Chapter 1: The Dream is Alive
  • Hi everyone!

    Today I wanted to bring to you a story inspired by my musings of Mars, and the nostalgia for the iconic Space Shuttle. It has been 10 years this year since the shuttle stopped flying, and I have not been able to stop thinking; what else could we have done? What if the Shuttle had been used as part of a greater effort to go elsewhere? The Shuttle performed some amazing feats during our lifetime, from launching probes to other worlds and building the International Space Station, but what if things had gone differently? What if NASA had the resources to build upon and expand the fleet, to enable humanity to go to other worlds together? That is what I aim to explore in this timeline, a notional series of missions building upon shuttle tech. To do this, I'll be using some art done across a variety of platforms, including replicas built in Kerbal Space Program and Blender. This is my first ever posted timeline, and a lot of love went into it, and I couldn’t have done it without the help of a variety of folks, all of whom I’ll link to at the end of this first part. I really hope you all enjoy this wonderful, alternate world.

    A NOTE: This timeline is, while being very focused on the technical, is more about telling the story than anything. There might be things you disagree with, and there might be moments that may not align with history. But take it with a grain of salt, and I hope you enjoy the story!

    A REMINDER: As the author, I do not give consent for this project to be fed into any machine learning software or other AI-related thing. This is my work and I'd like to keep it that way. Thank you for being respectful.

    Special thanks to Max, Tracker, Trystan, Cass, Jay, Vesta, Zarbon, and many more for all of your help!

    Chapter 1: The Dream Is Alive

    NASA’s vision of a sustainable future in space had long been driven by dreams of easy, routine access - hundreds upon hundreds of flights that could be easily repeated with a robust and reliable system. The Saturn Vs of old had been tremendous assets to the Moonshot, but expending a vehicle after every flight had felt like a step in the wrong direction. A better method would be required. To do this, a way of shuttling crew into and out of space safely would need to be developed. Hot on the heels of the Apollo Program, NASA engineers and industry partners examined several iterations of reusable vehicles before settling on the first iteration of what would be known as the Space Transportation System. This system would include some of the most complicated machines ever flown, with new cryogenic engine technology, and the implementation of solid rocket motors, the largest ever built. NASA, riding the support of the Apollo program, would end up ordering 5 orbiters, named after the great ships of exploration, to honor their heritage of discovering new worlds and boldly going. The choice to build a shuttle as the starting point of a system was seen as a move to not only learn how to live in space, but to build on itself and its capabilities. But to many, there was a worry, that after the great successes of Apollo, that a vehicle only capable of lifting itself into low earth orbit would doom NASA, and human spaceflight as a whole, to remain stagnant. For some, this seemed like a safer option, the risks taken during the Apollo program were seen as unreasonable, and the near loss of crew during Apollo 13 only reinforced the idea that humans should be kept close to home to return quickly in the event of an emergency. NASA, in their ambitious post Apollo state, had a cost to weigh, one of what to do with the capabilities of not just an Orbiter, but an entire system that could carry both crew and cargo in autonomous and crewed configurations, and build something truly incredible. These 5 orbiters, Challenger, Discovery, Atlantis, Endeavour and Intrepid would be delivered over the next two and a half years, a byproduct of the immense investment of the US Government into Rockwell and their Palmdale facility to expedite the arrival of the fleet. In many ways, the first two vehicles in the fleet, Challenger and Discovery would serve as experimental vehicles like the X-Planes before them, testing out this new technology and demoing the variety of safety systems required under the organization of the program. The early flights of the program would see a variety of safety tests, fine tuning the art of rendezvous and docking capability using Skylab, having been saved from a decaying orbit by a Titan boost module in 1978. They would then go on to demonstrate modular construction components, payload deployment and servicing, illustrating to the tax paying public just what they were getting with their government’s investment.

    In many ways, the first test would be the most arduous, and would require a modification of Challenger in order to demonstrate - installing an autonomous flight control system. The choice to automate the shuttle’s systems was definitely a time sensitive one, and had delayed the maiden flight of the vehicle from 1979, but in the interest of safety, it was thought wise. These functions, however, would be rudimentary, and extensive modifications were required to equip Challenger to flight specifications. NASA engineers had originally planned on a crewed first flight which would see the vehicle perform a Return to Launch Site maneuver, but this was ultimately not selected due to overruling from the NASA astronaut office. The maneuver, tested in simulation, would also require the crew to bail out of the vehicle and be recovered by search and rescue teams. It was decided instead, to practice this bailout procedure in simulations, as well as using a modified shuttle hatch installed on the side of a C-130 carrying a replica of the flight deck, as well as aero surfaces to mimic the airflow conditions at bailout. The first orbital flight, the first of the program and the first of a dedicated spaceplane would occur on March 10, 1980, carrying OV-099 Challenger on her maiden flight. Lifting off into the spring dawn, the vehicle would arc over the Atlantic ocean in a blaze of glory, shaking Cocoa Beach and the surrounding counties with the sound of the solid rocket motors. The accelerometers onboard measured the shake, rattle and roll of the vehicle as it performed its ascent, and technicians were quick to note that the sound suppression system had not worked as adequately as intended. Also a first for NASA was the downrange recovery of the twin solid rocket boosters, by newly minted sister ships Liberty and Freedom. The vehicle performed better than expected, and despite not having a crew onboard, was able to correct minor issues in attitude during separation from the External Tank and orbit insertion. Challenger would spend two days in orbit, conducting slow, painstaking inspections with her onboard remote manipulator system, as well as using an overflying KH-11 Kennen reconnaissance satellite to get accurate images of what the arm could not see. Challenger would deploy two Hughes-built satellites for low earth orbit tests of inter-satellite communications, and a third satellite built by Massachusetts Institute of Technology students as part of an education-engagement initiative. This was, at the time, the limit of what the orbiter could do on its own, and would only spend about two and half days in orbit before sealing the payload bay and preparing for touchdown at Edwards Air Force Base in California. The entry, with its long lazy S-Turns and landing with its abrupt flair over the desert, would be a symbol of national excellence, and soon, OV-103 Discovery would find herself being readied for the maiden crew flight - a voyage to a relic of spaceflight’s past. Engineers at NASA and Rockwell were impressed, and space agencies all over the world would soon begin to scratch their heads at what would be possible with such a vehicle. Even deeper within the agency, in an arm of the Human Spaceflight Office not extremely busy since Apollo, wheels were turning, plans were being scribbled on paper, and letters being written - what were the possibilities for NASA moving towards the new millennium?

    Discovery rolled out to the pad in June, carrying with it for the first time an American modular structure to be assembled in space. Within her payload bay sat the Skylab-Shuttle Interface Module, a cylindrical element that would enable Discovery to dock with the incompatible Apollo docking system, and allow for future flights to the station to approach and dock with optimal clearance. It carried fixture points for the shuttle’s robotic arm, a mount for a solar panel mast, and docking ports for additional modules to be installed on a later mission, notionally in 1981 or 1982. Onboard were the first four astronauts of the Shuttle program, Commander John Young, Pilot Robert Crippen and Mission Specialists Joe Engle and Richard Truly. In many ways, Challenger’s flight on STS-1 verified the safety systems of the orbiter, but Discovery’s flight would enable an interface between the crew and the vehicle for the very first time. Discovery lifted off in the early afternoon on the 12th of April, 1980, 19 years since the dawn of crewed space flight itself. The turnout at Kennedy Space Center was enormous, with beaches for miles crowded with visitors to see the winged vehicle rise towards space. The 8 ½ minute ascent was textbook, and the crew were free to doff their launch and entry suits and set up the orbiter for their approach to Skylab. Two days of free flight were scheduled to allow for crew familiarization with the vehicle, and the relocation of the SSIM onto the Shuttle’s docking system, a modified Androgynous Peripheral Attachment System collar. The first snag of the mission occurred on flight day 2 when data links from the cameras mounted on the top of the SSIM failed to link with plugins in the shuttle’s docking system. Docking without them was something the crew had trained for, but it was hoped that these cameras would assist the crew. It was eventually decided to disconnect the module using the RMS and reattach it, in the hope that the crew could see any potential blockage to the data ports from the flight deck rear windows. The removal was successful, and the crew observed no obstruction, before reattaching the module to find it working perfectly. Arriving at Skylab, the crew could observe for the first time what the in-space environment had done to the vehicle. From the outside, it was immediately apparent that the exposure to space had severely yellowed the external components of the spacecraft, and dings were noticeable where the Micrometeoroid Orbital Debris shielding had ripped off during launch.

    The approach was… painfully slow. While the sims had trained the astronauts adequately, an abundance of care was taken to ensure that Discovery remained safe. Soon, the probe made contact with the port, and the two great vehicles would become one. The plan for the stay at Skylab would be to enter the station after the crew members would check the air quality inside, and pressure in the SSIM would be equalized to that of the workshop, much like the procedure for the docking adapter flown on the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project. Here, the crew would encounter the second snag of the mission - readings of highly toxic chemicals produced from the excessive heat in the station would require the life support to be vented, something STS-2 was not equipped to deal with. The choice was made to end the mission early, leaving the SSIM attached, and Skylab in a stable orbit, and return with a new Spacelab pallet full of additional supplies to repair the station. Undocking was uneventful, and the station faded away into the background of low earth orbit. The crew spent time servicing the vehicle, conducting materials science experiments onboard as well as enjoying the view of earth from the variety of windows. With 6 days of time on orbit, STS-2 performed its deorbit burn and committed to touchdown at Edwards Air Force Base. Flanked on final approach by a pair of NASA T-38s, STS-2’s reception was one part ticker-tape and one part Woodstock, as crowds gathered to witness this marvel of machinery. Touching down at 185 knots, the vehicle had a rollout distance of 7,728 feet, before coming to a stop. The crews exited the vehicle to much fanfare, and were well received in the setting California sun - and although the sun was setting, to many, it was the dawn of a new day, the future of not just Americans, but the world in space.

