Soviet and U.S. Manned Military Spaceflight Programs That Never Left Earth

MOL buildingThe Douglas building where MOL would undergo final assembly prior to shipment to Vandenberg Air Force Base. (credit: NRO)

Diamonds and DORIANS: The Soviet Union’s Almaz and the United States’ Manned Orbiting Laboratory military space stations (part 2)

MOL and Almaz enter active development

by Dwayne A. Day and Bart Hendrickx
Monday, December 18, 2023

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The American story

The Manned Orbiting Laboratory was initially started by the US Air Force in late 1963, studied throughout 1964, and received presidential authorization by summer 1965. Contract definition, proposal evaluations, and contract negotiations occurred thru late 1966, but by early 1967 it was clear that there was insufficient budget to proceed on the planned schedule and timeline and contract adjustments followed (see “Diamonds and DORIANS: the Soviet Union’s Almaz and the United States’ Manned Orbiting Laboratory military space stations (part 1),” The Space Review, December 11, 2023.) By mid-1967, the program was well underway, with various contractors around the United States building facilities and ramping up work. MOL, and its huge KH-10 DORIAN optical system, became a major military space program for the United States Air Force and the secretive National Reconnaissance Office (NRO).

MOL designThe MOL laboratory was a large vehicle with many components. (credit: NRO)

Station design

MOL consisted of a Gemini spacecraft, a connecting section, a pressurized operations section known as the “laboratory module,” and a large unpressurized segment known as the “mission module” containing the optics. The Gemini was officially known as the Gemini B. It was similar to the NASA Gemini spacecraft with one significant difference: an access hatch located between the astronauts’ seats and passing through the heat shield. This was considered a potential vulnerability. In November 1966, the Air Force launched a Titan III rocket carrying a refurbished Gemini spacecraft equipped with the heat shield hatch. The rocket launched from Florida and the spacecraft flew a suborbital trajectory and splashed down in the Atlantic Ocean, proving that the heat shield worked.

MOLThe Gemini B spacecraft had a hatch through the heatshield to enable the astronauts to reach the laboratory module. In November 1966, the Air Force launched a test version of the spacecraft to evaluate the hatch. Here the spacecraft is being unloaded in Florida. (credit: Joe Page II)

MOL was a heavy payload and required a powerful rocket to reach orbit. The Titan IIIC rocket had added solid rocket motors to the side of a Titan II core stage. It had its first flight in summer 1965. MOL required even more lifting capability, provided by bigger solid rocket motors consisting of seven motor segments. This rocket was designated the Titan IIIM. Testing was not scheduled until 1969.

MOLThe unmanned Gemini test flight was conducted from Florida using a Titan IIIC rocket. Actual MOL launches would take place in California using a more powerful rocket known as the Titan IIIM. (credit: Joe Page II)
MOLThe Titan IIIC being prepared for flight. The test was successful, proving that the heatshield hatch was safe. (credit: Wikipedia)

Throughout 1967 and 1968, work progressed on a major construction project at Vandenberg Air Force Base to provide a launch site for the Titan IIIM and support to the payload, including the Gemini spacecraft. Vandenberg had been busy in the late 1950s and through the 1960s for the test-launching of ballistic missiles, and launched operational intelligence satellites on a near-weekly basis, but it had never supported a mission with astronauts. The construction at Space Launch Complex 6 (or “Slick-6”) took place at a southern part of the base on newly-acquired land, and it was one of the largest single construction projects the base had ever seen. After the clearing of land and the establishment of the concrete foundations for the complex, workers began erecting the launch tower and related structures.

MOLThe Space Launch Complex 6 construction site was one of the largest projects at Vandenberg Air Force Base. (credit: Joe Page II)
MOLSLC-6 at Vandenberg is nestled between low rising mountains and the Pacific Ocean. The site has recently been turned over to SpaceX and will likely resume launches in 2025. (credit: Joe Page II)

The DORIAN optical payload

The Manned Orbiting Laboratory program included a powerful optical system code-named DORIAN, also known as the KH-10 to those who were not cleared to know the specific design features of the hardware. The optical system was mounted in what was known as the “mission module” located behind the “laboratory module.” The mission module was 11 meters (36 feet) long and three meters (ten feet) in diameter. DORIAN was the largest space optics system designed up to that time. It used the same general configuration as the GAMBIT satellite, which had an optical system designed by Kodak. It had a “tracking mirror” on one end—near the middle of the MOL vehicle—which bent the light and sent it to a primary, large focusing mirror at the rear of the spacecraft. The primary mirror then sent the focused image back to a secondary mirror located in front of the tracking mirror. This secondary mirror bent the image up to another mirror that then sent the image into the camera, where the image was projected onto a piece of film.

MOL mirrorsA portion of the DORIAN optical system including the large ”tracking mirror” (also referred to as the “stereo mirror”) which looked down towards the Earth. The astronauts would have been located to the right in this image. (credit: NRO)

The primary mirror had a diameter of 1.8 meters (72 inches). The focal length remains classified, but based upon declassified drawings that include the dimensions of the mission module, it appears to have been 12.45 meters (490 inches) and f/7, which was the ratio of the aperture to the focal length. (Generally, the lower the f-ratio, the more light reaches the focal point where the film is exposed—like the difference between looking down a short, wide tunnel compared to a long, narrow tunnel, which will naturally be darker.)

The DORIAN system was intended to achieve ten-centimeter (four-inch) ground resolution from orbit. This was referred to as a “very high resolution” or VHR system. (By the 1970s, the term was apparently changed to ultra-high resolution.) The purpose of such high resolution was to provide technical details of certain Soviet weapons systems. For instance, a VHR system could determine the aerodynamic flight surfaces on a Soviet anti-ballistic missile, thus indicating if it was intended to operate in the atmosphere or above it.

MOLMOL would have used the largest optical system ever flown in space. The mirror was of an advanced lightweight design, and the technology was later adapted to the KH-11 KENNEN and the Hubble Space Telescope. (credit: NRO)

The big primary reconnaissance camera was augmented with additional optical systems. Robotic spacecraft included cameras that photographed the Earth’s horizon, which provided precise data on how the spacecraft was oriented—for instance, was it pointed straight down or off to one side? They also had stellar cameras that looked up and photographed the stars, providing location data. They often had “terrain” or mapping cameras that took wider field of view images to enable photo-interpreters to look at a big picture image and then compare the reconnaissance photos to know precisely where they were looking.

MOL had some unique requirements. The astronauts needed to see not only what the big optical system was seeing at that moment, but also what potential targets were coming up. MOL therefore had two acquisition optical systems, one per astronaut. The astronauts would work side by side, with their backs towards Earth. Each could peer through their own eyepiece that showed the terrain coming up ahead, as well as through another eyepiece that showed what the KH-10 optical system was looking at at that precise moment. The KH-10 had a primary and secondary eyepiece so that each astronaut could see the powerful view of the ground, good enough to see people walking on a city street.

MOL control panelThe MOL mission console was connected to a powerful computer—by 1960s standards—that included a pre-loaded target set and allowed the astronauts to prioritize which targets to photograph based upon atmospheric conditions such as clouds as well as intelligence value. For example, photographing a Soviet missile on its launch pad was a high priority. (credit: NRO)

The astronauts’ job during a photographic pass over a target area was to view the upcoming targets and then prioritize them based upon such factors as visibility (i.e. haze or cloud cover) and interest. They would quickly enter this data into an onboard computer that controlled the pointing of the DORIAN optical system. The computer already had a target database, and the astronauts updated that database in real time. In certain target-rich environments like Moscow, not all targets could be photographed before the spacecraft moved out of view, so this real-time prioritization was valuable. For instance, if while flying over the sprawling Baikonur launch facility in Kazakhstan, the astronauts could decide on which specific launch pads to photograph based upon whether there was a rocket on the pad, or if it was obscured by clouds.

Because MOL was an unusual program with both unclassified and classified elements, many details about it were released while it was under development, although this conveniently helped to obscure and distort what MOL was actually intended to do. For example, the public impression of MOL was that it was a large pressurized compartment and many experiments, rather than a small pressurized compartment and an operational reconnaissance mission.

Based upon the unclassified parts alone, it was clear that MOL was a complex and expensive project. In 1967 the Air Force awarded fixed-price incentive-fee contracts to Douglas Aircraft for $674.7 million and McDonnell for over $180 million. Douglas was responsible for the laboratory module’s unpressurized and pressurized sections and McDonnell for the Gemini B spacecraft. Other sources indicate that McDonnell was supposed to provide four Gemini B spacecraft with options for two or more later. Douglas signed subcontracts for such components as the waste management system, attitude control, and life support. When Douglas and McDonnell merged later that year, the combined company was responsible for a very large Department of Defense space contract.

MOLThe MOL laboratory had the same diameter as the Titan IIIM launch vehicle. Although the pressurized laboratory was small by today’s standards, it was the largest human spacecraft under development before Skylab. (credit: NRO)

Because the astronauts were supposed to live inside MOL for a month-long mission, this drove the requirement to include life support equipment that had not been necessary for Mercury or Gemini. The spacecraft was to be equipped with more food options, as well as a toilet. These were new system developments.

The public impression of MOL was that it was a large pressurized compartment and many experiments, rather than a small pressurized compartment and an operational reconnaissance mission.

