Artemis 2 Returns To The Pad

Artemis 2 rollout Artemis 2 returns to the pad early March 20, ahead of a launch as soon as April 1. (credit: NASA/Brandon Hancock) The science of Artemis 2 by Jeff Foust Monday, March 23, 2026 The next humans to leave Earth orbit may launch as soon as next week. Just after midnight Friday, the Space Launch System rocket, with its Orion spacecraft on top, reemerged from the Vehicle Assembly Building, making an 11-hour trek back to Launch Complex 39B. The vehicle had spent the last three weeks in the VAB to fix a blockage of helium in the upper stage that caused NASA to call off a launch in an early March window, along with other maintenance. “We are using Artemis 2 as an opportunity to get science to prepare for our later Artemis missions when science is more of a driver,” and Richardson. NASA is now targeting a launch of the Artemis 2 mission as soon as April 1, with daily launch opportunities through April 6. Officials said at a briefing earlier this month they felt confident enough in the vehicle, after correcting past issues with hydrogen leaks in a fueling test, that they would not do another fueling test before a launch attempt. “From my perspective, when we tank the vehicle the very next time, I would like it to be on a day we could actually launch,” said Lori Glaze, NASA’s acting associate administrator for exploration. “If we are able to successfully fully tank the vehicle, I want to be able to poll ‘go’ to launch.” Artemis 2 is primarily a test flight, a long-awaited demonstration of the Orion spacecraft in deep space, carrying four astronauts around the Moon on a ten-day mission. After a one-day shakeout in Earth orbit, including performing proximity operations with the SLS upper stage, the Orion will head out on its free return trajectory around the Moon. However, Artemis 2 won’t solely be a test of vehicle systems. The mission will also be an opportunity carry out science, both of the Moon and involving the people on board. Artemis 2 would not, at first glance, seem like much of an opportunity to study the Moon. Orion will fly around the Moon rather than go into orbit, and during that flyby will not get particularly close to the Moon: to the astronauts on board, the Moon will look similar in size to a basketball at arm’s length. “Science wasn’t in the driver’s seat to define what Artemis 2 is,” said Jacob Richardson, deputy lead of Artemis 2 lunar science at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center, during a panel discussion at the Goddard Space System Symposium March 12. “Instead, we are using Artemis 2 as an opportunity to get science to prepare for our later Artemis missions when science is more of a driver.” “We’re going to find the opportunity to flex our science muscles on these missions,” he added. “We’re going to have our own baby steps towards success on our way towards landed surface missions, towards a moonbase and a sustained presence on the lunar surface.” That panel came after Kelsey Young, science flight operations lead for NASA’s Artemis internal science team, discussed the science plans for the mission. There are ten lunar science themes for Artemis 2 with varying priorities. At the top are studying color and albedo variations as well as look for any flashes from lunar impact. Other topics range from various aspects of lunar geology to observing the Earth from space. In addition to the science itself, Artemis 2 provides an opportunity to exercise science operations, including planning for science and operations of a science team back on Earth during the mission as well as capturing data during the mission. “We actually had a lot of questions from the crew over the first few months of training: ‘What can our observations tell you about science that orbiting spacecraft cannot?’” she recalled. “We really rose to the challenge of convincing them that your words carry scientific weight. What you describe helps us, the lunar science community, really unlock these high priority mysteries that we have.” Verbal descriptions by the astronauts of what they see are, in fact, one of the key science data sets from the mission. “Human beings are the most sophisticated detector there is, and they’ll be giving some very nuanced verbal descriptions,” she said. “I can say that in confidence having trained them over the last few years.” The astronauts will also make annotations of what they see, much like a field geologist might in a notebook, with both words and illustrations. Those annotations will be made in their tablets. A third data set will be photos they take, using a Nikon camera with an 80-400 mm zoom lens. Three of the four astronauts have previously flown on the International Space Station, Young noted, and have experience photographing the Earth from inside the station. “We actually had a lot of questions from the crew over the first few months of training: ‘What can our observations tell you about science that orbiting spacecraft cannot?’” Young recalled. “We really rose to the challenge of convincing them that your words carry scientific weight.” “Our goal was never going to be to take better pictures than LRO,” or the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter, said Ariel Deutsch, a NASA planetary scientist who is part of the Artemis 2 science team, during a presentation at the Lunar and Planetary Science Conference (LPSC) March 16. “Our goal is to instill and promote and maximize the human science that can be done on this mission as the crew views the Moon and the lunar environment with human eyes for the first time in several decades.” That more distant view has its advantages. “They’ll be afforded this whole-disk view,” Young said. “They’ll have this interesting perspective that enables them to contextualize the observations they see in one section of the Moon to another section of the Moon in the blink of an eye.” They may also see portions of the Moon not seen before directly by humans. For example, much of the lunar farside was not directly seen during the Apollo missions since they were targeting landings during the day on the near side. The low equatorial orbits of the Apollo missions also kept them from seeing the poles. One challenge for planning lunar science on Artemis 2 is the timing of the mission. The portion of the Moon visible if the mission launches April 1 will be different than if it launches April 6. Young said the crew will have “study time” on the way to the Moon to review what will be visible and what targeting plan the science team has developed for the critical hours of the flyby. That study time will be a bit of last-minute cramming after extended training before launch. “We had three years with them. The science team put together