Chapter 5: Designing for Mars
Hi all,
Welcome back! I hope you had a pleasant week. This week, we're getting into some of the technical guts of Olympus, and really expanding on what the technical components of this architecture, as well as expanding to our final member of the consortium that will help take humans to Mars. Keep in mind, I am no political scientist, but I thought this would represent a stable cooperative effort to help get the mission accomplished. I want to thank Max for being such a trooper with all of the iterative designs we went through, and getting these amazing illustrations out for you all to appreciate. Next week will be our last post before the holiday season where I may take some time off to get some stuff ready for y'all, as well as spending time with my family and friends.

Chapter 5: Designing for Mars

At its inception, the Olympus Program was met with immense public support, and astronaut applications began to skyrocket. 1982 also saw The Official Commissioning of Project Olympus, with NASA signing a Memorandum of Understanding with ESA, NASDA, CSA, and a surprise entry, the government of Australia to support the program as a whole, train astronauts together, and ultimately, send a crew to Mars. For space diplomacy, this was a first, an understanding to work together and unilaterally support each other in a combined effort, a truly international mission for human exploration. For the first time in its history, NASA had signed documents committed to sending a crew to Mars, considered by many to be the first true foothold of humanity in the solar system. Now, the heavy lifting could begin in earnest. Based on recommendations from the Design Reference Mission 2000 report, NASA and their partners laid down the infrastructure plans required to get the ball rolling. First and foremost, NASA began work upgrading their shuttles to support frequent, safe turnaround, and formally ordered the Shuttle Derived Launch Vehicle, selecting the quick conversion option to design and assemble a new rocket based on existing hardware. This vehicle would consist of a major revision to the External Tank to allow for top mounted payloads, as well as a recoverable engine pod that could interface with existing pad structures. The solid rocket motors would be the same, allowing for commonality across production for the fleet. The engine pod, known as the Orbital Payload Assist Vehicle would push the entire stack to orbit, including the external tank, to deliver bulky payloads in an 8.4 meter configuration. In the 5 meter configuration, the SDLV could work with a new cryogenic upper stage to deliver payloads to geostationary transfer orbit and potentially interplanetary destinations. The OPAV would subsequently be able to re-enter like the Shuttle and land under a parafoil, to be brought back to the launch site, refurbished, and prepped for launch. Shuttle upgrades would see an improved cockpit, upgraded performance on the Space Shuttle Main Engines, and an upgrade path for the Solid Rocket Motors to support expected heavier payloads, which could be potentially swapped for a liquid booster later on down the line. Both Rockwell and Martin Marietta expected their SDLV Orbital Payload Assist Vehicle system to be fully certified and operational by 1988.

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Martin Marietta, with their previous work supporting the tank structures for the Shuttle as well as the new SDLV-OPAV fleet would be brought in to support Mars Transfer Vehicle cryogenic tank construction, coupled with a first for in space missions; nuclear propulsion. Work done in the 1960s and 70s had shown that nuclear power would be an optimally efficient way to move a crewed spacecraft across the solar system. It was, however, not without risk, and the NERVA program faced setbacks on the ground. The Department of Defense had also explored nuclear propulsion, in conjunction with the Department of Energy, on several designs as well for their own space ambitions, but nothing had been tested on the scale of NERVA. The most prominent of these designs was a derivative of the NERVA program, NERVA-NeXT, to be spearheaded by General Atomics. These engines, ultimately, were selected for their safety record, the design would allow for easy servicing once the vehicle entered its safe state, and had a low risk of containment failure based on on-ground testing, something mission planners were actively seeking in an engine’s designs. The architecture of these transfer stages would soon fall into place, and become the common element for sending both cargo and crew to Mars in modular configurations. In doing so, higher production and flight rate would drive cost down of the initially rather expensive nuclear engines, but the cost for the initial prototypes was seen as necessary to achieve sustainable infrastructure on arrival, and to meet long term exploration goals. Boeing would lead the work on Habitat design, a radical new concept for inflatable modules that would enable much greater volume on a single launch. This inflatable habitat would be augmented by a Utility Node, also built by Boeing, and would contain the life support, air lock, and docking systems that would be utilized by ships visiting the MTV. Two Multi Purpose Mission Modules, built by Thales Aerospace, would join the MTV before a mission was due to depart, enabling greater habitable volume and delivering mission specific equipment for the intended landing site. The MTV had seen some updates in the form of new, circular solar arrays that would deploy like a fan, and new aft mounted radiators. The next major in-space segment would be the Earth Return Lifeboat. This capsule would be a rudimentary, Apollo CM derived vehicle built by Lockheed and Messerschmitt-Bölkow-Blohm, and could seat a crew of 8. The capsule would be launched by heavy lift vehicles, and would be deorbited for recovery at the end of every mission autonomously, should they not be needed by the crew. This vehicle added redundancy in the event that a.) a mission would require a fast return trajectory that did not enable the MTV to enter a parking orbit and b.) enabled contingency operations in the event that a Space Shuttle would not be available to retrieve the crew upon arrival. It was in many ways, the hopes of the designers, that a crew would never have to use the ERL.

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Lockheed and Mitsubishi Heavy Industries would receive a joint contract for their Zephyr class Mars Surface Access Vehicle. This vehicle would enable stays of up to 40 days on the Martian surface with four crew members on its own, and could enable 500 day stays with 8 crew members when plugged into an eventual base’s power systems. The lander would be of cryogenic design, like the rest of the architecture, with engines and avionics provided by the Japanese, and cryogenic storage tank structures, life support and pressure vessels provided by the Americans. The lander would contain 3 decks: a flight deck similar to the Shuttle, a Habitation-Laboratory deck where the crew would live and work, and a suit port deck, configurable with up to 8 ports for crew member extravehicular activities. This lander would be part of the many vehicles required to be refueled in orbit before a mission would depart, but common fuel handling would enable similar vehicles to perform tanker roles to and from the complexes in orbit. Boeing, SPAR/MD Aerospace, Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and Thales Aerospace received contracts to assemble the Orbital Assembly Station, now renamed the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory and subsequent station equipment. This station would serve as the orbital nexus for missions bound to the Red Planet and beyond, and would also service the vehicles once they brought their crews back to Earth. The MTV Consortium would also be tasked with assembling the one-off MTV-derived Mars Base Station, the destination for crews arriving at Mars. This station served a twofold purpose, both to assist astronauts upon arrival at Mars, and to demo technology required for such a mission, with enough time between windows to assess risk and plan for contingencies if required.