General Electric also received a contract for $110 million for “experiment integration work,” which included aspects of the highly-classified KH-10 DORIAN optics system. However, Eastman Kodak, which had manufactured both the GAMBIT-1 (KH-7) and GAMBIT-3 (KH-8) camera systems, also was contracted to build the similar but much larger KH-10 system, although the contract amount remains classified. For other robotic reconnaissance programs, the camera system was the largest expense (the KH-9 HEXAGON camera system accounted for over half of the program’s total budget), so the DORIAN system would not have been cheap. MOL, though, had the additional expense of all the systems, including the Gemini spacecraft, needed to support the astronauts. At its peak, Kodak had over 1,000 direct and indirect workers on DORIAN.

One illustration indicates that both General Electric and Eastman Kodak built electronics for controlling the camera system. GE’s work was apparently associated with controlling the large rotating, image reflecting mirror for the DORIAN camera system. This mirror not only tracked the moving ground target but also enabled the camera to take a photograph of the ground from one angle. Then, as the spacecraft traveled over it, the mirror could rotate to a new position and enable the camera to view the ground target from another angle. This stereo photography made it possible to take accurate measurements of objects on the ground.

GeminiThe view from the Gemini 7 spacecraft. Whereas NASA’s Gemini missions were used to test equipment, procedures, operations, and people, the Gemini B for MOL was primarily a way for the astronauts to reach and return from space, and the spacecraft would have been unoccupied during the 30-day mission. (credit: NASA)

Returning MOL images to Earth

Technical intelligence did not have to be timely intelligence. Analysts determining the range of a ballistic missile could make their assessments over time and did not have to do so immediately. But MOL’s 30-day mission was a long time to wait for such expensive photographs, and from the beginning of the program, managers sought methods of returning some of the imagery to Earth before the mission was over.

The DORIAN camera exposed wide-format film that was located inside the pressurized laboratory module. The astronauts could remove the film from the camera. There were three options for returning the imagery to Earth. The first was to store the film inside the Gemini spacecraft in one of three locations established for that purpose. The amount of film that could be carried in the Gemini was limited by mass, but probably also by volume.

MOLThere was only limited room in the Gemini B spacecraft for storing the high-resolution photographs taken during flight. (credit: NRO)

The second option was to place the film in a reentry vehicle that could then be jettisoned and returned to Earth. This “data return vehicle” was based upon the proven design used for the CORONA and GAMBIT reconnaissance satellites. According to one document, designers considered including up to two of these return vehicles in the MOL. The reentry vehicle could carry 27 kilograms (60 pounds) of film, and the Gemini could return 109 kilograms (240 pounds).

MOLAnother method for returning MOL film to Earth was to pack it inside a reentry vehicle like the one shown here in front of the full-size MOL spacecraft. The Air Force was concerned about putting the reentry vehicle, with its retro rocket and other pyro systems, inside the pressurized spacecraft. (credit: NRO)

The third option was initially proposed in 1964, but was apparently only included in the baseline MOL vehicle later, possibly by early 1966. That involved developing the film in orbit and scanning it using a laser scanning device that converted the light and dark parts of the film into electrical impulses that could then be transmitted via radio to the ground. By March 1966, Eastman Kodak and General Electric had been contracted to conduct preliminary studies of the performance and the detailed design of a readout system, but program officials concluded that the contractors were not progressing fast enough.

Film-scanning technology had been developed decades earlier for the newspaper industry to enable photographs to be transmitted over telephone lines, and it had been incorporated into the Air Force’s first reconnaissance satellite, Samos. It was later adapted for use by NASA in the Lunar Orbiter program. The available bandwidth limited how many images could be sent to the ground: the MOL astronauts would select only the most important photographs for transmission. The system could be useful for crisis reconnaissance, but its inclusion in the spacecraft was not assured.

MOLA film readout system was proposed for MOL enabling the astronauts to send images to Earth much more quickly than using the Gemini spacecraft. It was eliminated from the MOL due to the need to cut costs. (credit: NRO)

Starting around 1965 and continuing through 1966, work had been underway to develop a readout version of the GAMBIT-3 reconnaissance satellite known as FROG. CBS Laboratories was developing a test system to work with the GAMBIT-3 optics. But late in 1966 that work was ordered to be discontinued by February 1967 because the NRO’s Executive Committee concluded that the FROG system could not be afforded and was unnecessary considering the other reconnaissance systems in use by the United States. The NRO Director did make the technology available to the Air Force for possible use in reconnaissance aircraft such as the RF-4C Phantom. Although this never transpired, it was used for a ground-based system for scanning and transmitting aerial reconnaissance photos.

The CBS Laboratories readout system being developed for FROG, along with plans for the ground processing system, became part of the baseline for the MOL, replacing earlier systems being studied by Kodak and General Electric (see “FROG: The Film Read Out GAMBIT program,” The Space Review, February 7, 2022.)

Both the film-readout system and the film-return system were included in the baseline MOL design, although there was increasing uncertainty about whether both were necessary. In November 1966, an internal NRO evaluation concluded that CBS Laboratories had made considerable progress at developing a readout transmission system. More work remained to be done, but the technology was maturing rapidly.

By February 1967, the MOL program came under major budget pressure. After carefully negotiating contracts with multiple contractors, it became clear that the program would not have enough budget to fund them.

The DORIAN camera used 23-centimeter-wide film. Each 23-centimeter (9-inch) diameter image on the film had a ground diameter of 2,743 meters (9,000 feet). The readout system was not equipped to transmit an entire frame from the DORIAN camera. Rather, the astronauts would examine the developed film in orbit using a microscope, and then cut out the most important part of the image. This “chip” would then be scanned for transmission to the ground. The system capability was to be up to 160 frame “chips” per day of 5 x 15-centimeter (2 x 6-inch) film-readout, roughly equivalent to 610 by 1,828 meters (2,000 by 6,000 feet) on the ground. A 30-day MOL mission could produce up to 5,364 meters of exposed film, although the amount that would be transmitted to the ground would be relatively small (see “Live, from orbit: the Manned Orbiting Laboratory’s top-secret film-readout system,” The Space Review, September 18, 2023.)

For the surveillance mission the system would provide for target reprogramming, camera performance analysis, and provide time-urgent reconnaissance information. For a technical intelligence mission, it would provide for target reprogramming and camera performance analysis. Compared to the data return vehicle, it could provide daily data return versus only once or twice for the return vehicle, although it is not clear how much crew time this would require.

One of the requirements for the film-readout system was to transmit the maximum resolution of the photography. Because DORIAN was intended to produce ten-centimeter (four-inch) resolution images, the readout system had to be able to transmit ten-centimeter resolution images. This was necessary for evaluating camera performance.

By February 1967, the MOL program came under major budget pressure. After carefully negotiating contracts with multiple contractors, it became clear that the program would not have enough budget to fund them. The MOL program leadership determined that the contract schedules would have to be renegotiated in order to stay within the available budget line. This also put pressure on management to eliminate systems that were not considered essential to the MOL mission such as the readout and data return vehicle systems.

In addition, Eastman Kodak had encountered a problem with the DORIAN system’s fused silica optical components, which due to thermal issues would likely not be capable of achieving the system’s resolution goal for the first two missions. This too may have increased pressure to cancel non-essential equipment.

There were, however, arguments in favor of keeping readout. MOL management was feeling pressure to justify having astronauts on MOL. The readout system was designed to be operated by astronauts, and there was no way that an automatic MOL could select which images to scan and transmit to the ground, or could transmit the massive amount of data in a full-size MOL image.

The MOL program managers increasingly favored the readout system over the data return vehicle. The data return vehicle had a retrorocket and pyrotechnics that posed a risk to the crew, something that became a bigger concern after the January 1967 Apollo 1 fire.

In March 1967, Major General Harry Evans, the deputy director for the MOL program, recommended to the NRO Director that the readout system for MOL be continued and the data recovery capsule be eliminated. Evans argued that the safety and engineering problems of the capsule were serious. He also stated the readout system was superior to the capsule. However, most of his justifications for including the readout system were for engineering testing purposes rather than due to its value as an operational intelligence collection system.

On March 20, Colonel Lee Battle wrote a cable to NRO Director Alexander Flax stating that he had decided to cancel the data recovery vehicle and continue the readout system. However, for reasons that are not completely clear based upon available records, Flax did not approve this decision. According to an April 1967 status report, both the readout system and data return vehicle were deleted from the baseline MOL development program. The mass and volume requirements for both systems were still included in the MOL baseline design in the event that the systems were added back to the vehicle.

According to one source, the readout system was canceled in fall 1967, but it may have had sufficient contract funding to carry it a few months beyond April 1968. A General Electric engineer who worked on the reentry vehicle system indicated that it was always on the verge of cancellation, but did not get canceled before the end of the program. It is possible that it, too, may have continued at a low level of effort using existing funds. Eliminating the reentry vehicle meant that the total film returned would have been limited by the amount that could be carried in the Gemini, even if more could have been carried to orbit.

Without readout, the mission data was unavailable until the end of the mission, and extending it from 30 days to 45 days increased the delay until people on the ground could see the photographs.

In October 1968, General Electric began study of a “poor man’s” wide-band readout system. The new study sought to determine if the data could be relayed through an IDCSP or DCS Phase II communications satellite—the former was already in operation and the latter was scheduled for launch in the early 1970s. Using a relay satellite would dramatically increase the time available to transmit the imagery, from only 500 seconds per day using a single ground station to more than 38,000 seconds per day using a satellite in geostationary orbit. More transmission time meant more imagery could be transmitted, although it is unclear how adding this relay capability would have lowered costs.

