When Second Best Is Not Good Enough

IDSCS The US military’s first operational communications satellite system was designed to be relatively simple and fast, after a much more complicated program failed. Here Initial Defense Satellite Communications System (IDSCS) satellites are integrated into their payload dispenser in 1966. (credit: USAF) When second best is good enough: The Initial Defense Satellite Communications System by Dwayne A. Day Monday, February 16, 2026 The US Air Force pioneered military satellite communications in the early space age. But its path to getting there was not direct or smooth. In the late 1950s, the Army Signal Corps was placed in charge of developing a military satellite communications capability, with the Air Force supplying the launch vehicle. The Army program was named Advent, and it was a highly ambitious plan to put a large satellite in geosynchronous orbit at a time when the United States was having difficulty launching even small satellites into low Earth orbits The decision to proceed with the new system was also a major policy reversal. Whereas the Army had been responsible for the Advent satellite and the Air Force was responsible for the ground stations, now that was reversed. By 1962, Advent’s mass and costs had increased to such an extent that it was cancelled, with a lightweight version of the satellite was proposed instead. However, by December 1962, the lightweight geosynchronous satellite was still in limbo, with the Air Force making no moves to begin a formal procurement effort despite several companies already prepared to bid.[1] The Air Force was instead focused on a less-complex approach, known as the Initial Defense Communication Satellite Program, or IDCSP, later renamed the Initial Defense Satellite Communications System, or IDSCS. Recently, some never-before-published photos of the early IDSCS satellites have surfaced. IDSCS The relatively small satellites were tested on site. They were covered in photovoltaic cells. (credit: USAF) Program 369 In 1962, after Advent had been canceled, the Task X Committee, consisting of representatives of the Army, Navy, Air Force, ARPA, and the Rand and Aerospace Corporations, proposed placing multiple, relatively small satellites in medium-altitude orbits. By the end of 1962, Air Force Systems Command’s Space Systems Division began planning to brief potential contractors on this random-orbit, medium-altitude communication satellite program, now designated Program 369.[2] The Air Force was interested in a medium orbit, 9,260-kilometer-altitude communication system which could involve as many as 20 satellites in random orbits at the same time. The satellites would move around the sky, requiring some movement of the ground antennas to keep track with them. As many as five to seven satellites could be launched by a single Atlas-Agena D rocket. Communications capability could be restricted to one to four channels in the initial program.[3] IDSCS The satellites were manufactured by Philco, which was a major military computer provider at the time. (credit: USAF) The decision to proceed with the new system was also a major policy reversal. Whereas the Army had been responsible for the Advent satellite and the Air Force was responsible for the ground stations, now that was reversed, with the Air Force developing the satellites and the Army handling the ground terminals. The new satellites would require very little control. After Philco won the competition to build the satellites, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara put the project on hold in October 1963 while the Pentagon negotiated over renting communications capability from the newly created Communications Satellite Corp. (Comsat). Negotiations dragged on until summer 1964 before they were suspended and the Air Force resumed work on the dedicated military communications program.[4] Although McNamara had hoped to buy satellite communications commercially, commercial providers could not meet many military requirements, particularly for secure communications. The Department of Defense would ultimately use commercial satellite communications, but for tasks that did not require high security. In another cost-saving effort, in the latter half of 1964 the Pentagon tried to negotiate a “free ride” on experimental Titan III rocket launches rather than purchasing dedicated Titan III rockets after the vehicle was declared operational. The House of Representatives criticized the effort later that year as a “plan for short-range economics depending on a high-risk program that may prove costly in the end.”[5] The original plan for the medium-altitude satellite program had an estimated cost of $60 million for the satellites and a total of $165 million, including ten Atlas-Agena launches. A modified approach, using a much higher orbit and fewer launches, cost $33 million. This was far cheaper than Advent, which had grown from the original $140 million estimate to $325 million (see “Aiming too high: the Advent military communications satellite,” The Space Review, September 26, 2022.) While the Pentagon negotiated—ultimately unsuccessfully—with Comsat, Program 369 proceeded in a design phase. Initially, the satellites were intended to launch on Atlas-Agenas. But the possibility of using the new Titan IIIC was attractive, and so for a time, the satellites were designed to be able to launch on either vehicle, to equatorial or polar orbits. The reasoning was that if the Titan IIIC was ultimately selected, the Atlas-Agena would provide “insurance” until the Titan IIIC had fully proven itself. IDSCS The satellite dispenser was initially designed to be carried atop either a Titan IIIC or Atlas-Agena D.(credit: USAF) According to a contemporary history of the program, “this convertibility had three aspects – first, the satellite and dispenser had to be mechanically, thermally and electrically suitable for use with either vehicle from launch through ascent, parking orbit, transfer orbit and final injection. Second, the spacecraft had to be designed dynamically, magnetically and electronically for medium or high altitude. Finally, the thermal, solar cell and repeater design had to be acceptable in polar or equatorial orbits.”[6] Philco established a production line capable of building one satellite every four days. This was possible in large part because the satellites were relatively simple. This decision to design for either Atlas or Titan ultimately had a cost. “There were many conflicts that were resolved only by compromising the performance in both cases, but the program flexibility and non-dependence on a new booster design justified them,” engineers involved in the program explained. “The convertibility feature was maintained through the early part of 1965. At that time, some of the conflicts became serious, the compromises more painful, and most important of all, the Titan III program was looking good.” Rather than the medium-altitude orbits, the Air Force could use the Titan IIIC to place them into near-synchronous orbits.