    Meanwhile, at Johnson Space Center, rumors and hushed tone discussions had blossomed into meetings, and several offices of engineers and scientists had convened after hours to discuss the success of the Space Shuttle’s first crewed flight. Notes were hurriedly scribbled on chalkboards, and experts from all across the aerospace industry had been brought together. It would seem that this was the start of a new era, and confidence in the sector was high - shuttle had been delivered with only a marginal delay, and new orbiters were due to begin flying soon, within the next few years. Many seemingly outlandish ideas were discussed, an early modular space station, augmented passenger modules and space based solar power among them, but there was one thought that they continued to return to; a thought that had been lingering on their minds since the bittersweet final launch of Saturn V, a vehicle many thought would take humanity even further than it did… Mars.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 1.5: Image Annex
  • Chapter 1.5: Images from STS-2
    Hi everyone, I had originally planned on posting some images to go along with the first part of this narrative, but there were a couple I really so I couldn't decide. I thought I'd just put the ones I really liked in another post all together!

    DiscoverySkylab.png

    STS-2 is pictured here with Skylab and the SSIM, showing the damage to the station which occurred during its launch onboard a Saturn V in 1973. (The makeshift parasol is not depicted on this rendition due to the availability of parts in Kerbal Space Program.)​
     
    Chapter 2: No Shortage of Determination
  • Hello all! Thank you all very much for the kind words for Chapter 1! It has been such a blast hearing your feedback and reading your comments! I have had such a blast writing so far. Our fair fleet's exploration of Skylab has been... troubled so far. I'm sure it is causing any number of headaches on the ground, as well as for the crews onboard. With that all being said, let's jump back into the action! I'll also have some excellent KSP screenshots from my friend Jay, and I can't wait for you all to see them!

    Chapter 2: No Shortage of Determination

    1981 saw a rapid expansion to many aspects of NASA’s mission, as engineers and specialists worked to not only turn Challenger and Discovery around, but prepare for the third orbiter in their fleet. OV-104, Atlantis, was rolled out of the Rockwell Palmdale facility in late January and made her debut flight to Skylab soon after, now augmented with additional power and improved life support racks installed in the Orbital Workshop. Work done by Discovery and Challenger the previous year had improved conditions somewhat on the aging space station, but it was never optimal to begin with. The planned extension to Skylab’s liveable volume had not come to fruition; frustrating those who wished to expand the facility into a permanent destination for the Space Shuttle. Moreover, the new Extravehicular Mobility Units were too cumbersome to operate from Skylab's own airlock, adding time to spacewalks to augment the station. Mission planners had made the unpleasant call to merely “crew-tend” Skylab, and install experiments that could be left running - returning periodically to check the results. These included microbiology, solar physics and more, with the increased electrical power resulting in more systems that could be run. During the station’s Apollo era, the damaged solar array had severely limited how functional the station was in a scientific capacity. It was, in many ways, disappointing to those who had advocated for Skylab’s return to service as a US outpost in orbit, but Skylab was what it was, and there was only so much work that could be done. These rotating crew flights were bookended by free flights of the orbiter system, working to deploy the Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System and a series of small and medium class Earth science missions for NASA, as well as new, joint operations with the European Space Agency in their Spacelab program.

    LMdcD47.png


    The 3 orbiters of the fleet found themselves busy, but it became apparent rather quickly that Skylab would not be a permanent destination. Problems cropped up on nearly every flight to the station, and it was becoming clear that Skylab had its fair share of shortcomings. The most notable incident occurred on the 6th visit by a shuttle crew, the first with an international crew member from Europe, when a small fire in an experiment rack forced the crew back to Atlantis out of an abundance of caution. The crew, understandably stunned from what had happened, spent the remainder of their time on orbit troubleshooting the station, and once again venting the life support system and recycling the breathing gas onboard the station. Skylab was looking less and less like a simply malfunctioning space station, and more like a hazard. NASA management was quick to highlight the sustainability of operations from a station that had not had the best start to begin with. In early September of 1981, the last flight to Skylab took place, powering down the station and removing essential equipment and mementos. Skylab was a shell of its former self, showing considerable age even in the nearly two years of crew operations with the shuttle. The crew would undock, and a Skylab De-Orbit module, not unlike the vehicle that had saved it years ago, would take the orbiter’s place to deorbit the once great station. Skylab, after a nearly 8 year service life, re-entered over the South Pacific on September 30th, 1981, and met an honorable end. Shuttle flights carried on throughout the year, and new records continued to be set for endurance, crew size and altitude. The vehicle was performing better than expected, and already the Shuttle was becoming a symbol of American aerospace excellence.

    In the immediate “post-Skylab period”, mission planners were eager to test the system’s capabilities even further, and develop techniques that could help with future activities in space. Shuttle had been used previously as a launch platform for satellites, but one of the systems’ main selling points was the ability to service satellites and assist in construction in space. Launching mid-morning on October 3rd, 1981, STS-11 would demonstrate the capability of Shuttle to service satellites. Challenger would open her payload bay doors and assume the proper attitude for flight, after a flawless 8 ½ minute ride to orbit. This would also mark the system’s first flight with seven crew members, a record number of people in space on one spacecraft. The mission’s target would be a recently launched vehicle, the first of NASA’s spin stabilized Geostationary Global Observers. Meant as an interim vehicle while planned upgrades to the Geostationary Operational Environmental Satellite were in development, the GGO program was capable in its own right. These vehicles, based off of a commercial satellite bus, would provide NASA with coverage of the entire globe’s weather patterns through continuous observation and imaging at geostationary altitudes. GGO-1, launched in May of 1981, had failed to achieve its intended orbit due to a kick stage failure, leaving the vehicle stranded. Rather than abandon the satellite, NASA saw an opportunity to test the mettle of both the shuttle and the crew and validate many of the design choices made in the development of the orbiters. Flight Day 2 saw the first phase of approach to the stricken satellite, and the beginnings of prep work for the complex series of EVAs required to fix it. The plan, notionally, was to retrieve the satellite using the Canadian Remote Manipulator System, secure it in the payload bay, and attach a new, non-faulty kick motor that would enable the satellite to get on its way. A series of 3 EVAs was planned, the first would be to secure the satellite, and bring it to the payload bay. The following 2 EVAs would concentrate on installing the new motor and performing final checkouts, as well as evaluating multiple types of tools for astronaut use and assembly of a testbed structure in the cargo bay.

    This would not be as easy as they anticipated. The maneuvering of the orbiter, and the first step: grappling the vehicle, was fairly easy. The capture bar, designed to fit exactly within the propulsion segment of the vehicle, worked exactly as intended, and soon, GGO-1 was secure in the cargo bay. This is where the problems began. The second EVA began, and the crewmembers soon discovered that the mounting point for the new apogee motor had been damaged during the separation from the failed upper stage on it’s original launch vehicle. This meant that the planned installation would have to wait, as teams on the ground worked to remedy the situation. The new Extravehicular Mobility Units proved to be a difficult learning curve in space, as the Neutral Buoyancy Lab could only replicate so much about the conditions in orbit. The astronauts were growing tired quickly, and flight controllers had to ensure they were not too fatigued to continue servicing the satellite. A plan was quickly drawn up to pry the old mounting plate off with the inflight equivalent of a crowbar, and replace it with a spare that had been sent up with the crew. This too proved arduous, as the suits did not lend themselves well to the motion required to remove the screws. On hour 6 of spacewalk 2, the old mounting plate was off and stowed, and the new plate moved into position. This proved to be far easier, as ground controllers made the decision to move the satellite with the RMS over the middle of the payload bay to allow for installation of the new mounting plate. With hour 7 rolling around, the call was made to cut the spacewalk, and cancel the tasks for spacewalk 3 in favor of finishing the job. The third EVA would proceed much more smoothly, with the astronauts getting the new kick stage attached in roughly 6 hours, and releasing the satellite promptly.

    The rest of the mission was fairly mundane, but the crew did manage to spend some time observing the Earth and talking to the press. The, understandably tired, crew gave a tour of the orbiter, showing off their flips in microgravity, and discussed the learning curve of their arduous spacewalks. The public simply couldn’t get enough - astronauts were becoming commonplace, and soon, perhaps even private citizens could fly to space and experience its majesty. The notion of repairing and servicing things in space, once a science fiction dream, was now possible with a vehicle like the Space Shuttle. Futurists, economists, scientists and engineers could now envision a world in which routine access to space would drastically improve life on Earth; perhaps bringing about a reality that was better than the one they lived in. The Space Shuttle featured prominently in media, soon transcending the realm of space launch system and becoming something of a cultural icon. At this time, NASA began to consider an option for their next astronaut class; the inclusion of non-scientists as potential astronauts. They did not have to be test pilots or hold doctorates in their field, but could be educators, artists or social scientists. NASA felt, and many within the astronaut corps reflected this, that if the Space Shuttle was to bring humans forward to the stars, than it needed to represent all of humanity. As an added bonus, a dedicated "Educator Astronaut" corps would ensure that human spaceflight accomplishments would remain in the public eye. It seemed that the overseas partners would agree, and would take similar action in public outreach. The path was laid, with NASA, their newfound international collaborators and crews headed for greatness. The road to the cosmos, a road so many had dreamt of for years, seemed to be finally open to humankind.