General Electric provided a report on the capabilities of a readout system by December 1968. The project had often been abbreviated as “R/O” in previous years, and the program decided that in unclassified communications the system would be referred to by the Greek letter “Rho,” although a clever KGB officer might have been able to make the connection.

By May 1969, the plan was to fly four manned MOL vehicles: in July 1972, January and July 1973, and January 1974. If MOL was continued to a Phase II, or Block II configuration, flights could continue on this schedule through January 1976. The Block II MOL could have enhanced capabilities including infrared and multispectral sensors, ultraviolet astronomy, and scene recording and transmission from the tracking scope and the main optics. The mission duration could be extended from the baseline 30 days to a 45-day mission.

One possible upgrade was adding the deleted film-readout capability. The May 1969 report on the Block II vehicle listed several new missions that could be enabled by the availability of readout. These included crisis management, event warning (including missile tests, launch site or downrange activity, satellite launches, nuclear testing, and ABM site activity), targets of opportunity, and request support. As the report noted, without readout, the mission data was unavailable until the end of the mission, and extending it from 30 days to 45 days increased the delay until people on the ground could see the photographs. For the technical intelligence mission this was not a problem, but for event warning and crisis management, the photographs could be useless by the time they reached the ground.

Other payloads

Although DORIAN was the primary intelligence payload for the MOL, in 1965 and 1966 other intelligence payloads were also considered and under development.

By February 1965 there had been a proposal for a communications intelligence (“COMINT”) payload to intercept signals from a Soviet microwave communications system serving both civil and military users. The identity of the target system remains classified, but it apparently consisted of a network of transmitters throughout the Soviet Union. The program manager in the MOL office, Colonel John Copley, determined that intercepting the transmitters’ narrow main beams would be difficult, but that collecting from their sidelobes, which radiated out at much lower power from a transmitter’s sides like the feathers on a peacock, would increase intercept times while a satellite was overhead. In the best case, it could gather up enough information to determine what was being transmitted over the network, at least while the MOL was overhead.

Copley proposed that this signals intelligence collector should be included on MOL. It would use a two-meter (six-foot) diameter parabolic “wrapped rib” antenna that would unfold from the side of the big cylindrical MOL. Unlike an umbrella-type dish, the antenna wrapped flexible ribs and the mesh antenna strung between them around a central spoke, enabling a larger diameter antenna to be packed in a smaller volume.

E-Systems in Garland, Texas, and EDL-Sylvania developed a test system. An Air Force helicopter flew a payload in an intercept pattern through the main beam and sidelobes of a microwave antenna at the E-Systems facility outside Dallas. EDL analysts examined the collected data and made recommendations for a mission. The payload activities were handled within the BYEMAN security control system under a unique management arrangement.

Simply getting MOL funded was proving to be a major struggle for the program throughout 1967 and 1968.

Sometime in 1965, with the MOL getting increasingly complicated, MOL program managers decided to eliminate the communications intelligence payload from the spacecraft. Although the details are somewhat murky about exactly when this happened, in November 1965 the SIGINT Working Group of the Committee on Overhead Reconnaissance, which established targets and prioritization requirements for US signals intelligence satellites, determined that the information transferred over the Soviet communications network had “high intelligence value.” In a document, the group declared that a system was required “to obtain sufficient technical data concerning the location, antenna patterns, and modulation of the [deleted] system to permit valid consideration of [a] follow-on collection system.” The group also indicated that this data could be useful for a planned geosynchronous signals intelligence collection system whose name was deleted from the document, but was almost certainly the CANYON communications intelligence satellite then being built by Lockheed and eventually launched in 1968.

With the payload no longer part of the MOL program, National Reconnaissance Office officials soon transferred the project to the program office in Los Angeles that operated the NRO’s growing stable of SIGINT satellites. At some point the payload was named DONKEY. It is unclear when or why the payload received this name, although it clearly had this code-name by early 1966 (see “The wizard war in orbit, part 3,” The Space Review, July 5, 2016, and “Applied witchcraft: American communications intelligence satellites during the 1960s,” October 19, 2020.)

Another system that was under development in 1965 and 1966 was a radar for the Navy that could be mounted on MOL. By fall 1966, responsibility for the sensor was transferred to the NRO, where it was apparently given low priority and deleted from the MOL program. The Navy, unhappy with its treatment by the NRO, sought to develop the sensor on its own, but ran into bureaucratic headwinds. The Navy radar was apparently no longer part of MOL by 1967 (see “Blacker than blue: the US Navy and the Manned Orbiting Laboratory,” The Space Review, October 21, 2019.)

Available records indicate that for the majority of its existence, MOL was intended to carry the DORIAN optical system and no other payloads. Simply getting MOL funded was proving to be a major struggle for the program throughout 1967 and 1968.

The Soviet story

Station design

The earliest plans for Almaz envisaged a concept very similar to MOL. The three-man crew would be launched in a return vehicle (VA) attached to the station for missions lasting one to three months, after which the station would be abandoned. Only at a later stage would crews and cargo be delivered to the station in transport vehicles, making it possible to make multiple visits to the station and increase the lifetime to about one year. Advantages of the so-called “autonomous station” were that it would become operational right after reaching orbit instead of having to wait for a crew to arrive. This mission profile also eliminated the risk of losing the station in case the transport ship suffered a launch accident or failed to dock with the station. It should not be forgotten that in the mid-1960s the Soviet Union did not have any experience whatsoever with space rendezvous and docking. The return capsule ensured the safety of the crew throughout the flight. In the event of a launch failure, it could be ejected from the station with a launch escape tower and, in case of an emergency in orbit, it could serve as a rescue vehicle.

The design of the VA return capsule was partially based on that of a piloted circumlunar vehicle (LK-1) that Vladimir Chelomei’s OKB-52 bureau had been working on since August 1964 until that project was transferred to the Korolev bureau about a year later and transformed into L-1 (later officially named Zond.) Aerodynamically, the LK-1 was something of a cross between Gemini and Apollo, and one of Chelomei’s designers later admitted that his team had thoroughly studied the openly available technical literature on those American capsules. Like MOL’s Gemini B, the VA would have had a hatch in its heat shield to allow the crew to transfer to the station. Unlike Gemini B, it was designed to be re-usable for up to ten missions.

AlmazThe originally planned version of Almaz with the VA return capsule. (credit: Stolichnaya Entsiklopediya publishers)

As for the station itself, designers initially looked at the possibility of constructing a long cylinder with a diameter of 4.1 meters, a limit dictated by the fact that the station had to be transported to the Baikonur cosmodrome by rail. However, thеre were fears that this design would make the launch vehicle unstable, and as a result of which it was decided to adopt a tapered design in which the front section of the station had a diameter of just 2.9 meters. This gave it more or less the same shape as the upper composite of the canceled LK-1 circumlunar spacecraft and its Proton launch vehicle, a design that had already undergone extensive wind tunnel tests.

Whereas MOL consisted of an unpressurized section containing the DORIAN telescope and a pressurized section for crew operations, Almaz was essentially one big pressurized structure with a volume of about 90 cubic meters. The main payload (the Agat-1 telescope) was placed vertically inside the 4.1-meter diameter section of the station, looking directly downward to Earth and therefore obviating the need for folding mirrors as in DORIAN. Inside the thinner 2.9-meter section was a workstation to operate the telescope and a living compartment for the crew. At the back of the station was a compartment to install the film return capsules and a small airlock through which the capsules could be ejected from the station.

AlmazCut-away drawing of Almaz. (credit: NPO Mashinostroyeniya)

Transport vehicles

In the end, the concept of the “autonomous station” was dropped entirely. One of its biggest drawbacks was that the presence of the return capsule imposed major restrictions on the amount of equipment that could be installed inside the station. It also reduced mission duration to just a few weeks. Therefore, it was decided to move directly to stage two.

Whereas MOL consisted of an unpressurized section containing the DORIAN telescope and a pressurized section for crew operations, Almaz was essentially one big pressurized structure with a volume of about 90 cubic meters.

The first transport ship that was considered for Almaz was a modified version of the 7K-VI/Zvezda vehicle that was being designed by Branch number 3 of Sergei Korolev’s OKB-1 design bureau in Kuibyshev (see part 1.) This was apparently because it had already gained experience with designing a docking mechanism that would allow the crew to move to another vehicle internally as part of the original Soyuz-R proposal that preceded 7K-VI. The “standard” Soyuz then being developed by OKB-1 itself had a crude docking mechanism that made it necessary for cosmonauts to move to a docked vehicle by extravehicular activity, as demonstrated during the Soyuz-4/5 mission in 1969.

Branch number 3 considered to split the crew/cargo transport functions by designing both a crewed and an unmanned cargo version of 7K-VI. However, when the design was evaluated in the spring of 1967, it was concluded that the cargo vehicles would have to be launched about every three weeks to ensure the proper functioning of the station. Also, by this time it had been decided that Almaz would be equipped with film return capsules, which regularly had to be replenished. These capsules were too big to be transferred to the station through the 7K-VI hatch. Consequently, OKB-52 proposed a much larger and much more capable transport vehicle that would double as a crew ferry and cargo truck. Launched by the Proton rocket, it would be about the same size as the station itself and became known as the Transport Supply Ship (TKS).

