The Truth Hidden Inside Disclosure Day

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XTTc2onuPs

Farrah V Signals Intelligence Satellite

FARRAH The first publicly released photo of the FARRAH V signals intelligence satellite, launched in 1992 to detect electronic signals—mostly radars—on the ground. (credit: NRO) Jupiter on the Space Shuttle and the Titan II: the FARRAH signals intelligence satellites by Dwayne A. Day Monday, March 16, 2026 In 1980, the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) determined which of its satellite programs would transition to use the Space Shuttle and which would continue to use existing expendable launch vehicles.[1] With the KENNEN near-real-time photo-reconnaissance satellite now operational, the GAMBIT and HEXAGON photo-reconnaissance satellite programs were both scheduled to retire during the 1980s and thus would not be modified to fly on the shuttle. Because smaller Program 989 electronic intelligence (ELINT) satellites like URSALA, RAQUEL, and FARRAH had launched off the side of HEXAGON satellites, they would need a new way to reach orbit after the end of the HEXAGON program. Two FARRAH satellites, FARRAH I and II, were already planned for HEXAGON launches, but any further FARRAHs would need a new trip to orbit. The shuttle had enough payload capability that future FARRAH satellites could be substantially enlarged. At least four of the new satellites would be procured, and they would be larger and heavier than their predecessors, equipped with more antennas and receivers. The NRO performed an “ELINT Mix Study” and related studies to examine issues related to the transition of low altitude signals intelligence programs to the shuttle. One possibility was combining existing low altitude programs, or to replace selected low altitude capabilities with an upgraded high-altitude satellite like the JUMPSEAT that had begun operating in the early 1970s. The NRO determined that existing systems should be upgraded but not combined. The upgraded satellites would also be launched along with Improved PARCAE ocean surveillance satellites on the shuttle.[2] The shuttle had enough payload capability that future FARRAH satellites could be substantially enlarged. At least four of the new satellites would be procured: FARRAH III, IV, V, and VI, and they would be larger and heavier than their predecessors, equipped with more antennas and receivers. They were designed to operate for up to six hours a day compared to 3.5 hours a day for the first two satellites. The new satellites would weigh over 1,360 kilograms (3,000 pounds), compared to 340 kilograms for FARRAHs I and II.[3] The new FARRAH satellites spun at 50 rpm and had three high-gain parabolic antennas that covered 0.8 to 6 gigahertz, 6 to 12 gigahertz, and 12 to 18 gigahertz. The latter used “cooled front-end electronics” to receive the higher frequencies. They were also equipped with single- and double-boom omni antennas to suppress sidelobe interceptions. Several dozen Program 989 satellites had been launched since 1963. As the satellites lasted longer and became more capable, the launch rate dropped. When the NRO began operating signals intelligence satellites in geosynchronous and highly elliptical orbits starting in the late 1960s, they took on some missions performed by the low Earth orbiting Program 989 satellites. But there were still missions that the low altitude satellites could perform that could not be accomplished by higher orbiting satellites. At some point, Program 989 was renamed the Jupiter Program, and given a unique seal.[5] FARRAH The symbol for the Jupiter signals intelligence satellite program. This name was not revealed until earlier this month. It is unclear when it was first applied to the satellites also known as Program 989. (credit: NRO) FARRAHS III-VI The NRO has now released illustrations of all three of the later FARRAH satellites, indicating that the design was a large, squat cylinder, generally referred to as a “tuna can,” and equipped with three dish antennas and several other pole antennas like the much smaller FARRAHS I and II. FARRAH III had a tactical on-board processor and could directly downlink its data to users. One artist illustration showed this data being transmitted to fixed ground stations, ground-based mobile vans, and an aircraft carrier. FARRAH could therefore send data directly to some ships. In contrast, at the time, data was apparently not directly downlinked from the PARCAE ocean-surveillance satellites to ships but was first relayed through fixed ground stations for processing, and then through geosynchronous communications satellites to ships at sea, as well as through a dedicated communications satellite network in highly elliptical orbits. FARRAH Five FARRAH satellites were launched between 1982 and 1992. They had two major designs. The satellites were named after actress and model Farrah Fawcett. (credit: NRO) The FARRAH III design had been optimized to enable growth for future missions. H-brackets and louvers were added that allowed for door-mounted equipment and to dissipate the additional heat. FARRAH III was apparently designed with a three-year nominal lifetime.[6] FARRAH V added a communications intelligence recognizer receiver that provided on-orbit, real-time communications signal characterization that could be routed through the tactical onboard processing system, merged with geolocation data, and downlinked to tactical users.[7] It also had a low frequency extension to its collection range. It was equipped with a preconfigured interface so that quick reaction payloads could be added relatively easily. The add-on for the mission was a specific emitter identification (SEI) experiment. The available documentation on the program still leaves some questions. FARRAH VI was partially built and placed in storage when the program was canceled. However, one declassified NRO document refers to plans for an “Advanced FARRAH” “with a focus on improved sensitivity, greater frequency and accuracy, and specialty receivers to collect the emerging signal mix.” This would require some changes in the onboard data handling and control. FARRAH When the HEXAGON reconnaissance satellite was scheduled for retirement in the 1980s, the FARRAH program needed to find another launch vehicle. The small boxy satellites were redesigned to be much bigger and heavier and to launch on the space shuttle. But by the mid-1980s, they were removed from the shuttle and transferred to converted Titan II ICBMs. FARRAH III launched on a Titan II in September 1988. (credit: NRO) Abandoning the shuttle Although the plan had been to launch at least the first three of these larger FARRAH satellites on the Space Shuttle, the NRO official in charge of the FARRAH program realized that this would require major upgrades to the shuttle that might not be funded in time, if at all. During the mid-1980s, he chose to remove the satellites from the shuttle and launch them on converted Titan II ICBMs instead. The Titan IIs were then planned to launch meteorological satellites, and adding FARRAH to the payload manifest helped to further justify the new rocket. Eventually, the PARCAE program also switched from the shuttle to the expensive Titan IV rocket. According to an official history updated in 1991, the switch from expendable rockets to the shuttle and then back again for both the FARRAH and PARCAE programs “proved extremely costly” for both programs.