    The question however still remained, where to? To some groups, there seemed only one logical option, one that would be reiterated by NASA’s various offices - Mars. Internally, it seemed very clear that the agency would move forward with a Mars focused program, and questions waiting to be answered from Mariner and Viking loomed large. Politically, the support was there, as the shuttle program had only expanded the contributions of various districts across the country. The will of the American people was with NASA, and many within the public sphere had hoped for a mission to Mars by 1980 with Apollo technology. Even though the Space Shuttle, kept NASA in low earth orbit for now, there was a consensus that more could be done. The people of the world looked to images of space as the next great frontier to explore. To get there, however, would require planning, and very quietly, requests for proposals were sent to contractors across the industry. Agencies around the world, many of them lifting their first crews to space on board the Shuttle such as Europe, Canada and Japan, would also show an interest in large scale political participation. It soon became clear that a mission of this scale would not be feasible alone, and that there were some unlikely connections that needed to be made.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 2.5: Image Annex
  • Hi all,
    I wanted to make a quick note about Skylab's end of life. So, at the time of deorbit, the things left on station would be the adapter module, the orbital workshop, and the mounting bracket for the solar array wing that was pictured. Massive solar arrays are a huge asset, especially in early station building, so those would have been recovered and returned to Earth on the final shuttle flight to the station, most likely on STS-10. Shuttle-Skylab, while seemingly a good early idea for the Shuttle program, likely would have been fraught with issues that would plague any crew visiting. The first thing to note is the incompatible atmosphere, and would require the use of an adapter module to make the transition from Shuttle's atmosphere to Skylab's. The second issue would be the trash. Skylab was FILTHY. Unlike modern facilities like the International Space Station and China's Space Station, there were no resupply ships that dispose of unwanted materials (Such as Cygnus, Progress, Tianzhou etc). This lead to a lot of junk just hanging out, likely getting in the way of the crew. There are a whole host of engineering concerns for Skylab as well, such as thermal management, power generation, and an aging life support system that would most certainly cause headaches.

    A quick note, since this week is Thanksgiving, I may not have a post ready to go on Monday, as I'll be spending time with family, so perhaps expect it around the middle of the week? Anyway, please enjoy some stellar images from the illustrious Jay, and I'll see ya next time!
    LdcBfFu.png
    RflRqfB.png
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 3: A Plan
  • Hi everyone! For everyone who celebrated, I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and if you don't hope you had a good week! I know many people have been very curious about the orbiter arrangement thus far, and I promise all will be revealed regarding OV-102 next week. This week, we're gonna start taking a look at some proposals, and pushing higher, further, and faster than ever before. I wanna thank Max for all their hard work on this post, they did a super job with this concept art I'm about to show you, and I'm so grateful! Normal posting schedule, as I've mentioned before, will resume next week and will stay consistently on Monday unless otherwise noted.

    Anyway, on with the show!

    Chapter 3: A Plan

    After the learning curve of STS-11, and the resounding success of the program thus far, NASA officially put forward their call for additional astronauts, including those who did not have traditional degrees in science, or come from a test pilot background. To some, this seemed like a waste of time. Non scientists? What would be the point? Would anyone apply? But to those at NASA, they knew what they were doing. Looking at previous recruitment campaigns that the agency had run, NASA once again turned to television and the allure of science fiction. Citing their work with Nichelle Nichols in 1977, Leonard Nimoy, of Star Trek fame, would take to television and deliver a message for the agency that would ring true for generations of aspiring astronauts.
    “Do you have what it takes to be the next starship captain? Not here, on the Enterprise that I serve on, but on NASA’s Space Shuttle fleet. Astronaut candidates are needed to help propel us into the future, as we work to prepare for the next phase of human space exploration. Scientists, Educators, Doctors and more are all needed to make the push towards a 21st century in space. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration is seeking those who would further their mission to boldly go, and explore strange new worlds!”
    The campaign would be a massive success, with thousands of astronaut candidates pouring in from all over the country. NASA would find itself awash with applicants, many of whom came from diverse backgrounds and represented the new age of humans in space that NASA had hoped for. Out of all of the candidates, 37% were women, 45% were non-white, and 40% had pilot experience in a military setting. This new, diverse and incredibly talented selection of individuals would have to be whittled down to 21 by 1985, a seemingly impossible task, but one that NASA’s recruitment office was eager to tackle. Around the world, international agencies were readying their new recruits; 10 from the European Space Agency, 7 from the Japanese National Space Development Agency, and 4 from the Canadian Space Agency, who would all train in Houston with the NASA astronauts. NASA’s Educator Astronaut corps had also blossomed, welcoming teachers from across the country, and ranging from elementary school to college and graduate level. For NASA, it was a win, more than enough astronauts to train and work with to advance their goals.

    In the first half of 1981, NASA had quietly informed other international agencies that they had put out a request for proposals regarding a Mars mission. Within the industry, there was much excitement over the prospect of a bigger push towards space than Apollo. After months of work in the dark, those at NASA’s various centers, Houston, Rockwell, Boeing and Morton Thiokol came forward with the first draft of their proposals for a Mars-focused future. It had not been an easy road to approach this point, countless hours had been spent toiling over these documents in the hopes that it would be appealing to both the scientists at NASA, and their political higher ups. Known as Design Reference Mission 2000, it was a 325 page report detailing plans of a number of comprehensive architectures to get to Mars, at the earliest, by 1994, and the latest, having the first mission bound for Mars by 2000. Skylab had been a lot of things, but it showed that assembly in space was possible, and humans living and working in space was well within reach. The baseline for all of the proposals had leveraged using shuttle and assembling an in space refurbishing and construction facility. This facility would later see expansion into a fully fledged international laboratory, which would help assist NASA and its partner agencies in furthering spaceflight research. Another “must-have” for the Martian architecture would be a place to go on arrival at Mars, a station in Martian orbit that could be ready to receive crews in the event that a landing could not take place, and where they could wait out until the return window opened. The station soon became known as the Mars Base Station, with scientists equating it to the first coastal antarctic bases. This station could also be augmented with modules delivered by arriving and departing crews to enable further space for operations, as well as validate technology in the Martian environment. The final piece of must haves, a flurry of robotic precursor missions, dubbed semi informally as the “Mars Armada”, would need to be sent ahead of the human landing program to complement the work done by Mariner and Viking, from not just the United States. These vehicles would be essential in gathering as much data as possible about prospective landing sites, Martian weather, and conditions on the surface. International collaboration was strongly advocated for, and instruments from one country could theoretically be flown on another vehicle before the original country’s vehicle was ready. Advancements in manufacturing and rocket technology across the world would enable an international, cooperative effort between seemingly all space faring nations.

    As these numerous organizations came forward, it was clear that there was a major split between the various architectures for a Mars mission; the Transfer Vehicle. Some simpler approaches saw a massive, expendable interplanetary craft that would use chemical stages derived from Saturn V hardware, assembled using a clean sheet design launch vehicle and serviced by Shuttle crews. Another proposal suggested using newly studied ion propulsion for a low energy transfer to Mars, which would reduce the overall size of the spacecraft at the cost of high flight times. The most promising study, however, came in the form of nuclear propulsion, using newly developed densified hydrogen, and experimental lightweight modules to enable high efficiency. NASA’s interest immediately peaked, and engineers and mission planners began to make their assessment. This new type of long term storage would be a tricky one to master, but many within the agency and in engineering circles felt that once that technology could be grappled with, even bolder missions than Mars would be possible. Outside of the transfer element, the other important component would be the lander. The lander, one of the most difficult components of the Apollo program before it, could be split up between nations to minimize cost and ensure that various minds were available to tackle problems. Propulsion for the lander would also be an issue, as Apollo veterans immediately looked to work on a storable design, at the cost of immense weight. Advocates of the cryogenics program were quick to point out that common fuel handling, and the inevitable in orbit refueling that would be required would be best suited to a common propellant type. It was thought that a cryogenic lander could offer more performance and mission flexibility, and avoid caustic fuels damaging the lander’s systems over the projected multi year missions.

    Qm1Gjjn.png


    The next big challenge would be assembly. Earlier studies of Mars missions had leveraged the immense lifting capabilities of Saturn V or other similar vehicles. However, the move to the Shuttle program had presented both challenges and benefits. The lifting capability of the shuttle, and the relative ease that NASA had with turning the vehicles around meant that modular construction was on the table, rather than the monolithic assembly methods proposed in Von Braun’s Mars studies. However, the limited size of the payload bay meant that the components would be relatively small, extending the construction period, and orbiters would need to be at the ready for a launch and construction campaign. Work on assembling the precursor space station would also enable a "practice run" of assembly techniques for construction of the upcoming Mars ships. All of the Shuttle contractors, in the back of their mind, had always looked to expand the capabilities of the orbiter system, and had drafted proposals for augmentation and modification of the vehicle, without modifying the pad. Several designs came forward, but the most promising was the Orbital Payload Assist Module. The OPAM, as it came to be known, would retain the mounting points of the launch pad, while the payload would ride on top. The engine pod would plug into the pad just as the shuttle would, enabling a common pad structure. This modification led to the acronym SDLV - Shuttle Derived Launch Vehicle. This vehicle could leverage the super heavy lift aspects of the Shuttle system without the orbiter, maximizing payload to orbit as well as outsized payloads that would not fit within the shuttle cargo bay. Preliminary design work showed that a system like this could enable cargo of up to 60 tons into orbit, and rumored vehicles being developed in other nations could enable even heavier cargo to be launched - if the political connections could be made. NASA reviewers commented on the commonality displayed on the pad, and the reusability factor of the SDLV system to work in conjunction with their existing shuttle fleet. Coupled with new infrastructure development at the Kennedy Space Center, estimates for up to 40 flights per year were thrown around, more than justifying the cost of these new vehicles and upgrades.