Serving as the basis for the TKS design was the original, “autonomous” version of Almaz. The station’s hull was shortened and attached to the VA return vehicle. The redesigned hull, which acted as the cargo section, was called the Functional Cargo Block (FGB). Attached to the aft part of the FGB was a conical section with an active docking mechanism. This conical section had the same shape as the bottom section of the Proton rocket’s third stage fuel tank. Since there was not enough room to install the engine system and propellant tanks in the aft of the vehicle (as on Almaz itself), they were placed on the outer hull. Circular fuel tanks would not have fit inside the payload shroud, so they were replaced by eight long, tube-shaped propellant tanks on the circumference of the vehicle. The vehicle’s engines could be used to boost the altitude of the station’s orbit.

AlmazCut-away drawing of TKS. (credit: NPO Mashinostroyeniya)
AlmazArtist’s conception of TKS docked to Almaz.
AlmazDocked test models of TKS and Almaz. (credit: NPO Mashinostroyeniya)

Since TKS was not expected to be ready in time for the first Almaz missions, a decision was made in July 1967 to use Soyuz as an interim transport vehicle. This would be a version derived from OKB-1’s traditional Soyuz vehicle, with the descent capsule in the middle. By the time Almaz flew in the 1970s, the docking mechanism of Soyuz had also been redesigned to enable the crew to transfer to the station internally.

The Agat-1 optical payload

The key goal of Almaz was to obtain detailed imagery in the visible part of the spectrum. The requirement laid out in the July 1966 government decree on Almaz was for the station to return imagery with a ground resolution of 50 centimeters to 1 meter. This was to be achieved with an optical system named Agat (“agate”, a type of quartz), which used a 1.5-meter mirror and had a focal length of ten meters. According to the 2019 Almaz history Ogranka Almazov, the resolution of Agat could actually have been as good as 35 centimeters. However, the design proved to be too complex: among other things, it would have required the telescope to be launched in a folded state and be fully extended through an opening in the hull after reaching orbit. Chelomei’s team reverted to a simpler telescope with an 88-centimeter mirror and a focal length of 6.375 meters. It would use optics that had already been developed for unmanned television reconnaissance satellites that OKB-52 had begun working on in 1963 (see ”Soviet television reconnaissance satellites”, The Space Review, September 5, 2023.) Unlike the Zenit film-return satellites, these satellites would have been able to send back imagery in near real time, but they were canceled later in the 1960s. The simpler camera, still weighing 1.2 tons, was called Agat-1, with the hope being that the originally planned camera would later still fly under the name Agat-2. The prime contractor for Agat-1 was the Krasnogorsk Mechanical Plant (KMZ).

AlmazThe Agat-1 camera. (credit: NPO Mashinostroyeniya)

Mounted on top of the telescope were three big film cassettes: two identical ones containing 500 meters of 42-centimeter-wide film and another one containing 500 meters of 53- centimeter film. Several types of fine-grained photographic film, both black-and-white and multispectral, were used, offering a quality not achieved by spy satellites. The exposed 42-centimeter film was sent back to Earth in return capsules for development on the ground and the 53-centimeter film was developed on board the station itself, after which the cosmonauts relayed the more strategically important images to the ground via radio channels.

Agat-1 was still no match for MOL’s DORIAN telescope with its 1.8-meter mirror and maximum resolution of ten centimeters.

The cosmonauts played an important role in operating Agat-1. Using two forward-looking optical systems—one wide-angle panoramic system (POU) with a resolution of 30 meters and a narrow-field optical visor (OD-5) with a resolution of one meter—they could look at regions that were well ahead of the station’s flight path, briefly freeze the image with the help of a scanning mirror in the optical visor, and aim the Agat-1 camera at targets of interest. The cosmonauts also recorded their visual impressions of the observed targets on audio tape and communicated them to the ground via secure radio channels. Like MOL’s DORIAN telescope, Agat-1 was to work in conjunction with a topographic camera (SA-34R) and a stellar camera (SA-33R) that took images of the ground and star fields to help determine the exact coordinates of the observed areas.

The authors of the 2019 Almaz history give the maximum resolution of the imagery returned to Earth as one meter and that of the imagery transmitted to the ground as 1.5 meters. Interestingly, they refer to research done by Swedish space historian Sven Grahn, who used optical formulae to calculate that the maximum ground resolution of Agat-1 may have been as good as 43 centimeters. This indicates that they had no access to (probably still classified) data on the actual resolution achieved by the Agat-1 system and that the given values came from documents describing the telescope’s expected performance.

At any rate, Agat-1 was still no match for MOL’s DORIAN telescope with its 1.8-meter mirror and maximum resolution of ten centimeters. That kind of resolution was mainly needed to provide detailed technical intelligence on Soviet weapons systems. Almaz had much broader strategic and tactical objectives, many of which could also be achieved with lower resolution. As can be seen in a declassified diagram published in the 2019 Almaz history, these were:

  • to learn more about the functioning and the state of readiness of “strategic objects” such as ICBM launch sites and strategic nuclear weapons
  • to pinpoint the location of mobile launch systems
  • to identify the types of aircraft, ships, and submarines stationed at air and naval bases
  • to determine troop concentrations in the “theater of operations”
  • to obtain new information on anti-aircraft, anti-missile and space tracking radars (Agat-1 could contribute to this by determining the shape and geometry of antennas)
  • to spot signs of “the heightened readiness of strategic objects” (such as an increase in the number of aircraft at air bases, ships leaving ports etc.)

Returning Almaz images to Earth

Like MOL’s Gemini B vehicle, the transportation systems envisaged for Almaz (the modified 7K-VI, TKS and the standard Soyuz) had a very limited ability to return exposed film back to Earth together with the crew. This is why the bulk of the imagery would have to be delivered to Earth in dedicated film return capsules or relayed to the ground via film readout systems. In contrast to MOL, these were not seen as competitive proposals, but complementary data return techniques.

The data return capsules were officially called “Special Information Capsules” (KSI). Shaped like a thimble, they consisted of a pressurized compartment, a small solid-fuel deorbit engine, and a parachute system. Fully loaded, they weighed roughly 400 kilograms, about 120 kilograms of which was cargo. Most of this was exposed film from the Agat-1 camera, wound in two spools, each of which could carry 500 meters of 42-centimeter-wide film. There was also room for exposed film from the topographic and stellar camera as well as audio tapes recorded by the crew.

AlmazAlmaz film return capsule (without heat shield) on display in Moscow. Source

As noted above, the need to regularly send new film return capsules to the Almaz stations was one of the factors that drove the design of the big TKS transport vehicles. Each TKS was supposed to carry eight return capsules to the station along with its three-man crew. All of these were to be sent back to Earth with exposed film during the three-month missions that were expected to be flown. The capsules could be ejected from the station’s airlock either by a command from the crew or automatically from the ground. In order to ensure that they didn’t accidentally land on foreign territory, they were equipped with a self-destruct system that would be activated in case something went wrong during the return to Earth.

While the film returned by the KSI capsules would need at least several days to reach photo interpreters, the most critical imagery could be returned to Earth almost instantaneously using a film scanning system. Like the United States, the Soviet Union had already tested an experimental film readout system on some of its early automated spy satellites in the early 1960s, but the resolution was so low that it was abandoned. The country continued to rely solely on film-return spy satellites until 1982, when it finally launched its first digital reconnaissance satellite, six years after the US pioneered that technology with its KENNEN satellites.

The film readout system was named Pechora (after a Russian river) and operated very much like the one planned for MOL. The cosmonauts would first cut 1- to 50-meter-long pieces from the exposed 53-centimeter-wide film and then place them in an automatic film development system. After the film was developed, they would inspect it using an optical system named Svet (“light”) and mark the images that were worth transmitting to Earth. These were scanned and turned into television signals that were subsequently beamed to the ground.

Other payloads

Whereas SIGINT and radar payloads were only short-lived proposals for MOL, Almaz was advertised from the outset as a space station that would observe targets in various parts of the electromagnetic spectrum. Radar, infrared, and signals intelligence payloads were to complement the data provided by the Agat-1 telescope.

AlmazA diagram from the 2019 Almaz history shows the tasks to be carried out by Almaz payloads in various parts of the electromagnetic spectrum. Protruding from the nose of Almaz is the Mech-A radar. (credit: NPO Mashinostroyeniya)

In the early years of the Space Age, space-based radar observations were of higher priority in the Soviet Union than they were in the United States. After a short test flight of the experimental QUILL satellite in late 1964, the United States military abandoned radar satellites until the 1980s. Several years before the launch of QUILL, Chelomei’s OKB-52 design bureau had begun working on a nuclear-powered radar satellite called US-A (“active controllable satellite”) that saw its first test flights in 1965 and would continue to fly until 1988. The US-A satellites were designed to locate the position of enemy surface vessels in order to provide targeting data for OKB-52’s anti-ship cruise missiles.

Almaz was supposed to carry an impressive array of equipment to defend itself against anti-satellite attacks.

The development of the US-A radar system (named Chaika or “seagull”) was in the hands of the Moscow Research Institute of Instrument Building (MNIIP, now the Vega Concern), which was assigned to build a new radar system for Almaz based on the experience it had gained with Chaika. The choice fell on an S-band radar operating at a wavelength of around ten centimeters. This was because S-band radar signals are less susceptible to adverse weather conditions and have a better ability to penetrate foliage and soil than X-band signals. Designated Mech-A (“sword”), the radar consisted of a single 15×1.5-meter antenna attached to the station’s outer hull. The radar images were to be recorded on photographic film and delivered to Earth aboard the film return capsules.