This work was essential in many ways for the continued industrial pace of the program, the first of its kind in human spaceflight to unite international cooperation with industrial advancement. While all of this took place, members of the American foreign service were hard at work settling disputes and enabling cooperation between the American space program, and an unlikely partner. The Soviet Union had been rumored to be developing technologies rivaling or even surpassing that of the United States’ record holding vehicle, the Saturn V. One such vehicle could serve two purposes for the overall goal of the Olympus program - enabling Soviet participation and encouraging political cooperation in aerospace and industry as a whole, as well as removing the strain on the heaviest single component required for the program as a whole, the lander. It was thought that if this vehicle did exist, it could potentially serve to assist the overall program and provide leverage for the Soviets to enter the project. In the Fall of 1982, straight out of a spy thriller, a covert meeting occurred in Paris. NASA administrative officials, as well as Soviet space leadership assembled to sit down and hash out the issues of their program, as well as discuss ways to bridge their differences with their home government. The space sector of the Soviet Union had always been closer to their American counterparts, with offers to engage in unilateral cooperation before, but no subsequent deals had been established in the wake of ASTP. The meeting was brokered by the French space agency, CNES, who had maintained close ties with the Soviets in the immediate aftermath of the Apollo Soyuz Test Project, and had long wished to participate in Soviet cooperative efforts in the face of potential bureaucratic isolation from ESA. The meetings were long, drawn out by translators and overall fatigue from the days of travel, and some feared that nothing would come from the superpowers facing off.

At many points, aides and politicians on both sides of the Iron Curtain felt the tensions would lead to all out war, at least in the conference room. At one point, NASA administrators were standing and shouting expletives at their Soviet counterparts, which lead to a half day’s recess, and the translators were left unsure if they should relay the message. Eventually, through much trial and error, the framework of a deal began to take shape. The Energia system, like the American’s super heavy lifters, leveraged a combination of fuels to help boost outsized payloads to orbit, and like the SDLV, could bring the whole core stage nearly to orbit. Energia, as part of their contribution to the Olympus Program would launch the American-Japanese lander using the vehicle’s outsized payload capability. The Soviets would agree to participate with the Americans and their partners if a cosmonaut would be present on every landing mission, as well as provide a cash influx to help produce their super heavy lifter, which was publicly revealed to the west at last. NASA and the Soviet Union would also agree to manufacture an updated, shared docking standard, which would be an evolution of the APAS petals seen on the Apollo Soyuz Test Project adapter and Shuttle-Skylab flights. The Soviets would also build a smaller orbital facility in proximity to the upcoming Odyssey, named the Functional Training Complex, which would enable crews to become familiar with Soviet technology, which only 3 American crew members had ever been close to in space. The Americans would also provide training on their equipment, including flying cosmonauts on Shuttle, as well as training in operation of Extravehicular Mobility Units and prospective Martian suits. This close relationship would remain essential to the overall success of the program, perhaps even more so than their prospective governments. This series of meetings would culminate in a well fought for signature, known from then on as the Paris Notice, to begin preparing space agencies and governments for the start of cooperation.
 
Minor scheduling note: So next week will be the last chapter before the Christmas holiday, with a potential new chapter before the New Year? If I do not get a chapter up around the 27th (I'll be traveling that day), then we will go back to our normal schedule on January 3rd and run from there. I will do an image annex for Chapter 6 as well, as I have a lot of good images and other stuff planned for that time.

Thanks all for your patience!
 
I'm not sure airmen is the right term here, as most of the crew are going to be officers, and "other rookie airmen" feels a bit off.
We’re all airmen, officers and enlisted alike. It does sound weird at first, but in the army everyone is a soldier, in the navy everyone is a sailor, etc. I’m sure there would be some kinda in-house term for space faring officers, but it’s not necessarily just officers. Pilot and commander would definitely be officers, but aircrew is usually enlisted, and in that light, mission specialists and such would be a mix of both. It wouldn’t be anyone in the junior enlisted tier tho… space is hard.
 
We’re all airmen, officers and enlisted alike. It does sound weird at first, but in the army everyone is a soldier, in the navy everyone is a sailor, etc. I’m sure there would be some kinda in-house term for space faring officers, but it’s not necessarily just officers. Pilot and commander would definitely be officers, but aircrew is usually enlisted, and in that light, mission specialists and such would be a mix of both. It wouldn’t be anyone in the junior enlisted tier tho… space is hard.

Well in context there's have to be at least one or two lower ranking personnel. After all someone has to make the coffee and type up the reports for the officers to sign :)

Randy
 
We’re all airmen, officers and enlisted alike. It does sound weird at first, but in the army everyone is a soldier, in the navy everyone is a sailor, etc. I’m sure there would be some kinda in-house term for space faring officers, but it’s not necessarily just officers. Pilot and commander would definitely be officers, but aircrew is usually enlisted, and in that light, mission specialists and such would be a mix of both. It wouldn’t be anyone in the junior enlisted tier tho… space is hard.
This is one of the things I considered when making this call. There would be a lot of people supporting Valiant and a lot of people making sure shit gets done in a responsible manner, so I'd assume they'd all be airmen.
 
Well in context there's have to be at least one or two lower ranking personnel. After all someone has to make the coffee and type up the reports for the officers to sign :)

Randy
As much as I’d like to say that that’s not what we do as enlisted, I unfortunately have that that is about 30% of what we do… 70% is doing whatever job we have, 30% just gathering and compiling information for other people… but that’s off topic… there’s always a lot of small nuances to creating a bigger picture in an alternate history such as this… and Defconheck is doing a helluva good job with it…
 
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Chapter 6: Slayton's Wish
Hi everyone, happy Monday!

I've had such a fun time over the last few weeks publishing all that I've worked on, and while I will be taking a week off for the holidays, I wanted to let you know that there is a bunch of amazing stuff still to come. After the post today, I'll be on a brief break for the next week, then we will jump right back into it and proceed onwards. I want to thank Tracker for his amazing work with Valiant and some other odds and ends you'll see in the image annex on Wednesday.

