had occurred. And so, all resources were diverted to bringing the booster online to complete the test program.

In the months between flights, the DoD announced that for all Prometheus launches from the East Coast, Launch Complex 39, previously used for the Saturn V and it's successor, but now dormant, would be used. Necessary modifications to the facilities would begin construction by the end of 1991. In addition to the modifications to the pad and mobile launch structure, a landing pad and a hangar for refurbishing stages would be built. At least two boosters would operate from each coast, with more being added if necessary to meet demand. Concurrently with this, the DoD also announced, to the surprise of many, that a deal had been reached with Grumman, and the Prometheus system would be made available to NASA for their launch purposes. There were even talks of, down the road, allowing the system to be used to launch commercial payloads. However, there was a prohibition on launching any foreign satellites on Prometheus. Whether this all would entail boosters being shared or separate boosters for military and civilian payloads remained unknown.


Also during the gap, Grumman released a report in which they estimated the Prometheus boosters to be capable of reuse for up to 50 flights. With each booster being planned for 3-5 flights a year, this meant a 10+ year life span for each. Routine inspections would occur after each flight, and full scale refurbishments would occur every five flights. The final report also contained the final revised estimates of Prometheus's capability. The Centaur had been upgraded, from the RL-10s to the fuel capacity, and the new vehicle was capable of more than early estimates. Launching from Vandenberg, it was capable of placing 6,508 kg into a 300 kilometer Sun-synchronous orbit. From KSC, the vehicle could place up to 8,070 kg into a 200 kilometer low Earth orbit. To higher orbits the vehicle was quite capable as well. Prometheus was unique in that it was limited by its need to return to the launch site. On a typical trajectory used to launch payloads to high energy orbits, the booster would be too far from the launch site, and traveling too fast to return and land. To solve this problem, there were some proposals to have a “downrange landing site” either a barge or a stationary platform that the booster could land on, this saving the fuel needed to return to the launch site. However, in the interest of schedule and budget, Grumman opted to instead use a third stage for these high energy payloads. Initially they chose the older Agena stage for this purpose. Though this would increase per flight costs, it would greatly expand the capabilities of the system to a variety of orbits. With this combination, Prometheus could launch up to 3,350 kg into the transfer orbit required for GPS satellites. It could also throw up to 3,042 kg to a Geosynchronous transfer orbit. Grumman also collaborated with Lockheed Martin, maker of the Centaur stage, to design a small hydrogen powered upper stage to eventually replace the aging Agena. This stage, named the “Fawn”, would mass in at 8 metric tons, and allow up to 4,500 kg to be delivered to GTO, which would allow some satellites to be “dual-launched”. However, Fawn did not receive any government funding for the moment, as those in charge just wanted to get the vehicle online.

Despite all the increases in performance, the numbers everyone reading the report wanted to know were those associated with cost. Prometheus would be capable, performance wise, of replacing the Delta, Atlas, and unboosted Titans, and came close to matching the GTO performance of boosted Titans. However, the main question was if it would be able to beat those systems on its price tag, by a large enough margin to justify its development costs. Ultimately, the total costs per flight were unknowable until the vehicle was in operation. Various agencies, government and private, had made their own estimates on the cost per flight of Prometheus, and come up with a diverse spectrum of numbers. Some estimates put Prometheus as a launch vehicle with no significant cost reduction, while others predicted that it could lower the cost per kg by half. For their own estimates, Grumman first took the cost of building a single Prometheus booster, $600 million*, and divided it by the predicted 50 flights, coming out to $12 million per flight. Grumman had collaborated with Lockheed to bring down the cost of the Centaur, but each still added $45 million to the cost of every launch. The real nitty gritty details came down to the refurbishment costs and the per-flight costs, like the launch pad, fuel, ground crew, integration, etc. Grumman roughly estimated a total cost per flight for Prometheus to be about $130 million, with the Agena adding another $15 million for missions to GTO. Compared to the Titan IIIM, which could lift 17,000 kg to LEO for $400 million ($23,529 per kg), or the Atlas G, which could launch 3,630 kg for $125 million ($34,435 per kg), Prometheus had a cost per kilo to LEO of $18,587. These estimates vindicated those who had predicted that the partially reusable Prometheus would reduce launch costs, but not to a revolutionary degree. However, despite all these guesses and calculations, the true price tag per launch of Prometheus was yet to be proven, and would have to wait until the vehicle was operational.