Mech-A was a side-looking radar that could see an area of 100 kilometers either to the left or right of the station’s ground track. This meant that it could not be used to simultaneously observe the same objects photographed by Agat-1, but it was still seen as a vital tool to obtain time-critical imagery of regions that were covered in cloud. Unlike Chaika, which was aimed at ocean reconnaissance, it would be used to fulfill the same tasks as Agat-1, except for the location of mobile launch systems and intelligence of radar systems. Mech-A did suffer from one handicap that still made space-based radar relatively unattractive at the time, namely its low resolution of between 20 and 30 meters.

The infrared payload, called Volga, was provided by the State Institute of Applied Optics (GIPO). It consisted of a 50-centimeter fixed mirror and a rotatable mirror capable of scanning a swath of about 30 kilometers. It operated in the mid-wavelength infrared between 3.2 and 5.2 microns and had a resolution of about 100 meters. Volga was designed to detect the infrared signature of aircraft, ships, and other transportation systems as well as what are defined as “energy installations”. The only mission it could not be used for was intelligence of radar systems. The infrared images would be sent back to Earth in the film return capsules.

Also planned for Almaz was a signals intelligence payload named Start that was to be delivered by NII Vektor. Judging from the declassified diagram in the Almaz book, it would have been used both for electronic and communications intelligence. Aside from pinpointing the location of radars and collecting data on their technical features, the payload would also be able to pick up voice traffic. An increase in such traffic could, for instance, point to preparations for an imminent enemy attack.

In addition to all this, Almaz was supposed to carry an impressive array of equipment to defend itself against anti-satellite attacks (see “Self-defense in space: protecting Russian spacecraft from ASAT attacks”, The Space Review, July 16, 2018.) This included an infrared detector to spot launches of ASAT interceptors, a periscope and a radar to scan the station’s surroundings for incoming interceptors, a radar jamming device, decoys and a rapid-fire cannon (originally developed for 7K-VI), which later was to be replaced by space-to-space missiles with a range of 100 kilometers.

Some of these payloads were scheduled to be introduced only in a later phase of the Almaz project and not all of them would make it into space.


Bart Hendrickx is a longtime observer of the Russian space program. Dwayne Day can be reached at zirconic1@cox.net.

The Space-X Starship Will Be A Great Cargo Hauler To The Moon

Lunar StarshipSpaceX’s Starship could be useful not just for transporting cargo to the Moon but also for providing infrastructure. (credit: SpaceX)

SpaceX Starship in lunar development

by Thomas L. Matula
Monday, December 18, 2023

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The November 18 test flight of Elon Musk’s Starship that was launched from Boca Chica on the Texas Gulf Coast suggests the day is ever closer this mega-rocket, in its future iterations, will be available for missions to the Moon. Already selected by NASA for the Human Landing System (HLS) program, the lunar variant of the Starship will open up the Moon to both exploration and industrialization. That said, even SpaceX itself may not yet recognize the extent to which Starship will revolutionize lunar surface operations.

Ever since the 1990s I have been exploring and analyzing business models for lunar economic development and two basic problems have always emerged:

  1. The inability of launch providers to send cargo to the Moon in the necessary quantities and at a cost economically viable for both exploration and industrialization.
  2. The challenge of remotely building facilities on the lunar surface.

The lunar variant of the Starship promises to solve such problems as well as others that logically present themselves in any pioneering endeavor.

Already selected by NASA for the HLS program, the lunar variant of the Starship will open up the Moon to both exploration and industrialization.

The HLS variant of the Starship is designed to deliver large payloads cheaply to the lunar surface. More significantly, SpaceX’s mega-rocket is sufficiently powerful to carry even full-size mining and construction equipment intact: such cargo weighs from 40 to 60 tons on Earth. Equipment of that size range is critical for establishing the infrastructure crucial for economic development of the Moon and its quintessential commerce. Even more vital to lunar development is that Starship variants will enable constructing facilities to promote rapid growth of an economy on this resource-rich natural satellite.

So far, business models for lunar development suggest the traffic flowing between the Earth and the Moon will be unbalanced if one considers the amount of mass sent to the Moon from the Earth is greater than the mass returning to our home planet. Assuming that the SpaceX Starship will serve the vast majority of lunar logistic needs, as many as nine out of ten Starships under some scenarios will logically be returning empty to the Earth, a massive waste of fuel and resources. Abandoning such rockets on the Moon would also be wasteful. Instead of Starships returning to the Earth empty, is it not more cost-effective, creative, and dynamic to modify them for use as permanent facilities and integrate them into the lunar infrastructure?

A review of the requirements for such infrastructure means we need two variants of these one- way lunar Starships. The first will be a version of the HLS designed to create permanent facilities on the lunar surface. In this variant, the interior of the cargo section is reconfigured during its construction to serve as a horizonal lunar habitat, vehicle service facility, lunar agriculture facility, or for some other purpose. The estimated pressurized volume of 1,000 cubic meters is as large as the pressurized volume of the ISS. Once on the Moon and after the cargo has been unloaded, the cargo section can be separated from the tankage section of the HLS Starship by a mobile crane brought to the Moon on an earlier flight. The cargo portion of the Starship is then placed on a lunar version of the crawler SpaceX uses at Boca Chica to transport the Starship. On the Moon this lunar crawler will deliver the cargo section to a predetermined location at the facility where the mobile crane will lower the cargo section horizontally onto the Moon’s surface, to either stand alone or be connected to other HLS cargo sections. Once in place, the cargo section will be covered with lunar regolith to shield it from radiation and micrometeorites.

Instead of Starships returning to the Earth empty, is it not more cost-effective, creative, and dynamic to modify them for use as permanent facilities and integrate them into the lunar infrastructure?

The lower section of this HLS Starship, which contains the fuel tanks, will then have its Raptor engines removed for shipment to Earth to be reused on future Starships. After the Raptors are removed, the HLS lower section is transported to a suitable location to be repurposed as part of a storage tank farm for the facility. Once in the desired location, this HLS lower section is either placed horizontally and covered with regolith to insulate the fuel tanks from the Sun or remains upright. If remaining upright, a canopy can be erected over the HLS lower section to shield the tankage from direct sunlight to reduce the boiloff of the cryogenic liquids stored within the tankage unit. The lower gravity of the Moon will make such construction and manipulation much easier than on Earth. In this way, instead of wasting these surplus lunar Starships they are put to productive use to create habitats, lunar farms, or other components of a successful infrastructure.

The second variant of the one-way lunar Starship is based on the tanker variant designed to service the fuel depots in Earth orbit. Lunar facilities will need a large mass of volatiles to support their operations, especially if those include agriculture and industrial activities. The primary volatiles required are hydrogen, methane, nitrogen, and water. Hydrogen is used for fuel or to produce water through combination with oxygen that is generated from the lunar regolith. Methane is used for fuel serving the Starships that return to Earth. Nitrogen is as fundamental to agriculture on the Moon as it is on Earth and also has many industrial applications. If there is no source of water near the lunar facilities, water can also be transported to the Moon by these tanker Starships to meet the needs of lunar development. The lunar variant of the tanker Starship will be modified to make the one-way trip by removing the heat shield titles and steering fins, reducing its launch mass. This choice also increases the potential payload delivered to the lunar surface. Once on the Moon, the tanker Starship and its payload of volatiles will be integrated into the lunar facilities’ tank farm. Once transferred to the tank farm, the Starship’s Raptor engines and any unnecessary flight control systems would be removed for eventual return to the Earth and used on future Starship missions.

There are several reasons why Starship-derived lunar facilities should significantly lower the cost of creating infrastructure. First, most of the labor for constructing lunar facilities will take place on the Earth rather than on the Moon itself. Second, SpaceX can mass produce Starships on an assembly line. Therefore, the costs of the one-way Starships will in all probability be far lower than other options for building infrastructures on the Moon. Finally, the Starship-based components—the building blocks of lunar facilities—could be fully outfitted and tested on Earth before launch, making them available for occupation by astronauts or used as storage tanks within days after delivery on the Moon.

The use of the Starship to create facilities on the Moon will put lunar commerce on the fast track and accelerate the emergence of a lunar economy.

It follows that lunar facilities constructed from Starship spacecraft could generate additional revenue for SpaceX. One approach would be for the rocket company to rapidly recover the costs of their construction by selling the facilities to commercial companies or governments. Another option is that SpaceX would retain ownership of the lunar facilities yet lease them to customers, thereby creating an ongoing revenue stream with SpaceX operating as a lunar landlord. In yet another approach the company retains ownership of the Starship-derived storage tanks and simply charges for the volatiles used on a per-kilogram basis. Moreover, SpaceX could conceivably partner with other corporations in joint ownership of some of the lunar facilities it created. Most likely, SpaceX will employ a combination of these revenue strategies based on the needs of the market for lunar facilities.

This proposed strategy for using surplus Starships as infrastructure will make full use of the potential of the Starship both as a transportation system and for the rapid creation of infrastructure. The use of the Starship to create facilities on the Moon will put lunar commerce on the fast track and accelerate the emergence of a lunar economy. The facilities Starship creates by repurposing surplus spacecraft will save years of labor in the early infrastructure and industrialization of the Moon. Strategies to utilize these aspects of the Starship as a motherlode for construction could also work on Mars quite as effectively. If Starship missions as cargo transport and one-way rockets are recycled as components to build infrastructure, such innovation accelerates the human settlement of the solar system by years.