a multi-faceted approach for training the crew,” said Cindy Evans, Artemis geology training lead at the Johnson Space Center, during an LPSC session. That included both classroom and field work as well as testing on the equipment they will use. Artemis 2 commander Reid Wiseman, she recalled, “challenged us to put together a lunar training program for the crew office so he could walk down the hallway of the crew office and talk to any of his colleagues about the Moon. It was designed to raise the literacy in the crew office about the Moon.” That one-week “Lunar Fundamentals” class the scientists put together was used not just for the astronauts but also flight controllers and others. It featured lunar geology and the importance of collecting lunar samples and studying volatiles that may exist at the poles. “We provided them with some key talking points because they’re public speakers: they’re going out and they need to be talking about why we’re going to the Moon,” she said, “how the Moon is important for all of us to understand.” There will be additional, non-lunar science beyond observations of the Moon. That includes work in biology, human research, and space weather, said Jacob Bleacher, chief exploration scientist in NASA’s Exploration Systems Development Mission Directorate, during a briefing in January. “During this flight we will learn how the spacecraft behaves and through our research campaign we will also learn how we, human beings, behave in that same environment,” he said. “The Moon is this incredible object that we are so fortunate to have, and we take it for granted,” Petro said. An example is AVATAR, or A Virtual Astronaut Tissue Analog Response. It will use tissue-on-a-chip devices to mimic individual organs of the astronauts, comparing their response to the environment beyond Earth orbit with data taken before and after the flight from the four astronauts. Bleacher said that could lead to personalized medicines for individual astronauts on future deep space missions. Other experiments include movement and sleep monitors worn by the astronauts and studies of their immune systems. The German space agency DLR will provide radiation monitors for the mission like those flown on Artemis 1. Bleacher said that, as soon as possible after landing, the astronauts will go through an obstacle course to see how well they function after returning to one G, as well as a simulated spacewalk several days later. “That prepares is for landing on the Moon and, eventually, down the road, going to destinations such as Mars.” Those studies overall, he said, show “how we will we react to, survive, and thrive in that deep space environment.” The public focus, though, will be on the Moon, including the images that the astronauts on Artemis 2 return from their unique perspective. At the Goddard Symposium, Noah Petro, Artemis 4 project scientist, urged a space industry audience to share the excitement he feels about the Moon. “The Moon is this incredible object that we are so fortunate to have, and we take it for granted,” he said, telling people to go out and take 30 seconds to look at, and contemplate, the Moon. “You want to get people hooked on the Moon? Start by going out and looking at it. Because in a month, the Moon is going to be different to us because we will have just sent people there.” 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.

NVIC: India's Jinxed Navigational Program

NVS-02 The NVS-02 navigation satellite before its ill-fated launch last year. (credit: ISRO) NavIC: India’s “jinxed” navigational program, or a cornerstone of India’s misplaced space priorities? by Ajey Lele Monday, March 23, 2026 India’s NavIC (Navigation with Indian Constellation) is a regional satellite navigation system developed to provide accurate positioning, navigation, and timing (PNT) services across India and up to 1,500 kilometers beyond its borders, with plans for a further extension out to 3,000 kilometers. Originally known as the Indian Regional Navigation Satellite System (IRNSS), it has been designed, developed, and operated by the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO). For ISRO, NavIC poses a challenge, since it is not about any single failure but instead a compounding series of technical setbacks. Unlike global satellite navigation systems such as GPS, which deploy satellites in medium Earth orbit (MEO), NavIC is a regional system that uses seven satellites (along with backups) placed in geostationary and geosynchronous orbits. NavIC provides two main services: the Standard Positioning Service (SPS), offering accuracy of about 5–20 meters for civilian use, and the Restricted Service (RS), intended for strategic users. The first satellite in this constellation was launched in 2013, and the system was declared operational by 2018. Today, NavIC, is facing a major service disruption, with only three satellites currently being functional. A minimum of four functional satellites are required for accurate positioning. Recently, ISRO declared that the atomic clock of the ten-year-old IRNSS-1F satellite has failed on March 13. This follows earlier setbacks like the flawed launch of the next-generation NVS-02 satellite in January 2025. In a February 25 statement, ISRO announced the outcome of an investigation about this failure. NVS-02 was successfully placed into a geostationary transfer orbit, but failed to reach its intended final orbit because its onboard engine could not fire. The investigation found that a pyrotechnic valve in the engine had failed to open due to a command signal not reaching it, and thus blocking oxidizer flow to the orbit-raising engine. For a variety of reasons, six of the 11 satellites launched by ISRO for the purposes of navigation have suffered failures or partial failures. Many failures were mainly associated with the problems in Swiss-made atomic clocks. Apart from this, IRNSS/NavIC satellite failures have stemmed from reasons such as engine and valve failures, missed command signals, and aging hardware. Reliance on imported components and insufficient redundancy have further degraded constellation reliability. The term “jinxed” is scientifically incorrect because it suggests that failures are caused by bad luck rather than identifiable technical issues. In reality, the IRNSS/NavIC satellite failures have clear known causes. Yet, given ISRO’s otherwise impressive track record of successes in other major space projects, the repeated setbacks in the NavIC program are almost making people to think that ISRO’s navigational program is jinxed! Experiencing failures and encountering malfunctions are not uncommon for space agencies worldwide. However, for ISRO, NavIC poses a challenge, since it is not about any