[8] FARRAH The FARRAH III satellite launched into orbit atop this Titan II rocket from Vandenberg Air Force Base in September 1988. (credit: Peter Hunter) Debut on the Titan II FARRAH III was launched in September 1988. FARRAH IV was launched in September 1989 but failed soon after reaching orbit.[9] FARRAH V was launched in September 1992. FARRAH VI was partially complete when it was placed in storage in the early 1990s when the program was canceled in favor of a new program named LISA. No details have been released about when FARRAH III and V ceased operating, but in 2021 they were observed still spinning in orbit. In 1993, three additional Titan II rockets that had been assigned to “classified payloads” were made available for other programs. It is likely that these three were originally allocated to FARRAHs VI-VIII, but a program reorientation resulted in their cancellation. [10] FARRAH FARRAH IV was launched into orbit on a Titan II in 1989 but failed to turn on and eventually reentered. According to one source, the failure was ultimately traced to the change in launch vehicles--the satellites had been designed to launch completely dormant inside the shuttle bay, but when switched to the Titan II, this feature was not changed. Due to a software or timing error, when FARRAH IV separated from its Titan II, it never turned on. (credit: NRO) Talking to the ground The data from the FARRAH satellites could be sent down in several different ways. Data from the Tactical Onboard Processor could be transmitted by direct downlink to receivers, either fixed or mobile, including ships at sea. The signals intercepted by the satellites could be either recorded for later playback, or “transponded,” meaning that the data was sent as soon as it was collected. Data sent to a fixed ground station could then be relayed through a military comsat to another ground station or other users.[11] Although designed with a three-year nominal lifetime, FARRAH III and V were both still alive in late 2004. An NRO document explained that the remote operating locations “are NRO assets strategically located near high interest areas, providing greater, near real-time coverage without putting tape recorder cycles on the satellites. This contiguous field of view between target area and receive site reduces the number of tape recorder cycles on the vehicles while preserving the intelligence value. The mechanical tape recorders are the life-limiting factor on our store-and-forward mission capabilities.” There were three remote operating ground sites for the satellites, although their locations are still classified.[12] The satellite data was also “fused” with other data, most likely from the PARCAE ocean surveillance satellites. Although designed with a three-year nominal lifetime, FARRAH III and V were both still alive in late 2004.[13] Recently the Space Force celebrated more than three decades of operations of the first Milstar communications satellite, and Defense Support Program missile warning satellites remain operational after two decades in orbit, indicating that long lifetimes are not unusual for military satellites. It is unknown when the last two FARRAH satellites ceased operations, but they could have lasted many years in orbit, listening for elusive signals from below. References “A Brief History of the U.S. Low Earth Orbit Reconnaissance Programs,” n.d. C05027386. Ibid. Ibid. “Mission 7300 Payload,” n.d., C05098533, pp. 8-9. “Jupiter Program SIGINT Collection Systems,” February 14, 1992. Ibid., p. 13. The document is somewhat confusing because although the cover page indicates it was produced in 1998, page 13 includes a reference to the FARRAH program being “Still alive in 2005!” “[Deleted] Orientation Course,” M7200 & M7300 System Overview, April 28, 1998, C05098519, p.11. “A Brief History of the LEO Program,” (file dated 8/13/91), C05098892, pp. 7-8. FARRAH IV is referenced in C05098529, p. 3. See Jeffrey Richelson, The U.S. Intelligence Community, 4th Ed. 1999, pp. 195-186. “Mission Planning Mission 7300,” contained in “Chapter 5, Command and Control,” [n.d. but probably 1990], p. 41. C05098521. Ibid. This is mentioned in an addendum to a 1992 document which provides 2004 mission end dates for FARRAH I and II, but shows FARRAH III and FARRAH V as still operational. “Jupiter Program SIGINT Collection Systems,” February 14, 1992.

If China Returns To The Moon First, Will Americans Care?

Chinese landing China has plans to land people on the Moon by 2030. (credit: CCTV) If China returns to the Moon first, will Americans care? by Dante Sanaei Monday, March 16, 2026 It is 2030. Chinese astronauts step onto the lunar surface under the flag of the People’s Republic—the first humans to return since Apollo. The United States had pledged to be there first. Its lander is still not ready. The race is over. China has won. Their broadcast reaches a global audience. Beijing frames it as proof of technological ascendancy in global space exploration. In the US, the landing trends briefly on social media. Cable panels debate it for a few days. Then the news cycle moves on. Since the beginning of China’s rise to a space power, US policy has leaned—implicitly and sometimes explicitly—on the power of a renewed “Space Race,” a narrative reminiscent of America’s technological competition with the Soviet Union. China has publicly targeted a crewed lunar landing by 2030 and a Mars sample return soon after, two ambitious milestones that have shaped NASA policy for decades. If China reaches them first, the geopolitical symbolism will be unmistakable: the nation that once defined the modern space age has been overtaken. But here is the uncomfortable question: would the American public actually care? Since the beginning of China’s rise to a space power, US policy has leaned—implicitly and sometimes explicitly—on the power of a renewed “Space Race,” a narrative reminiscent of America’s technological competition with the Soviet Union in the 1960s and 1970s billed as a great battle between two rapidly advancing nations in space. Competition drives innovation, leadership in space reflects leadership on Earth, and national prestige is at stake. For that reason, the United States has been pushing aggressively to return astronauts to the Moon before China can plant its flag there. If all goes to plan with the Artemis program, we will succeed—but just barely. Today, this competition is very real inside Washington. The White House has made Artemis a national priority; not just a science mission, but a strategic response. But concerningly, public perception is far less certain. America has already walked on the Moon. Six times. NASA has landed rovers on Mars and sent probes to every planet in the solar system. These achievements are historic, but they now fight for public attention against economic pressures and polarized politics. Public perception is not trivial. It determines the funding Congress provides for these missions. If voters are less concerned about spaceflight, politicians are less interested in appropriating the required funding to accomplish such lofty