Thomas L. Matula, Ph.D. is a Professor of Business Administration at Sul Ross State University in Texas. He holds an MBA and Ph.D. in Business Administration from New Mexico State University. His dissertation topic was Commercial Spaceports based on his work with Spaceport America. He has been writing, publishing, and speaking on space economics and development since the 1990s. His current article on Lunar Development is from his book in progress Astrosettlement: Pioneering the Solar System. Dr. Matula may be reached at Thomas.Matula@sulross.edu.

Book Review: Moon Shot

book cover

Review: Moonshot

by Jeff Foust
Monday, December 18, 2023

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Moonshot: A NASA Astronaut’s Guide to Achieving the Impossible
by Mike Massimino
Hachette Go, 2023
hardcover, 224 pp.
ISBN 978-0-306-83264-2
US$28

To the general public, astronauts can seem like the closest thing to perfect people. They are physically fit individuals with backgrounds ranging from science and engineering to being military test pilots, with NASA picking a handful of the very best out of an applicant pool of more than 10,000 for each class. But astronauts, of course, are people that make mistakes like the rest of us, from misplacing tomatoes being harvested on the International Space Station for eight months to losing a tool bag on a recent space station spacewalk.

There are lessons to learn from such mistakes beyond keeping better track of tomatoes and tool bags. In Moonshot, former NASA astronaut Mike Massimino distills his experiences at NASA into a set of lessons for the public, a hybrid of astronaut memoir (which he has previously written) and self-improvement book.

A fellow astronaut took him aside and informed him of “Hoot’s Law,” named after astronaut Hoot Gibson: “No matter how bad things may seem, you can always make it worse.”

Massimino has crafted a persona as something close to an ordinary person: an everyman from Long Island, albeit one with an engineering PhD from MIT who went to space twice to repair the Hubble Space Telescope. “I soon found that what made my experiences relatable was the fact that I wasn’t a natural. I’m not Neil Armstrong. Or Lebron James. Or George Clooney,” he writes.

In the book, he’s open about his setbacks and mistakes he made both trying to become an astronaut as well as during his astronaut career. One example he offers in the book is when, during one of his first sessions in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, used for spacewalk training, he got tangled in a safety tether and, rather than ask for help, tried to free himself, only to get further entangled. Afterwards, he said a fellow astronaut took him aside and informed him of “Hoot’s Law,” named after astronaut Hoot Gibson: “No matter how bad things may seem, you can always make it worse.”

Not making things worse is one of the lessons that Massimino passes along in the book. Most of them seem straightforward and common sense: the value of teamwork and collaboration, speaking up if you see something wrong, and not giving up even in the face of long (but non-zero) odds. He also passed along what former astronaut Alan Bean called the “First Rule of Leadership,” which is to admire and care about every member of your team, as well as the “Thirty-Second Rule,” which is to allow yourself a half a minute to beat yourself up about making a mistake, then move on.

Those lessons seem straightforward, but the fact that astronauts have to be reminded of them is a sign that they’re hard to implement. They’re good lessons to learn, and Massimino offers them in an entertaining way. You may make many mistakes along the way, but there’s a good chance you’ll never lose a tomato on a space station or a tool bag on a spacewalk.


Jeff Foust (jeff@thespacereview.com) is the editor and publisher of The Space Review, and a senior staff writer with SpaceNews. He also operates the Spacetoday.net web site. Views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone.

Mexico Has A Large Car Manufacturing Industry That Is About To Get Bigger

When one thinks of Mexico, one thinks of tourism, beer, tequila production, and sadly, illegal drugs. Few people know an amazing fact, Mexico has a car manufacturing industry that is number seven in the world. Now the Financial Times of London published an amazing article. Three Chinese electric car companies are looking to set up manufacturing plants in Mexico as follows:

MG with a projected capital investment between $1.5 billion and $2 billion.

BYD with an initial investment of “hundreds of millions of dollars”

Chery with undisclosed capital investment plans

   Another major Chinese battery manufacturer announced plans for a staggering $12 billion for a battery plant in Mexico. All these investments are great news for the Mexican economy. Mexico is also the largest trading partner of the U.S. in the world. US government officials are quite concerned about this major Chinese investment so close to the U.S. Under certain circumstances, all the electric vehicles produced by Chinese car companies in Mexico could qualify for US tax credits to purchasers of these vehicles.

   I love competition. This will make everyone work harder and put out better products at lower cost.

Six Planets Orbiting A Star 110 Light Years Away

Six-Pack of Mystery

Scientists discovered a peculiar planetary system not too far away from the Solar system, a finding that could provide new insights about how planets form and why the Milky Way galaxy favors a specific type of world, the Washington Post reported.

In their paper, an international team of researchers wrote the discovery of six planets orbiting the star HD 110067, which is only 100 light-years away.

They categorized these planets as “sub-Neptunes,” which range between the sizes of Earth and Neptune. They described them as hot and gassy worlds that probably cannot sustain life.

Still, the team explained that the planetary system is unique because the planets’ orbits are locked into a resonance with one another as they course around their parent star.

Close analysis also showed that the HD 110067 system has remained stable since its formation four billion years ago, having experienced no cataclysmic impacts or the close passage of another star in all that time.

The researchers suspect that, judging by their density, these worlds have atmospheres, but further study is needed.

The main mystery that the authors are trying to solve is why are these planets sub-Neptunes – a very common type of world found across the Milky Way.

It remains uncertain if the prevalence of planets in this size range is due to a universal trend, or is influenced by our detection methods.

Finding small, rocky planets similar to Earth, especially those orbiting a stable, mature star like the Sun, is challenging.

“HD 110067 is an immediate astronomical Rosetta stone – offering a key system to help unlock some mysteries of planet formation and evolution,” said co-author Sara Seager.

An All-British Manned Space Mission

PeakeTim Peake has retired from ESA’s astronaut corps after a single mission to the ISS, but could return to space on an all-UK private astronaut mission. (credit: NASA)

All-UK astronaut mission shows that private enterprise is vital to the future of space exploration

by Simonetta Di Pippo
Monday, December 4, 2023

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The UK Space Agency signed an agreement in October with a US company called Axiom Space to develop a space mission carrying four astronauts from the UK. The flight would most likely use the SpaceX Crew Dragon vehicle and travel to the International Space Station (ISS).

The crew is expected to include reserve and active astronauts recently selected by the European Space Agency (ESA), but they will be funded commercially. There are also reports it could be commanded by the recently retired Tim Peake.

By taking this step, the UK is joining other countries on a commercial path to human spaceflight. It’s a very significant one too, because commercial funding is absolutely crucial to the future of space exploration. As a former ESA director of human spaceflight (at the time Peake was hired), I believe this will position the UK to participate in a growing space economy, help democratize space, and inspire new generations of students to study science and engineering.

As a former ESA director of human spaceflight, I believe this mission will position the UK to participate in a growing space economy, help democratize space, and inspire new generations of students to study science and engineering.

In 1998, ESA decided it would employ and train its own astronauts. Prior to that, few European countries had astronauts flying under their national banner. ESA’s decision was intended to reinforce its role in spaceflight internationally. At the time, the agency had also decided that it wanted to strengthen the ISS collaboration and also wanted to get the most out of it. Astronauts were one way to do this.

Prior to 1998, the UK had produced several astronauts and potential astronauts. Michael Foale, born in Lincolnshire, had dual UK-US nationality and flew to space as a NASA astronaut. Helen Sharman went to orbit in 1991 as part of an arrangement with the Soviet government.

As a result of the European astronaut corps being created in 1998, national astronaut corps in ESA member states were dismantled.

In those countries, including the UK, the focus shifted to selecting astronauts through the ESA process. However, while the UK participated enthusiastically in other ESA programs, it did not show a great deal of interest in the agency’s optional human spaceflight program.

Surprise selection

While UK was not contributing to the ESA human spaceflight program, other member states were strong supporters. However, selections were open to all European citizens, and correctly so.

Fast forward to May 20, 2009, when I was ESA’s director of human spaceflight. Officials and journalists were crowded into a room on the fourth floor of ESA’s headquarters at Rue Mario Nikis in Paris to hear the announcement of six new astronauts who would join the space agency. I had chaired the committee that had interviewed the group of 22 candidates who remained after a year-long selection process managed by the European Astronaut Center (EAC) in Germany.

As I announced the six new astronauts, the room exploded at one name in particular: Tim Peake’s. Considering that the UK was not involved in this optional program, there were no expectations a British astronaut would be announced. But Peake was an exceptional candidate who deserved his selection.

Immediately afterwards, the UK minister for science and innovation, Lord Drayson, called ESA. As a result of this phone call, I rushed to Gare du Nord, took a train, and arrived in London for an unplanned meeting with the minister. Sometime later, the UK joined ESA’s human spaceflight program.

ESA astronautsESA’s new astronaut class, announced last November, includes three people from the UK who could be eligible for an all-UK private mission. (credit: ESA/S. Corvaja)

Rapid changes

A lot has changed since 2009, however. Innovation in spaceflight is increasing exponentially. Just look at the Starship program managed by Elon Musk’s SpaceX, or Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin, which is developing new rockets and a new vehicle to land on the Moon.