Chapter 6: Slayton's Wish

As 1983 rolled around, those within NASA, their partners, and the USSR felt that they were at last on the right track towards humans on the Red Planet. Progress on the initial assembly architecture for Olympus was proceeding nominally, with prospective flight manifests filling up with modules and components for the first permanent piece of space infrastructure. The first modules and propulsive stationkeeping elements of the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory were set to be completed in the summer of 1984. Their new, modular design, based on the modules planned for use in augmenting Skylab. This station was primarily aimed to assist in assembly and final checkout of components for the future MTVs, and later be expanded into an expansive complex for long term research in space. NASA made two crucial announcements this year, the first being a significant investment into ESA to support crew operations on the Odyssey Orbital Lab, with a crash program for a new crew vehicle known as Liberté. Liberté was a wingless lifting body that would be capable of landing 6 crew members in the event of an emergency, and would be rotated to and from the station by the Shuttle. This upcoming vehicle was to be manufactured by Aérospatiale, the French aerospace firm responsible for Concorde. Their second announcement was that the Soviet Union, in the spirit of cooperation, would join the project, providing the capability with their Energia vehicle to launch the Lander. The cooperation with the Soviet Union, while welcomed by the majority of the public, was intensely scrutinized by Congress. In the face of previous aggression, and in the wake of the race to the moon, those within governments could not help but remember the years of military buildup at NATO’s doorstep. Several Congressional members attempted to withhold funding if the agreement continued, but a passionate joint speech on the House floor by former astronaut Deke Slayton, as well as his comrade Alexei Leonov, about the importance of human cooperation in space, would move those who had their doubts to support the monumental program:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve come before you today with not only a member of the Soviet space program, but with a friend. My comrade, Alexei, and I took part in one of the first international space missions 8 years ago, the Apollo Soyuz Test Project, and today on the Congressional floor, we stand ready to commit the money, time and effort towards the next great leap. Now, all those years ago, I did something fairly daring myself. My crew and I, in our spacecraft, rendezvoused with a crew from an adversarial country, who had been in conflict over ideals with us for decades, and we docked with them. Now, when we opened that hatch, I had never been more excited to see a smiling face. Alexei and I worked together to accomplish scientific goals, expand our horizons, and during that time I think we truly recognized each other as equal players in space. Now, in the face of this lofty goal to get to Mars, is it not the best move to have an equal player on our team? We cannot, and will not, go further if we go alone, isolated in a vast ocean of space. We must join hands in space, as Alexei and I did, and accomplish these goals. Today, I stand before you, not as a man trained to combat an enemy a world away, nor a man who opened the hatch for his adversary and shook his hand. I stand before you as a human being, asking you to take that giant step. Olympus must go on, and we must go, together!”

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The reception to the speech, across the country and around the world was staggering. The image of Slayton and Leonov, embracing in orbit during the ASTP mission would warm the hearts of millions, once again, and become an iconic symbol of this newfound cooperation. Those in Congress who had threatened to draw and quarter the program were now on board, gunning for an international future in space. People from all nations would take to heart what the legendary astronaut said, and championed his words that would soon become a motto amongst those who worked on the program: Olympus must go on!

While the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory would act as the de-facto nerve center for the orbital construction and maintenance of the MTV, a Soviet companion station would orbit ahead of the whole complex, known as the Functional Training Complex. This element of Olympus architecture would enable experiments pertaining to human longevity in space, as well as promote unity between the Soviet Union and the International Partners. The agreement was formalized in August of this year in a second conference held in Paris, and the crew rotation schedule to both stations could begin to be formalized. This display of unity, in an age where not 20 years ago, the East and West had been locked in brutal aggression, with military and social propaganda spilling out of both sides, was seen as revolutionary. Now, in this age of detente, it would seem that this newfound cooperation in space would usher a new era of political unity and prosperity. Signups for astronaut corps across the world remained higher than ever, and NASA began once again considering positions within the corps for non scientists, opening the table up to a new, but still select group of individuals. These new categories would include; engineers, teachers, journalists, artists (who specialized in interfacing with technology), historians and writers, and would not require pre-existing flight training. For NASA, this became a logical next move, as the idea of ordinary people living and working in space became something of a background mission for the human spaceflight side of the agency.

Rolling out to the pad at SLC-6, USAF Orbiter Valiant made her debut in the start of 1983, delivering a classified payload for the DoD, an National Reconnaissance Office KH-11 vehicle. While KH-11s were not new vehicles, this was the first time that a crew of astronauts had been on board to assist in its deployment. Valiant would take off in the early morning of February 21st, and soar to the south, piercing the fog and beginning humanity’s first polar spaceflight. On flight day one, the payload was successfully deployed via the Remote Manipulator System, and the crew entered a rest period. The vehicle completed two days of post deployment activities before returning to Earth, triumphantly landing at Edwards Air Force Base. Valiant would fly several more times this year, a testament to her upgraded turnaround time, and would debut a number of features that highlighted the Air Force’s influence over the shuttle’s design. The first series of flights, starting with OF-6, would utilize a removable module similar to the Spacelab pallet flown onboard NASA's Shuttle fleet. This module, called StarLab, would allow for Air Force experiments to be conducted in the relatively stable microgravity environment of the shuttle’s payload bay. StarLab also appeased public fears about the militarization of space, in response to a scathing critique of the program published in the New York Times. In some ways, StarLab also answered the questions of feasibility from the MOL program, a relic of the Gemini era but largely influential for upcoming station design. The work done here would influence future Air Force endeavors, including plans for an orbital station either in a near polar orbit.

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Valiant, in the latter half of this year, would deploy a new piece of technology from the West Coast; the Aft Cargo Carrier. What started as a small idea would soon grow to fill the needs of the Air Force, the idea being to stack cargo in the perfectly good space between the two SRBs and the orbiter itself would soon blossom into a nearly essential addition to the DoD’s shuttle program. The Air Force, almost overjoyed with having their own orbiter, was quick to jump on the Aft Cargo Carrier as a way to get more payload into space and get the most out of their Space Shuttle. NASA was… less convinced. While the flight rate of their orbiters had been good, it became apparent that additional mass and size that they would need would have to come from a shuttle derived vehicle, and not a modified external tank. The Olympus program, as it was shaping up, would be better served with the heavy lift and super heavy lift vehicles set to be deployed in the coming decade. NASA made the choice not to deploy the ACC, but this was simply music to the Air Force’s ears. They could monopolize the ACC production line and test more outlandish missions and payloads that would not fit in the orbiter’s payload bay. Valiant debuted this equipment on OF-07, flying with a conventional StarLab pallet in the bay, while the ACC would carry a prototype on-orbit refueling vehicle, which could dock to a special fixture on StarLab and demonstrate fluid transfer. The launch would be a rousing success, and was demonstrated as well from the East Coast launch facilities at Kennedy Space Center. NASA remained wary of the program; yes, the ACC provided benefits for outsize payloads, but presented risks when flying with crew onboard. The event of an RTLS with an ACC could have catastrophic implications if maneuvers were not perfectly executed, and could theoretically lead to the destruction of the vehicle if the tank would recontact the vehicle. They would remain watchful, supporting the USAF shuttle program where they could through TDRSS and ground stations, but ever vigilant for their own potential issues. OF-07's test of the ACC and small refuelling vehicle proceeded nominally, and soon, Valiant would find herself flying with an ACC as standard.
 