[7] The first Titan IIIC had launched successfully in June 1965. A second launch, in October, had failed. A third launch, in December, had been partially successful. The Air Force decided to eliminate the Atlas-Agena option and launch the satellites atop the fourth Titan IIIC launch. IDSCS The IDSCS satellites used the new Titan IIIC rocket, which placed them in a near-synchronous orbit. Concern about the availability of the Titan IIIC was a major uncertainty early in the program. (credit: Peter Hunter Collection) Simple satellites Philco had previously built the Courier IB satellite and had built computers for the military. The company established a production line capable of building one satellite every four days. This was possible in large part because the satellites were relatively simple. They had no moving parts, no batteries for electrical power, and limited telemetry capability to report the status of the spacecraft. The satellites could not be commanded from the ground, which had the benefit of making them resistant to Soviet tampering. They could provide two-way circuit capability for 11 “tactical-quality” voice circuits, or five “commercial-quality” circuits. The latter could transmit digital or teletype data. IDSCS Philco was capable of manufacturing a satellite in approximately four days. Each launch carried eight satellites. (credit: USAF) Each satellite was a polyhedron with twenty-four faces, weighed 45 kilograms, was a meter in diameter and a meter high, and was covered with 8,000 solar cells. The communications equipment consisted of a single-channel 8,000-megahertz receiver, and a 20-megahertz double-conversion repeater. In addition, they would have a three-watt traveling-wave-tube amplifier transmitting around 7,000 megahertz. The satellites had three-year operational lifetimes. In service, they often lasted twice as long.[8] IDSCS The IDSCS satellites were about a meter wide and a meter tall, weighed 45 kilograms, and relatively simple. (credit: USAF) In June 1966, the Air Force launched seven communications satellites into near-synchronous orbits of 33,877 by 33,655 kilometers (an eighth satellite was a technology demonstrator). A second cluster of eight satellites was launched in August, but failed to reach orbit. Two more launches, in January and July 1967, increased the number of satellites in orbit. IDSCS The relatively small satellites were tested on site. They were covered in photovoltaic cells. (credit: USAF) According to those who worked on the program, the orbit options had been extensively studied. The near-synchronous orbit was selected in case a satellite in the cluster failed. If they were placed in geosynchronous orbit, that failed satellite would remain in place for a long time. But in near-synchronous orbit, the cluster would slowly drift. “Because of this slow drift, satellites will stay in view of the ground stations for several days but a malfunctioning or failed satellite will not completely destroy the communications capabilities of a particular link.”[9] The system was declared operational before the launch of the last group of eight satellites and renamed the Initial Defense Satellite Communications System (IDSCS). The final launch of eight satellites in June 1968 atop a Titan IIIC brought the total number in orbit to 35 satellites.[10] It was years later than planned, but the Air Force finally had its communications satellite system. IDSCS Compass Link was a system for scanning photographs in Vietnam and transmitting them via satellite to Washington, DC, where they were analyzed at the National Photographic Interpretation Center. The scanning hardware had been developed for the Manned Orbiting Laboratory program. Although little is known about Compass Link, it did use IDSCS satellites. (credit: CIA) Vietnam goes to orbit In 1964, the US Army established a ground station in Saigon to relay messages via NASA’s Syncom satellite. In July 1967, the military installed satellite ground terminals at Saigon and Nha Trang for communicating via the IDSCS satellites. They linked military forces in Vietnam directly to Washington, DC. This provided new capabilities compared to existing telecommunications networks. Communications satellite technology was advancing rapidly throughout the 1960s, pushed in part by clear commercial demand as well as significant military investment. One of the more unusual and secretive uses of this new capability was Project Compass Link, which provided circuits using the IDSCS satellites to transmit high-resolution photography between Saigon and Washington, DC. This meant that photos taken by tactical aircraft over the battlefield could be analyzed in Washington. After the planes returned to base, their photos were developed and taken to the transmission center. The ground stations had a scanner that could scan a photograph for transmission. This scanner had been developed using technology originally intended for the Manned Orbiting Laboratory program (see “Live, from orbit: the Manned Orbiting Laboratory’s top-secret film-readout system,” The Space Review, September 18, 2023.) To date, information on the Compass Link equipment and how it was used remains scarce. Other commercial communications satellite systems were also used by US military forces in the Pacific during this time. The commercial systems were used for administrative and logistical requirements, and the military systems were used for more sensitive communications. IDSCS Satellites undergoing fit checks prior to shipment to the launch site. (credit: USAF) Evolving communications IDSCS was intended to be an interim system until a better and more capable communications system was developed. The Air Force was aware of the system’s limitations from the start, and planned for a follow-on program to address many of them, increasing lifetime, adding better encryption and anti-jamming capability, as well as operating in geosynchronous orbit, the goal originally established with Advent in the late 1950s. Communications satellite technology was advancing rapidly throughout the 1960s, pushed in part by clear commercial demand as well as significant military investment. The Air Force sponsored experimental communications satellites like Tacsat and the LES satellites, and NASA also sponsored communications satellites to develop new technologies. Although commercial industry sought to satisfy growing demand, the government had unique needs and could not rely on the commercial market to satisfy them. In 1971, the Air Force launched the first of the Defense Satellite Communications System II (DSCS II) satellites. DSCS II was a much larger, spin-stabilized satellite placed in geosynchronous orbit, but did not have all the features that the Air Force desired; they would later be included in the DSCS III satellites. Once DSCS II satellites became operational, the Air Force primarily relied upon large satellites in geosynchronous orbit for its primary communications requirements, a situation that is only beginning to change today with the advent of large numbers of small comsats in low Earth orbit. Acknowledgement: the author wishes to thank Jamie Draper and Jim Behling for assistance in obtaining the photographs used in this article, and Aaron Bateman for providing the AIAA history overview. References “Defense is Pushing Random-Orbit Satellite,” Aviation Week and Space Technology, December 24, 1962, p. 23. Philip J. Klass, “DOD Communication Satellite Launch Set,” Aviation Week & Space Technology, May 9, 1966, p. 33. “Military Comsat Bidder’s Briefing Set,” Aviation Week and Space Technology, February 4, 1963, p. 31. H.B. Kucheman, Jr., W.L. Pritchard, and V.W. Wall, “The Initial Defense Communication Satellite Program,” AIAA Paper No. 66-267, AIAA Communications Satellite Systems Conference, May 2-4, 1966. Philip J. Klass, “Military Comsats Deploy for Global Cover,” Aviation Week & Space Technology, June 27, 1966, pp. 25-26. “The Initial Defense Communication Satellite Program,” p. 4. Ibid. David N. Spires and Rick W. Sturdevant, “From Advent to Milstar: The U.S. Air Force and the Challenges of Military Satellite Communications,” in Beyond the Ionosphere: Fifty Years of Satellite Communication, Andrew Butrica, ed. NASA SP-4217, 1997, pp. 67-69. “The Initial Defense Communication Satellite Program,” p. 5. Ibid. Dwayne Day is interested in hearing from anybody with information about the Compass Link system. He can be reached at zirconic1@cox.net. Note: we are now moderating comments. There will be a delay in posting comments and no guarantee that all submitted comments will be posted.