goals. This is a core feature of democracy, and one that communist China does not need to worry about. Congress has already demonstrated how fragile political support can be. This year, NASA’s Mars Sample Return mission was effectively canceled by Congress as projected costs climbed past $11 billion. Artemis remains funded, but critical hardware, including the lunar lander, is not yet operational. Space advocates should ask a difficult question: If China reaches the lunar surface before Artemis, will many Americans simply shrug and say, “We’ve already been there”? From 2011 to 2020, the United States relied on Russia’s Soyuz to send astronauts to orbit. For nearly a decade, America had no domestic crew launch capability. The public reaction was muted. If a rival nation plants a flag on the Moon and the response is indifference, the consequences will not be psychological—they will be structural. When space no longer feels urgent, it becomes easier to delay and deprioritize. Over time, that instability weakens industrial capacity and drives talent elsewhere. Space leadership is not maintained by hardware alone. It is sustained by national will. Americans are dealing with rising costs, political division, and global conflict. But a country that intends to lead the 21st century cannot treat space exploration as optional. Why should the public care about space exploration? US dominance in space has delivered tangible benefits: GPS, weather forecasting, telecommunications, and a strong national security infrastructure. These advancements have placed US companies at the forefront of a rapidly expanding commercial space economy. Americans have cared about space for decades, but comfort can breed complacency. Apathy is understandable when NASA missions are framed as scientific projects for the “good of society.” Americans are dealing with rising costs, political division, and global conflict. But a country that intends to lead the 21st century cannot treat space exploration as optional. The answer is not periodic hype around launches. Space leadership requires sustained national commitment that survives political cycles and signals reliability to industry and allies alike. It cannot be treated as a discretionary science project, but as a core element of national strategy. When China advances, Americans must understand what is at stake: not flags and headlines, but the foundation of the US space economy, the strength of its alliances, and its geopolitical leverage. Space leadership is not optional prestige. It is long-term power. The real risk is not losing to Chinese lunar astronauts. It’s not caring if we do. In 1969, America looked up. In 2030, it is not guaranteed that anyone will. And if they don’t, the consequences will be far more damaging than simply coming in second. Dante Sanaei is an aerospace engineer based in the Washington, DC, area.

The Next Phase Of Space Ambitions In Texas

TSI An illustration of a lunar testing facility that will be located in the Texas A&M Space Institute, set to open this fall. (credit: United Launch Alliance) The next phase of space ambitions in Texas by Jeff Foust Monday, March 16, 2026 In 2023, the Texas state government made a big bet on growing the state’s space industry. It appropriated $350 million for state space projects, including the creation of the Texas Space Commission. The commission was charged with disbursing $150 million of that funding for companies and organizations in the state (see “A whole other spacefaring country”, The Space Review, March 10, 2025.) “There was a helluva demand signal,” said Lueders. “I don’t think any of us realized we were going to get 280 grant proposals.” That first phase of the commission’s work is now complete. Last month, the commission’s board of directors approved a $14.15 million award to the Rice Space Institute at Rice University to create a Center for Space Technologies. The center would work on technologies for sustainable human lunar exploration and in situ resource utilization. That award was the last of the $150 million allocated by the legislature. (Rice’s application was actually for $16 million in funding; the commission said it would work with the university to refine the scope of the project to fit into the available funding.) The $150 million went to 24 projects intended to support the state’s space industry, from factories and test facilities to a study of an inland spaceport in West Texas. The demand for the funding was far greater than what the legislature appropriated: there were 280 proposals from 140 organizations with a combined value of $3.4 billion. “There was a helluva demand signal,” said Kathy Lueders, vice chair of the commission, at the SpaceCom Expo in Orlando in late January. “I don’t think any of us realized we were going to get 280 grant proposals.” With an average grant size of a little more than $6 million, and none bigger than $20 million, the grants are relatively small compared to the hundreds of millions to billions of dollars needed by companies to develop spacecraft, launch vehicles, and other space capabilities. But companies that received grants say they have been enabling in ways beyond the money itself. Venus Aerospace, a Houston company developing rotating-detonation rocket engines for use on hypersonic vehicles and orbital launch vehicles, received $3.9 million to build a test stand. “We'll be able to do six-minute runs in the middle of the city,” said Sassie Duggleby, CEO and co-founder of Venus Aerospace, during a panel at the AIAA ASCENDxTexas conference in Houston last month. “That asset has then allowed us to go raise another round of venture capital funding.” (Duggleby is on the board of directors of the commission but noted she was recused from consideration of her company’s grant application.) Firefly Aerospace, in the Austin suburb of Cedar Park, received $8.2 million to help build a spacecraft development center. It came as the company was ramping up production of lunar landers. “We start seeing that our infrastructure is starting to get strained with trying to get to rate on our missions,” said Shea Ferring, Firefly’s chief technology officer. “We already had the contracts, we already had the momentum to move forward. This is just a bonus that helps us perform on contracts we already have.” Other companies have used the grants to develop new products. Intuitive Machines received $10 million to work on a reentry capsule designed to return experiments and products from orbit. The grant will mature the design of that reentry vehicle through a critical design review, said Tim Crain, chief technology officer of Intuitive Machines. “That investment has allowed us to go and have some very interesting conversations with a customer base that, otherwise, would have considered us just PowerPoint.” He added it took a little time to figure out how to best work with the state. “It's not overly onerous, which is different than what most of us in the space business who work with the federal government are used to. It just took an iteration of my business processes to align this way.” “We'll be able to do six-minute runs in the middle of the city,” said Duggleby of a Venus Aerospace test stand funded by the commission. “That asset has then allowed us to go raise another