As much as I’d like to say that that’s not what we do as enlisted, I unfortunately have that that is about 30% of what we do… 70% is doing whatever job we have, 30% just gathering and compiling information for other people… but that’s off topic… there’s always a lot of small nuances to creating a bigger picture in an alternate history such as this… and Defconheck is doing a helluva good job with it…

One guess on how I know about this btw :)

Randy
 
Chapter 6.5: Image Annex
Hi all!

Just wanted to share a few images done by my friend Tracker this week, mainly of our good ship Valiant. I also wanted to showcase some of the equipment that would get used by the 77th Valiant Operations Wing, the PAFTA - PArabolic Freefall Training Aircraft, as part of the Astronaut Flight Training Program. It's essentially a KC-135, suited for training astronauts and candidates in low gravity environments. As always, please enjoy!

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Chapter 7: Some Assembly Required
Hi all, so I thought I'd surprise you with another chapter this week, even though I wasn't sure I'd be able to get one out this week. This time, we're starting construction on our LEO station, and moving forward with plans towards supporting sustainable access to space across the Atlantic! We have some incredible shots of Valiant done by Tracker this week, and I'm super glad that he was able to get them for me on such short notice. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, and on with the show!

Chapter 7: Some Assembly Required

Constructing a fleet of Martian bound spacecraft in space would require a complex large enough to handle a spacecraft, while being modular in design to enable construction piece by piece. Skylab had been one story, a large, modular space station augmented by modules brought up by the Shuttle in the later years of its life, but the complex for Martian spacecraft would have to do a lot more. It would have to serve as a scientific platform for when MTVs were not present, and enable comfortable crew accommodations. The station would also be robust to handle the fleet of MTVs strict repair needs, and leverage all that had been learned in regards to orbital construction. The Odyssey Orbital Laboratory would serve this purpose, and would leverage the modular construction ability of the Shuttle system to launch it. The first launch of the program would be a somewhat new type of module for NASA’s human spaceflight program, a multi port node with its own avionics and propulsion elements, with six available ports that had been co-designed by the Soviets and Americans. The node was essentially a stretched SSIM, and would be capable of independent maneuvering in space. Discovery would roll out with the first node, named Serenity, and would launch late in the night to a 51.6º orbit, accessible by both major powers of the program. The node was almost as long as the cargo bay, and had fuel tanks pressed against the side of the hull, barely allowing for enough clearance between the cargo bay and the pressure vessel. Once on orbit, a process similar to the relocation of the Skylab Shuttle Interface Module would take place, moving the node to the docking port of the shuttle, and allowing for its solar panels to deploy. These solar panels would later be augmented by much larger panels on either end of the truss of the station. Discovery’s crew reported no issues, and successfully undocked from the nascent complex after 7 days on orbit. Atlantis would be the next to fly, carrying with it a unique truss element, as well as the mounting point for the station’s primary heavyweight robotic manipulator. The truss would serve as a tunnel between the two primary nodes of the station, in order to enable crews to work near the MTV, without wasting time on spacewalks translating around the truss. This truss segment also contained propellant tanks for Serenity’s thrusters, which were linked on EVA. The assembly work proved challenging, but easier than expected, only bolstering NASA’s confidence in their ability to assemble their fleet of Martian spacecraft. The next four flights would see the lower node, Harmony, delivered, another two truss segments, and the first of two massive deployable solar arrays, which would allow for further expansion of the station and move towards permanent crew operations.

On the ground, work was being done in preparation to ready the Liberté Crew Return Vehicle, a first of its kind lifting body produced via NASA-ESA consortium. In many ways, the CRV leveraged more from the American lifting body program than from that of the ESA Hermés program, which was rather quickly being wound down. Added complexity had doomed Hermés from the start, and the rather simple nature of the Liberté lifting body had been seen as the more attractive option, not to mention the cash influx from the American space program. Quietly, and without much fanfare, Hermés was dropped from ESA’s human spaceflight program, proceeding ahead with support on Liberté. In Europe, the cancellation of Hermés sparked controversy, with some member nations growing concerned about lack of independent crew access. ESA leadership, in response, would move to reassure their partners that Liberté would be a stepping stone towards independent crew access. The testing program was proceeding in the New Mexico desert, under NASA supervision. Using a series of complex drop tests, the lifting body could be tested at scale, with hopes of getting the vehicle fully certified for flight and crew rotation by 1988.

Discovery made its first return to the station in the fall of 1984, carrying with it the Quest airlock, a portal for astronauts to move through to enable construction and servicing. It had been a relatively routine flight at this point, and every flight moved the station towards a permanent crew onboard. The crew docked on flight day two, and on flight day five, moved the airlock with the help of the station’s robotic arm. The station would soon reach “tended” capacity, usable as long as shuttles were present at the station, but not yet ready to support assembly of the Mars Transfer Vehicle fleet or independent science operations. However, for a moment, Discovery was not the only US spacecraft in space. Valiant had rolled out to SLC-6 for OF-11, its 11th overall mission for the Air Force. But this was not to be a normal mission… About a month prior, a Delta launch vehicle had pitched south over the Pacific ocean, carrying a payload to LEO known only as CheckPoint-1A. Not much else was known about it, other than it was definitely a military endeavor. Launching to the south, as all other missions from Vandenberg had done, Valiant made the ascent to orbit, ditching its external tank and boosters and opening her cargo bay. It would soon become clear what this mission would be: the fabled once around rendezvous which drove many of the Shuttle’s design choices, including the large cross-range capability provided by its delta wings. The shuttle’s launch was visible from the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory, and as it dipped below the horizon, the true nature of the mission was conducted. In less than 90 minutes, the crew would open their payload bay, grapple CheckPoint-1A, stow it, and prepare to land at Edwards. The 7 person crew on Valiant, and Discovery’s 7 person crew attending to the station, briefly set the record for humans in space, at 14.

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The orbiter re-entered, and proceeded to follow the landing pattern that was standard among shuttle operations, lazy S-turns towards the desert. The vehicle placed its landing gear firmly on the ground, and two and a half thousand miles away, a phone in the Pentagon rang. Confirmation of the Shuttle’s ability to capture such objects on quick rendezvous was a huge win for the Air Force, and a sign that they could feasibly push their orbiter much harder and faster than NASA could. Proposals for what to do with the orbiter had been pouring into the Pentagon, and soon, details for an emergent program to service telescopes, and perhaps even expand on concepts devised during the MOL program. Details about this mission would remain classified for over 10 years after the end of the rollout, with details only emerging in congressional hearings on Air Force management. But work on an idea, one in which the Air Force could have a presence in space, began.