    These mission proposals were bold, and expensive, but NASA was in the public’s eye, as images beamed down from flights to Skylab and LEO displayed that human spaceflight was an optimal path forward, and leadership in this field would secure the United States as a prominent power for years to come. But there came another realization, that going alone to Mars would further isolate scientific communities and fail to spread a vision of peace and understanding. A vision of a sustainable future, NASA realized, would be one in which agencies marched into the cosmos hand in hand. The long road now would be assembling these teams, and building the bridges between space agencies to discuss the future of one such program. It was a relatively easy feat to offer a seat on Shuttle to an interested party, compared to the years of political headaches that starting a multi-decade program would be. Deals had to be finalized, industry contracts had to be awarded, and the public of each nation had to be just as on board to ensure continuity. In the words of NASA management, it was akin to herding cats.

    The use of satellite navigation, weather satellites, and research conducted on Skylab was being realized around the world - space research mattered greatly, and advancing human footholds in space as a logical next step to Apollo seemed to be the right path forward. Other countries were realizing this too, and dreams of an international future in space began to circulate in classrooms, government buildings and design labs. Moving swiftly through governments worldwide, the Mars Project seemed to tick the boxes of those who wanted to go higher and faster, making bold discoveries for generations to come. The program was met with public and formal legal approval, and the true work on research, contract assignment and astronaut training could begin. But not before settling on a name, a name that would inspire and ring in the ears of a generation like Apollo would. It would come down to a remark, made by one of the geologists assigned to the program: “To name a mission to Mars Ares feels, well, redundant. Apollo was this godlike figure, and now we as humans are heading to the house of the gods - Olympus if you will… wait, why are you writing this down?” The name Olympus was ultimately selected, and work could begin in earnest on the most complex human spaceflight program in history.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 4: Enter Valiant
  • Hello you lovely people, it's time for something you've all been waiting for... OV-102!

    While I'm sure this scenario will not appease everyone's desire's for the outcome, I hope it provides a cool "what if" for the orbiter and that you'll come along for the ride as we explore this wacky alternate world. I would love to extend my greatest thanks to my dear friend Tracker, who did so many incredible images for this post and is a trooper for putting up with all of my design changes.

    Chapter 4: Enter Valiant

    NASA’s shuttle program had been hurried into existence by the dramatic turn towards climate awareness, with scientific representatives from NASA, NOAA and the EPA touting a system of both human and robotic observation to maintain awareness of the state of the planet. Engineers had pointed out that rapid, reusable vehicles would only advance life on Earth, perhaps solving the needs of billions of people and ensuring American leadership in the global technosphere. Both Ford and Carter’s administrations had been sold on the idea of reusable, common and world leading space travel; and in 1977 Congress acted to ensure greater funding in the program’s infancy. Work by Rockwell and Aerojet had been slow to start, but quickly picked up as the Space Shuttle Main Engine issues were resolved. The Department of Defense had been quick to fund additional capabilities, and in many ways, had shaped the program’s overall design. However, with the additional scientific capabilities, and talks of repurposing Skylab or even building a new station, the DoD’s dedicated missions had been pushed further down the flightline. For many years since the start of the Space Age, the Air Force had been interested in flying their own crew on their own vehicles, separate from the scientific focus of NASA’s human spaceflight office, and more importantly, free from safety constraints that may restrict their ability to act in national interest. In the 60s, programs like the Manned Orbiting Laboratory had promised to revolutionize the practice of observation. Internal support for these programs had dwindled, largely due to automated spy satellites taking over from crewed observation. However, crewed spaceflight remained on the Department of Defense's radar, and the capabilities of the Space Shuttle system were not to be ignored.

    IjR5L2Y.jpg

    As NASA had taken delivery of their Space Shuttle fleet, there had been a noticeably missing component, the first space-capable orbiter off the line. Despite the tremendous support from the federal government, something had gone wrong. As Rockwell had worked to fine tune the vehicle over the course of production, it became apparent that OV-102 was coming in way over the weight advertised to NASA, which would end up losing capability. This was to be expected, OV-102 was in many ways a prototype, and manufacturing would be refined as the program went on. Later vehicles, such as OV-103 and OV-104 would be refined with lessons learned from OV-102’s time at Palmdale. Small cracks in the airframe and damage to the nose tiles during a mating test to the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft only furthered the problems with the vehicle, and the final blow was dealt in the summer of 1978. The mostly completed vehicle, scheduled to be flown from Palmdale to Dulles International Airport for an exhibition on human spaceflight, was being prepped for loading onto the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft. Lifting was underway on the Mate Demate Device, and the vehicle was roughly 35 feet off the ground when the two forward cables supporting the orbiter snapped. The nose of the orbiter slammed into the ground, bending the airframe and shattering the incomplete thermal protection system, scattering around the vehicle like broken teeth. For the lift crew, there was a moment of deep and profound silence. For NASA, their plans for a fleet of reusable vehicles seemed to be up in the air. Rockwell was already in panic mode, OV-102 seemed like a total loss, the first orbiter of five and it could not even be delivered. The public fallout was immense, and an image of the orbiter, milliseconds from contacting the ground taken by a lucky photographer, was the front page of the Los Angeles Times, the headline; “NASA’S NEW SPACE SHUTTLE IN PIECES”

    znIC6Uc.jpg


    A crisis meeting was immediately held, and the options were presented to NASA. A structural test article, OV-099, could theoretically be quickly converted into a new orbiter. Parts for OV-103, Discovery, were already arriving at the Palmdale facility for assembly, Converting OV-101 Enterprise would be a more difficult endeavor, as the vehicle would essentially need to be rebuilt from the ground up. NASA had agreed to pursue OV-099’s conversion, and allocated the required funds. OV-102, in its sorry state, would be brought back into the production facility where it would sit. In late 1979, after the upgrades to Challenger had begun to enable the automatic flight planned for STS-1, NASA would declare OV-099 their first orbiter; leaving OV-102 in the factory, and later declaring that they would not accept the vehicle given the immense stress the airframe had undergone. NASA management was troubled by the incident, for sure, and paid close attention to the construction of both OV-099 and OV-103, while their perhaps misplaced confidence and lack of oversight with OV-102 had led to the accident with the MDD.

    Within the agency, the consequences of the accident were beginning to be felt. While OV-099 could be brought into service fairly quickly, the delay had its repercussions. The longer Skylab spent in orbit untended, the more difficult it would be to deal with. The sun had entered a period of solar maximum, increasing drag on the station, and there was only so much the Titan Boost module could correct for. Payloads for the space agency were also nearing completion, and time spent sitting in a warehouse would only cut down on-orbit lifetimes. Under executive branch directive, NASA pushed Rockwell to return the funding for the vehicle, under the charge that it would only delay the further advancement of human spaceflight. Rockwell, in a negotiated deal, would agree to keep the payment and produce a sixth orbiter, Intrepid, while allowing the company to continue to fiddle with the undelivered vehicle in an attempt to reduce weight, with the hopes that perhaps the vehicle could be delivered if NASA required it. This was a massive public relations nightmare for the company, as journalists decried the workmanship of the Palmdale facility and the company’s management in general. It became such a bloated issue that NASA spokespeople became involved, defending the performance and reputation of their vehicle, and demonstrating their capabilities on subsequent flights. For Rockwell, OV-102 would remain a reminder of their own shortcomings for the foreseeable future.

    OV-102 would sit dormant in the Palmdale facility for several years, as the team worked to correct issues with the vehicle, being powered up semi-regularly to check systems and keep the vehicle functioning. In 1982, with 4 orbiters of NASA’s fleet delivered, several members of Air Force seniority arrived at the Palmdale plant and presented Rockwell with the problem at hand; the Atlas, Titan and Delta family was aging rapidly, and iterative designs of these vehicles could only go so far. Reliability in manufacturing had also been a concern, noted on Titans that had been assembled for both ICBM and launch vehicle use. Rather than wind down these programs and wait for available NASA shuttles to fly their payloads on, they would instead be interested in purchasing OV-102 for use out of both the East and West Coast. NASA had looked, rather intensely, at the West Coast launch site, and had even assisted in the renovation of Space Launch Complex-6, but no mission so far had warranted a California launch. The Air Force, in a matter of relative redundancy, would keep some of the Atlas, Titan and Delta vehicles on reserve, but looked to maximize their flights on this new vehicle. However, there was a serious caveat: Rockwell would have until the end of the year to apply the weight saving measures found on the NASA shuttles to OV-102, as well as install new ELINT equipment and radiation hardening measures. Faced with an uncertain production future now that only Intrepid remained to be delivered to NASA, OV-102 would be brought into the production line again, and considerable weight removed from the vehicle in order to enable the kind of payload performance the Air Force was looking for out of both Vandenberg and Kennedy Space Center. The Air Force, in a public ceremony in Washington DC, would name this new spacecraft SV001 Valiant.

    cejD5cY.jpg


    The vehicle rolled out into the California sun in November, over a month ahead of schedule, and was handed to the 77th Valiant Operations Wing, a special division of the Vandenberg Air Force Base operations. This delivery also left the Air Force with another issue: who would be available to fly her? Two months ahead of the projected delivery, recruiters from Vandenberg traveled to a variety of facilities eager to find airmen to pilot the shuttle, as well as payload specialists. Training operations would be carried out at Edwards Air Force Base, initially in conjunction with already flying NASA astronauts. After the first round of airmen would be trained, they would then go on to fly on Valiant, before returning to Edwards to train other rookie airmen. The Valiant Operations Wing would also take delivery of 6 escort F-15s, and a dedicated C-25 Shuttle Carrier Aircraft, a modified Boeing 747-200 to serve as the equivalent to NASA’s fleet. As with orbiter Enterprise in years prior, Valiant would roll to the pad at SLC-6 for its own series of fit checks in preparation for a debut flight in 1983. These would see a novelty among the twin space shuttle programs, a grey tank with an Air Force roundel, much like the white tanks of the early shuttle missions. The vehicle was a striking comparison to the shuttles NASA flew, a dark and almost sinister vision shrouded in a good deal of secrecy. This would change fairly early in Valiant’s life, as Martin Marietta aimed to keep cost and weight down by producing identical tanks for both the Air Force and NASA, and soon, the only discernible difference would be the tail markings on the USAF Orbiter and the Air Force Star on the solid rocket motors. Soon, Valiant would see final checks for the maiden flight for the Air Force’s dedicated orbital vehicle.