round of venture capital funding.” The grants have also helped bring companies to the state. One of the awardees is Interlune, a Seattle-based company with plans to extract helium-3 from the Moon. It received $4.84 million to create a “Lunar Simulant Center of Excellence” near the Johnson Space Center to create more accurate simulated regolith for testing mining equipment. Rob Meyerson, CEO and co-founder of Interlune, said the company wanted to establish a presence to tap into the expertise of JSC and its astromaterials division. Interlune recently signed a Space Act Agreement with JSC for that collaboration. “It shouldn't go without saying, of course, the Texas Space Commission and the visionary leadership there, and bringing the vast resources the state of Texas to recruit companies like Interlune and encourage us to grow, is another very important reason as well,” he added. Barrios, a Houston company that has long been a JSC contractor, did not a get a grant from the Texas Space Commission but has seen other benefits. Kelly Page, president of Barrios, said her company has had conversations with others interested in working together on grant projects. “It’s igniting innovation,” she said. “We're privately held with no venture capital, and so we haven’t had a ton of money to go and do some of these really cool ideas. And so we'll definitely be having grant submissions in this next round.” Building the Texas A&M Space Institute The other $200 million appropriated by the state in 2023 for space went to develop the Texas A&M Space Institute. That facility is nearing completion in Exploration Park, a business park on JSC property. Construction of the sprawling facility is on budget and schedule, with a grand opening planned for this fall, said Robert Ambrose, associate director of the center, at ASCENDx Texas. The building’s defining characteristics are simulated lunar and Martian landscapes, each covering 2.5 acres. They will be the largest indoor lunar and Martina landscapes, he said. Between then will be a central spine of offices and garages that companies and universities can use for testing rovers, habitats, and other equipment. Two companies developing lunar rovers, Astrolab and Intuitive Machines, will lease space in the institute when it opens, seeing it as an ideal place to test rovers next door to JSC. “It’s going to be really important for our future,” said Jaret Matthews, founder and CEO of Astrolab. The company, based in Southern California, currently has more than 100 people in the area working on the first phase of its NASA Lunar Terrain Vehicle award. “We’re building this building for the next 60 to 100 years,” Ambrose said. “I can’t relaly imagine what might get built in this building or get done in this building.” He said the institute will provide a more convenient testing environment compared to its past field tests of rovers in Death Valley, California. “It’s going to be a phenomenal asset,” he said, including the potential to collaborate with other companies there. “We’re planning to have our rover operating out of the facility, out of our garage, on opening day.” The institute’s adjacency to JSC is valuable, said Intuitive Machines’ Crain. “That proximity where human spaceflight is centered for the surface of the Moon is going to be critical.” While the focus is on testing Moon and Mars hardware, Ambrose suggested there will be some flexibility about what the building can support in the future. “We’re building this building for the next 60 to 100 years,” he said. “I can’t relaly imagine what might get built in this building or get done in this building.” The next round With the initial set of grants awarded and the space institute nearing completion, both the state government and companies are thinking ahead about what comes next. In the most recent legislative session, the state appropriated another $300 million for a new round of grants. The second round may go faster than the first. “We have been building and flying the plane at the same time in the last year,” Norm Garza, executive director of the Texas Space Commission, said at ASCENDxTexas, as the commission has to stand up policies and procedures for awarding those initial grants. The second round of grant applications will be able to use those procedures, but may also be more structured. Gwen Griffin, chair of the commission’s board of directors, said that a review of the applications showed five themes emerged: low Earth orbit, lunar, launch and reentry, national security, and workforce development. “People come up and talk to me about the Texas Space Commission and what it’s doing,” said Duggleby. “I’ve had other states say, ‘I wish our state would get their act together and do something similar.’” “Those five topic areas have really been emerging as subject matter for what do we do to be the best stewards of taxpayer dollars from the State of Texas with grant applications for this next round,” she said. That is shaping the rules the commission is developing for the next round of grant applications, including white papers expanding on those five themes. Companies say that definition can be helpful. “These white papers are going to help us,” Crain said. “We understand that if we're going to put our time and energy into a grant, we're more aligned with where the state’s interests are.” Firefly’s Ferring said that larger grants would be helpful, as well as other financing tools. “Loans would be something that’s very helpful to a lot of us, because cash is important, and if we can do stuff via loans that really helps us extend our reach.” The commission and its large coffers have become a source of envy among other states. “People come up and talk to me about the Texas Space Commission and what it’s doing,” said Duggleby. “I’ve had other states say, ‘I wish our state would get their act together and do something similar.’” She cautioned, though, against complacency. “Texas should not ever be losing an aerospace company, and I know one that left recently, because they got such incredible packages,” she said. “With Venus, I mean, I am getting calls from states all the time.” “There's some other states that are getting very creative with incentive plans for them to relocate to those states, and so I think Texas needs to stay ahead of the game when it comes to that,” added Page. That involves issues beyond the remit of the Texas Space Commission. Companies on the panel talked about the need to invest in infrastructure and education, as well as dealing with increasing housing costs and high property taxes. All those factor into the ability of companies to attract workers from out of state and retain its existing workforce. However, Texas has some attributes that may be difficult for others to copy. Ferring noted that Firefly decided to start up in Texas because it would be easier to test rocket engines there than in California. “Regulatory wise and cost wise, you can't go buy 200 acres of land and start firing rocket engines out there, but in Texas, you can,” he said. “It allows you to get work done, especially in an environment where we're doing some pretty dangerous things that would both bother neighbors and scare people, and Texas allows us to do that.” 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.