Musk's Moon Mania

Moonbase Alpha In a presentation to xAI employees, Elon Musk described establishing a “Moonbase Alpha” that would build AI data center satellites and launch them using a mass driver. (credit: xAI) Musk’s Moon mania by Jeff Foust Monday, February 16, 2026 What has been the most surprising development in space in the last year? Perhaps it was the saga of Jared Isaacman’s nomination to be NASA administrator. That was an unprecedented ordeal, with Isaacman’s nomination suddenly withdrawn only for him to be renominated months later. But in the end, the result was what most expected a year ago: Isaacman leading the space agency. “For those unaware, SpaceX has already shifted focus to building a self-growing city on the Moon, as we can potentially achieve that in less than 10 years, whereas Mars would take 20+ years,” Musk wrote. Perhaps it was NASA’s budget, with the White House proposing severe cuts to overall spending and even steeper cuts in areas like science and space technology, along with cancellations or early terminations of key elements of Artemis. But by the time the final fiscal year 2026 spending bill was enacted in January, NASA’s 2026 budget was close to its 2025 budget, with few cancellations. Arguably the biggest surprise in the last year is the one that has developed just in the last several weeks: SpaceX’s sharp pivot to the Moon. A year ago, it seemed that Elon Musk, using his influence in the new Trump Administration, was shifting space policy from a return to the Moon towards human missions to Mars. That was evident in everything from Trump’s mention of “launching American astronauts to plant the Stars and Stripes on the planet Mars” in his inaugural address to a budget proposal that included funding for new Mars exploration technology initiatives. Now, though, it’s SpaceX that’s changing course. The administration has made clear its near-term focus in human space exploration is the Moon, returning astronauts to the lunar surface before China can land its first taikonauts there. A White House executive order in December, which effectively serves as the national space policy, calls for a human landing on the Moon by 2028 and beginning work on a permanent outpost there by 2030. Mars is only mentioned in passing as a goal for the indefinite future. SpaceX, already under pressure to accelerate work on the lunar lander version of Starship for NASA’s Human Landing System program (see “The (possibly) great lunar lander race”, The Space Review, November 3, 2025), seems to shifted even more towards the Moon in recent weeks, culminating in a social media post by Musk February 8, just as the Super Bowl was about to kick off. “For those unaware, SpaceX has already shifted focus to building a self-growing city on the Moon, as we can potentially achieve that in less than 10 years, whereas Mars would take 20+ years,” he wrote. Needless to say, most were unaware of that shift in focus. For most of SpaceX’s nearly quarter-century history, the company, and Musk, were deeply associated with a human presence on Mars, not the Moon. That was the subject of numerous presentations by Musk over the years, which have described making humanity “multiplanetary” by establishing human settlements, even large cities, on Mars in the next few decades. That included, as an example, a talk he gave at Starbase in May around the time of a Starship test flight. “Progress is measured by the timeline to establishing a self-sustaining civilization on Mars,” he said then (see “Starship setbacks and strategies”, The Space Review, June 9, 2025). “Along the way we can do cool things, like have a Moon base, like Moonbase Alpha,” Musk said last May. He used that talk to outline plans for sending Starships to Mars, starting as soon as the next launch opportunity in 2026. That plan called for sending 500 landers to Mars in 2033, each capable of carrying 300 tons of payload. The goals for that launch campaign included establishing global mobility and communications at Mars as well as resource extraction and “increase independence from Earth.” Musk made only a passing reference to the Moon in that talk. “Along the way we can do cool things, like have a Moon base, like Moonbase Alpha,” he said, referencing the classic sci-fi TV series “Space: 1999”. (“Moonbase Alpha” was also the name of a video game released in 2010 developed in cooperation with NASA, in which the player is an astronaut at a lunar base in the then-distant future of 2025.) “We should have a Moonbase Alpha. The next step after the Apollo program would be to have a base on the Moon,” Musk said. That base, he suggested, would be a “gigantic science station.” But after that brief digression, Musk returned to talking about sending humans to Mars, the main thrust of the talk. Musk has talked about establishing a lunar base off and on in the past, even using the same name for it. For example, at one conference in July 2017 he expressed his support for a lunar base. “If you want to get the public really fired up, you’ve got to have a base on the Moon,” he said then. A few months later, talking about what was then called BFR at the International Astronautical Congress in Adelaide, Australia, he mentioned the ability of that predecessor of Starship to support a lunar base, which he also called Moonbase Alpha. “It’s 2017,” he said in that speech. “I mean, we should have a lunar base by now. What the hell’s going on?” These concepts, though, seemed like side quests: nice things to do but not on the critical path to making humanity multiplanetary. The company’s interest in the Moon appeared largely limited to developing the HLS lander version of Starship, along the way gaining experience in technologies like in-space propellant transfer also needed for Mars. So what changed? Musk, in his Super Bowl Sunday announcement, suggested it was a matter of speed. “It is only possible to travel to Mars when the planets align every 26 months (six month trip time), whereas we can launch to the Moon every 10 days (2 day trip time),” he wrote. “This means we can iterate much faster to complete a Moon city than a Mars city.” That, however, has always been the case. In the past SpaceX was willing to overlook any advantages rapidly