single failure but instead a compounding series of technical setbacks. All this has made the India’s navigation system dysfunctional, which has both civilian and strategic importance. Amid ongoing military operations in India’s backyard, happening in the Iranian and Afghanistan theatres, the importance of a fully functional satellite navigation system for India has never been clearer. Experiences from India’s own Operation Sindhoor (May 6–7, 2025) had highlighted NavIC’s limitations and the risk of operating with a partially dysfunctional constellation. For, India the challenge is more acute since China provides military-grade BeiDou signals to Pakistan. In the Asia-Pacific region, experts feel that BeiDou’s performance is better than GPS. Various recent conflicts like Armenia‑Azerbaijan, Russia‑Ukraine, and US/Israel-Iran have shown how unmanned aerial vehicles or drones can decisively shape battles of the day. Beyond-visual-range engagements, precision-guided munitions, joint direct attack munitions, hypersonic weapons, and missile defense systems are now central to modern military conflicts. These military systems rely heavily on accurate, real-time positioning and targeting data. Major militaries all over the world are depending mainly on timely satellite-derived information to detect, track, and intercept threats. Hence, a reliable space-based navigation system is a critical enabler for operational effectiveness and central to battlefield success. Like other major space programs around the world, ISRO has suffered its share of failures, and there is no assurance that future missions will be free from setbacks. However, the challenges facing NavIC appear to extend beyond purely technological glitches or supply chain constraints. These failures are pointing towards deeper policy and planning issues such as delays in satellite replacement, gaps in constellation planning, delays in indigenous development of atomic clocks, limited redundancy, and slower integration with civilian and strategic users. Essentially, there is a requirement of putting development of this program in a mode with a stronger policy framework, better long-term planning, and clearer prioritization among the other big programs being developed by ISRO. Has the success of high-visibility missions like missions to Moon and Mars encouraged a push toward more ambitious, stature-driven projects like human spaceflight without first fully consolidating critical strategic systems like satellite navigation? Along with the satellite operations, there have also been problems with the user segment. According to ISRO, the user segment mainly consists of a single-frequency IRNSS receiver capable of receiving the signal at L5 or S-band frequency, a dual-frequency IRNSS receiver capable of receiving both L5 and S-band frequencies, and a receiver compatible to IRNSS and other GNSS signals. It is difficult to realize how a professional organisation like ISRO had sidelined the issues related to the development of ground elements and the user segment during the initial phase of the program. For some years, some of their navigation satellites were idle in space since there was no ground network planed for making the signal available for the common users and this has turned precious investments meaningless. In fact, the Comptroller and Auditor General of India (CAG) had flagged delays and cost overruns in the NavIC project, noting that the system was not fully operational as of June 2017. According to the report, by March 2017 ISRO had incurred a total expenditure of approximately $375–380 million, including both core program and launch vehicles, satellite maintenance, and ground infrastructure. The system was expected to become widely available in a user-friendly mode by April 2020; however, while NavIC services have since been operational, adoption has remained much limited. Even by 2026, its use on mainstream mobile devices, though enabled in some chipsets, is still not yet prevalent, and common mobile users in India do not have easy access to NavIC. What do the setbacks in NavIC indicate? Rather than pointing to a single cause, they raise broader policy queries about prioritization and sequencing in regards to the nature of projects undertaken by ISRO. Has the success of high-visibility missions like missions to Moon and Mars encouraged a push toward more ambitious, stature-driven projects like human spaceflight and plans for a space station and mission to Venus, without first fully consolidating critical strategic systems like satellite navigation? Is ISRO “punching above its weight” within limited resources while attention is being spread too thin, creating gaps in core capabilities that have direct strategic and civilian implications? By contrast, major space powers like the United States, China, and Russia have historically ensured that foundational critical space infrastructure like robust navigation, communication, and surveillance systems, is firmly in place before expanding into more symbolic or exploratory missions. The NavIC story should be an eye opener to India’s policy planners, demonstrating the requirement for India to have a sharper policy focus on strengthening strategic necessities first. Ajey Lele is Deputy Director General at MP-IDSA, New Delhi, India and the views expressed are personal.

Zarya: The Super Soyuz That Lived Twice

Zarya Left: “Reusable manned spacecraft Zarya: 1. Descent module 2. Cargo 3. Landing engine 4. Work compartment 5. Pressure vessel 6. Porthole 7. Star sensor 8. Ejection seat 9. Control panel 10. Antenna of the rendezvous equipment 11. Engine compartment 12. On-board equipment 13. Docking and orientation engines 14. Heat shield shock absorber 15. Doppler velocimeter 16. Refueling and propulsion system 17. Expendable compartment 18. SEP and EKhG 19. Wall-mounted radiator”. Right: landing of the Zarya spacecraft. Semyonov (ed.), 1996, scanned and processed by the author. Zarya: the Super-Soyuz that only lived twice by Maks Skiendzielewski Monday, March 23, 2026 In the late 1980s, with the development of the first modules of Mir nearing its end and their launches on the horizon, NPO Energia started work on the station’s successor. It was to be another generational step after Salyut-6 introduced multiple docking ports allowing continuous crewed operation and resupply missions and Mir became the first truly modular station, drastically expanding the available volume and bringing specialized modules to the mix. Initially, Mir-2 was just the backup to the Mir base block that would have replaced its original in orbit or have been used to build another Mir-type complex, but by the early 1980s, the focus had shifted to a massive orbital complex utilizing