The ISS’s lifetime has been extended until 2030, after which it will be decommissioned, re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere over the Pacific Ocean. However, commercial companies in the US are developing their own private space stations.

The rise of the commercial astronaut provides access to space for countries that may not have a longstanding relationship with one of the big space agencies and therefore support the process of democratizing space.

One of those companies is Axiom Space. Based in Houston, Axiom wants to build a space station that will be operational from 2028. In its first phase, it will have two or more modules docked to the ISS. Once they are ready, the Axiom station will be detached so that it can function independently.

In preparation for their space station’s operations phase, Axiom has begun sending commercially funded missions to the ISS using SpaceX’s Crew Dragon vehicle. These have been commanded by ex-NASA astronauts but carry non-professionals.

The recent Ax-2 mission, for example, was commanded by ex-NASA astronaut Peggy Whitson and carried a racing driver and investor, John Shoffner, who paid for his flight, as well as two Saudi Arabian commercial astronauts sponsored by the Saudi Space Commission. An upcoming mission, Ax-3, will fly to the ISS in January 2024 carrying European astronauts.

Ax-4, expected to take place later in 2024, could be the target for this all-UK crew. although they might have to wait for a later mission.

Opportunity knocks

All of this is happening as ESA’s latest astronaut class, chosen in 2022 and the first since Peake’s intake in 2009, is being prepared for missions to low Earth orbit and later, beyond. In this new class are five career astronauts, 11 reserve astronauts, and one astronaut with a disability.

So, the rise of the commercial astronaut provides access to space for countries that may not have a longstanding relationship with one of the big space agencies and therefore support the process of democratizing space.

The benefits that come from the use of space-based data and infrastructure are increasingly evident, and more attention from the general public helps put space on the map for policy and decision makers in a virtuous circle.

Space is indispensable for tackling climate change, in disaster managementglobal health, in agriculture, educationdigital transformation, and the green economy.

Therefore, a commercially funded mission to cost around £200 million ($250 million) carrying, perhaps, UK-born commercial astronauts Rosemary Coogan (also selected as an ESA active astronaut) as well as John McFall and Meganne Christian (who are ESA reserve astronauts), could be seen as a good investment. The mission will also undoubtedly produce good outcomes, including scientific results.

Peake will reportedly come out of retirement to lead this first all-UK astronaut mission, following his last flight back in 2015.

The space economy is a blooming flower that we must support for it to grow. The payoff will benefit us all.


This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Simonetta Di Pippo, an astrophysicist, is Director of the Space Economy Evolution Lab (SEE Lab) at SDA Bocconi school of management, which studies the economy of space and the economic repercussions of space activities, and Professor of Space Economy. She previously served as Director of the United Nations’ Office for Outer Space Affairs (UNOOSA) from 2014 to 2022 and has also served as Director of Human Spaceflight at the European Space Agency (ESA).

Europe Is Going To Get Into The Manned Spaceflight Business

NyxThe Exploration Company, a European startup, was already working on a cargo vehicle called Nyx when ESA announced its commercial cargo initiative. (credit: The Exploration Company)

Europe’s tentative step towards human spaceflight

by Jeff Foust
Monday, December 4, 2023

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In March, the European Space Agency released a report prepared by an independent High-Level Advisory Group on human spaceflight. That report called on ESA to embark on a bold new direction in the field, developing its own capabilities to transport astronauts to orbit and beyond, lest Europe fall behind China and the United States (see “Europe contemplates a space revolution”, The Space Review, March 27, 2023.)

At the time, ESA officials said they would use the report to guide development of proposals the agency would take to its member states at a second European Space Summit in November in Seville, Spain. However, ESA disclosed few details about what exactly it was proposing in the realm of human spaceflight ahead of the November 6 event.

“I’m asking for a small but very impactful step, the first step that enables a much bigger ambition,” said Aschbacher.

After the meeting, ESA announced that member states had approved a step in the direction of human spaceflight. They agreed to direct ESA to begin work on a commercial cargo program, supporting work on vehicles that could transport cargo to and from the International Space Station and, potentially, commercial space stations starting as soon as 2028.

“I’m asking for a small but very impactful step, the first step that enables a much bigger ambition,” ESA director general Josef Aschbacher said in remarks opening the summit.

That “bigger ambition,” he made clear, was a crew vehicle. “The service vehicle could later evolve into a crew vehicle and serve other destinations,” he said, “if member states so decide.” The cargo vehicle, he argued, would develop technologies in transportation, docking, and return that don’t exist today and could support a later crewed vehicle.

ESA provided few details at the summit about how the competition would actually work. Aschbacher said the agency would immediately create a small “tiger team” tasked with developing the competition. “We would like to go fast,” he said. ESA has earmarked 75 million euros ($81 million) from existing exploration programs that would go to two or three companies for initial design studies.

He didn’t give a date for when ESA would award that funding, but suggested it would be done in advance of CM25, the next major ministerial meeting of ESA member states in late 2025, when members set priorities and allocate funding for programs for the next three years.

AtmosRocket Factory Augsburg, working with ATMOS Space Cargo and other companies, unveiled a cargo vehicle concept called Atmos in September. (credit: RFA)

“In the next two years, we will work with a number of proposals from private operators for delivering cargo to LEO,” said Géraldine Naja, ESA’s director of commercialization, in a talk November 14 at the Space Tech Expo Europe conference in Bremen, Germany. “There will be the decision by the member states at the next ministerial council on whether we continue with this approach and whether we continue with cargo in LEO or crew in LEO or cargo for the Moon.”

That schedule, from a standing start to a spacecraft docking with the ISS in five years, is ambitious. The ESA program is patterned on NASA’s Commercial Orbital Transportation Services (COTS) program to develop commercial cargo vehicles for the ISS. SpaceX, which won one of the COTS awards in 2006, a year after NASA announced plans for the program, flew its cargo Dragon to the ISS for the first time in 2012.

Aschbacher acknowledged that aggressive schedule. “It is quite fast,” he said of that schedule. “It is also very bold.”

“Seville made a wise decision to start with a cargo version,” said ArianeGroup’s Godart. “This is why, at ArianeGroup, we started development on SUSIE.”

And Europe is not necessarily starting from a standstill on commercial cargo. Several companies, both entrepreneurial and established, have put forward proposals for vehicles that could serve ESA’s needs for cargo delivery and, in some cases, be the basis for future crewed vehicles.

One is The Exploration Company, a startup that, in February, raised 40.5 million euros in a Series A round, the largest such round by a European space startup. The company is working on a vehicle called Nyx designed to carry cargo to and from low Earth orbit, with the potential for later evolving it to a crewed vehicle. The company plans to launch its first subscale demonstrator spacecraft next year.

“Opening a competition and awarding service contracts to companies is a historic milestone for Europe,” the company posted on social media after the ESA announcement, drawing parallels to the NASA COTS program. “We wish the same impact for the European industry!”

Rocket Factory Augsburg (RFA), a German company developing on a small launch vehicle, revealed in September that it is working on its own cargo vehicle concept called Argo in cooperation with another startup, ATMOS Space Cargo, along with larger aerospace companies OHB and Sener. The spacecraft would deliver cargo to the ISS and return cargo to Earth using a capsule with an inflatable decelerator.

Stefan Tweraser, CEO of RFA, said during a panel at Space Tech Expo Europe that the concept was enabled by the partnership among the companies, none of which had internally all the capabilities needed for a cargo vehicle. “The strength of the European space industry is that there are many specialized players out there who are primed for cooperation,” he said. “That can be the foundation of an entirely new business.”

At the other end of the corporate spectrum is ArianeGroup, the prime contractor for the Ariane 6. Last year, the company unveiled a concept called the Smart Upper Stage for Innovative Exploration (SUSIE) intended to be a reusable upper stage that could also be configured as a cargo or crew vehicle.

At Space Tech Expo Europe, ArianeGroup showed off models of SUSIE, including one configured as a crew vehicle. “Seville made a wise decision to start with a cargo version,” said Pierre Godart, CEO of ArianeGroup Germany, in a conference panel. “This is why, at ArianeGroup, we started development on SUSIE.”

Some European government officials at the conference endorsed the commercial cargo competition as a step towards a crewed vehicle. “We were more in the passenger seat, never in the driver’s seat” in human spaceflight, remarked Philippe Baptiste, CEO of the French space agency CNES, at the conference. That was in large part because of the cost, he argued, a decision that needs to be revisited as space access costs drop.

SUSIEArianeGroup’s SUSIE is a reusable upper stage that could also be used as a cargo or crew vehicle. (credit: ArianeGroup)

A European commercial crew capability, he said, would be useful in a future era of private space stations that largely involve American companies. He would like to see European astronauts on those stations, but noted that won’t be for free. “I would rather have this amount of money being spent in Europe than in any other part of the world.”

“If we go to the direction that we have our own astronauts that go on our own capsules and everything, it’s a matter of budget, it’s a matter of political will,” said Steckling.

He added that he went as far to propose at the Space Summit that ESA help develop its own commercial space stations, following the model of NASA’s Commercial LEO Destinations program. “Why are we not able in Europe to have a similar mechanism to have European private companies develop a private space station?” he said. “I hoped we could get some kind of answer in Seville to this question, but the room remained silent.”