    89zJzjy.png
     
    Chapter 4.5: Image Annex
  • Chapter 4.5: Image Annex and Some Notes

    Hi all,

    I just wanted to throw a few images up that didn't make the final posting for Chapter 4. I'm glad y'all seem to like Valiant so far, there is so much more in store for her and I can't wait to show you. The image I have of Valiant on the pad is done once again by Tracker, and due to some limitations of parts for Vandenberg Air Force Base, is a close replica. Also included will be the official patch for the 77th Valiant Operations wing, our fictional branch which would operate the USAF orbiter, which was also very painstakingly made by Tracker for Proxima. I also wanted to share a note on Valiant's construction. In this case, a lot of the orbiter would have been parted out during the initial recovery for the accident to help accelerate other orbiters, but what was left that was usable would have been brought back into the assembly process. This kind of ends up with a weird ship of Theseus moment that results in OV-102 (kinda) becoming SV-001 over the course of reconstruction. Next Monday we will be diving into some international politics, and contract awards which will help advance our mission to Mars even further and I'm very excited to share that with you. Enjoy!
    1sSXeWj.png

    BqBPdiT.png

    89zJzjy.png
     
    Chapter 5: Designing for Mars
  • Hi all,
    Welcome back! I hope you had a pleasant week. This week, we're getting into some of the technical guts of Olympus, and really expanding on what the technical components of this architecture, as well as expanding to our final member of the consortium that will help take humans to Mars. Keep in mind, I am no political scientist, but I thought this would represent a stable cooperative effort to help get the mission accomplished. I want to thank Max for being such a trooper with all of the iterative designs we went through, and getting these amazing illustrations out for you all to appreciate. Next week will be our last post before the holiday season where I may take some time off to get some stuff ready for y'all, as well as spending time with my family and friends.

    Chapter 5: Designing for Mars

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

    GiHKpAN.jpg

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

    Eni2f8P.png

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

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

    At many points, aides and politicians on both sides of the Iron Curtain felt the tensions would lead to all out war, at least in the conference room. At one point, NASA administrators were standing and shouting expletives at their Soviet counterparts, which lead to a half day’s recess, and the translators were left unsure if they should relay the message. Eventually, through much trial and error, the framework of a deal began to take shape. The Energia system, like the American’s super heavy lifters, leveraged a combination of fuels to help boost outsized payloads to orbit, and like the SDLV, could bring the whole core stage nearly to orbit. Energia, as part of their contribution to the Olympus Program would launch the American-Japanese lander using the vehicle’s outsized payload capability. The Soviets would agree to participate with the Americans and their partners if a cosmonaut would be present on every landing mission, as well as provide a cash influx to help produce their super heavy lifter, which was publicly revealed to the west at last. NASA and the Soviet Union would also agree to manufacture an updated, shared docking standard, which would be an evolution of the APAS petals seen on the Apollo Soyuz Test Project adapter and Shuttle-Skylab flights. The Soviets would also build a smaller orbital facility in proximity to the upcoming Odyssey, named the Functional Training Complex, which would enable crews to become familiar with Soviet technology, which only 3 American crew members had ever been close to in space. The Americans would also provide training on their equipment, including flying cosmonauts on Shuttle, as well as training in operation of Extravehicular Mobility Units and prospective Martian suits. This close relationship would remain essential to the overall success of the program, perhaps even more so than their prospective governments. This series of meetings would culminate in a well fought for signature, known from then on as the Paris Notice, to begin preparing space agencies and governments for the start of cooperation.
     
    Chapter 6: Slayton's Wish
  • Hi everyone, happy Monday!

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

    Chapter 6: Slayton's Wish

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

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

    vfPO2Sc.jpg


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

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

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

    IdEMPcz.jpg


    Valiant, in the latter half of this year, would deploy a new piece of technology from the West Coast; the Aft Cargo Carrier. What started as a small idea would soon grow to fill the needs of the Air Force, the idea being to stack cargo in the perfectly good space between the two SRBs and the orbiter itself would soon blossom into a nearly essential addition to the DoD’s shuttle program. The Air Force, almost overjoyed with having their own orbiter, was quick to jump on the Aft Cargo Carrier as a way to get more payload into space and get the most out of their Space Shuttle. NASA was… less convinced. While the flight rate of their orbiters had been good, it became apparent that additional mass and size that they would need would have to come from a shuttle derived vehicle, and not a modified external tank. The Olympus program, as it was shaping up, would be better served with the heavy lift and super heavy lift vehicles set to be deployed in the coming decade. NASA made the choice not to deploy the ACC, but this was simply music to the Air Force’s ears. They could monopolize the ACC production line and test more outlandish missions and payloads that would not fit in the orbiter’s payload bay. Valiant debuted this equipment on OF-07, flying with a conventional StarLab pallet in the bay, while the ACC would carry a prototype on-orbit refueling vehicle, which could dock to a special fixture on StarLab and demonstrate fluid transfer. The launch would be a rousing success, and was demonstrated as well from the East Coast launch facilities at Kennedy Space Center. NASA remained wary of the program; yes, the ACC provided benefits for outsize payloads, but presented risks when flying with crew onboard. The event of an RTLS with an ACC could have catastrophic implications if maneuvers were not perfectly executed, and could theoretically lead to the destruction of the vehicle if the tank would recontact the vehicle. They would remain watchful, supporting the USAF shuttle program where they could through TDRSS and ground stations, but ever vigilant for their own potential issues. OF-07's test of the ACC and small refuelling vehicle proceeded nominally, and soon, Valiant would find herself flying with an ACC as standard.
     
    Chapter 6.5: Image Annex
  • Hi all!

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

    2G7IEuB.jpg

    eTlGT5w.jpg

    lwncL9e.png
     
    Chapter 7: Some Assembly Required
  • Hi all, so I thought I'd surprise you with another chapter this week, even though I wasn't sure I'd be able to get one out this week. This time, we're starting construction on our LEO station, and moving forward with plans towards supporting sustainable access to space across the Atlantic! We have some incredible shots of Valiant done by Tracker this week, and I'm super glad that he was able to get them for me on such short notice. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, and on with the show!

    Chapter 7: Some Assembly Required

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

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

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

    WBxLqzn.png


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

    IG5ZMto.jpg


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

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

    NOTE: Project V is largely based on the specs for Timberwind, the engine developed by the Strategic Defense Initiative/DoE/USAF. ITTL, there is no SDI as competition with Russia for space based combat effectiveness is largely seen as irrelevant. Work in the aerospace sector surrounding nuclear engines would likely produce a number of designs that would compete with NERVA. Also of note: Liberté of this universe effectively resembles a scaled up IXV, the lifting body testbed that flew as a precursor to SpaceRider, but scaled up to accommodate crew members in the reclined position seen on the ARCV.
     
    Chapter 8: Close Call
  • Hi all, sorry about the delay in posts. Had kind of a long weekend so I wasn't able to get much edited. As advantageous as pre-writing is, you gotta make time for the edits! This week I wanna thank Jay and Tracker for once again banging out some STELLAR images of the equipment in the Proxima universe, and bearing with me for all of my design changes. We are really getting into the meat of it now, and I can't wait to get back to regular posts.

    Chapter 8: Close Call

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

    AJ5mF6k.png

    JiHRijV.png


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

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

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

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

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

    55iS1Zw.png


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

    Hi all, I wanted to share with you some extra images that have been done by Jay and Tracker, and get some shots of some of spacecraft in action. Included in this post will be: more shots of Odyssey in its nearly completed state, Valiant working deployment missions and some overall glamor shots. Also of note, one of these solar panels has most likely flown before, being repurposed from its time on Skylab to serve the new orbital complex. I really hope you enjoy and give these guys some kudos for all their dedication to this project! Next week, we'll see some more Soviet activity and some probes!
    5rfOROJ.png

    yKkhOvJ.png

    bdaDvZz.png

    ouYr8F0.png

    SeaTMkm.png

    78Jgvxd.png
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 9: The Martian Invasion
  • Hi all! Happy Monday! I hope that you all have had an amazing week! This week, we are taking a look at the intrepid, uncrewed explorers that make up our first wave of Martian missions, and our human activities in Low Earth Orbit. I wanna thank two wonderful people this week, my dear friends Trystan and Zarbon, who put so much amazing work into this project and and gave me some absolutely amazing images to work with, so go check out their work as well!

    Anyway, let's get on with Chapter 9!

    Chapter 9: The Martian Invasion

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

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

    1uKAVgZ.png


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

    yX5ROKo.png


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

    SNrWCTQ.png


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

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

    kxMI281.jpg


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

    Chapter 9.5: Image Annex

    Scientists on Earth, in the first several months of operations at Mars, would receive a bounty of data unlike anything they had ever encountered. The seemingly dead world was a dynamic place, full of potential water ice, interesting surface geology, trace gases and vistas that were longing to be taken in by crews on the surface. Data from Eros and Anteros had been some of the most advantageous, combining their camera lenses with powerful altitude sensors to produce incredible images. In their course of study, the scientists at both JPL and Johnson would work with their international partners to identify 7 candidate landing sites that would be the most geologically interesting, yet remain cautious of risk. It was determined that for the first landing, a flatter plain would be selected to minimize risk, yet a position near potential water outflow points was the ideal answer. Utopia Planitia, while geologically not incredibly interesting could represent a more safety conscious landing site. A wide flat plain would be ideal for testing the lander's mettle and minimizing EVA risk. Noachis Terra on the other hand, would represent the highest risk landing site, with a deeply cratered landscape surrounding high plains.
    2l2RHap.jpg

    BFfhhFM.jpg

    These ellipses and circles, seemingly meaningless in the eyes of laymen, would represent the X Marks the Spot, the first great steps into the unknown. And as these sites had been selected, the eyes in the sky could train their cameras on the landscape, learning all they could before the next wave of robots and ultimately, humans, would be sent to the surface. Soon, these sites would see humans, and these ellipses on paper would become the gateway into the unknown.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 10: Return to Launch Site
  • Hi all, today we're exploring a side of the shuttle that is essential in understanding why it has its place in history. As you may have guessed, lots of internal safety culture stuff has been building in the Air Force, and now, it's come to a head. I want to preface this chapter that it is heavy, and is a little bit upsetting, so do proceed with caution. This is not a fun or happy story to tell, but it is an important one. That being said, let's explore the world of Proxima once more.