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October of 1984 would see the next batch of solid rocket motors rolled out of Magna, Utah, and two motors from this batch would be shipped to Thiokol’s mountainside test stand for quality control firings, before being returned to the flightline. Testing conditions had never dipped below 60ºF during normal operation, and all shuttle launches to this point had also been conducted at temperatures well above this point. But weather conditions in both California and Florida had seen much lower temperatures of late, and officials from NASA were eager to identify any potential issues that may impact launches on their upcoming family of vehicles. One of the two quality control boosters was rolled onto the test stand, and ambient temperatures held steady at around 31ºF. The booster was lit, and around 50 seconds into the test firing, a burn through was noticed around one of the O-rings. These O-rings were designed to flex as the heat in the booster warmed them, but ambient air temperature had clearly prevented that kind of plasticity from occurring. The stack burned through its propellants, and engineers from NASA descended on the booster. A grounding of shuttle flights was considered, but instead, careful temperature checks would be conducted, ensuring that the booster's O-Rings never descended below 50ºF. Weeks of meetings would result in new operating parameters for the Shuttle and upcoming SDLV stack, and improved O-rings would fly as soon as the summer of 1985.

As the end of 1984 approached, it became clear that Olympus had a problem potentially looming over it. The NERVA program had, in its infancy, been a troublesome beast. Engine testing had been unreliable and costly, and public fears about nuclear safety had warranted the shut down of the program. The NeXT program had been no different, with the test stand engines proving to be quite the challenge to wrangle. Performance was down, and there had been a moment of reckoning when engines were taken apart, to reveal nearly breached containment of the nuclear material. NASA knew, in its heart of hearts, that a chemical backup should be considered, and began a quiet study to ensure some form of contingency. Work leveraged on cryogenic propellants would translate to this “backup” program, and potential restarts of the J-2 program could be leveraged to power a series of expendable, staged vehicles. It would be up to the engineers working with the nuclear engine, and the MTV program as a whole, to deliver a reliable vehicle for the Olympus program. This was, in many ways, not optimal. A chemical redesign would be costly and require completely changing the mission architecture. However, a contender for a potential replacement would soon emerge. Based off of concepts for an engine known only as Project V, this engine had a higher projected thrust, lower weight and shorter burn times, maximizing their usefulness in the scope of the mission. This engine, known later as Valkyrie, seemed revolutionary on paper - but it left NASA with a difficult call to make. Would it be worth it to shut down NERVA-NeXT and move to this new engine, which had not spent any time on a test stand so far? Or would it be best to proceed, attempting to fix the inherent issues with NERVA-NeXT, with an eye open on the progress of Project V. Time would tell, but time was also running out for the selection of a new powerplant to get to Mars.

NOTE: Project V is largely based on the specs for Timberwind, the engine developed by the Strategic Defense Initiative/DoE/USAF. ITTL, there is no SDI as competition with Russia for space based combat effectiveness is largely seen as irrelevant. Work in the aerospace sector surrounding nuclear engines would likely produce a number of designs that would compete with NERVA. Also of note: Liberté of this universe effectively resembles a scaled up IXV, the lifting body testbed that flew as a precursor to SpaceRider, but scaled up to accommodate crew members in the reclined position seen on the ARCV.
 
"Timberwind"? Bleh, it had fantastic paper performance but testing showed it actually had none of the advantages and far more flaws than pre-supposed. There actually was a contemporary "competitor" to NERVA called DUMBO but financial issues side-lined it before it really got anywhere.

How was NERVA "costly and unreliable"? Considering they had a flight ready engine design fully tested and ready to build in 1969...

Randy
 
"Timberwind"? Bleh, it had fantastic paper performance but testing showed it actually had none of the advantages and far more flaws than pre-supposed. There actually was a contemporary "competitor" to NERVA called DUMBO but financial issues side-lined it before it really got anywhere.
DUMBO died a slow death because, while an operatively superior engine to the original NERVA design, by the time it was in a place of needing money it was already clear that Congress was not inclined to fund the sorts of missions where a direct-cycle nuclear-thermal rocket would be useful. And would certainly not fund blast-offs with a direct-cycle nuclear-thermal rocket, and that the T/W ratio greater than 1 was DUMBO's biggest selling point. The saddest part of the DUMBO story is that its death felt pretextual, as while having to share a nozzle with NERVA for budgetary reasons -- which killed DUMBO's performance -- was what ended the project, the writing was on the wall it was going to end in any event because nobody had a use for its capabilities.

But yeah, Timberwind's mostly vaporware. ...mostly.

If you want absolutely crazy nuclear rocket shenanigans, though, you can't beat Rolls-Royce's Advanced Thermodynamic Cycle engine. It's basically proto-Serpent from 1972. Alan Bond's been having that particular wacky -- and wackily awesome -- idea for that long. And since it's an indirect-cycle nuclear rocket, you gain the benefits of a solid-core NTR's well-established workings while removing most of the really nasty downsides of a solid-core NTR, like the radioactive thrust plume and the remass eating the fuel rods.
 
There's also this if you want crazy but also oddly workable



also a great update :)
As much as I love sea dragon, I don't think we'll be taking that route with the way Olympus is going. We'll mainly stick with Energia/SDLV-OPAV and some upcoming EELV-type vehicles to support the program as a whole. The whole point of these programs is that they can be modular and work together. That being said, Sea Dragon is fucking baller
 
Chapter 8: Close Call
Hi all, sorry about the delay in posts. Had kind of a long weekend so I wasn't able to get much edited. As advantageous as pre-writing is, you gotta make time for the edits! This week I wanna thank Jay and Tracker for once again banging out some STELLAR images of the equipment in the Proxima universe, and bearing with me for all of my design changes. We are really getting into the meat of it now, and I can't wait to get back to regular posts.

Chapter 8: Close Call

As 1985 rolled around, Rockwell had been making considerable progress on their Shuttle Derived Launch Vehicle - Orbital Payload Assist Vehicle fleet, and had converted their former Shuttle production site into a 4 bay manufacturing facility. The vehicles, numbered OV-201 through 204, were in various stages of production, after a small delay in the procurement of the R-40 reaction control engine. Pathfinder tanks for the external tank modification were also proceeding on schedule, and the first flight ready tank was expected to roll off the production line by the end of 1987. Further upgrades came about in the form of upgraded “Super Light Weight” tanks which enabled even greater payload margins to the 51.6º orbit. These would become the standard Martin Marietta-provided tanks across the entire Shuttle-SDLV fleet. In light of the safety audit conducted for NASA’s orbiter fleet in the aftermath of the Utah incident, these tanks would also address potential foam shedding issues that had been noted on ascent during recent flights. It was crucial that NASA not lose an orbiter or OPAV pod to ensure maximum crew safety, as well as continue the immense forward momentum of the program. For NASA, it was a moderately comfortable time - work was progressing on all fronts of the vehicles required for Olympus, and soon, the infrastructure would be complete on Earth and in space, as the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory entered its final year of dedicated construction. All that remained of the structure would be brought up to complete complex; the starboard truss elements, logistics modules, Japanese Experiment Module and logistics carriers designed to enable greater workspace efficiency during maintenance on the MTV. At the end of the year, the station had entered its core complete phase, and became one of the largest structures ever assembled in space. Upon completion, Odyssey would see frequent rotation by Shuttle crews as the station came to life. NASA and the Soviet Union would use this opportunity to fly together, and the first flight to the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory with a Soviet Cosmonaut, Dr. Yevgeniy Volkov, would be met with orbital fanfare similar to that of the Apollo Soyuz Test Project during his flight to Odyssey. NASA astronauts, eager to try out the venerable Soyuz vehicle, were soon offered that chance, as Star City was opened to non-Soviet astronauts to enable training on the Soyuz crew capsule for interim operations, at least until Liberté was certified for service.