a large truss as its backbone—likely conceived with the American Space Station Freedom at the back of the designers’ minds. By 1991, that concept was abandoned in favor of the more modest “Mir-1.5” plans and later a cozy DOS-8-based station with a compact truss, photovoltaic cells, and solar concentrators, but it’s that mid-to-late-80s period where a need arose to match the next-generation station with a next-generation crew ferry. And thus, the Zarya was born. It’s that mid-to-late-80s period where a need arose to match the next-generation station with a next-generation crew ferry. And thus, the Zarya was born. The development of the spacecraft—also known under its GRAU designation 14F70 and Energia’s internal project code 7K-SM—was approved by a January 27, 1985, resolution of the Military Industrial Commission. Department 178 of NPO Energia, headed by I.L. Minyuk, was tasked with the work, with Konstantin Feoktistov as the project lead. NPO Energia’s General Designer Valentin Glushko personally supervised the project. Zarya was to take full advantage of the then-new Zenit, a standalone two-stage version of the mighty Energia’s Blok A strap-on booster. The increase in performance over the Soyuz allowed the designers to draw up a larger and more capable space station ferry that would use more modern technology than the two-decade-old design it would have replaced. At a later stage, the spacecraft was to be developed further into a versatile multi-mission vehicle, capable of operating autonomously or aided by a tug, in orbits as high as geostationary and inclinations up to 97°. By December 22, 1986, preliminary drawings were created, followed by the release in the first quarter of 1987 of the preliminary design. That received some adjustments on review released in May 1988. The capsule was designed to ferry between two and eight crew with cargo to Mir and back, with a certified on-orbit life of at least 195 days (later increased to 270 days). It could also be configured for uncrewed cargo missions, including the return of payloads from orbit, rescue missions to space stations and Buran orbiters, and specialized Ministry of Defense and Academy of Science missions. Under the hood Zarya was designed with the Zenit in mind as the launch vehicle, and therefore inherited its 4.1-meter diameter, although the crew module (capsule) itself had a diameter of 3.7 meters. At a length of five meters and launch mass of around 15 tonnes, the capsule would also comfortably fit in Buran’s payload bay. In the 15-tonne configuration, the Zenit would deliver Zarya to a 190-kilometer reference orbit at an inclination of 51.6°. With two crew, the cargo capacity was 2.5 tonnes with 1.5 to 2 tonnes return, while with no crew the capacity was three tonnes with 2–2.5 tonnes return. With the maximum crew of eight, the capsule would not take any meaningful cargo. The crew module’s aerodynamic shape was derived from the Soyuz descent module, with a lift/drag coefficient of 0.26 at velocities over Mach 6. The equipment on board was a mix of Soyuz-TM hardware and newly developed units, with the control systems taking full advantage of 1980s computer technology. Unlike the three-compartment Soyuz, which consists of separate orbital and descent pressurized modules, Zarya only had one large pressurized compartment, which separated from a stubby service compartment before reentry. Like the Soyuz-TM, Zarya could be equipped with either the traditional SSVP “probe-and-drogue” docking assembly, or the APAS-89 system developed for the Buran program—presumably with a small payload penalty, as the APAS system was 120 kilograms heavier—which was protected during launch by a jettisonable cover. Zarya was designed with the Zenit in mind as the launch vehicle, and therefore inherited its 4.1-meter diameter. The crew module could be reused up to 30 to 50 times thanks in part to the use of Buran-derived reusable thermal protection on the outside of the capsule. During descent, a small drogue chute would deploy to stabilize the vehicle. Instead of a main parachute, the spacecraft was equipped with a ring of liquid-fuel rocket engines that would land the vehicle propulsively. A single-use honeycomb heat shield panel at the bottom of the capsule protected the area with highest thermal load during reentry and doubled as a “crumple zone” upon touchdown to reduce the stresses on the vehicle structure. As this landing method would clearly need some practice to perfect, on the initial flights all crew would be in ejection seats, although that would limit the crew size to four. In the first two images below, you can see what could be the early ejection seat variant on the left—note the circular ejection hatches in the tile grid—and the fully operational variant with no ejection seat accommodations in the center. On the right is the attachment diagram of the Buran-derived silica tiles. Zarya Thermal protection system tile layout of the Zarya spacecraft. Left and center legend: I. heatshield-clad honeycomb crumple panel, II. tile mounting on the windward side, III. tile mounting on the leeward side. Images: Novosti Kosmonavtiki, 2014 №8, Tvoy Sektor Kosmosa on YouTube (lecture). Twenty-four main engines of the Unified Propulsion System (initially designed for the launch abort system before a Soyuz-style escape tower was chosen), pushing 1.5 tonnes-force of thrust each on a mix of hydrogen peroxide and kerosene, together with sixteen 62 kilograms-force monopropellant orientation thrusters, would be used to land the spacecraft in the Kazakh steppe with an accuracy of just 2.5 kilometers. The landing engines and fuel were located inside the descent module, so a non-toxic propellant mix was chosen for crew safety. Nevertheless, as one can imagine, the acoustic load level on the crew during landing was described as “high”. The acceleration limit was also set rather high at 10G when compared to the modern Soyuz’s 6G, although the contemporary TM series still subjected its passengers to a hefty 12G. Orbital maneuvering duties were taken care of by the expendable service compartment, analogous to the one on Soyuz. It used two 300 kilograms-force N2O4-UDMH maneuvering engines and a number of orientation thrusters to raise Zarya to the operational orbit (200–550 kilometers) after separation from the Zenit second stage. Radiators were mounted flush with the surface of the compartment around its perimeter. Interestingly, the standard Zenit did not have quite the performance necessary to lift the heavy capsule, so the second stage tanks were to be filled with syntin instead of kerosene to increase the impulse, and the launch abort system tower would be activated before Zarya separated from the second stage