Finally, in late November of 1991, PB-03 arrived at the launch site. After several weeks of check out and assembly, the vehicle sat on the pad on the morning of January 20, ready for its inaugural test flight. At 11:31 PST, the vehicle lifted off from the pad and rocketed into the sky. This test was to be similar to those performed by the previous booster, and it went perfectly, releasing the mass simulator, returning the launch site, and sticking the landing. After a successful repeat on March 11, engineers pushed for the orbital test flight to be flown. Originally the booster had two more tests planned, but they argued that the two previous boosters had proven all they needed to with their own test flights. In addition, all mishaps involving Prometheus had been in the landing phase of flight. During the ascent phases it had performed perfectly, without any incident. Prometheus had proved itself as a launcher. If anything went wrong during recovery, the payload would still reach orbit. And so it was decided that flight three of PB-03 would be the first orbital test. After months of preparation, the vehicle was mated with the first live Centaur stage and payload fairing, and rolled out to the pad. For this demo flight, the payload would be USA-112, a prototype of the satellite design planned for the next GPS series, Block IIR. On July 14, 1992, Prometheus lifted off on its first operational flight. Like all previous flights, the ascent went perfectly, and after main engine cut off, the centaur with USA-112 separated, and after a brief coast, ignited to push the payload to orbit. While the upper stage was still performing its burn, the booster reoriented itself and reignited its central engine, cancelling its horizontal velocity and sending back towards the launch site. The booster drifted down towards the pad, its fins and thrusters keeping it on course. Finally, seemingly at the last possible second, the engine ignited a third time for the landing burn, bringing PB-03 down for a safe landing. Uproarious applause broke out among all in attendance. Even though many of them had witnessed countless landings before, this time it was for real! Just minutes after the booster touched down, the Centaur burned out, successfully placing the payload into orbit. Cheers erupted once more. The first reusable launch vehicle was operational! The future was here!


*All dollar values here will use 2017 dollars, for the sake of simplicity.
 
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This is a great timeline, I love space threads, the only thing I wish I could change is having John Young command the Mars landing, he was always seen as the man irl that would command any Mars mission
 
The newly independent Moldova held a referendum in 1994, that saw 53% of voters choosing to join with their fellow Romanians in Romania, and thus, the government of Moldova began negotiations with the Romanians to unify the two states. However, opposed to the union and to remaining part of Moldova at all, were the inhabitants of the Transnistrian autonomous region. Along the banks of the Dniester river, the skinny territory was mostly populated by ethnic Russians and Ukrainians, and they rose up in revolt against the Moldovan government. After several years of fighting Transnistrian rebel groups, the Moldovans, pressured by the Romanian government, allowed a referendum on the future status of Transnistria to take place in 1997. The results of the referendum came back in favor of joining the Soviet Union, and so in January of 2000, Transnistria joined the Ukrainian Republic, becoming an autonomous republic within it. In June of 2000, the union between Moldova and Romania was made official, joining the two for the first time since 1940.

This is very doubtful. I live in Moldova and the support for unification with Romania was not great here after a short take-off in the early 90s. In fact, according to polls, the number of those who regret the collapse of the USSR is higher than the number of unionists. We even elected communists to power in 2001-2009. Economic and family ties are also stronger in the east. So in this TL, I would rather expect reintegration in the USSR
 
This is very doubtful. I live in Moldova and the support for unification with Romania was not great here after a short take-off in the early 90s. In fact, according to polls, the number of those who regret the collapse of the USSR is higher than the number of unionists. We even elected communists to power in 2001-2009. Economic and family ties are also stronger in the east. So in this TL, I would rather expect reintegration in the USSR
True enough, the unionism with Romania is more of a recent thing :\
 
This is very doubtful. I live in Moldova and the support for unification with Romania was not great here after a short take-off in the early 90s. In fact, according to polls, the number of those who regret the collapse of the USSR is higher than the number of unionists. We even elected communists to power in 2001-2009. Economic and family ties are also stronger in the east. So in this TL, I would rather expect reintegration in the USSR
Ok, thanks for your input. Like I said, not my strongest field.
 