Artemis Via ISS? A Breakout Opportunity for Kickstarting A Sustainable Cislunar Economy

ISS The International Space Station could help anchor the development of a more sustainable lunar exploration effort, tapping into commerce as well as exploration. (credit: Maxar) Artemis via the ISS? A breakout opportunity for kickstarting a sustainable cislunar economy by Madhu Thangavelu Monday, March 16, 2026 Execution is the chariot of genius – William Blake NASA has a new administrator, the youngest to hold that office, who won a lopsided approval from the US Senate. Under the watch of the interim administrator, NASA had a 20% reduction in its workforce, something not seen in many decades. Along with recommendations from the inspector general’s office, from prior administrations as well, Isaacman noted that the Space Launch System (SLS) costs are unsustainable. Congress has approved a 2026 budget that reinstates much of the budget, overriding cuts requested by the current administration with a caveat that SLS be preserved as core of the Artemis program, with Artemis 2 being prepared for launch as soon as early April. Can the US continue to lead humanity in cislunar activities based on assets already certified and commissioned for human spaceflight with minimum investment in new technologies? Having been the heart of the human spaceflight endeavor for more than a quarter century, the International Space Station (ISS) is set for retirement by 2030, and commercial space stations are being pursued to replace the ISS. Several constellations of communication satellites are operational in low Earth orbit or being commissioned, and large orbiting Internet data servers are expected to lighten the energy needs of their terrestrial counterparts as artificial intelligence networks evolve globally. It is in this environment that the new NASA administrator has been assigned the charter to steer the agency, to maintain US leadership in human spaceflight with the ultimate goal of expanding free world values from the Earth orbital regime to the cislunar domain. While sustainability and economic feasibility are foremost on our minds, some have raised the issue of evolving and establishing a permanent cislunar infrastructure. Architects and city planners and builders, who have centuries of experience in building, maintaining, and evolving human dwellings and colonies, know that the foundational elements of sturdy communications and redundant logistics channels are the essential precursors of any sustainable infrastructure, and the space domain is no exception. System architects, civil architects trained in space architecture in particular, know that there are different phases of cislunar spaceflight that require different adaptations: launch to orbit, cislunar injection and coasting, and lunar lander and surface activities. They all demand different swift and adroit responses. They are extremely sensitive to the alien space environment in which astronauts are inserted and tasked with operating complex spacecraft systems during a mission. Can the US continue to lead humanity in cislunar activities based on assets already certified and commissioned for human spaceflight with minimum investment in new technologies? This was central to the exercise in the fall 2025 Quo Vadis Artemis Astronautical Engineering studio, with the primary aim to quickly create alternative concepts that warrant further investigation. The initial concept of the ISS was to serve as the human-tended platform to integrate large vehicles for deep space missions to the Moon and beyond. While follow-on mission outlines using the SLS and Orion are being carefully evaluated and revised for increased cadence, workforce efficiency, and agility, activities all seem to be based on returning humans to the south polar region. Since the lunar surface elements are still several phases from certification, the USC project chose to look at new and original ways to accelerate lunar return using an open architecture that could easily evolve to accommodate a range of technologies and assets in development while kickstarting missions right away with certified assets. “Artemis via ISS” has emerged as an option to consider that touched on several of the current administration directives, such as opening new horizons for commercial, sustainable human spaceflight to and beyond Earth orbit. The International Space Station, the largest assembly of habitat modules ever integrated that also has provided the longest continuous service of any habitable spacecraft, is set for retirement at the end of this decade. While the agency has been advancing plans to deorbit this very large orbiting structure, debate rages on alternatives. They include mothballing the facility and preserving it on-orbit for generations to come; the first international Space Artifacts Museum that could serve as the nucleus for other historic space assets upon retirement as well, like those orbiting telescopes that continue to provide deeper understanding of our universe. It is good to see Congress revisiting and reviewing NASA’s earlier assessment to scuttle ISS after retirement that was clearly based on shifting budgets to support new programs, all in an unsustainable effort to prop up “welfare for engineers” in various constituencies without paying attention to preservation our species’ heritage. This truth was laid bare during the first nomination hearing for the new administrator when very few questions were raised about NASA’s Artemis mission goal, with most focusing on pet projects in various districts that had nothing to do with the stated goals of the Artemis return to the Moon program. Hopefully the reduction in force at NASA and the talents of the new administrator have the potential to change NASA culture swiftly enough to mesh gears with the private sector to align and execute projects at the speed of commerce. The initial concept of the ISS was to serve as the human-tended platform to integrate large vehicles for deep space missions to the Moon and beyond. Several critical technologies like docking large modules and clustering propulsion systems in low Earth orbit have been studied, like the Module Assembly in Low Earth Orbit (MALEO) thesis that was first conceived at the International Space University summer session at MIT, presented at the International Astronautical Congress in 1988, and evolved to partially fulfill the author’s graduation requirements at USC. In addition, human physiology and human factors studies were conducted and conclusive long-duration data gleaned during the quarter-century the ISS has bene occupied continuously. ISS is deemed a national laboratory, on par with other such terrestrial facilities that maintain US leadership in science and technology. Since the ISS has five more years of service, and since the US administration has set a space policy mandate to accommodate commercial missions on ISS, this provides the opportunity to explore the possibility of enhanced commercial use of ISS, and by extension, cislunar orbital tourism in the current context. While the ISS is not in a favorable inclination for a much preferred and routine lunar equatorial access, the facility offers several advantages. LEO is accessible now by many nations besides the established partners. Nodal precession of the ISS orbit makes for lunar alignment and departure more than three times a month, offering crew some time to adjust to the weightless environment onboard the ISS that is known to cause temporary discomfort for crew, as they get over the effects of space adaptation syndrome and prepare for lunar transit. Most of all, staging in LEO allows integration of fully fueled upper stages, providing ample energy to carry out a variety of missions, circumventing the need for orbital fueling, a technology that is still in development. Earth-orbiting constellations have already changed