Hi folks, happy Monday! I hope you all have been having a fantastic week, and are excited to explore what we've got in store today in Chapter 36! We're really powering through it, soon enough we'll be caught up with the present day! This week, we'll once again stay a little more terrestrial as we think about our connections in space, and explore some unique geopolitics that will ultimately help us press on in space exploration. This is something that I feel gets overlooked in real life, the immense work required to keep everyone happy and cooperating, so I want to celebrate that. I of course want to thank
Jay, who has been dealing not only with finals, but COVID as well, and has been such a trooper. Anyway, let's get on with the show and dive in!
Chapter 36: A Growing Field
In Rio de Janeiro, the city was celebrating. Brazilian lawmakers had just signed into existence, alongside representatives from Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay, the latest space agency to join the fold: the Coalition for the Advancement of South American Space Exploration - CASASE. In the age of Olympus, it had been proven to be beneficial to go together, and nations from all around the world were eager to participate in upcoming programs. With the successor station to Odyssey looming, and a permanent crew increase from 6 to 12, it was clear that the time to get involved was now. CASASE had goals beyond the training of their own astronauts to fly to space, however, they two aimed to study the solar system and develop a fleet of rockets, launched from Alcantara Spaceport in Brazil. They would focus primarily on the Brazilian led VLS solid fueled rockets initially, while later expanding to cryogenics with lessons learned from their neighbors at Korou. Their program for Solar System exploration would be laid out in three steps, after the development of a fleet of launch vehicles. The first step would be a climate monitoring constellation, Terra, in partnership with NASA. The second would be a lunar orbiter, Naia, named for a Brazilian mythological figure. The third would be a Martian relay orbiter, launched either on their own or in partnership with another agency. Further afield plans called for the flight of one of their instruments, or a subprobe, on the next Japanese Venus orbiter. For a newly blossoming agency, these were big goals, but modern spaceflight called for such bold endeavors in the face of it all. Three astronauts would report to Houston to begin training alongside NASA’s latest class, in preparation for their first rotation flights to Gateway or Odyssey. Os Três Primeiros, or The First Three in Portuguese, would consist of Argentinian Sergio Icardi, Brazilian Camila Santos, and Paraguayan Fernando Santa Cruz would join the recently announced NASA class of 2012, with Camila Santos being selected to fly the first CASASE rotation to Odyssey. Santos had spent her time prior to selection as a Brazilian Air Force pilot, flying the F-5 Tiger II before switching to the T-38. Icardi and Santa Cruz had been selected for their expertise in robotics and Earth science, a fine addition to the ever growing number of astronauts walking through the doors at Johnson Space Center. In April of 2012, Santos would get her shot at the station, launching onboard Discovery for a 6 month rotation to the orbital complex. During her stay, she would conduct science experiments largely focused on Earth observation and robotics, even piloting the robotic arm to capture a Cygnus vehicle, launched days before on an Atlas NG. For CASASE, Santos’ flight was an incredible success, and proved once again that there were many rising powers in spaceflight. CASASE would, in 2013 even sign on to participate in Odyssey’s successor station, providing external cargo racks for climate change related payloads.
2012 was poised to be a great year for the Olympus program, as they once again aimed to return their fleet to full operational capacity. At Gateway, what was once a core module had expanded into a nearly fully complete MTV, courtesy of the work of the Jupiter-OPAV fleet.
Tenacity had led the construction charge, before her Block II refit would commence, upgrading her to the Block III versions of the SSME - required for future payloads the system had lined up. The final piece, carried up on
Adventure, would be the Habitat, moving slowly towards docking with the MTV-Gateway complex. Ever so carefully, the two pieces would make contact, and the myriad of electronic components would be linked over a series of spacewalks. Gateway would once again shine throughout
Selene’s construction, as the design of the station would lend itself to act not only as a base of operations, but a nimble platform in its own right. During the construction of the first MTVs, Odyssey operations for science had slowed to a crawl, and had severely limited the ways in which the station could function. It had been somewhat of a learning curve for the Odyssey and Olympus partners, and as the station aged, it had been decided not to risk the structural integrity of the station in favor of independent or small platform construction.
Selene’s final assembly period was marked by two visiting vehicles, the maiden flight of the second Liberté,
Dream, and the final checkout and assembly flight, flown by
Endeavour. During the orbiter’s stay, the crew would outfit the twin mission modules, and prepare for the post release flight, to be conducted in two months by
Atlantis. While there had been some bumps in the road in picking up the shuttle pace during Selene’s assembly, all had gone largely to plan, and the new transfer vehicle stood as a reminder of what was possible with collaboration. As
Endeavour departed, controllers on the ground would prepare for the next step in
Selene’s life - release from Gateway, and the delivery of Lifeboat 5. Two weeks after
Endeavour’s safe return, an uncrewed Gateway would watch as the vehicle ever so gently would unhook its latches on station, and begin to slowly cast off, pulsing its RCS thrusters as carefully as it could. Selene was away, flying under her own power, ready to begin a storied career in interplanetary transportation. The next step would be the launch of Lifeboat 5, lofted to the station by an Ariane 5 from French Guiana. Nominally, a Boeing Helios vehicle would have been selected for launch, but range readiness and uprating to the Ariane system enabled payload commonality. Lifeboat 5 was secured to the radial APAS port, and
Selene would enter quiescent mode, ready for the long wait before the next shuttle crew could rotate up.