Others appeared to want ESA to be more aggressive, based on questions at both the press conference after the Space Summit and during Space Tech Expo Europe that argued that Europe was aiming too low by focusing on a cargo vehicle rather than going directly to a crew vehicle.

The answers from some to those questions pointed to issues of funding and priorities. “Big ambitions are good,” said Walther Pelzer, director-general of the German Space Agency at DLR, when asked about that at Space Tech Expo Europe. “But, what we need to make sure is to put it into practice. If we try to do everything in Europe right now, we would end up with mediocre results, and that would be worse than the current situation.”

“If we go to the direction that we have our own astronauts that go on our own capsules and everything, it’s a matter of budget, it’s a matter of political will,” said Marc Steckling, head of Earth observation, science, and exploration at Airbus Defence and Space, during another conference panel.

“Does Europe need to reproduce everything that is existing elsewhere already?” he asked, suggesting Europe continue its approach of partnering with the United States and other nations. “I would favor having the right competencies, the right skills in order to be attractive for collaborations.”

Those questions about funding levels and priorities will linger at least through the next major ministerial meeting in two years. “Today’s Space Summit is not a funding summit,” Aschbacher said at the briefing after the summit, thus limiting what ESA could achieve at it in terms of human spaceflight. “I’m asking for a first step in order to build up a program proposal, which, of course, we will now prepare with our member states for funding at CM25.”

During the opening session of that Space Summit, ESA officials and representatives of its member states had a special guest: ESA astronaut Andreas Mogensen, who participated via a live video link from the ISS. He offered a bit of a history lesson, and a warning, to the delegates.

“I’m reminded of the fact that, 25 years ago, ESA and Europe were debating the construction of the Hermes crewed space vehicle,” he said. (Hermes, in fact, had already been cancelled by ESA some 30 years ago.) “I can’t help but think what position Europe would be in today if we had developed Hermes. We would have been able to launch astronauts to the International Space Station and to take over in 2011 after the shuttle retirement.”

“I’m wondering, 25 years from now,” he continued, “will we look back on today and say, ‘if only we had made the investments,’ or do we have the vision today and the courage today to make the necessary investments that will enable European participation in space in the future?”


Jeff Foust (jeff@thespacereview.com) is the editor and publisher of The Space Review, and a senior staff writer with SpaceNews. He also operates the Spacetoday.net web site. Views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone.

Review Of The Book Dreamland

book cover

Review: Dreamland

by Dwayne A. Day
Monday, December 4, 2023

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Dreamland: The Secret History of Area 51
by Peter W. Merlin
Schiffer Military History, 2023
hardcover, 560 pages, illus.
ISBN 978-0-7643-6709-0
US$75.00

Area 51 has been a mythological place for decades now. It is a remote, secure, government-owned area in the Nevada desert that includes Groom Lake, a dry lakebed that has since the 1950s been the site of classified aircraft research. But during the 1970s a myth developed that Area 51 was where the US government examined extraterrestrial spacecraft, and maybe even kept deceased aliens. Various other myths soon accrued to the place—weather control, high-energy weapons, and even time travel research were all alleged to take place there. None of this, of course, was substantiated in any way. Now, with UFOs, rebranded as UAPs, back in the zeitgeist, Area 51 is getting more attention.

The primary space connection for Groom has been that for many years, low resolution satellite photos were the only clues to the substantial facilities there.

Aviation researcher and historian Peter Merlin has just published Dreamland, the definitive book on Area 51, more specifically, the Groom Lake complex. The book gets its title from the radio call sign for that segment of airspace. Merlin’s book is not about aliens or exotic conspiracy theories. It’s about the facility and its long association with classified aircraft research, the well-known subjects like the U-2 Dragon Lady and A-12 OXCART (and later SR-71 Blackbird) reconnaissance aircraft, the F-117 stealth fighter, and many lesser-known test projects such as reconnaissance drones. It is a serious, grounded history of the place and the activities that have occurred there, based upon the best available evidence. Groom is so remote that many of its workers are flown in daily from Las Vegas on passenger planes using the callsign “Janet” that can be seen taking off and returning from Vegas’s airport; they even have their own terminal. Most of the people who worked at Groom have simply called it “the Ranch.” Originally primarily a CIA-led facility, by the 1970s it was turned over to the Air Force.

The book is organized into ten chapters. They cover the establishment of the Groom Lake facility, early U-2 testing in the mid-1950s, the A-12 OXCART and SR-71 Blackbird Mach 3 aircraft testing, the predecessor to the F-117 and follow-on stealth programs, the expansion of the restricted area around the base and controversies during the 1990s over the burial of toxic materials at the site, and some of the recent rumored research there. A lot of things have occurred at Groom Lake over seven decades, and Merlin covers all the ones we know about. What is clear is that a major facility exists far from prying eyes with numerous buildings and several large hangars, and we only know a limited amount of information about what has happened there. But given the size—and weight—of this book, readers will be surprised that a lot more is known about Groom Lake than they think.

I have been told that, when the last HEXAGON reconnaissance satellite was destroyed during a launch accident at Vandenberg Air Force Base in California in April 1986, the wreckage was collected and transported to Groom Lake, where it was buried. But I have no confirmation of that information. Although there were aerial tests of satellite reconnaissance equipment in the 1960s, these appear to have taken place at Edwards Air Force Base in California, and I have not found any information pointing to spacecraft hardware testing at Groom. The primary space connection for Groom has been that for many years, low resolution satellite photos were the only clues to the substantial facilities there. (See “Not-so ancient astronauts and Area 51: the Skylab Incident,” The Space Review, January 23, 2023.) Dreamland is heavily illustrated, including many photos that have not been published before. It used to be that publicly available satellite photos of the facility were few and far between, but now that so many commercial satellites are in operation, that is not the case. Most flight operations occur at night or on the increasingly rare occasions when no satellites are overhead.

Peter Merlin is a meticulous researcher with prior history working in flight testing, giving him a good understanding of the subject. Well over a decade ago he compiled a list of all the times that the United States government had acknowledged having a facility at Groom Lake. Despite numerous media articles about the government “finally confirming” that the Groom Lake facility existed, Merlin demonstrated that for decades the government had released statements concerning Groom. They were simply overlooked by journalists who either hadn’t done detailed research or hadn’t contacted somebody—like Merlin—who had.

The other Area 51 book

Many years ago, a colleague taught me about the difference between history books written by journalists and those written by specialists such as academics and historians. The journalists tended to get better book contracts, with bigger publishers and more promotion. They were often better writers. But they also usually parachuted into a new topic for a year or two, wrote a book, and then moved on to other topics. Without the long baseline of knowledge of a specialist, their biggest weakness was that they did not know what they did not know—unaware of how knowledge of a subject had improved over time, unable to differentiate between information that was genuinely new versus new to them, and ignorant of the remaining gaps of information that deserved further research. Even if they were great researchers, they might have no knowledge that some important subjects had been previously unexplored, and they might be unaware of key sources.

As Merlin demonstrates by including several unclassified documents dating back to 1955, the biggest secret about Groom was that it was never secret.

In 2011, to great publicity, journalist Annie Jacobsen published Area 51: An Uncensored History of America’s Top Secret Military Base, claiming that it was the first comprehensive look at the subject. Jacobsen’s book quickly made the New York Times bestseller list and was reviewed in that publication and other prominent media. Many of the reviews noted her extensive research. Jacobsen devoted a lot of attention to nuclear history, given that atomic testing also took place in the Nevada desert, and paid less attention to classified aircraft research, mostly ignoring anything beyond the U-2 and OXCART programs. However, she received criticism, and even ridicule, for a bizarre story about a Soviet aircraft piloted by genetically modified children that crashed in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947—the so-called “Roswell Incident.” (See “Roswell that ends well,” The Space Review, May 31, 2011.) Jacobsen’s defense of the wacky account in her book was not very solid or convincing. In retrospect, the whole story seemed like something she added as a hook to sell books, but one that discredited her other work.

Robert S. Norris and Jeffrey T. Richelson also wrote a critique of Jacobsen’s research, pointing out that she had completely overlooked many major sources on nuclear weapons history and classified aircraft research, including a massive two-volume Air Force report on the Roswell event. They also recounted numerous errors throughout the book, many of which were reported accurately in the sources that she did cite. Jacobsen demonstrated the classic problem of not knowing what she didn’t know—in citing some sources, like one of Chris Pocock’s early books on the U-2, she didn’t cite his later and more comprehensive books. She also wrote that the U-2 was declassified in 1998 and the OXCART in 2007, apparently unaware that the U-2 had been declassified by President Eisenhower in 1960 when he acknowledged that it flew reconnaissance missions and one had been hanging in the Smithsonian since 1982, or that an official history on the OXCART had been released in the early 2000s. A researcher who had spent more than a year or two addressing the subject would have known these things.

Merlin’s book is much more solidly sourced, and his interest is focused more on the development of aircraft than nuclear weapons testing. He has even unearthed information on aircraft projects unknown to people who have written dedicated books on those topics. The book includes appendices with government documents on the establishment of Groom Lake, aircraft accidents that have occurred there, and other information. As Merlin demonstrates by including several unclassified documents dating back to 1955, the biggest secret about Groom was that it was never secret. But until the government declassifies more information on what has been happening way out there in the desert, Merlin’s book will stand as the definitive source on this subject for many years.


Dwayne A. Day can be reached at zirconic1@cox.net.