the way free-world values and freedom rings around the globe today. Enhanced telerobotics can assist ISS crew in this commercial Artemis stack buildup supervision, while broadband, secure high-fidelity laser communications and synthetic aperture technology assisted by space-based atomic clocks and related phased-array applications can vastly expand our situational awareness encompassing the cislunar regime. It is now becoming possible with commercially available LEO assets. These activities listed above can begin now, with existing assets and minimal technology development efforts with firm delivery schedules right now, using in-house agency expertise to help accelerate our national security goals swiftly. Contracting opportunities favor many technologies and their maturation. But mission readiness is based on tried and tested, operational space-qualified assets. Technologies and heavy lift launch capabilities like the Starship and New Glenn launch vehices, and lunar surface elements like the reusable landers, rovers, and spacesuits that still need certification and flight qualification among other rigorous and time-consuming procedures and protocols before commission can proceed in parallel, with more flexible delivery timelines. Staging in LEO allows integration of fully fueled upper stages, providing ample energy to carry out a variety of missions, circumventing the need for orbital fueling, a technology that is still in development. Observing current missions, as well as the pace and cadence of upcoming missions and lunar activities, the USC graduate Astronautics Quo Vadis Artemis theme of the last fall suggests transferring much of ongoing mission operations and personnel to agile and well-established private space companies, many in the southern California region, maximizing the commercial space sector. The 20th century governmental “welfare for engineers” paradigm is being aggressively replaced in the homegrown private space sector by a “winner’s” attitude offered by the ingenuity of commerce, that rewards agility and creativity, all with the agility of well-oiled commerce. Commerce is sustainable because of profit motive. Profit = Revenue – Cost. While governments are expected to use taxpayer funds to derisk useful technologies like nuclear power and propulsion and help lay down critical infrastructure, true sustainability is the goal of commerce. What might the top architecture for space tourism look like and what might it cost? In the first phase, tourists can access the ISS on direct flights to the facility, as crew access station today, for two-week stays in Earth orbit for $50 mission. Assuming four seats are available to ISS tourists every month, $2 billion annual revenue seems viable. Extending this to a two-week cislunar orbital mission, the four tourists and two crew would transfer to a fully integrated and modular-cluster fueled cislunar stack co-orbiting ISS comprising of a much lighter Orion or Crew Dragon capsule with departure and return to ISS and ferry back to Earth. An annual revenue of $4 billion for a $100 million ticket seems a conservative figure. Storytelling is an art form that NASA could pay more attention to. While the Artemis storyline seems rather dry, synthetic, and inadequate to inspire the masses, connecting the dots coherently with our rich and real human spaceflight related assets, cultural tradition, and history will surely help remind our people, to resonate and inspire a new generation of explorers. Space commerce is paving the way for global cooperation that allow new and aspiring nations to partner with established spacefaring nations at an unprecedented scale. If the ultimate goal is to truly kickstart a permanent and self-sustaining cislunar economy that does not depend on the “on again, off again” whims and fancies of Congress that has straitjacketed the agency for decades, then developing cislunar tourism before ISS decommissioning may offer the low-hanging breakthrough that would pay and continue to pave the way for the US to remain the preeminent spacefaring nation, ensuring and extending free world values in the cislunar regime. Commerce is the lifeblood of civilization. Space commerce is no exception. Good commercial activity coexists with good and progressive governance practice that the US is capable of and has demonstrated in past projects. As we approach the 250th anniversary of our great republic, space commerce is paving the way for global cooperation that allow new and aspiring nations to partner with established spacefaring nations at an unprecedented scale. The current administrator is a proven technology and business leader who has a vision to break out of the past government funded program mindset to kickstart a sustainable cislunar economy that evolves from space stations in Earth orbit. Artemis 2 is setting the stage for evolving a truly sustainable cislunar economy in a public and private partnership model, starting with ISS tourism, followed by cislunar orbital tourism. Using synergies of both governmental and private space assets, it is possible to accelerate the permanent establishment of an open architecture for cislunar infrastructure that establishes a sturdy communications network and logistics channel in the immediate term. The SLS is being readied for the Artemis 2 mission, and along with existing and certified global space assets, could be the pilot project to realize this first phase vision for establishing the foundation for a permanent and fully sustainable cislunar infrastructure. Madhu Thangavelu conducts the ASTE527 graduate Astronautical Engineering studio in the department of Astronautical Engineering within the USC Viterbi School of Engineering and teaches the Space Architecture seminar in the USC School of Architecture. He is the coauthor of the Moon: Resources, Future Development and Settlement, third edition in preparation, and a member of the board of the National Space Society. He is on the faculty of the International Space University that coaches talented young space professionals in global leadership roles and is the North American coordinator of activities for the Moon Village Association.

The Business Risks Of AI Enabled Space Infrastructure

OneWeb constellation Satellite constellations increasingly use AI to allocate capacity and resources, creating business risks. (credit: OneWeb) Golden domes, fragile firms: the business risks of AI-enabled space infrastructure by Bharath Gopalaswamy and Daniel Dant Monday, March 16, 2026 Imagine a sudden escalation involving Iran that disrupts regional communications, energy flows, and military signaling across the Middle East. Commercial satellite operators providing broadband connectivity, imagery, and radiofrequency sensing are quietly pulled into the crisis. Traffic spikes as governments, humanitarian organizations, and energy firms compete for bandwidth. At the same time, jamming, cyber interference, and regulatory pressure constrain capacity. No minister or general is manually allocating satellites. Instead, artificial intelligence-driven routing systems decide within milliseconds whose data moves, whose images are refreshed, and whose connections degrade. To affected states, these constellations look like strategic infrastructure. To their owners, they remain revenue generating platforms with finite capacity, investor expectations, and fragile balance sheets. AI-enabled space systems are fast becoming the “golden domes” that sit above our economies and militaries, yet the companies that own them still live in a world of venture capital, quarterly revenue targets, and brittle balance sheets. That tension between strategic dependence and commercial fragility is the core risk we are underestimating. That tension between strategic dependence and commercial fragility is the core risk we are underestimating. Consider the way states now lean on