iterating at the Moon offered in favor of pressing ahead as fast as possible to Mars. The shift from Mars to the Moon comes as part of some of the biggest changes at SpaceX in years. In December, SpaceX executives said that the company was preparing to go public after years of claiming it would remain private: “We can’t go public until we’re flying regularly to Mars,” SpaceX president Gwynne Shotwell said in 2018 (see “SpaceX, orbital data centers, and the journey to Mars,” The Space Review, December 15, 2025). While the company’s CFO, Bret Johnsen, said that the proceeds for an IPO would allow SpaceX to “build Moonbase Alpha and send uncrewed and crewed missions to Mars,” the near-term factor in that decision was developing orbital data centers intended to serve what is, for now, an insatiable demand for computing power for AI applications. Two weeks ago, Musk took another step in that direction when he announced that SpaceX would acquire xAI, his AI and social media company. The goal, he said, was to create a vertically integrated company that could both deploy and use the orbital data centers he insists is the future of AI. “My estimate is that within 2 to 3 years, the lowest cost way to generate AI compute will be in space,” he wrote in a memo announcing the deal that was published on SpaceX’s website. “In the long term, space-based AI is obviously the only way to scale.” “We’re going to make it real. We’re actually going to have a mass driver on the Moon,” he said. “I really want to see the mass driver on the Moon that is shooting AI satellites into deep space.” Just a few days earlier, SpaceX filed an application with the FCC for an orbital data center constellation of up to one million satellites. The satellites would operate in both sun-synchronous and mid-inclination orbits between 500 and 2,000 kilometers. The spacecraft in sun-synchronous orbits would be oriented to be in near-constant sunlight, providing continuous services, while those in mid-inclination orbits would handle peaks in demand. The brief application had little in the way of technical details—nothing about the size and power of the satellites or specific orbital planes—but plenty of grandiose visions. “Launching a constellation of a million satellites that operate as orbital data centers is a first step toward becoming a Kardashev Type II civilization — one that can harness the sun’s full power — while supporting AI-driven applications for billions of people today and ensuring humanity’s multiplanetary future among the stars,” the company stated. Musk used some of the same language in the memo discussion the xAI acquisition. “By directly harnessing near-constant solar power with little operating or maintenance costs, these satellites will transform our ability to scale compute. It’s always sunny in space!” he wrote. “Launching a constellation of a million satellites that operate as orbital data centers is a first step towards becoming a Kardashev II-level civilization, one that can harness the Sun’s full power, while supporting AI-driven applications for billions of people today and ensuring humanity’s multi-planetary future.” Musk added that, eventually, the orbital data center satellites might be built and launched from the Moon, enabling terawatts of AI computing power. “Thanks to advancements like in-space propellant transfer, Starship will be capable of landing massive amounts of cargo on the Moon. Once there, it will be possible to establish a permanent presence for scientific and manufacturing pursuits,” he wrote. “Factories on the Moon can take advantage of lunar resources to manufacture satellites and deploy them further into space. By using an electromagnetic mass driver and lunar manufacturing, it is possible to put 500 to 1000 TW/year of AI satellites into deep space, meaningfully ascend the Kardashev scale and harness a non-trivial percentage of the Sun’s power,” he said. No one could accuse Musk of not thinking big. Last week, xAI posted a video of a company all-hands meeting hosted by Musk. Most of the 45-minute session involved updates from employees on various projects, but Musk closed the presentation with another vision of a lunar-enabled future for AI. “Ultimately, you have to go out there and explore the universe to understand it, and that’s the motivation behind the combination of SpaceX and xAI,” he said. By launching spacecraft from Earth, he said the combined company could deploy 100 to 200 gigawatts of AI compute a year, with a path to one terawatt a year. “But what if you want to go beyond a mere terawatt?” he asked. (AI data centers used about four gigawatts of power in the US in 2024, and are projected to grow to 123 gigawatts by 2035, according to a study by Deloitte last year.) “In order to do that, you have to go to the Moon.” He described a factory that would build data center satellites on the Moon, launching them using a mass driver, which he described as a concept from science fiction. “We’re going to make it real. We’re actually going to have a mass driver on the Moon,” he said. “I really want to see the mass driver on the Moon that is shooting AI satellites into deep space.” On screen, an illustration of such a mass driver appeared, looking not unlike concepts from half a century ago proposed by Gerard K. O’Neill and other advocates of space colonies, who proposed building those free-space settlements using lunar resources transported by mass drivers. “I can’t imagine anything more epic than a mass driver on the Moon and a self-sustaining city on the Moon and going beyond the Moon to Mars,” he concluded, “going throughout our solar system and ultimately being out there among the stars.” “Musk is making a huge mistake,” Zubrin wrote. “Musk’s tweet is nonsense.” In none of the filings, memos, or presentations did Musk provide a schedule for his AI-enabled space ambitions, including a lunar satellite factory and self-sustaining city, beyond the comment in his post that a city on the Moon is potentially possible feasible within a decade. Most in the space industry, though, know such schedules are, as Musk himself has acknowledged, “aspirational.” It does, though, suggest a new underlying thesis for Musk and SpaceX. He previously said that the