Selene is born - the latest MTV to join the fleet is assembled at Gateway with the help of Endeavour. Gateway's unique abilities made her ideally suited for the construction of a new MTV.
As Olympus 11 made their final approach to Earth, they would reflect on the triumphs of their mission to the Red Planet, and begin to think about the future of the program. Much of the technology and mission profiles tested onboard the mission would focus on life sciences and long term studies of human physiology, as well as analysis of the water samples collected from Gale Crater. Early studies of the samples pointed to an era on Mars much different from the current one, one where trace gasses were abundant and the planet was considerably warmer. But the ever elusive question, was there life on Mars, remained unanswered. The ice samples, along with 400kg of other samples, had been loaded onboard the ascent stage of their lander, and brought with them to the Base Station, ready to be loaded onboard their MTV for the journey home. Departure from Mars had been textbook and the crew had been able to make unique observations of the Martian moons as they left the planet. Plans for the next phase of Martian observation had been in development for some time now, but it became clear to the public where the Olympus program was heading. Olympus 12 through 14 would act as the final series of Augmented Long Stays, with Olympus 13 or 14 projected to perform a bold new feat - “landing” on the surface of Phobos. Their MSAV would be modified with a unique cable grappling system, to be used after a mildly truncated surface stay, once the vehicle had returned the crew to the Base Station. From there, the MSAV and its crew of four would depart from the base station, conducting a series of phasing burns to approach the moonlet over the course of a week. Under the current plan, the lander would hold station with the moon, before firing a series of four grappling cables to secure the lander to the surface. With these cables in place, a truss derived from a Russian Strela crane would be erected to enable astronauts to make the descent to the surface. Using reaction control thrusters, the vehicle would maintain tension on the cables, ensuring no drift of the vehicle while the astronauts conducted their surface sortie, before a return journey to the Base Station and departure for home. Once Olympus 14 was completed, the next phase of the program could begin - establishment of a permanent home on Mars. This new base, named Foundation, would see its first core module landed ahead of the Olympus 15 crew, who would spend their mission setting up power, life support and water production facilities. Additional habitation space would be supplied by inflatable modules, landed ahead of the Olympus 16-Expedition 1 crew, the first two year stay on the surface, utilizing a new reusable lander, tentatively called the Phoenix Mars Ascent Descent Vehicle, already under work by Lockheed Martin and Mitsubishi. As the crew of Olympus 11 would brake into Earth orbit, they knew that the “old way” of performing Martian sorties was coming to an end, and the new era of truly sustainable Martian operations could begin. In the fall of 2012, the engines of an MTV would once again light, as Olympus 12 would depart for Gusev Crater at last, ready to complete the mission Olympus 9. Under the command of Frenchman Jean Luc Baptiste, they would prepare to make history once more, and continue to prepare humanity for a sustained future on Mars.
As Olympus 11 returns home, the program begins to look towards the future - permanent bases on Mars, a new lander, an expedition to Phobos, and more.
In a hangar in Palmdale, Rockwell and Lockheed engineers toiled away at a strange creature, guts and gizzards exposed like some kind of carved up holiday bird. The precursor to the upcoming Venturestar, X-33, sat in pieces as crews rushed to finish her, desperately behind schedule. Their competition, the Northrop Grumman-Raytheon Raven had begun tests on their subscale demonstrator, Crow, and had successfully conducted preburner tests for the RS-84. For the two boosters, it was a close race. X-33 had been plagued by weight issues relating to the tanks, and carbon composites had not behaved as expected, pushing the program further and further to the left. Crow however, had begun its flight campaign - flying demonstration missions with a spare RS-27A main engine from the aging Delta program. Its first two flights had been an overall success, however, the third flight had ended in disaster, as the vehicle returned to the runway at Edwards Air Force Base. Liftoff occurred near midday, with her main engine powering up to her loft height of around 37,000 feet. Using her onboard RCS, she would pitch over and enter into a shallow dive, picking up speed to test handling characteristics of the rather unconventional vehicle. Winds at Edwards had been acceptable for launch, but the super light weight vehicle was clearly being buffeted as it made its approach. The gear, ripped from an F-16 Fighting Falcon, would rely on only gravity to lock, reducing overall complexity. As the vehicle flared over the runway, disaster struck - a gust of wind forced the right wing down to the concrete. Crow would immediately slide right, kicking up a cloud of dust as her wingtip dragged across the ground. She would flip, tossing engine components across the runway, before the tanks in the wing would tear themselves. The fumes left in the kerosene tank would ignite, surrounding the vehicle in fire and debris as she skidded to a stop - smoldering. Recovery crews would immediately descend, working to extinguish the blaze. The Northrop Grumman team was disappointed, for sure, but there had been considerable work done on the vehicle to ensure that this type of mishap would not happen on a full scale flight. After a painstaking rebuild, Crow 2.0 would fly again, completing 6 demonstration flights before finally retiring, paving the way for the larger Raven Block 1 vehicle to follow. It was… painful, to say the least for the X-33 team, but they would press on, hoping to complete their first hot fire and flight by the next year.