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Work on the Mars Surface Access Vehicle, on both sides of the Pacific, was proceeding. NASDA had selected their engines for the descent stage, a licensed and modernized production run of the Soviet hydrolox RD-57 engine, rebranded under Japanese license as the LE-57M. The engine fit nearly perfectly into the program, the only snag for Japan’s industry coming from securing the production rights from the Soviet Union. Modifications to cut weight were made, including removing the RD-57’s roll control thrusters. The pathfinder engines, shipped directly from the Soviet Union, spent nearly 2,000 hours combined testing, and the subsequent LE-57M would see double that time on the stand. The engine produced 392 kN in vacuum, and could throttle down to roughly 20%, enabling fine control during the delicate last few moments of landing. The ascent stage would see the use of the same engine, connected to a tank manufactured by Martin Marietta, as well as a unique hybrid ullage-abort system that could help bring the crew back to orbit in the event of emergency. When the vehicle would lift off the planet’s surface, 3 powerful solid rocket motors inside the aerodynamic shell of the lander would fire, pushing the vehicle away from the descent stage, and settling the propellant to be fed into the LE-57M. The whole system was designed, from the get go, to ensure that crews remained safe during their descent and ascent, and flight computers were already being tested in simulations, as well as contingency landing scenarios with astronauts. The designers of this program had touted the safety of the landing software and hardware as some of the best ever produced.

As a precursor to the Olympus program, an early expeditionary force would be required to help further the understanding of humanity on the Red Planet. A variety of probes across the Iron Curtain, and their respective rockets, were in various stages of assembly as the next window to Mars approached. It would see, for the first time, a European orbiter as well as a Japanese orbiter. This Martian Armada would be essential for laying the groundwork at their destination, and provide valuable data for the space agencies on what to expect once humans made planetfall. Most of these spacecraft were nearing completion, ready to begin humanity's trek to Mars. NASA would also perform some of the first dedicated servicing missions on their own spacecraft using the Space Shuttle system, with Atlantis approaching and grappling the stricken Solar Maximum satellite, a solar observatory which was proving useful in helping to anticipate solar storms - something that would be required in order to protect Mars bound crews. A follow up telescope, as well as a dual launch sun sensing campaign, were in the works for an early 90s launch. The launch of Hubble, NASA’s flagship space telescope, had been delayed numerous times due to cost overrun debates, as well as problems detected in the spacecraft’s mirror assembly. Many called for the cancellation of the program, but scientists supporting the program made vocal their projections for the telescope’s capability, and encouraged further development. To some, it seemed that all hands were needed for the success of Olympus, and that meant potentially axing programs that could deliver huge science return. Nevertheless, NASA and their partners persisted, calling for unity amongst scientists to approach both planetary science and astrophysics.

Valiant and her operations continued, seemingly without stopping for much of 1985, as work for a project known only to the public only as ODIN soldiered on in relative secrecy. Unlike NASA, which had dedicated facilities under construction for a crew in orbit, the United States Air Force had no such base of operations, which severely limited the capabilities of what the crews of Valiant could do. Studies pulled from the MOL program once again hinted to a greater purpose for the Air Force in space, one that looked to extend the life of their on orbit assets. A dedicated station of their own, would in theory, enable the Air Force to prolong the life of their most secret satellites, and construct new satellites with an architecture of serviceability in mind. ODIN, standing for Orbital Defense Intelligence Network, would comprise multiple components: Block II KH-11s with better Shuttle integration in mind, Valiant herself, and a small polar orbit space station, which would serve as the connection point. A crew could arrive at this station, capture the KH-11 they intended to service, and use either Valiant’s airlock or an airlock on station to go outside and service said vehicle. In contrast to NASA's Odyssey, this station would not be permanently crewed, but tended by occasional shuttle crews. The first three modules of the servicing station, a utility node, a lab and the power element, would be ordered under the guise of an Air Force research laboratory, concealing their true purpose even further.

Valiant had continued to outpace NASA’s individual orbiter turnaround, flying on average once every 65.8 days. Air Force internal memos highlighted the 77th Valiant Operations Division’s streamlined servicing techniques, and made it clear that their methodology allowed them to fly as consistently as they did, unlike NASA’s finicky orbiters. NASA, comfortable in their safety conscious mindset, had continued to outpace the orbiter in terms of overall numbers of flights, but enjoyed the luxuries of a five ship fleet with detailed inspections between flights. It soon became clear, however, that the Air Force’s lax approach to safety would ultimately lead to issues. OF-16, a quick turnaround flight of the orbiter with a classified payload, would lift off from SLC-6 in the early Fall, pitching over south into the Marine layer. The flight would be one of the last before the upgrade to the SLWT-AF, a version of the upcoming Super Light Weight Tank designed to work directly with Aft Cargo Carriers deployed on Valiant missions. The vehicle would encounter fogging conditions on the flight deck windows, unusual but not unheard of for operations out of California. This lapse in vision resulted in the crew not being aware of damage to their vehicle, as a small piece of foam had come loose and fallen from the vehicle, damaging the thermal blankets and several heat shield tiles directly below the flight deck window. The crew of Valiant was unable to see this take place, but they did hear it, and soon after orbital insertion, it was confirmed that the nose of the orbiter had sustained damage. At the Edwards Air Force Base control center, it was clear that they had entered an unknown paradigm. NASA had encountered this issue two years earlier, with a small piece of foam striking the window pane of an orbiter, and had conducted a study detailing safe operations going forward. The Air Force, more concerned than they had seemed in a while, rushed a joint team from Rockwell and NASA to Edwards, scrambling to figure out how to assess damage to the vehicle. Valiant did not carry a robotic arm, but did have spacesuits available on this mission. The two payload specialists would soon be instructed in how to conduct a rather risky EVA, climbing over the flight deck while secured on a tether to the cargo bay. The damage became apparent as soon as the crewmen crossed over the flight deck, the thermal blankets had been torn, and the heat shield scuffed but not penetrated, as flight directors at Edwards had quietly feared. The crew ingressed from their EVA, and spoke with mission control about the next steps.