private orbital infrastructure. Satellite broadband constellations backstop national connectivity; commercial imaging and radiofrequency-sensing constellations feed targeting, sanctions enforcement, and disaster response. In practice, these networks behave like utilities or critical infrastructure. In the boardroom, however, they are still treated as “products” in a competitive market: subject to pricing pressure, customer churn, and investor impatience. The result is a growing mismatch between how governments see these systems as quasi sovereign assets and how their owners are forced to run them as growth stage tech businesses. Artificial intelligence is what turns these constellations into “golden domes.” With hundreds or thousands of spacecraft and millions of users, no human operations team can manage the network in real time. AI plans and replans satellite tasking, routes traffic around outages, allocates scarce bandwidth, detects anomalies, and shapes how the system responds to jamming, spoofing, and cyberattacks. The decisions that matter—which region gets throttled first during congestion, whose traffic is deprioritized when power margins are thin, or how aggressively to respond to suspected interference—are increasingly encoded in models and policies, not in manual checklists. From a business perspective, AI is a double-edged sword. It is the only way to make these constellations economically viable. Autonomy lowers operating cost, scales customer support, and enables service differentiation. It is the AI “brain” that allows a single network to serve defense, enterprise, and consumer markets concurrently. But the same autonomy creates opaque, path-dependent risks. A model tuned to maximize throughput or minimize latency may create outcomes that, in a crisis, look like political choices: one set of users preserved, another effectively cut off. This is where the business model collides with geopolitics. Many space operators now straddle incompatible customer portfolios. On one side are defense and national security clients who treat space connectivity and sensing as mission critical and expect near absolute resilience. On the other side are commercial customers who are price sensitive and have alternatives. When capacity is constrained, the operator is forced into triage. Who gets served first: the army division, the hospital network, or the hedge fund? In practice, it is a high-stakes allocation of political favor that can alienate paying customers, anger governments, and damage the brand. Capital structure makes this worse. These firms are often highly leveraged, asset-intensive businesses operating in a funding environment that has grown far more cautious. Launch and manufacturing costs are still high, insurance premiums are rising, and the revenue side remains exposed to regulatory shifts and customer concentration. One geopolitical shock, sanction regime, or large customer loss can threaten not just the P&L, but the infrastructure that multiple countries quietly assume will be there in a crisis. For operators and investors who get ahead of this curve, designing business models and governance that match the strategic reality is not just risk management but a significant competitive advantage. Boards and investors are only beginning to catch up with what it means to own and operate a “golden dome.” Traditional dashboards such as average revenue per user (ARPU), churn, and launch cadence do not capture geopolitical exposure, sanctions risk, or the reputational cost of decisions made under fire. Yet these are now board-level variables. When a constellation’s AI-driven routing policy denies service to a contested region, that may satisfy one regulator and enrage another. When a company agrees to prioritize one state’s military traffic, it may invite cyber retaliation from that state’s adversaries. For operators and investors who get ahead of this curve, designing business models and governance that match the strategic reality is not just risk management but a significant competitive advantage and an opportunity to set the standard for how commercial space supports states in crisis. Here are four main steps the operators and their backer could pursue: Treat geopolitical and crisis scenarios as core business cases Operators should be stress-testing their AI policies and network architectures against concrete scenarios: regional conflicts, sanctions on key markets, coordinated jamming campaigns, or sudden surges in humanitarian demand. Those scenarios should be tied to revenue projections, capex plans, and insurance assumptions. Actively segment products around resilience and control If a constellation is going to serve both militaries and civilians, its offerings and governance need to reflect that. One tier might come with explicit commitments to human-in-the-loop control, hardened ground infrastructure, on-orbit redundancy, and pre-negotiated crisis playbooks, and be priced accordingly. Another might remain best effort, optimized for cost. Today, many operators blur these categories in search of scale; that may be unsustainable once customers realize that they are sharing a neural “brain” with warfighters. Bring AI and geopolitics into the boardroom explicitly Boards need at least one director who can ask informed questions about the interaction between AI-driven operations, customer mix, and geopolitical exposure. What assumptions are embedded in the models about who gets prioritized? How fast can those policies be overridden by humans? Under what conditions would the company shut off or limit service to a region, and who decides? These are material business risks that can trigger lawsuits, sanctions, or loss of key markets. Recognize political risk as material investment risk Investors in space infrastructure should recognize that they are buying into political risk as much as technological upside. Once your satellites become the nervous system of someone’s national security or protest movement, you are no longer just a disruptor. You are a strategic actor with a balance sheet that may or may not be able to carry the weight of that responsibility. The golden dome is already here: AI-enabled space infrastructure sits above borders, quietly allocating bandwidth, imagery, and timing to whomever is connected. The real question now is whether the firms that own these domes, and the investors and governments that rely on them, are willing to redesign their business assumptions around that reality. If they do not, we risk building our future security and economic systems on platforms that are technologically brilliant, geopolitically pivotal, and commercially far more fragile than we care to admit. Bharath Gopalaswamy (PhD) is an aerospace, defence, and emerging-technology executive with extensive experience leading growth, strategy, and advanced programs across the US, Europe, and the Middle East. Col. Daniel Dant (Ret.) is a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives at KBR. He previously served with the US Air Force as a space weapons officer, acquirer, and operator. Note: we are now moderating comments. There will be a delay in posting comments and no guarantee that all submitted comments will be posted. Home Subscribe to our weekly newsletter email address

McDonnell's Military Test Space Station