and only jettisoned after it gave the stack the extra push (or rather pull). Zarya Left: Zarya on top of the Zenit in the Manned Spacecraft Servicing Unit. Right: Various reusable crewed spaceflight projects, including Zarya on Zenit in the leftmost column and possibly an air-launched variant in the rightmost column. Images: HausD via the raumfahrer.net forum, Tvoy Sektor Kosmosa on YouTube (lecture). Five major launch configurations were described; Zarya could be easily reconfigured between them without affecting the general layout and systems: space station ferry with 2–4 crew and cargo launch and return rescue vessel launched with 1–2 crew, returning 2–4 crew rescue vessel launched empty, returning up to eight crew in-space assembly or repair spacecraft with 2–3 crew uncrewed spacecraft for cargo launch-return missions to orbits as high as 36,000 kilometers altitude with a special tug In January 1989, work stopped due to insufficient funding, by which time “main design documentation was completed” at NPO Energia, according to the company history book. Later that year, on October 5, 1989, the Scientific and Technical Council of the Ministry of General Machine Building and the USSR Academy of Sciences, meeting on the topic of Mir-2, “recognized the need to stop work” on Zarya. While the project never reached the production of flight hardware, some things were built and can still be seen today, namely the “Manned Spacecraft Servicing Unit” for the Zenit at Baikonur’s Site 45, built to service the Zarya-Zenit stack. According to one source, designs for the Zarya were among the items sold to China in the early 1990s when Sino-Russian relations warmed and Chinese officials visited a number of space enterprises in the former USSR. Zarya The “Manned Spacecraft Servicing Unit” at the Zenit launch site in Baikonur and a drawing of the facility with Zarya and Zenit. Left: I. Marinin. Right: Vovan via the NK Forum. Role in space station operations Being the prospective replacement of the Soyuz, Zarya played an important role in the Mir-2 plans of the late 1980s. The long on-orbit life resource and larger crew capacity meant that the capsule was a very convenient crew ferry and lifeboat for the large next-generation orbital complex. While relatively few illustrations of either Mir-2 or Zarya have been made public, the even scarcer ones with them both show a version of the future, where instead of Shuttle-Mir-Soyuz we have Buran-Mir-2-Zarya. Preliminary estimates showed a requirement for two flights of Zarya to supply Mir-2 every year, along with three Progress M2’s and one to two Buran orbiters. In the 1987 draft design of the 180GK version of Mir-2, a modified Soyuz-TM launched on Zenit or a standard Soyuz-TM launched on Soyuz-U2 were described as possible alternatives for Zarya. Zarya Zarya as part of two variants of the Mir-2 complex. via buran.ru However, Mir-2 was not the only station we know of where Zarya could have docked. Before military tensions eased significantly in the 1990s, NPO Energia had been working on a number of space-borne weapons, among them a modular space station for attacking high value ground targets. A DOS-7K-series module would be its core, just like on Mir, but instead of FGB-based science modules, the station would use “autonomous modules” based on the Buran airframe. Wingless orbiters with docking ports in the nose would separate from the station, maneuver to their strike positions and deploy ballistic weapons or BOR-based dive bombers. The Zarya spacecraft would be used to crew the station. The project never got off the drawing board, but Energia’s 1996 company history features an illustration showing how wild this station would have looked. Zarya “Space station for hitting ground targets 1. Transport ship 7K-SM [Zarya] 2. Command module 3. Base station unit 4. Target station module 5. Combat module”. Semyonov (ed.), 1996. Zarya died in January 1989 amid increasing tensions between Feoktistov and Glushko when funding for the project dried up. But the big Soyuz would be reincarnated six years later, if only for a brief moment. Zarya 2: Assured Crew Boogaloo The collapse of the Soviet Union coincided with dramatic delays in and eventual cancellation of the intial GK-180-variant of Mir-2 in mid-1991. The only way for the project to continue was to reconfigure the massive station into a smaller, Mir-1-sized affair or even only use the existing DOS-8 module to replace Mir’s core in orbit and extend the station’s lifespan. Meanwhile, NASA’s Space Station Freedom and its budget had also been shrinking by the minute, with the station losing one of its iconic four solar array pairs in 1991. Throughout the project, there was a clear need for the development or procurement of a rescue vessel for the station: the Space Shuttle could only dock for two weeks and any crew that stayed on a long-duration mission would be stranded if anything went seriously wrong. It would launch on shuttle—and hence sport some trunnions for attachment in the payload bay—and stay docked to the ISS for up to five years. By 1992, multiple rescue vessel concepts had been investigated under the Assured Crew Return Vehicle (ACRV) project name; the project was just entering the “system definition” phase. The concepts were mostly homegrown designs, ranging from scaled up Apollo command modules to lifting bodies, but some more exotic vehicles like the British “Multi-Role Recovery Capsule” also appeared in submissions to NASA tenders. At the time, the space station was due to start assembly in 1995 but only reach Permanently Manned Capability in 1999 when the ACRV arrived at the station. In October 1991, the head of NPO Energia, Yuri Semyonov, offered his company’s vehicles as the lifeboat for Freedom until the “proper” ACRV came online and repeated the offer on February 21, 1992, while appearing at a US Senate subcommittee hearing. At least three options were presented: the Soyuz-TM, a clean sheet design resembling the Apollo CM, and a modified version of the cancelled Zarya spacecraft. The last option would be able to seat five to six astronauts and fly on Zenit—like in its ’80s guise—or in the shuttle’s payload bay. Zarya In March 1992, officials from both countries discussed cooperation in crewed spaceflight and a NASA delegation visited Moscow to “hold exploratory talks on the concept of using Soyuz as an ACRV” and the Soyuz-TM option was developed further. The 1993 agreement to form the International Space Station from the Freedom program and what remained of Mir-2 led to the ACRV program being put on hold until 1997. In 1995, anticipating a tender from NASA, NPO Energia (which had by that time become RKK Energiya) resumed development of an ACRV, focusing on