    PS: there will be an image annex done by the amazing Zarbon going up a little later this week, and I'm very excited to show you what we have in store.

    Chapter 10: Return to Launch Site

    The year 1987 promised many things for both the Air Force’s space program, and NASA’s own Human Spaceflight program. NASA’s Olympus program was progressing mostly on schedule, with the first wave of support spacecraft sent from both sides of the Iron Curtain already returning valuable data about candidate landing sites, local environmental conditions, and more. In conjunction with work on the Martian surface, two probes would soon be dispatched via Titan IIIE to the moon, to begin a higher fidelity survey of our nearest neighbor. These Lunar Dual Surface Mappers would work in tandem to identify ideal points of interest for further study, as the success of the Mars Dual Surface Mapper proved the efficacy of mapping a planetary body. There was discussion as to why the first flights of the Olympus program themselves could not potentially take place near the Moon, rather than in LEO as planned, and to those at NASA, it was a repeat of lessons they had learned during Apollo. By performing an “all-up” test close to home, like Apollo 9, the systems could be checked with an easy return time, before the crew would have to commit to a voyage to the Red Planet. Plus, the addition of the Base Station and other successful, independent tests had calmed the worries of many engineers both within NASA and their partner agencies. Members of Congress, impressed with NASA’s dedication to crew safety, allocated additional funds to potentially allow for a landing attempt on the moon with Olympus hardware, completing the entirety of the all up test. This option, ultimately, was not chosen as the lander program encountered difficulties with first stage performance, and required a minor redesign. In support of low Earth orbit operations, work on the Liberté crew rescue vehicle was drawing to a close, and NASA felt confident that the crew of the Odyssey Orbital Laboratory could soon be expanded to a full time 6 person crew to aid in construction of the MTV, components of which were already undergoing fit checks in their respective launch vehicles. Tooling was largely finished on the updated tanks for the SDLV, and soon, fit checks would begin at the upgraded LC-39A facility in preparation for their first flight.

    The Air Force, impressed with the performance that their Aft Cargo Carrier modification had brought to the program, had now formally elected to make the change standard for launches of their Space Shuttle, Valiant. Valiant had proven to be an efficient machine for the Air Force, free from the safety rigors and downtime of NASA’s orbiter program. Unfazed by the close calls on OF-16, their manifest only expanded, with payloads being readied 10 flights in advance. On February 21st, 1987, Valiant began its final countdown sequence on SLC-6 at Vandenberg Air Force Base, with six crew members onboard to oversee the deployment of a large satellite, rumored to be a Lacrosse; a new type of reconnaissance sat that could evade detection through advanced stealth technology, and a small experimental maneuvering vehicle in the Aft Cargo Carrier. At 10:21:36am, Pacific time, Valiant and her crew lifted off for OF-19, pitching south to take the crew on a trajectory that would take them into the required polar orbit. At 10:22:21, the central SSME, reflown from the previous mission in late December and subject to a less intense inspection, shut down. A moment later, a secondary notice indicating potential loss of thrust in the Left SSME cropped up, only further baffling the crew. Alarms triggered in the cabin, and the pilot, commander and ground teams at Vandenberg made the call to initiate an RTLS abort, untried so far in the history of shuttle flights. As CAPCOM called out the command, there was a fleeting moment in which the fear of the maneuver they were about to undertake overwhelmed the Commander, evidenced only by a pause.

    "Valiant, Edwards, you are to proceed to Return to Launch Site, NO/GO for Transpacific Abort."

    "Five-By, Edwards... RTLS abort confirmed, NO/GO for TPA"

    "Godspeed."

    Valiant rattled under the G loading, and the solids burning out and jettisoning brought some momentary relief to the crew. Now, the really tricky part. The vehicle began its pitch around maneuver, and the crew soon found themselves facing the direction they had launched from. Coming out of the roll, the coast of California lay out in front of them and fainter still, Vandenberg could be made out in the heads up display. The 2 remaining SSMEs, canceling out the velocity of the solid rocket motors, would soon exhaust the fuel in the External Tank. The vehicle pitched down to 40º, and the crew prepared to separate the now spent tank from the Orbiter. The pilot pulled the vehicle up and free from the external tank, but, in the tension inside the cabin, did not account for the Aft Cargo Carrier. The rear of the vehicle recontacted the tank, scraping the aft heat shield and damaging the body flap, both crucial for entry and landing. The vehicle rolled slightly, and the crew attempted to correct as much as possible with the reaction control system. Ionized plasma began to build around the vehicle as they assumed the correct attitude for entry. For observers on the ground, it soon became apparent what would happen next - but in the cabin, the crew continued to work through their procedures, unaware of the extent of damage to their vehicle. First optics from the spotter aircraft led the head of guidance at Edwards to deliver one of the most famous remarks in the history of the accident: “Jesus, Flight, the vehicle’s burning..”

    Valiant began to descend through the quickly thickening atmosphere, and it soon became apparent to the crew that they would be unable to meet the landing site at Vandenberg. The descent was steep and brutal, and they were losing crossrange velocity faster than anticipated. The vehicle, leaking various fluids, was now experiencing intense heating, and exposed bits of the airframe were straining to stay intact as the thicker atmosphere buffeted the crew. The choice was made by the crew to try and level the orbiter out, with the intention to bail out once they had passed through the area of maximum heating. However, the vehicle would not remain intact long enough to prepare to abandon ship. Damage to the heat shield, caused by the impact with the Aft Cargo Carrier, resulted in ionized plasma entering the airframe, straining the components of the vehicle as it bore the brunt of a steep re-entry. The body flap and engine section would be the first components to detach from the vehicle, and soon, the whole spacecraft began to tumble. The RCS did what it could to hold the orbiter stable for a fleeting moment, but atmospheric forces would soon take hold. The starboard wing would separate next, only furthering the tumble, and causing the crew cabin to separate, torn to shreds by the aerodynamic forces. To those watching the launch, it was a moment of existential dread. The vehicle, originally one point of light on tracking cameras, was now several, falling in a slow arc towards the Pacific ocean. Debris from the external tank and orbiter filled the thermal imaging cameras as airmen looked for any sign that the crew might have somehow, possibly survived. Booster recovery ships, similar in function to NASA’s SRB ships, reported pieces of the vehicle falling all around them, and the call was made at Edwards to lock the doors.

    The recovery was arduous. Every available aircraft that could be immediately scrambled after the accident was soon airborne, and military vessels out of the Los Angeles region soon joined to search for any sign that the crew had somehow survived. In the back of the recovery team’s minds, they knew that this kind of accident would be a death sentence, especially during an RTLS. As much as they could hope that some sort of miracle had occurred, they had watched the vehicle break apart. The signs would soon become crystal clear to them, as the first piece of the crew cabin was identified. Hoisting the panel onto a recovery boat, a photographer would snap a picture which would define the story of the Air Force’s shuttle - The shuttle’s name, positioned on the nose below the flight deck windows, was scorched and waterlogged, a grim reminder of what had become of her crew. Valiant lay before them, bobbing in the waves and slowly sinking to the depths of the Pacific; once a vision of the future was nothing more than tangled metal and thermal blankets. The first human remains were recovered by ship before the end of the day, and were brought back to Vandenberg for identification. As the days went on, more and more pieces of the good ship would be pulled from the sea and stored in a hangar, beginning a painstaking post mortem on the vehicle.

    NASA immediately grounded their shuttle fleet and began to work with the Air Force to determine the cause of the accident, inciting an international panic from the Olympus partners. NASA’s public relations team would quickly stress that the delay to Olympus would not be long, provided the Air Force cooperated on the assessment of the incident. Challenger, which had been preparing to launch to Odyssey, was immediately rolled back to the VAB, and a crew from Houston boarded a Gulfstream headed for California. A malignant sense of unease hung around the agency, and for some, it felt like the end of human spaceflight was nigh. For the first time since the Olympus program began, there was a pause - lingering in the air like the orbiters themselves were holding their breath. Crowds that had flocked to see Challenger depart for the Station returned home confused and dismayed. The investigation began in earnest on February 24, with NASA, Rockwell and Air Force officials commandeering an office to act as a nerve center. Hundreds of hours of footage from tracking cameras was pulled together for review, and comparison to previous launches of Valiant as well as NASA’s shuttle fleet began to piece together an accurate picture of what had gone wrong.