OF-16 was directed by Edwards to proceed with the rest of its mission, deploying a polar orbiting Earth observation satellite, and spend an extra few days in orbit while the crew worked to assess their heat shield issues. Word of the incident had been kept locked down, and teams from Rockwell, NASA and the Air Force were instructed to keep quiet. The final two days of the mission soon dawned on the crew, and once again, they ventured out over the cabin of the orbiter. Their first step was to secure the loose thermal blanket, done with a staple gun, to the side of the orbiter. There was not much that they could do to repair the thermal protection system tiles, but photos were taken and the crew soon ingressed the airlock. After 9 days in orbit, Valiant would head home, with an air of anxiety surrounding both the crew and those on the ground. The vehicle entered the atmosphere, and the long lazy s-turns so customary of the shuttle program helped the ship bleed off speed as the vehicle approached the desert for its landing. High powered scopes on the ground would be the first to reveal that the damage to the orbiter was greater than anyone could have thought. Valiant had damaged a total of 16 tiles, a dangerous precedent for orbiter operations. NASA was quick to point the finger at unsafe practice within the Air Force, while the Air Force was quick to turn to Rockwell for answers. Valiant was quietly rolled into a hangar at Edwards for a conclusive review, and rumors of a potential stand down of the Air Force shuttle program spread through the 77th…

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Note: While it is not shown in the wonderful images done by Jay, the station would have two or three systems of robotic arms, and components to help brace the MTV when docked that can be installed to facilitate construction. Also, unlike, the ISS, these radiators will remain locked and facing nadir for ease of operations. Also, the station is in the correct orientation, with the upper PMA being reserved for the upcoming MTV. The OF-16 incident is directly inspired by the STS-27 incident, in which Atlantis and her crew were nearly lost due to impacts on the tiles of the vehicle.
 
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Chapter 8.5: Image Annex
Chapter 8.5: Image Annex

Hi all, I wanted to share with you some extra images that have been done by Jay and Tracker, and get some shots of some of spacecraft in action. Included in this post will be: more shots of Odyssey in its nearly completed state, Valiant working deployment missions and some overall glamor shots. Also of note, one of these solar panels has most likely flown before, being repurposed from its time on Skylab to serve the new orbital complex. I really hope you enjoy and give these guys some kudos for all their dedication to this project! Next week, we'll see some more Soviet activity and some probes!
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Chapter 9: The Martian Invasion
Hi all! Happy Monday! I hope that you all have had an amazing week! This week, we are taking a look at the intrepid, uncrewed explorers that make up our first wave of Martian missions, and our human activities in Low Earth Orbit. I wanna thank two wonderful people this week, my dear friends Trystan and Zarbon, who put so much amazing work into this project and and gave me some absolutely amazing images to work with, so go check out their work as well!

Anyway, let's get on with Chapter 9!

Chapter 9: The Martian Invasion

Amidst the activity of the Human Spaceflight Office's endeavors, NASA’s planetary science office was proceeding with bold missions to destinations across the solar system. In May of 1986, a launch from the Kennedy Space Center broke the morning silence. The Galileo mission, a multi year, orbital campaign at Jupiter, was carried into space by Discovery, and was sent on its way by the solid fueled Inertial Upper Stage. Originally planned to be launched with a Centaur, potential consequences of carrying a payload bay full of liquid hydrogen was deemed too risky, and the upper stage was switched. This vehicle would be the first of many interplanetary missions launched from the Space Shuttle. After separation from the upper stage, the probe successfully unfolded its high gain antenna, magnetometer booms and assumed the correct attitude for cruise. Thus began the multi billion mile trek to Jupiter, conducting multiple flybys to build up momentum as Galileo traveled throughout the Solar System.

In the case for Mars, there were crucial questions that remained unanswered. How much did the weather impact the planet’s surface? What does solar wind interaction look like? Where would the best landing site for water be located, and how can we manage safety in an area that might be the most geologically interesting? In preparation for the upcoming crewed Mars missions, NASA, ESA and the Soviet Union would launch the largest ensemble of ships to the Red Planet on record. These spacecraft would serve to rapidly expand human knowledge of the Red Planet, beyond the work done by the Mariner and Viking programs. The roles of the spacecraft were split into 3 distinct categories; high fidelity planetary imaging, surface environment categorization and communications. Most of the probes in the 1986 fleet would consist of imaging probes, the largest of which would be the joint NASA-ESA Mars Dual Surface Mapper. This mission would consist of two spacecraft orbiting at slightly different near polar inclinations, aimed to observe as much of the planet as possible. Work on these orbiters had begun in 1979 at JPL as part of the Planetary Exploration Program, the idea being that over a period of time, the probes could work in tandem to collect data about the planet’s surface. The primary instruments for the probes would be their high power cameras, derived from sensors developed for the Corona program. The individual probes would be named Eros and Anteros, twin investigators at Mars which would help pave the way and act as an early relay for orbiters and landers. These two spacecraft would be launched together on a Titan IIIE, and would arrive at Mars in early 1987.

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ESA would contribute another orbiter to the ensemble, the Copernicus climate mapping spacecraft, to help study the overall qualities of the Martian atmosphere, and help to study the ways in which various gasses played a part in the climate of the planet. The probe would be one of Europe’s first interplanetary missions, using a leftover spacecraft bus from the Giotto comet spacecraft launched the previous year. This bus would prove to be incredibly reliable, and become a staple of early European planetary exploration. The launch would see the use of an Ariane 44L, a reliable lifter in its own right. The spacecraft would differ from its cometary counterpart in several distinct ways, the first being the removal of the Whipple shielding and the installation of a non rotating science platform, as well as the change from a fixed antenna to a pointable antenna, also mounted on the science platform. Also added to the probe would be a small solid stage, meant to assist the spacecraft with orbital insertion, with fine tuning coming from the spacecraft's onboard propulsion. The probe would aim to categorize the ideal time of year for crewed Martian landings, and identify any atmospheric anomalies not detected by earlier generations of spacecraft.