the Zarya-derived concept and bringing in as partners Rockwell International and, by the end of the year, Khrunichev. Zarya Russian ISS lifeboat based on the Zarya spacecraft. Semyonov (ed.), 1996 The new lifeboat had a launch mass of 12.5 tonnes, sat eight crew and was made up of three sections: the eight-tonne descent module, a short “transition compartment”, and the service module which housed instruments, batteries, fuel tanks, control thrusters, and engines. A larger jettisonable docking assembly with an APAS port joined the ACRV to the station and could be used as an airlock in free flight if needed. The total length of the vehicle was 7.2 meters with the same 3.7-meter capsule diameter. It would launch on shuttle—and hence sport some trunnions for attachment in the payload bay—and stay docked to the ISS for up to five years. The instrumentation was based on the Soyuz-TM. Work on the vehicle stopped after NASA switched to modified Soyuz-TM as a lifeboat for the first years of the ISS in June 1996. The ACRV program refocused on what would become the X-38, which was itself cancelled in 2001. The Soyuz ended up serving as the station’s lifeboat until 2021, when it started sharing that duty with Crew Dragon. But that’s not all… There is one more chapter to the Zarya story. A later Soyuz replacement, the PTK NP, aka Federatsiya, aka Oryol, also has Zarya heritage. After the Zarya-like large Soyuz descent module became the preferred configuration for the Euro-Russian Advanced Crew Transportation System (ACTS), the design was inherited by PTK NP. The story of ACTS/Oryol is one for another day, but I will sign off with some truly cursed Zarya-derived concepts from Oryol development documentation. Zarya Federatsiya/Oryol concept with an enlarged Soyuz descent module and an orbital module tumor. RKK Energiya via NK Forum. Zarya Federatsiya/Oryol and Kliper variants. RKK Energiya via NK Forum. Bibliography Bart Hendrickx, From Mir-2 to the ISS Russian Segment, London, British Interplanetary Society, 2002. Yuri Semyonov (ed.), Raketno-kosmicheskaya korporatsiya Energiya 1946–1996, Moscow, 1996, pp. 423–425 Igor Afanasyev, Dmitry Vorontsov, Nesostoyavshayasya «Zarya», Novosti Kosmonavtiki, 2014 №8 V.S. Syromyatnikov, 100 rasskazov o stykovke i odrugikh priklyucheniyakh v kosmose i na Zemle, Chast’ 2: 20 let spustya, M. University Book, Logos, 2010, pp. 206–208, 210–211, 221 The Russian Soyuz spacecraft, ESA, accessed 09.08.2025 Anatoly Zak, Russia proposes lifeboat for a US space station, Russian Space Web, accessed 09.08.2025 V. Mokhov, Modul dlya «Burana», Novosti Kosmonavtiki, 1998 №23–24 Igor Afanasyev, Neizvestnye korabli, Znanie, Moscow, 1991 Rex D. Hall, David J. Shayler and Bert Vis, Russia’s cosmonauts: inside the Yuri Gagarin Training Center, Springer Praxis, 2006, p. 228 Yuri Baturin, Mirovaya pilotiruyemaya kosmonavtika: Istoriya. Tekhnika. Lyudi, “RTSoft” Publishing House, Moscow, 2005, pp. 534–535 Craig Covault, “Mir Cosmonauts Prepare For Reentry As NASA Holds Soyuz Talks in Moscow”, Aviation Week, March 23, 1992, p. 24 Maks Skiendzielewski can be found on The Artist Formerly Known as Twitter at @galopujacy_jez. A version of this article was previously published by the author on Medium.

The Legal Aspects Of Outer Space Settlers And Settlements

Mars base Any future settlements on Mars or elsewhere beyond Earth face legal challenges. (credit: SpaceX) The legal aspects of outer space settlers and settlements by Dennis O’Brien Monday, March 23, 2026 We have reached the point in human history when advances in technology, finance, and law have made the utilization of outer space resources feasible. In response, the UN’s Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS) created the Working Group on Legal Aspects of Space Resource Activity. For similar reasons, it is time to focus on the legal aspects of outer space settlers and settlements. First, some definitions. A Settler is anyone who spends any time in orbital space or beyond. A Settlement is any location where one or more persons is living. Within these broad definitions, there are four general areas of study, which will be discussed below. The current framework of national and international law The Outer Space Treaty of 1967 (OST) is the foundation of space law. It is a binding treaty that has been ratified by 118 countries and signed by 20 more, including all the countries that are active in outer space. There are several articles that affect settlers and settlements, including: Article I: Guarantee of free access; Article II: Prohibition against appropriation; Article IV: Prohibition against military bases/installations; Article VI: Requirement for authorization/supervision of all national activities; Article VIII and XII: Extension of a country’s jurisdiction and control; Article IX: Protection against harmful interference. Article VI establishes the interactive framework of national and international law. Every member state (or an intergovernmental organization like ESA) must authorize and supervise the outer space activities of any of its nationals, including all non-governmental entities such as individuals and corporations. Thus, any early settlers/settlements will be operating under the laws of the country or organization that authorizes and supervises their activities. If more than one country or organization is involved, there will need to be an Operating Agreement among them, as with the International Space Station. Outright ownership of land will probably need to wait until a settlement becomes independent, at which time it must be made available to individuals. Because of Article II’s ban on appropriation, neither countries nor their nationals can claim outright ownership of any location in outer space, though their jurisdiction and control will extend over objects, stations, and facilities (Articles VIII, XII). In addition, Article IX prohibits harmful interference, so there will be a de facto right of noninterference for any occupied location. COPUOS is currently considering the adoption of a principle that removing a resource from in place is not inherently appropriation (an issue unaddressed in the OST), even if it is regolith that is removed from the surface to build a lunar shelter or facility. Thus, buildings will be owned (and marketable), even if the location is not, and will be protected from interference. Human rights and the right to development In addition to the OST, there are two international declarations that are relevant to outer space settlers and settlements: The Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948 (UDHR) and the Declaration of the Right to Development (1986). The UDHR has two provisions of interest: Art. 14: “Everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution”; Art.17: “Everyone has the right to own property alone as well as in association with others.” It is important to acknowledge the right to asylum, as OST Article VIII states that “A State Party… shall retain jurisdiction and control over… any personnel… while in outer space or on a celestial body.” Most space-faring countries have already signed the Refugee Convention (1951) or Protocols (1967), with India and many Middle East countries notable exceptions. Although the ban on appropriation in the OST does not explicitly mention private entities, Article VI requires countries to assure that activities of their nationals conform with the Treaty. But we should nevertheless acknowledge that individual settlers will have the same property rights that are available to any country, such as ownership of resources removed from in place and ownership of the right of non-interference, which will protect locations in use. Outright ownership of land will probably need to wait until a settlement becomes independent, at which time it must be made available to individuals. Article 1 of The Declaration of the Right to Development states: The right to development is an inalienable human right by virtue of which every human person and all peoples are entitled to participate in, contribute to, and enjoy economic, social, cultural and political development, in which all human rights and fundamental freedoms can be fully realized. The human right to development also implies the full realization of the right of peoples to self-determination, which includes… the exercise of their inalienable right to full sovereignty over all their natural wealth and resources. Although these Declarations are not binding, they have established principles that have guided both national and international governance for decades. We must take them with us as we leave the home planet. Self-governance and autonomy Some in the private sector are already planning the details of settlement self-governance. The efforts of SpaceX are perhaps the most ambitious: its Starlink terms & services agreement states that “The parties recognize Mars as a free planet and that no Earth-based government has authority or sovereignty over Martian activities". However, this clause directly contradicts OST Article VI and would not be enforceable. [1] Those who support self-governing settlements should promote national laws that facilitate such growth. A clearer path to autonomy is the development of self-governance as the need and opportunities arise. Although almost every minute of activity on the ISS is controlled by Earth-based authorities, a time will come when settlers want to decide their own schedules and how they work and live with each other. Such devolution of governance is common on Earth; many countries have federal systems, with political subdivisions like states and territories responsible for most functions other than foreign policy and defense. Until a settlement is ready to become independent, seeking autonomy within the legal framework of the authorizing and supervising country or organization is the only legal path available for the development of self-governance. Those who support self-governing settlements should promote national laws that facilitate such growth. Independence Becoming an independent sovereign state will be more difficult. A settlement will at least need to meet the four standards established by the Montevideo Convention, which has been widely accepted as customary international law: a permanent population; a defined territory; a government; and the capacity to enter into relations with other states. Although Article 3 of the Convention states that “the political existence of the state is independent of recognition by the other states,” such recognition is important as a practical matter. Any new sovereign state will not be bound by the OST and will be able to claim territory. It could then offer to adopt the OST and be subject to customary international law in return for other countries recognizing its claims. [2] Note that the prohibition against appropriation in OST Article II actually favors independent settlements: it keeps the current world powers from claiming land while preserving it for future settlements. Those who support future settlers and settlements hereby declare their intention to seek independence and call upon the state members of COPUOS to do nothing at this time—politically, economically, or environmentally—that would interfere with their future interests. Conclusion: A call for support At every session of COPUOS, more than a hundred delegates from around the world gather to represent their own country’s present and future interests. But there is no one to represent the future interests of the settlers. This is not to say that the countries and their delegates are wrong or uncaring. It is proper for representatives of a sovereign state to give the interests of their country and its people the highest priority. That is how institutions of international governance function. There is an assumption that such a process, and the requirement for consensus decisions, will ensure that the interests of all humanity will be served. But will they? Humanity is more than just the sum of its national interests. We have dreamed about the heavens since before countries existed. We wrote about traveling in outer space before we could fly. In October 1957, most of humanity stood outside at sunset, looking to the west to watch a blinking light pass high overhead, the tumbling upper stage booster of Sputnik, the world’s first artificial satellite. Some felt an increase in Cold War anxiety, but most of us felt awed and inspired. All the dreams of the writers and the poets—indeed, of all humanity—suddenly seemed within reach. Humanity’s departure from the home world offers a rare opportunity, a clean slate, a chance to restore hope. Then came the Space Race, as the Earth’s two great powers, and the two dominant ideologies, sought to prove that their system was the best to lead humanity to the to the New Frontier. Although people still dreamed, almost all space activity was controlled by national governments. Even after we reached the Moon, governments maintained their monopolies. When the Space Shuttle began service, the US government required all domestic satellites to use it for launches. Even though other countries joined in—most notably China and the member states of the European Space Agency—the dream of civilians building a new life in space seemed unattainable. But in January 1986, the shuttle Challenger exploded on liftoff. After a thorough review, the US government decided that it must open the launcher market to