    NASA personnel were quick to point out the footage of the orbiter contacting the tank, which would have been negated in the event of RTLS without the ACC modification and proper training. The latter accusation stunned Air Force officials, who insisted that their crews had been trained to operate the vehicle in the ways both Rockwell and NASA had recommended. The focus of the investigation then turned to the actions of the pilot, and highlights the ways in which Air Force personnel were told that an RTLS abort mode was unlikely, and their training in the T-38 and Shuttle Sim aircraft was inadequate, as it did not cover the maneuvers required to pull the vehicle away from the external tank prior to entry. This failure to train properly would ultimately prove to be the most damning factor, and the lax safety culture within the Air Force's astronaut core was now on display. Congress was immediately curious about the engine shutdown, and whether or not it would impact the ongoing Olympus program, as well as regular shuttle flights. NASA and its engineering partners re-iterated that the Shuttle system was safe, and that work using derived vehicles could continue. Rockwell and Rocketdyne were brought in to testify, and the findings quickly showed that less intense inspections between flights, as well as the internal culture of the 77th, aimed for faster rotations of Valiant to ensure more operational payloads could be launched on the Shuttle, rather than conventional launch vehicles. The engine shutdown had been due to failure to maintain the often fickle SSMEs, and the fault was traced to a leaky coolant pipe, which forced a shutdown of the engine. The vehicle was, other than that, in perfect condition to perform an RTLS abort. Footage sent to NASA’s Ames research center provided further context of the RTLS sequence, and the recovery of the orbiter’s black box showed a high g load and shift in the center of mass towards the end of when the orbiter was intact. It was soon determined that the payload, damaged by the collision with the external tank, came loose and offset the center of mass in the vehicle, exacerbating the breakup.

    NASA’s grounding of shuttle flights lasted six months while new operational procedures were put into place, including a revision to the crew escape suits and improvements to engine inspection. Challenger launched in late August for the Return to Flight, conducting proximity operations at the Soviet space station Zarya, which had been outfitted with 2 TKS-derived laboratory modules named Spektr and Kvant. Kvant would debut the “power tower” section of the station, designed to help mitigate thermal loads on the structure by moving the solar arrays away from the spacecraft. This approach work done by Challenger would also prove crucial in testing the autonomous approach and docking systems being developed for both the MTV and the MSAV, which would have extended periods of independent operation. Martin Marietta shut down production of the Aft Cargo Carrier modification, and scrapped any remaining ACC modifications. The US Air Force, now without a newer heavy lift vehicle, began to lobby Rockwell for rights to convert the space Shuttle Test Article, Enterprise, into a space capable orbiter, but Rockwell deemed the project too expensive to continue. Internally, the company was unwilling to publicly lose another vehicle to the mismanagement they had identified in the Air Force command structure. With only their aging Titans, Atlas-Centaurs and lightweight Delta vehicles, the DoD began to call for new medium to heavy weight expendable vehicles able to be launched from both coasts, and potentially launch from a new launch site on the East Coast, most likely Virginia or Texas. McDonnell-Douglas, Morton Thiokol and Boeing would answer the call with 3 new launch vehicles to meet the Air Force’s needs: the Delta 8000, SRB-X and partly reusable Boeing EELV. Ultimately, the Boeing EELV and the Delta 8000 were selected, with the Air Force citing their common upper stage as a benefactor in securing routine, uncrewed access to space.
     
    Chapter 10.5: Image Annex
  • Chapter 10.5: Image Annex

    Hi all, I know this post is a little later in the day than I'd usually post but I wanted to share some images of the developments at Zarya, the Soviet station sharing a 51.6º orbit with Odyssey, our American counterpart. This station is designed to be serviced by both the American Shuttle and Soviet Soyuz, and will enable long term research on the human body in space, and will assist in developing Soviet-built experiments to fly on the MTV in the next decade. The orange module is a docking module, similar to the one built for Mir IRL, and will assist with potential clearance issues for Shuttle docking with the station. This station was built by Zarbon, who's done a lot of amazing work in designing mission patches that you all will see later in the series! Enjoy!
    PAadA4y.png
    6rb88zS.png

    KI4jW68.png
     
    Data Downlink: Findings from the Fleet
  • Data Downlink: Findings from the Fleet

    As the fleet around Mars continued to work, the scientists back on Earth began to piece together a look at what lay on and below the surface of Mars. Key to the upcoming missions, and one of the questions that had been puzzling scientists for decades, was the question of whether or not water was present on the Red Planet, and might this lead them to find life. Soon, the answers would be clear. Vody's instruments had been hard at work seeking out signs of hydrogen, which would indicate the potential for liquid or frozen water to exist nearby. What they found would astonish them. Shown in a map that would stun the world, a comprehensive look at the composition of the planet that gave rise to even further excitement. In a joint statement on December 24, 1987, the Soviets and JPL explained that deep blue areas at the high latitudes mark the lowest levels of neutrons from cosmic rays, which have been interpreted to indicate the presence of high levels of hydrogen. The hydrogen enrichment, in turn, is suggestive of large reservoirs of water ice below the surface.
    X5NOxbQ.jpg

    Another stunning map would come in the form of the total surface area topography map, which gave rich insight into the terrain of the planet, something that could even potentially be plotted in 3D. This map was a godsend, a truly indicative tool to help mission planners determine in even greater detail what the most ideal mission sites would be for the program. It was a wealth of data, and gave those in charge of mission planning even more to pour over in the quest to get boots on the ground.
    BnkLQWY.jpg

     
    Interlude I: Sagan's Wish
  • Hi all, this week we are taking a break from our standard format to listen to some insights about the state of space travel, the world in 1987, and what it means to go forward. Those words couldn't have been delivered by a voice, in my opinion, more powerful than Carl Sagan. I want to thank my good friend Cass who inspired me to write this whole thing, based on an example quote they gave me that's been featured in this section. It really means a lot to me that I have friends who contribute to and help me think about this project as a whole. Next week we will be picking back up with Chapter 11, and looking at how the Olympus partners will be tackling the next phase of construction and planning, including picking landing sites and preparing our hardware. In the meantime, please enjoy!

    Interlude 1

    The following is an excerpt from Carl Sagan’s Cosmos: A Continuing Voyage, Episode 3. This episode was released on December 19, 1987 on PBS.

    Jl1FbRu.jpg


    “Humanity is a species, perhaps like many others, that started its life walking on the shores of beaches, traipsing through jungles, and climbing the highest mountains to see what is there. Perhaps like so many other species, humanity has wandered its home planet, our Mother Earth, and explored the wonders it has to offer. Now, we stand on the edge of our world, having surveyed what we can so far as we look into the chasm of the future - unsure of what it will bring. Will it bring destruction as we move to gain resources and power? Or will we unite, in a greater understanding as the cosmos stretches forth its hand? The latter is certainly what I’d like to believe. As we stand on this cliff, the cosmos is nearly in reach, and we have the tools to reach it. Those tools sit in factories and assembly facilities, on Earth and in Space, hurtling towards our next goal - Mars. Our great ships, like those that crossed the oceans, are about to set sail. As we reflect on these turbulent years, I think of why we might want to go to this hostile world, this place that is seemingly devoid of life and eludes our best minds, and presents more questions than answers. Perhaps we wish to one up our opponent, to use technological progress as a means of measuring success? Perhaps we are driven by some urge to take what is not yet ours so that no one may have it, as we’ve seen with resources on Earth. Perhaps it is a battleground, with wars waiting to be fought. We, however, have seemed to escape this mutually assured destruction.

    Now, we are on a path to cross this great chasm of the universe, the next stepping stone of human exploration. We, as enemies, went to the moon and conquered our world, but on Mars, there can be a new start. A genesis of peace, for all the children across the world to look at and aspire to. But that is only one reason, out of infinite reasons. Maybe we’re on Mars because of the magnificent science that can be done there — the gates of the wonder world are opening in our time. Maybe we’re on Mars because we have to be, because there’s a deep nomadic impulse built into us by the evolutionary process — we come, after all, from hunter-gatherers, and for 99.9% of our tenure on Earth we’ve been wanderers. Perhaps now it is our time to wander into the stars, to stumble like a newborn, into the awesome void. We as a whole, must also look inwards, and reflect on what has come before us, and the events that will shape our journey. Tragedies, like the loss of Valiant this past year, are a reminder that we are not immortal, and the pull towards the stars has not left us without cuts and bruises. We must mourn, yet our mourning must remind us of what we can do in the honor of those we lost. To those that have given their lives in the pursuit of the unknown, we thank you, and will carry your legacy with us as we proceed forward into the cosmos. And to those who will go forward, on Olympus, they carry with them the knowledge that they too may slip the bonds of this world, and go forever into the inky void of space - never to return to their homeworld. We must hold them in our hearts, as they are the best of us; representing those of all races and creeds, from nations across the globe. I can’t help but think of them every time I close my eyes.

    The exploration of the stars is often met with criticism; why should we as a species spend so much time focused away from home? We cannot feed everyone on Earth, so why should we spend the money to send humans elsewhere? Perhaps it is a strange answer, but seeing the world you know shrink away does something to the human mind that no other perspective does. Seeing your home as an object which you can cover with a finger, hanging in an inky void, makes us want to do more to protect our place of origin. We may find the answers to caring for all of us out there in space, and bring those lessons home to help preserve the cradle of our species. Perhaps, in a way, it is our true nature to want to explore the cosmos, after all - we are born from wanderers. Someday, maybe, there will be a distant descendant of humanity moving from planet to planet, reflecting on our time we spend bound to the cradle. Perhaps it will be us, or perhaps it will be some other species who has discovered what it is left of us. Space exploration has always challenged the prospect of unthinkable vastness, bringing humankind to meet hand to hand with the furthest reaches of possibility. So too does this new endeavor we undertake bring us closer than ever to the open arms of the infinite horizon, allowing us to become not mere distant observers of this cosmos, but grow nearer than ever before, and indeed, find our place as a part of it."
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 11: Recovery
  • Hi all, I want to apologize for the delay in posting yesterday's chapter. Hopefully today's posting will more than make up for it. I want to once again thank my very good friends Jay, Zarbon and Trystan for getting me such amazing images to tell our story. This week, we are taking a look at the situation after Valiant's accident, and how we'll be proceeding with the program.