company’s Starlink constellation would help fund human missions to Mars: “Starlink internet is what’s being used to help pay for humanity getting to Mars,” he said at Starbase last year, thanking Starlink customers “for helping secure the future of civilization and helping make life multiplanetary.” Perhaps that business case no longer closes, either because of a better understanding of the revenues Starlink can generate or the costs of getting humans to Mars. Or the opportunity presented by AI and the demand for data centers is so compelling that it warrants going to the Moon first to enable that, even if satellite factories on the Moon are still decades away. Whatever the reason, it has dismayed Mars advocates, the biggest of whom is Robert Zubrin. “Musk is making a huge mistake,” Zubrin wrote in an essay published last week, citing the lack of resources there for a “self-sustaining city” and propulsion constraints. “In short, Musk’s tweet is nonsense.” Zubrin speculates Musk is motivated by the vast wealth AI data centers on the Moon could generate. “Or it might be where his winning streak ends,” he speculates. If lunar or orbital data centers can’t compete with terrestrial data centers—and Zubrin is skeptical they can—he worries “it could prove a financial disaster that collapses his credibility, and with it his entire corporate empire.” Musk has said he is not giving up on Mars. “SpaceX will also strive to build a Mars city and begin doing so in about 5 to 7 years, but the overriding priority is securing the future of civilization and the Moon is faster,” he wrote in the post announcing the shift to the Moon. He has subsequently suggested this new approach could actually speed up that city on Mars. And he has a need to speed things up: in June he will turn 55. If he still wants to achieve a goal he has long mentioned of dying on Mars—“just not on impact,” he would frequently add—a focus in the near term on the Moon needs to be an enabler if not accelerator of his Mars vision, not a diversion. Perhaps in a year this will look like what happened with the NASA administrator confirmation process or the agency’s budget: a period of wild, unexpected swings that end up back to “normal,” in this case with Musk and SpaceX again monomaniacally focused on Mars. If not, this could turn out to be one of the biggest shifts in spaceflight so far this century. Jeff Foust (jeff@thespacereview.com) is the editor and publisher of The Space Review, and a senior staff writer with SpaceNews. He also operates the Spacetoday.net web site. Views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone.

Seattle Is Space City

NG-2 launch New Glenn on its second launch last November. Blue Origin is again considering ways to reuse the rocket’s upper stage. (credit: Blue Origin) Seattle’s lessons for rocket reusability by Robert Oler Monday, February 16, 2026 Modern Seattle is known for the victorious Super Bowl LX Seahawks, a vibrant lifestyle, and manufacturing of infrastructure that sustains the nation’s and the world’s economies. Today’s reality is a long journey from 1853 when what would become Seattle was a bunch of settlements on what would become known as Puget Sound. Without a doubt, SpaceX’s Falcon 9 settled the question of first stage reuse. That changed when Henry Yesler took a gamble, brought a saw mill up from San Franscico, and started turning trees into lumber. The mill, first of many, produced the capability that allowed ordinary people and business to build the infrastructure to play out their dreams, which eventually created today’s reality. In Seattle, Blue Origin recently posted notice for the position of manager for “Reusable Upper Stage Development”. Immediately, speculation set off in the space press and illuminati concerning the on-and-off possibility of the New Glenn second stage becoming reusable. As a few noted, at least the public side of that debate has been raging for quite some time. Without a doubt, SpaceX’s Falcon 9 settled the question of first stage reuse. In a conservative booster design the one long pole was reusing the first stage. The effort has paid off handsomely: not only for SpaceX with its Starlink infrastructure but for a lot of dreamers trying to make a buck in space effort. SpaceX changed the metric of success. Economic viability ranks with technical excellence. For rocket systems to be economically viable, the first stage must be reusable. ULA’s Vulcan, while sound technically, will fade into history rather quickly largely due to whomever at ULA won the debate about making the rocket totally expendable. The decision doomed it to mediocrity, wasting the dollars and talent spent to turn it into reality—and failing a basic vision test. There really was no debate for SLS, a vehicle designed by politicians with the preservation of political pork as the only goal. How it worked or its cost never really came up. SLS has proven to be a debacle from a cost standpoint and, as recent events have shown, an operational one. Of course, goals differ. From the standpoint of preserving the political support to maintain it, it has so far succeeded. Moving forward, the economics debate has shifted to the second stage. SpaceX had plans (and an interesting video) for a completely reusable F9 but quickly moved to Starship. Bringing Starship to reality has become a harder knot to cut than first stage recovery. SpaceX is slowly seeing the design of the second stage being driven not by payload, but by demands of full stage reuse. Rocket Lab is at the opposite extreme. Neutron’s reusable first stage is designed around the doctrine of a cheap, light, expendable second stage. The limit with this design might be the size and capability of a second stage that the first can handle. What will Blue do? The outside-the-box possibility is that the “reusable upper stage” will have little to do with New Glenn or a follow-on New Armstrong. Instead, the concern would be vehicles designed primarily to transport payloads not to low Earth orbit but from low Earth orbit to their destination either elsewhere in earth orbit or beyond. It would be refurbished for reuse outside of the Earth’s gravity well. Blue Origin’s Blue Ring and yet unnamed fuel transporter stages are hints