private industry. But it kept the monopoly on human spaceflight, as did other governments. The Soviet, and later Russian, government focused on space stations, the first settlements in space. Other governments followed suit, culminating in a joint venture (without China) to build the International Space Station. In November 2000, humanity began its continuous presence in outer space with the arrival of Expedition 1. Human spaceflight remained a government monopoly until two events occurred. In February 2003, the shuttle Columbia disintegrated on its return to Earth. In response, the US government finally decided to relinquish its monopoly on human space flight. But it would still be the major funding source and mission controller, as the private sector had not yet developed the technology and financing needed for an economically sustainable human presence in space. All of that changed in 2015. On December 22, SpaceX, a US corporation, successfully landed a reusable booster from Earth orbit after deploying satellites there. Do you remember where you were that day? More importantly, do you remember what you felt the moment the booster touched down safely? Once again, humanity’s dreams seemed achievable. Despite the war, suffering, and neglect that dominated the world, humans looked to the skies and began to believe that they really could build a better world. Humanity’s departure from the home world offers a rare opportunity, a clean slate, a chance to restore hope. It is not too early to begin to consider the settlers and settlements as we develop outer space policies, to protect their rights and to chart a path to self-rule and independence. They are counting on us. In many ways, we are the settlers. Let us do our best to create that shining city on the hill that will light the way for all. Refrrences Cristian van Eijk, Sorry, Elon: Mars is not a legal vacuum – and it’s not yours, either, Völkerrechtsblog, 05.11.2020, doi: 10.17176/20210107-183703-0. See, e.g., Adele Ankers-Range, Apple's Beloved Sci-Fi Series Returns in Epic Season 5 Trailer, Movieweb, February 24, 2026. Dennis O’Brien chairs the Space Policy Committee of Space Renaissance International, a COPUOS Permanent Observer, and thanks the committee members for many informative discussions over the years. For more information about SRI and its proposed 18th Sustainable Development Goal: Civilian Development of Space, please go to https://spacerenaissance.space/.

Book Review: "Stuck In Space"

book cover Review: Stuck in Space by Jeff Foust Monday, March 23, 2026 Stuck in Space: An Astronaut’s Hope Through the Unexpected by Butch Wilmore The Heirloom Press, 2026 hardcover, 240 pp., illus. ISBN 978-1-967496-04-4 US$32.99 Throughout the saga that started in the middle of 2024 with the crewed test flight of Boeing’s CST-100 Starliner spacecraft, NASA bristled at any suggestion that the two astronauts on that flight, Suni Williams and Butch Wilmore, were “stuck” or “stranded” in space. They could leave the station at any time in an emergency, either on Starliner itself or a Crew Dragon spacecraft, the agency reiterated, even as officials ultimately decided it was not safe enough for the two to perform a normal return to Earth on Starliner. Wilmore, the commander of the Crew Flight Test mission, left the agency after returning to Earth last year, a test flight that stretched from a couple weeks to more than nine months in space. He has published a memoir that focuses on that flight called… Stuck in Space. “I am fairly certain that if we do not dock, we will be forced to depart the vicinity of the ISS and likely won’t make it back to Earth. The realization hits hard. We must dock, or we probably won’t survive.” Wilmore is aware that most people who would read his memoir are interested about that mission. He spreads that account throughout the book: each chapter starts with some aspect of the mission, from the final preparations for launch through reaching orbit to the thruster problems that threatened the mission and their lives. Using that as an introduction, he then dives into earlier parts of his life: growing up in Tennessee, becoming a naval aviator, and later joining NASA. While the severity of the problems with the spacecraft have become clearer since the mission, including with the recent release of a NASA report (see “‘We failed them’: NASA grapples with Starliner”, The Space Review, February 23, 2026), his account makes clear just how dangerous the situation was on the spacecraft as several thrusters failed, causing a loss of full control in six degrees of freedom until controllers on the ground are able to restore some of them. “Based on the spacecraft’s current condition,” he writes of that point in Starliner’s approach to the ISS, “I am fairly certain that if we do not dock, we will be forced to depart the vicinity of the ISS and likely won’t make it back to Earth. The realization hits hard. We must dock, or we probably won’t survive.” At the time, NASA minimized the threat to the crew: the thruster failures were an annoyance and a problem to resolve. But to Wilmore, they were life and death. Wilmore does not dwell on that drama, nor does he assess blame on NASA, Boeing, or others. He credited a “lifetime of preparation” throughout his career, as well as extensive training on potential contingencies like this, for getting through it. A curious absence in his recollection of the mission, though, is the role that his fellow crewmember, Williams, played on the flight. During his vignettes throughout the book about the Starliner mission, he hardly mentions her, including both during the thruster failures on approach to the ISS as well as other aspects of the flight. It is an odd oversight. Wilmore is a devout Christian, and throughout the book he describes the role he believes that God has played for him, quoting the Bible as he recounts how his beliefs shaped his personal and professional life. That includes his experience with Starliner. “The truth is, we have never felt stuck, stranded, or abandoned aboard the ISS,” he writes. So why, then, title his book Stuck in Space? He argues that “we often feel stuck in our circumstances, our difficulties, our problems, and even the normal seasons of life,” but he is reassured by his faith. “In some ways, I am stuck in space,” he writes from the vantage point of the end of his extended ISS stay, “but in reality, I am exactly where He intends for me to be.” 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.

NASA Is Coming Back To Life In A Good Way!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRmCJ7tagGQ

Some Great Science Fiction Film Deserving More Recognition

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OwIOA2_hjMc