—---------------------------------
Sentinels suspended, now jumpier than ever, would focus their eyes on Wenchang once again, as another large launch vehicle roared into the sky, piercing the tranquil blue of the seaside launch site. Intelligence agencies around the world had learned the name of this leviathan - Long March 5. As the boosters would fall away, and the fairing would pop off, another truss element would be revealed, containing additional radiators, fuel tanks, and communications equipment. The vehicle would coast towards its target on station, before coming to a halt, securely fastened. For a while, the space program would remain quiet, with intelligence agencies pondering what the previous two launches had been. On the first of July, at Jiquan, a Shenzhou vehicle would be rolled to the pad with three crew members ready for launch. The vehicle would lift-off and two days later, the crew would rendezvous with the station, still without a word from the Chinese government. Theories began to crop up, ranging from some kind of weapons test facility being constructed in orbit, to a new Hubble-class telescope as a means to one up international astronomy ahead of the Next Generation Space Telescope. It would only be when another launch from Wengchang shook the ground, and spotters in orbit got a good look would the world realize what it was - not a space station, but a ship. The last Long March 5 had not delivered another module, no, but a massive chemical kickstage, which now sat at the aft of the whole complex. The world sat stunned - no one knew the destination of such a craft, and amateur radio enthusiasts desperately tried to catch any of the transmissions from the ship. Five days after launch and docking of the kickstage, the world would be stunned once more as they ignited their main engine, pushing them out of low earth orbit. The world would watch in awe as the spacecraft would head further and further from the Earth, as nations on Earth plotted their trajectory. It soon became clear, in the eyes of the world, what was happening in space - the Chinese were aiming for the Moon.
As the days went on, telescopes on the ground would track the spacecraft as it moved further and further away. On the fourth day of their journey, a downlinked speech would be broadcast to the world, and a familiar voice would ring out from the televisions and computer monitors of the planet. Yang Liwei, the first Taikonaut in space, would showcase the interior of their ship, Baochuán, as they began to close in on the moon. “We, the Chinese people, have chosen to be bold. The world has turned its face to the heavens, and we welcome the rising tide of humanity as we ascend into space. Below us, we reflect on the steps of those who came before, and wonder where we, as a species, will go next. The Solar System is ready for greater leaps, and we believe it is our purpose to explore and find what is out there, calling to us. With this great ship, Baochuán-1, and others like it, we will explore a variety of Near Earth Objects and learn what resources lie there, learning how to work away from our planet. China is ready to broaden our horizons, and lead the way for permanent human habitation in space. We will build a new world for humanity, one where we may reflect on our past, and have faith for the future.” The reaction from the international community was one of varying degrees of shock. Another nation had flown past the moon, seemingly overnight - a staggering feat. But many were quick to remember the words of the Tiangong-1 crew as they laid out their vision for the future in space - they were serious. As the spacecraft ditched its transfer stage, and the crew would prepare for their return, the world would tentatively applaud their feat, hopeful that the spirit of cooperation would stay at the forefront of everyone’s minds. It would not be until after the recovery of the crew from the Mongolian plateau would the details of the mission start to creep out. Rumors circulated online pointed to numerous problems with the design of the spacecraft, including entire racks of computers failing as they passed through the Van Allen belts. Further rumors persisted about a potential early separation from the spacecraft as systems continued to fail, but CNSA would remain tight lipped about it all. It wouldn’t be until nearly 10 years later, upon Yang’s retirement, when the world would know of all the trials and tribulations of that mission - failed sensors and a crippled ship, hurtling home with an uncertain outlook on the status of their vehicle. Their Shenzhou, not hardened enough for the Van Allen Belts’ intense radiation, had its flight computer nearly entirely cooked, resulting in the crew being forced to perform a manually guided entry, something not attempted since the inception of human spaceflight. However, for the Chinese, failure was not an option - and to the rest of the world, the image of a stunning success were what they needed.