at this. It is taking a cue from the concept pioneered at least in studies sometime ago by ULA with the reusable Centaur, moving the reuse envelope to space. This allows the company to concentrate on vacuum operation and thrust sizing of conventional rocket engines, as well as use of engines that are designed for long-duration acceleration, and structures that are optimized for space. Mass (both empty and payload) distribution would be on a more appropriate level based on mission needs then a “one size fits all” approach. Even if there was a capability to land 100 tons on the Moon, the 100 tons of payload to land does not currently exist. That results in a high cost for a lander that requires an enormous refueling effort and infrastructure in LEO and on the ground, as well as being one and done. If the goal is for a more conventional reuse of the New Glenn second stage, where might Blue go? The effort requires study and understanding of the tradeoffs in cost and time to make the second stage recovery cost effective. Treat the second stage as an airplane with drop tanks. The “airplane” part is the engines and avionics. The rest is expendable. The bulk of expense and the savings in the stage should be in the engines and electronics. Full stage recovery creates enormous expense in cost and mass diverted from the payload by recovery technologies, all to save easy-to-build and cheaply produced fuel and oxidizer tanks in the quest to satisfy an imaginary need for airplane-like reflight. As Starship illustrates ,this requires an inefficient mix of vacuum and sea-level engines, high mass in thermal protection systems (TPS), aero surfaces, and a heavy cost in first stage capability. Instead, innovate and use a modern update of the original Atlas. Treat the second stage as an airplane with drop tanks. The “airplane” part is the engines and avionics. The rest is expendable. Blue seems to have picked up on development of large “entry shields” where the NASA Inflatable Decelerator left off—they should press forward. After establishing the entire stage on a reentry trajectory, dispose of the tank portion. Engines and avionics are protected by the expandable heat shield, using parachutes for an accurate recovery profile. Inspect, put on a new “drop tank,” and refly. This approach eliminates the need for heavy TPS, aerodynamic surfaces, and fuel to carry this up, down, and make a precise landing. The ground infrastructure to recover, remate, and restack should be far less than powered landing. This configuration should allow recovery from an expanded range of orbits, including GEO transfer. Confidence in the heat shield would eventually lead to use in aerobraking as a routine function—perhaps elese in the solar system as well. Over the next 20 years in spaceflight, both crewed and uncrewed, it will be far cheaper and efficient to replenish specialized machines rather than replacing them after one mission. Yet machines, architecture, and capabilities will evolve. When lunar in situ resource utilization comes into being, it will likely first be fuel and oxidizer. Construction of machines on the Moon is decades and many economic milestones away. Starting small will create infrastructure that can evolve driven by technology and economics. Yesler’s mill started very small with lumber initially of poor quality, but better than what it was before, which was nothing. Little remains other than historical markers and a great view of the Sound from “Skid Row,” as the area was and is called. Yet Seattle and the booming US West Coast are clearly its legacy. Reusable upper stages might be for space infrastructure what a lumber mill on the Puget was for the US West Coast. Robert G. Oler is a founding member of the Clear Lake Group on Space Policy. These are his own views. He can be reached at orbitjet@hotmail.com Note: we are now moderating comments. There will be a delay in posting comments and no guarantee that all submitted comments will be posted.

The Case For US-China Space Cooperation

CZ-10A landing A Long March 10A booster performs a soft splashdown near a recovery ship after a launch last week, the latest sign of China’s growing space capabilities. (credit: Xinhua) Tame the wolf, release the panda: The case for US-China space cooperation by Jimin Park Monday, February 16, 2026 The United States should repeal the Wolf Amendment and pursue a cooperative space relationship with China. First, China’s space program is motivated by prestige, rather than global domination. Space cooperation could satisfy China’s pursuit of status recognition, thereby improving US-China relations. Second, the Wolf Amendment prevents genuine engagement between the two countries, limiting opportunities for trust-building. Finally, while critics argue that space collaboration poses national security risks, engagement could promote more responsible behavior by fostering mutual understanding and restraint in space activities. The Wolf Amendment, status recognition, and space engagement Purely militaristic or economic terms cannot fully explain China’s space motivations. Instead, prestige is the primary driver behind China’s space program. Chinese leaders have prioritized space capabilities even at the expense of military modernization and social welfare spending.[1] Chinese space professionals use the phrase “yi xi zhi di” when describing China’s space motivations, which means “a seat at the table.”[2] This phrase reflects Beijing’s desire for status recognition as a leading power in space. The Wolf Amendment’s restrictions on space engagement disadvantage the US. Instead, the US should leverage China’s growing financial and technical capabilities to complement NASA’s efforts. Beijing perceives the Wolf Amendment as a deliberate US effort to deny Chinese legitimacy as a space power. Space achievements are deeply tied to China’s economic growth, technological innovation, and domestic legitimacy.[3] As a result, the Wolf Amendment reinforces nationalist narratives in China that depict the West as unwilling to accept China’s rise.[4] Such perception of status denial can heighten insecurity and increase the likelihood of aggressive and confrontational behaviors by China.