    Chapter 11: Recovery

    For many, the wake of Valiant’s disaster was the hardest part. Rockwell, Martin Marietta, NASA and the Air Force had answered tough questions not only from Congress, but from the public about the state of the civilian shuttle fleet. Many thought it would only be a matter of time before the pursuit of a dream like humans on Mars would kill more astronauts, and called for funding to be cut. Cooler heads would ultimately prevail, and funding for Olympus would remain on track. To those within NASA, it was an indirect day of reckoning, for they were dealing with the fallout of the Air Force’s mistake in such a public manner. The images of the USAF orbiter's debris falling to the sea haunted those at Rockwell and NASA. The stand down period, for many within the Olympus partner agencies, was the most tense silence. Could it mean the end of the program? Challenger’s return to flight the previous year had certainly cut the tension, but those within the agency knew that they had to make sure that Olympus remained safely on schedule. The Air Force would march on, seemingly unfazed, but had quietly shelved plans for human spaceflight, such as the ODIN project. The station hardware, roughly 70% completed, would sit in the processing buildings at Vandenberg for the foreseeable future. However, work was already underway on a new program, one in which autonomous, quickly recoverable spacecraft could do the job of Valiant without the risk, and feelers were being sent out to contractors who would be willing to build it. Boeing soon expressed interest in working with the Department of Defense, and a concept known only as the Transatmospheric Vehicle would soon become the focus of the USAF.

    1988 began the next wave of Martian autonomous exploration, in the form of new orbiters, rover and stationary lander. Launching on the latest version of Titan, Titan IV, the Mars Reconnaissance Imager would more accurately identify landing sites, and many within JPL and Johnson viewed the MRI as the final autonomous element before the program could proceed with moving towards the crew mission. Titan IV would find itself acting as somewhat of a workhorse vehicle, combined with the new Delta 6000 series of vehicles. Delta 6000 made its debut to Mars launching the Mars Polar Ice Lander, a small lander designed to explore the polar regions of Mars and look for water ice, as well as deploy a small, six wheeled roving vehicle - the first of its kind on Mars. This rover, named Earhart, designed for 20 sols of operation on the Martian surface, far exceeded its design life, and covered a distance of 2.3 km before its solar cells degraded too far to generate usable power. Another probe to join the armada was Shinpi, a Japanese weather probe delayed from the 1986 window. Issues with the N-II rocket intended to launch it had resulted in NASDA missing the window, and the vehicle was ultimately moved to the upgraded H-I vehicle in its stead. The probe would make the trek to Mars, and would capture new and exciting images of Mars’ moon, Phobos.

    1wjKvGe.png


    Shuttle and Soyuz continued to resupply Odyssey, rotating crews out as they prepared the station for upcoming strenuous spacewalks to support MTV construction. NASA had been cautious in their return of Shuttle operations, and put all manifested shuttle pilots through an intense retraining about abort procedures. While NASA never flew the orbiter with the Aft Cargo Carrier, they remained wary of the RTLS, much as the early shuttle crews had been. The modified, APAS equipped Soyuz, turns out to be something of a godsend, allowing crews easy rotation while still providing an orbital lifeboat for the station’s occupants in anticipation of Liberté. Shuttle crews debuted the new Multi Purpose Logistics Module, a temporary module designed to be brought up with and returned on the shuttle, enabling large amounts of cargo and transferring them through an Common Berthing Mechanism hatch. Shuttle flew with the MPLM 4 times during 1988, preparing the station for the upcoming flurry of activity in support of MTV construction. Meanwhile, not far away from the Odyssey complex, Zarya saw its first visit by space shuttle Intrepid, bringing with it the Pirs Shuttle-Station docking adapter. Pirs was first removed from the shuttle cargo bay and installed on the docking port, and docked to the passive port on Spektr. This adapter, with a Soviet probe and drogue port on one end, and a NASA-standard APAS port on the other, aimed to enable rotation flights via the Shuttle to Zarya, which served two distinct goals. The first goal was additional training on Russian systems, which US and Partner agencies wanted in order to ease technical challenges with the upcoming Mars missions, and the second was to increase in-space time with crews from both sides of the Iron Curtain. The Shuttle docked with Zarya twice over the course of two back to back missions, and a unique capability was demonstrated in which the two stations were brought close together to demonstrate proximity operations of large structures, something required for operations of the upcoming MTV. A second test of this system was carried out with Space Shuttle Atlantis positioned below the two structures, simulating a Shuttle’s rendezvous and proximity operations with an MTV.

    Goqa6LK.png


    Since the issues that had cropped up with NERVA-NeXT began, it was clear that the engine originally chosen to power the MTV would not be sufficient for the needs of the program. A quiet second genesis had happened in response, a commercial birth of a nuclear engine. Project V had evolved into Valkyrie, a newly designed pebble bed reactor engine built by Lockheed in collaboration with Naval Reactors, and had seen considerable improvements on the teststand over General Atomics’ design. It was on this assessment to move forward with Valkyrie as the engine for Olympus, casting NERVA-NeXT by the wayside. For NASA and their partners, it was an easy deal. The engine could be ready sooner, would be cheaper to build, and had a greater service life than what was projected for NERVA. The first prototype flights of Valkyrie, launched by a Titan IV, would send a converted Centaur stage on a free return, high energy trajectory around the Moon. Named Way-Seeker, the mission would aim to demonstrate the multiple aspects of a typical MTV sortie. The first task at hand would be starting the thing, something never before tried in space. After the reactor was powered up, and prop settled, the first short burn demonstrated the nuclear engine’s performance for engineers on earth. Following this short burn, a much longer burn was initiated to send the demonstrator on a trajectory around the moon not unlike Apollo 8. In the days after LEO departure, engineers monitored the stability of the reactor, thermal loading and general health of the vehicle. Way-Seeker, having completed its lunar flyby, returned to swing by Earth and demonstrated the braking maneuver the MTV crew would execute on the return trip, as well as fine orbital adjustment with the nuclear engine. The burns were successful, and the stage demonstrated a second long loiter time restart. Having successfully inserted Way-Seeker into a disposal orbit, mission control commanded the depletion of the onboard propellant, and shut down the reactor; appeasing those who would worry about a nuclear propulsion system simply hanging out in space. The mission was a rousing success, and full scale production of Valkyrie engines could begin for the MTVs. To those at General Atomics, it was an embarrassment of orbital proportions. Their own engine, the supposed pride and joy of what was to be a fleet of deep space exploration vehicles, was confined to fate as a boondoggle.

    eiqyB3G.png


    With their success in orbit, NASA, the USSR and the international partners began to select crew members for the “Mars Cadre”: a group of astronauts to be selected for flights in the Olympus program. These astronauts were trained in the Nevada desert in the Long Duration Mars Simulation Facility, designed to emulate Martian conditions. These astronauts would consist of both rookies and veterans, with the aim being to train in an environment that would resemble their initial sorties as closely as possible. The 30-40 day stays to be conducted during the first wave, Block 1, missions would see a crew of four living out of their lander, while a team remained in orbit to provide real time communications through the relay network already at Mars. To simulate the split crew operations, the lander’s cabin was replicated, and about 45 miles away, a reconstruction of the MTV’s habitable volume was constructed, and observations made on the operating procedure would inform behaviors of both mission control, and the two teams on the early Olympus Missions. This type of training soon was mandated as the standard procedure for training Olympus astronauts, and new astronaut candidates would be put through analog training for Mars as well as operations on Odyssey.

    It was only after the engine selection went well where NASA felt the mission manifest for the first flights could be laid out. Olympus 1 would consist of a fully crewed Medium to High Earth Orbit flight with a duration of 4 months, simulating both departure and retrieval by Shuttle. Olympus 2 would be a month-long Low Earth Orbit test in conjunction with the prototype MSAV, and would consist of docking tests and autonomous operation of both the MTV and the lander. Olympus S1, while not technically manifested as a full fledged Olympus mission, would slot itself into the support role, sending the Mars Base Station, nicknamed Basecamp, onward to the Red Planet after it had been fueled in LEO. This would demonstrate not only orbital fueling of the MTV-derived Transfer Element, but evaluate performance of the Valkyrie nuclear engine in deep space operations. Olympus S2 would be the next to fly, sending a prepositioned cargo lander to the selected landing site of the upcoming mission using a commercial launch vehicle. Olympus 3 would see a fully crewed flight of the MTV, as well as a Transfer Element on Olympus S3 carrying the fully operational MSAV lander. There, they would rendezvous with the Mars Base Station and perform their sortie at Elysium Planitia, spend time in Martian orbit, then return home. Human eyes were set on Mars, and the roadmap was finally clear.

    In the Space Station Processing Facility, the inflatable Habitat Module and Nodal Utility Module for MTV-1 were being looked over in preparation for their launch to Odyssey. These modules had undergone extensive testing in conjunction with their manufacturers, Lockheed, Thales and Boeing, and were at last ready to make their debut in space. The first launch of the program would be the Nodal Utility Module, forming the backbone of construction and the point at which the MTV would expand from. This module would house several key components for the ship as a whole, including the primary life support rack, radiation shelter, airlock and communications station. While the node was being readied to be integrated to Space Shuttle Discovery, delays with both the SDLV required to launch the inflatable habitation node and the Liberté crew rescue vehicle would require the high bays and pads to be prepped for other missions. These included Terra, a heavy Earth observing climate satellite launched to geostationary orbit onboard Challenger, and FAR, the Ferrous Asteroid Recon mission to the rocky bodies between Mars and Jupiter onboard Atlantis. The node, and Discovery would remain on the ground, but not before the press would catch sight of the name of the first MTV under construction as it was rolled into the OPF: Minerva.
     
    Last edited:
    Top