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The Soviet Union would undertake the heavy lifting of the program, launching 4 complicated spacecraft during the window. Communication at Mars was essential, as the crew would be splitting up into two teams during the initial wave of landings, the orbital team and the descent team. To ensure local communications remained solid, the Soviets looked to the success of the American Tracking and Data Relay Satellites and began to formulate their design. The result would be a series of 3 relay spacecraft, placed in an areostationary orbit around the Red Planet. These spacecraft would come to be known as Zreniye, Russian for eyesight. The fourth spacecraft the Soviets would launch carried with it a ground penetrating radar suite, known as Vody, designed to look for water near candidate landing sites. It was thought that water near a landing site could potentially harbor the ingredients for life, and in the case of a lifeless water source, assist the crew in long term exploration through the use of in situ resource utilization, or ISRU. The 3 relay orbiters would be launched on Proton launch vehicles, while Vody would be launched on a Zenit, the testbed vehicle for the upcoming Energia lifter. All of the spacecraft would arrive at Mars successfully, beginning Phase 1 of the Olympus Program’s precursor work.

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In space, construction was nearing its final stages on the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory. Atlantis would bring up the second set of robotic arms, fitted on the shorter end of the station’s truss structure, giving the station adequate reach. With the flight of Space Shuttles Discovery, Intrepid and Endeavour the external payload racks and support arms for the MTV would be delivered, rendering the station complete. These were outfitted in a series of complex, multi hour spacewalks, and the first time that both the Shuttle Airlock and the Station airlock had been used in conjunction to enable four crewmembers to work outside. By splitting up the crews of spacewalkers into two distinct teams, they could accomplish much more, and reduce the overall time spent outside the vehicle. Once this outfitting was complete, Odyssey Orbital Laboratory was the largest structure ever assembled in space, and could be seen from the ground easily. However, there remained a gap in capability that needed to be solved, crew access. A major wrench had been thrown in the European led project in the fall of 1986, when the first crew rated Liberté Crew Return Vehicle rolled off of the production line. All had gone well during checkout, however, during shipment, the heat shield tiles of the vehicle had been damaged due to poor handling. After inspection at the Kennedy Space Center, the vehicle was returned to Toulouse for repairs. Until completion of the CRV, it had been decided that Soyuz vehicles refitted with APAS ports would temporarily fly to the station, with the partner agencies waiting to use Shuttle in conjunction with the Liberté CRV. In conjunction with Odyssey’s completion, a unique demonstrator was launched onboard a Titan IIIE, an inflatable module demonstration mission, designed to remain in LEO for up to a year, measuring the effectiveness of inflatable habitat design before proceeding with final assembly on the Hab segments on the ground. The vehicle would demonstrate the robustness of inflatable design, and would demonstrate passive radiation insulation, thermal management and MMOD shielding. After just 7 months in orbit, the pathfinder mission was labeled a success, and deorbited.

In the Soviet Union, a behemoth was being born. Energia, the modular launch vehicle slated for launching heavy payloads, and in another life, a space shuttle of Soviet design, was rolled out to the pad at the Baikonur Cosmodrome for the first time. This would begin a three week campaign of fit checks before rolling back for payload installation. Energia's four Zenit boosters had been flight proven, their functionality and reliability had been proved in the launching of Vody to Mars, as well as a new series of Earth orbit tracking and relay satellites. This first payload, a DOS block core module, would be launched to a 51.6º orbit, the same orbital inclination of the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory. This first module of the Functional Training Complex (Функциональный тренировочный комплекс) was originally planned for a much larger space station known as Mir, would be the first of 3, comprising a small space station designed to help train astronauts for long duration spaceflight. This station, first thought of years ago before the Paris Agreement, had been delayed several times due to issues with construction, but now, the plans for Mars were bearing fruit. Leaning on the design of the venerable Salyut stations, this station would incorporate lessons learned from the prolific life of the Soviet LEO effort. This DOS core block would serve as the command and control center for human training, and aim to complement the work of Odyssey. As part of the agreement, partner astronauts would fly to both the Soviet station, as well as to Odyssey for assembly assistance and training onboard the MTV. The station's launch was a resounding success, and was christened Zarya, the Russian word for Sunrise.

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Valiant, after a brief stand down in the beginning of the year, would see a rare east coast launch deploying 3 Space Test Program satellites, as well as a quick-turnaround flight from the west coast with a Starlab pallet in tow. There had been a great sense of unease emanating from NASA over the Air Force’s use of Valiant, and the close call during OF-16 had only made this anxiety worse. While NASA could improve safety aspects on their own vehicles, they were relatively powerless to influence the Pentagon’s operating procedure. There had been suggestions to intervene on the part of Rockwell, but pressure from Air Force leadership had kept the vehicle flying. Use of the Aft Cargo Carrier had become standard on every flight, and the Air Force had been rumored to be looking at moving all DoD flights onto Valiant, despite initial pushback from expendable launch vehicle manufacturers. To the Air Force, the incident of the previous year was merely a hiccup, and higher ups continued to tout Valiant’s high flight rate as a selling factor to Congress. Deep within the inner workings of Shuttle contractors however, there remained a great deal of concern. According to those within the industry, mismanagement and poor handling of the vehicle, on the part of the Air Force, would only lead to further incidents like OF-16, and many within Rockwell, Martin Marietta and Thiokol felt powerless to stand up to the higher ups at the Pentagon. To those watching from the sidelines, it was a nail biter - but to those within the military, the sky was the limit.
 
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Chapter 9.5: Image Annex
Hi all, so today we are gonna look at some work that's very near and dear to my heart - maps! I wanted to illustrate the regions on Mars that the fleet identified, and that we'll be considering for our human landing program. Maps are what I work on in my free time, and Martian MOLA data (from which this is pulled) is one of the first sets of data that I trained on in my undergrad career. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I will be posting a probes image annex later this week, and I cannot wait to show you all what we have in store!

Chapter 9.5: Image Annex

Scientists on Earth, in the first several months of operations at Mars, would receive a bounty of data unlike anything they had ever encountered. The seemingly dead world was a dynamic place, full of potential water ice, interesting surface geology, trace gases and vistas that were longing to be taken in by crews on the surface. Data from Eros and Anteros had been some of the most advantageous, combining their camera lenses with powerful altitude sensors to produce incredible images. In their course of study, the scientists at both JPL and Johnson would work with their international partners to identify 7 candidate landing sites that would be the most geologically interesting, yet remain cautious of risk. It was determined that for the first landing, a flatter plain would be selected to minimize risk, yet a position near potential water outflow points was the ideal answer. Utopia Planitia, while geologically not incredibly interesting could represent a more safety conscious landing site. A wide flat plain would be ideal for testing the lander's mettle and minimizing EVA risk. Noachis Terra on the other hand, would represent the highest risk landing site, with a deeply cratered landscape surrounding high plains.
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These ellipses and circles, seemingly meaningless in the eyes of laymen, would represent the X Marks the Spot, the first great steps into the unknown. And as these sites had been selected, the eyes in the sky could train their cameras on the landscape, learning all they could before the next wave of robots and ultimately, humans, would be sent to the surface. Soon, these sites would see humans, and these ellipses on paper would become the gateway into the unknown.
 
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