[5] To counter this dynamic, the US should pursue status recognition by repealing the Wolf Amendment and engaging China as an equal partner in space cooperation, thereby promoting stability and mutual respect. The Wolf Amendment’s restrictions on space engagement disadvantage the US. While America’s space exploration slowed, China’s program has advanced rapidly and independently.[6] Despite being excluded from the ISS, China successfully developed its own space station, Tiangong. Continued isolation will push both countries to develop separate technologies without information exchange or coordination. Instead, the US should leverage China’s growing financial and technical capabilities to complement NASA’s efforts.[7] Cooperation could begin with pragmatic steps such as deconflicting lunar activities, maintaining dedicated communication channels, and establishing equipment standardization.[8] By prioritizing feasible and less controversial issues, both countries can build trust and lay the foundations for deeper collaboration.[9] Responding to key critiques of repealing the Wolf Amendment Critique 1: China’s authoritarianism and revisionism Representative Frank Wolf (the amendment’s original sponsor) justified the policy on moral grounds, expressing concern about cooperating with China. However, even proponents of the amendment have conceded that it has done little to influence Beijing’s space ambitions or human rights practices.[10] Simply identifying problems with China’s behavior does not constitute a sufficient basis for rejecting space cooperation. Critics often warn that China seeks to revise the global order.[11] These scholars argue that space advances fuel China’s ambitions and economic growth.[12] Yet this interpretation overstates China’s ambitions. Rather than being a revisionist power, Beijing primarily operates as “a status quo power with limited global aims.”[13] Moreover, the importance of space to China’s prestige underscores why space cooperation could serve as a valuable tool for leverage and improved bilateral relations. Critique 2: Espionage and PLA technological development Opponents of space engagement argue that space cooperation could inadvertently enhance the People’s Liberation Army’s (PLA) capabilities through China’s military-civil fusion.[14] However, this concern does not justify rejecting space engagement. In 2014 testimony before the US Senate Commerce Committee’s space subcommittee, former astronaut Leroy Chiao stated that fears of espionage were exaggerated.[15] Rather than relying on the Wolf Amendment, the US should mitigate technology-transfer risks through International Traffic in Arms Regulations and Export Administration Regulations, which cover nearly all space technologies and offer more effective safeguards.[16] Even critics of space engagement acknowledge that the amendment has failed to deter China’s espionage or slow Beijing’s space ambitions.[17] Instead, restrictions on cooperation have accelerated Beijing’s independent space development.[18] Advocates of the amendment often assume that the US gains nothing from engaging with China, but this assumption is misguided. Cooperation provides insights into China’s decision-making processes and institutional structures, which contain “valuable information in accurately deciphering [China’s] intended use of dual-use space technology.”[19] Continued isolation only reinforces China’s perception of status denial and risks accelerating Beijing’s independent space development. Space engagement can address concerns of China’s military-civil fusion and espionage. Although the PLA is connected to China’s space program, cooperation may strengthen the civil space sector and limit the influence of military hardliners.[20] Repealing the Wolf Amendment would reduce China’s incentive to develop space technologies independently. Current restrictions push Beijing toward alternative partners, diminishing US influence over China’s space development and broader diplomatic leverage.[21] Given Beijing’s pragmatic tendencies, China may be willing to agree to limits on espionage in exchange for space cooperation.[22] Critique 3: Other avenues for cooperation Supporters of the Wolf Amendment often note that the amendment does not explicitly prohibit all forms of space cooperation with China.[23] While technically correct, this view overlooks the amendment’s practical consequences. The amendment discourages direct bilateral engagement and creates a “chilling effect” that deters collaboration even between US and Chinese companies.[24] By limiting civil space cooperation, the amendment obstructs future joint efforts in space exploration, human spaceflight, and technology transfer.[25] These restrictions—though aimed at civil collaboration—still reinforce Chinese perceptions of status denial. Conclusion Repealing the Wolf Amendment would enable a constructive and strategically beneficial approach to Sino-American space relations. By engaging China as an equal partner, the US can address Beijing’s pursuit of prestige while capitalizing on the mutual benefits of space engagement. Continued isolation only reinforces China’s perception of status denial and risks accelerating Beijing’s independent space development. Although national security concerns remain valid, space cooperation presents a pragmatic path for advancing bilateral relations and scientific progress in space. [Updated Feb. 17 to correct a reference to testimony by Chiao.]> References Robert Hines, “A Place in the Stars: Prestige and Legitimacy in China’s Quest for Space Power,” Cornell Theses and Dissertations, 177. Gregory Kulacki and Jeffrey G. Lewis, A Place for One’s Mat: China’s Space Program, 1956–2003 (American Academy of Arts and Sciences, 2009), 3. John Klein, Space Warfare: Strategy Principles and Policy (Routledge, 2025), 72–75. Anand V., “China’s Science and Technology Capabilities: The Case of the Outer Space Sector,” Nepal Institute for International Cooperation and Engagement, August 21, 2020. Michelle Murray, The Struggle for Recognition in International Relations: Status, Revisionism, and Rising Powers (Oxford University Press, 2020), 207–215. Alvin Hoi-Chun Hung, “Did Exclusion Ignite China’s Drive to Compete in Space Station Technology? An Analysis of the Techno-Legal Implications of the Wolf Amendment,” Journal of Law, Technology, and Policy, 2022. “Pathways to Exploration—Rationales and Approaches,” National Academy of Sciences, 2014 Aaron Bateman, “The prospects for United States–China space cooperation are limited,” The Bulletin, June 12, 2023. Bin Li, “Space Won’t Be Safe until the U.S. and China Can Cooperate,” Scientific American, May 9, 2022. Dan Hart and Dean Cheng, “Should the Wolf Amendment Be Repealed?” The Aerospace Company, July 29, 2025. Elle Lu and Alex Stephenson, “Space: The Final Frontier of U.S.