Would you be able to comment some more on the Prometheus booster operational costs? I'm not totally seeing how the costs add up, and the $/kg seems excessively high as a result.

Here's what I'm seeing factor into the total:
$12m for the stage, ammortized over 50 flights.
$45m for the Centaur
$73m in "other costs," including refurbishment, ground support, integration, range fees, and so on.

There's two places this seems high. First of all, I'm not sure I buy that $45m is the best they can do for Centaur costs. That's about $18,000/kg build cost. For aerospace hardware with a continuous, if relatively low-rate production, I'd find numbers more like $2.5-7k reasonable. Secondly, the "other" costs are almost half the launch costs, and by themselves cost almost as much as a Falcon 9 launch. Would you be able to dissect the components of that cost you're projecting?
 
I've been following this TL for a while, but the last few updates have been hard to get through with the walls of text (no paragraph should take up half of a 1920 by 1080 screen on my desktop). Furthermore, I find the need for a third stage on the Prometheus questionable at best. You've got a hydrolox second stage, and I can not think of any US programs that put anything but a small solid kick motor above any of the hydrolox stages - the issues with lower ISP and higher dry mass fractions do a great job of eating payload. I even found myself comparing this system to an Atlas IIIA, which offered similar payloads to LEO (8.6t east out of the cape, and 6.9t to sun sync), and without an upper stage could deliver over 4t to GTO without any additional stage, or about the same performance as a Titan 34D with a Transtage upper. I simply don't see the utility in having an Agena of all things as an upper stage.
 
Would you be able to comment some more on the Prometheus booster operational costs? I'm not totally seeing how the costs add up, and the $/kg seems excessively high as a result.

Here's what I'm seeing factor into the total:
$12m for the stage, ammortized over 50 flights.
$45m for the Centaur
$73m in "other costs," including refurbishment, ground support, integration, range fees, and so on.

There's two places this seems high. First of all, I'm not sure I buy that $45m is the best they can do for Centaur costs. That's about $18,000/kg build cost. For aerospace hardware with a continuous, if relatively low-rate production, I'd find numbers more like $2.5-7k reasonable. Secondly, the "other" costs are almost half the launch costs, and by themselves cost almost as much as a Falcon 9 launch. Would you be able to dissect the components of that cost you're projecting?
I thought about it a little, but my numbers are not that thouroughly researched. My thoughts are that a semi-reusable system, built using traditional cost-plus contracting, designed in the late 80s, and using much more expensive technology than the Falcon 9, would offer a cost advantage, but not such a significant one at first. I also assume that since a low number of boosters are being built initially, the build cost per booster is much higher.
 
I've been following this TL for a while, but the last few updates have been hard to get through with the walls of text (no paragraph should take up half of a 1920 by 1080 screen on my desktop). Furthermore, I find the need for a third stage on the Prometheus questionable at best. You've got a hydrolox second stage, and I can not think of any US programs that put anything but a small solid kick motor above any of the hydrolox stages - the issues with lower ISP and higher dry mass fractions do a great job of eating payload. I even found myself comparing this system to an Atlas IIIA, which offered similar payloads to LEO (8.6t east out of the cape, and 6.9t to sun sync), and without an upper stage could deliver over 4t to GTO without any additional stage, or about the same performance as a Titan 34D with a Transtage upper. I simply don't see the utility in having an Agena of all things as an upper stage.
Sorry about the walls of text, I will edit the previous parts for better readibility.
 
I thought about it a little, but my numbers are not that thouroughly researched. My thoughts are that a semi-reusable system, built using traditional cost-plus contracting, designed in the late 80s, and using much more expensive technology than the Falcon 9, would offer a cost advantage, but not such a significant one at first. I also assume that since a low number of boosters are being built initially, the build cost per booster is much higher.
I think the booster costs are high, but not unimaginably so--as you say, very few boosters are anticipated to be built. I'm more concerned with the cost of the Centaur and the miscellaneous "other" costs of the mission. It's worth noting that the Altas V-Centaur system payload delivery to LEO costs about $16,000/kg--about 10% less than the Pegasus using your numbers. Other rockets can cost half that, and F9 about a quarter to a third. I'd say I'd find values more in the range of $5-10k more convincing.
 
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