-China Competition.” The National Interest, July 5, 2022. Dean Cheng, China and the New Moon Race (Space Policy Institute, 2024), 8–30. David Kang, “What China Doesn’t Want,” Foreign Affairs, September 19, 2025. “The Chinese Communist Party’s Military-Civil Fusion Policy,” U.S. Department of State. Andrew Johnson, “An Agreement to Disagree,” In Chen Lan and Jacqueline Myrrhe. “Go Taikonauts. All about China’s space programme,” Issue 12. May 2014: 21–26. Hart and Cheng, “Wolf Amendment.” Hart and Cheng, “Wolf Amendment.” Makena Young, “Bad Idea: The Wolf Amendment (Limiting Collaboration with China in Space),” Defense360, December 4, 2019. Michael Listner and Joan Johnson-Freese, “Commentary | Two Perspectives on U.S.-China Space Cooperation,” SpaceNews, July 14, 2014. Marco Aliberti, When China Goes to the Moon… (Springer, 2015), 233–234. Peter Harrell, “China’s Non-Traditional Espionage Against the United States: The Threat and Potential Policy Responses,” CNAS, December 12, 2018. James Lewis, “Space Subcommittee Hearing – Are We Losing the Space Race to China?,” Committee on Science, Space, and Technology, September 27, 2016. Hart and Cheng, “Wolf Amendment.” Paul Bolt, “American Sanctions on China’s Space Program: Effective Economic Statecraft?,” Space and Defense 15, no. 1 (2024): 149–63, DOI: 10.32873/uno.dc.sd.15.01.1037. Young, “Bad Idea: Wolf Amendment” Jimin Park is a masterÆs student at Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service with a focus in Asian Studies. He holds a B.A. in Political Science and a B.A. in Global & International Studies from the University of Kansas. Note: we are now moderating comments. There will be a delay in posting comments and no guarantee that all submitted comments will be posted.

Book Review: Webb's Cosmos

book cover Review: Webb’s Cosmos by Christopher Cokinos Monday, February 16, 2026 Webb’s Cosmos: Images and Discoveries from the James Webb Space Telescope by Marcin Sawicki Firefly Books, 2025 hardcover, 304 pp., illus. ISBN 978-0-2281-0573-2 US$49.95 Spectacular images of galaxies, nebulae, stars, and more from the James Webb Space Telescope are readily available online. But having hundreds of them available in a single book is deeply satisfying. One can linger with them, with no distractions. Marcin Sawicki and a team of editors and designers at Firefly Books have produced a gorgeous, well-designed and informative book that gives us a record of JWST’s first years. Divided into ten chapters with an introduction and epilogue, Webb’s Cosmos spans stars and star birth; individual and merging galaxies; galactic deep fields; gravitational lensing; and planets, “ours” and those of other solar systems. The book is a keeper, and the prose is so approachable and photos so exquisite I think it would make a great gift for younger readers whose interest in science and astronomy might be cultivated by such a volume. Sawicki’s first-person account of working on the JWST, watching the nerve-racking launch, the deployment of its delicate sunshield, and his recounting the telescope’s longer history and future operations is engaging. The prose here and throughout the book is crisp and clear. As he writes, “All of it—every pixel of every image—is grounded in science, data, and in decades of dreaming and building. But every Webb image also inspires wonder. Because beyond the technical achievement, beyond the scientific discoveries, Webb invites us to seek answers to timeless questions: Where did we come from? How did the cosmos around us evolve? What is our place in it? Are we alone?” Readers will savor those questions individually as they savor the imagery. You’ll find stunning images of stars looking like exploded flowers, like something from a futurist landscape. There are classics like the Cosmic Cliffs of Carina and the Pillars of Creation. But you will encounter, of course, many images new to you, including, perhaps, the blue mists of the Chamaeleon 1 molecular cloud and Earendel, the most distant sun yet observed and photographed within the Sunrise Arc, “the most strongly gravitationally magnified galaxy from the early universe currently known.” Even the feature names are poetic. Several photographs overlay Hubble Space Telescope and JWST imagery to create new ways of looking at galaxies, for example, and yet the book’s most potent images, for me, are those of planets in our own Solar System and the “snapshots” of exoplanets like little lit gems. You’ll find favorites too. The book excels as well at infographics that explain, among other things, the scale of the cosmos and the expansion of the universe. These are easy to grasp and useful in helping to remind the reader of the sublime scale of photos that one can just easily turn to, page by page. With short, clear chapter introductions, the book functions as a beginner’s guide to astronomy as well. The book is a keeper, and the prose is so approachable and photos so exquisite I think it would make a great gift for younger readers whose interest in science and astronomy might be cultivated by such a volume. Awe and wonder have long been hallmarks of deep space imagery. Webb’s Cosmos reminds us why—and shows us that our quest for future JWST discoveries is just beginning. Christopher Cokinos is the author of the award-winning book Still as Bright: An Illuminating History of the Moon from Antiquity to Tomorrow. He is a co-editor of Moon Bound, a project of The Moon Gallery Foundation.

Is The Space X IPO The Right Move?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADtsl9Dni8A

The Long March 10 Rocket-The Chinese Starship

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8JGfTXjj_g