MTSS Figure 1: MTSS report by McDonnell Aircraft “Configuration selection”.[1] McDonnell’s Military Test Space Station (MTSS) by Hans Dolfing Monday, March 9, 2026 Between 1959 and 1962, the United States Air Force studied a space station named the Military Test Space Station (MTSS). This was part of the System Requirement (SR) study SR 17527, Task Nr 7969, and discussed in depth in an earlier article.[1] Five contractors were selected in April 1960 to study the MTSS and contracts were awarded in August of the same year. The contractors were McDonnell Aircraft Corporation (MAC), General Electric (GE), Lockheed, Martin, and General Dynamics/Astronautics (GD/A). Three categories of early capability space station configurations are discussed, specifically the one-man, two-man, and five-man stations. All deployable by 1965. Each contractor study consisted of two consecutive phases of about six months each. The “early capability” phase I was concluded by April 1961 and considered space stations which could be deployed by 1965. Phase II studied the “advanced permanent” or “post 1965” stations and was completed by January 1962.[1,3-7,20] While most contractor reports of the SR studies remain classified, one MTSS technical report by McDonnell Aircraft was recently declassified and sheds new light on the McDonnell designs and MTSS concepts.[2] The newly released report shown in Figure 1 has 132 pages and is dated February 1, 1961, with a revision in February 15,1961. Henceforth, this is simply referred to as “the report.” Although the title is slightly different, one of the earlier references and the new report are most likely identical.[1,2,5.i] The new report explains that the full phase I McDonnell MTSS report consisted of three reports and this newly released report is part one. Part two and three are not released yet but were titled “Preliminary design of early space stations” and “Technical design considerations,” which matches well with the known references.[5] As the first NASA human spaceflight program, project Mercury started in October 1958 despite US Air Force objections. McDonnell Aircraft produced the Mercury capsules. On May 5, 1961, Alan Shepard flew into space on a suborbital flight with the “Freedom 7” Mercury capsule. The first Mercury orbital flight was by John Glenn on February 20, 1962 with “Friendship 7”. In total, six astronauts flew on Mercury and the project continued until 1963.[22-25] After the establishment of NASA in 1958, the USAF continued its own military space studies but was effectively banned from competing with NASA. However, the USAF pursued military space projects such as the MTSS and the Boeing X-20 Dyna-Soar. The Dyna-Soar was a military spaceplane sufficiently different from Mercury and studied between 1957 and 1963.[14-17] The report contains five sections plus an appendix, which lists the MTSS experiments. These experiments were discussed at length in the earlier MTSS article.[1,19] As the title of the new report indicates in Figure 1, this report is about space station configurations for the MTSS. Three categories of early capability space station configurations are discussed, specifically the one-man, two-man, and five-man stations. All deployable by 1965. The report discusses boosters, launch, and supply schedules, and concludes with a summary and a recommended program plan for development.[2] The periods of before and after 1965 are also relevant with respect to available boosters to launch manned stations into space. The Atlas-Agena B and the Centaur were the only boost vehicles projected to be available before 1965 while the more capable Saturn C-1 was scheduled for 1965 and later. While the Atlas-Agena B could barely lift the one-man MTSS, it was seen as important to get the USAF space development started and test rendezvous and docking in space before more advanced stations were developed. The McDonnell one-man MTSS was proposed as a combination of re-entry and cylindrical laboratory module with enough supplies to support one astronaut in a “shirt sleeve” environment for 14 days in zero gravity. Figure 2 illustrates the station, which was 6 feet (1.8 meters) wide and carried all experiments and equipment. It was to be launched in a manned configuration only. MTSS Figure 2: Cross-section McDonnell one-man MTSS. [2] MTSS Figure 3: Astronaut transfer, rendezvous and docking with the one-man MTSS. [2] Electrical power was provided via fuel cells. Transfer between Mercury capsule and laboratory was via an external, inflatable, pressurized tunnel as shown in Figure 3. The illustrations with Mercury, laboratory, and an inflatable tunnel to connect the modules are identical in the military MTSS and civilian “One Man Space Station” concept. Figure 2 and 3 visualize the one-man MTSS. Note that this configuration was also shown in Figure 5 in the earlier MTSS article when only a blurred image of unknown origin was available.[1] The new report confirms that this was a McDonnell, pre-1965, one-man space station plus science laboratory.[2] The MTSS science laboratory could be docked back-to-back to make a two-man station connected via a pressurized gateway. The back-to-back MTSS docking was designed to test and optimize rendezvous and docking maneuvers, which were untested in 1960. In Figure 3, the device connecting the capsule with science laboratory is a fairing plus inflatable tunnel. The tunnel was planned to be pressurized such that astronauts could move between capsule and science lab, and the shirtsleeve environment was maintained in both sections. The concept of inflatable components and space station was discussed extensively at the time as the compacted components would have been easier to launch.[8-11] On August 24, 1960, McDonnell Aircraft proposed to the Space Task Group (STG) at NASA’s Langley Research Center a concept for a one-man, civilian space station. Note that the new MTSS report was published in February 1961 but submitted initially in August 1960.[2] MTSS Figure 4: McDonnell civilian one-man space station based on Mercury. [11] The illustrations with Mercury, laboratory, and an inflatable tunnel to connect the modules are identical in the military MTSS and civilian “One Man Space Station” concept. For example, Figure 4 is an illustration from the civilian, one-man space station proposal with an inflatable tunnel to connect the Mercury capsule with the laboratory module in the back. The tunnel is identical to the MTSS proposal in Figure 3.[2,10,11] Therefore, the new report answers a question previously asked by historical researchers and confirms that the civilian proposal by McDonnell had a very large overlap with a hidden-at-the-time USAF military concept, the MTSS. Secondly, McDonnell discussed a larger MTSS configuration in the report for a two-man space station. NASA’s Space Task Group started work on the Mercury spacecraft in 1958. In 1959, proposals were made to expand the capsule to include an additional astronaut. The available boosters were incapable of lifting the expanded capsule and it was not pursued at the time. However, two years later, NASA asked Mercury contractor McDonnell to consider designing a two-man Mercury spacecraft, which by the middle of 1961 had acquired the name “Mercury Mark II” instead of “Advanced Mercury”. Going into the new year 1962 this became Gemini. It is not known in detail everything that McDonnell studied between the MTSS in 1960 and the “Advanced Mercury,” but it is likely that some of the two-man MTSS work overlapped with various Mercury design iterations.[14-16] For example, the access tunnel from the Gemini capsule to the laboratory was a hatch through the heat shield into the laboratory instead of an external construct. [21] This is very similar to the back-to-back laboratory-to-laboratory access for the two-module MTSS in Figure 3. Instead of a modified Mercury capsule on an Atlas-Agena B booster, McDonnell envisioned the two-man MTSS as a half-cone re-entry system shaped not unlike an arrowhead. Figures 5 and 6 show this in context. Just like the one-man station, two could be combined to make a four-man station. Unlike the one-man station with its six-foot width, the two-man MTSS was a bit wider at ten feet (three meters). There is no further information on the half-cone re-entry vehicle, but it should be noted though that this two-man configuration was also the left part of Figure 3 in the earlier MTSS article.[1] MTSS Figure 5: Cross section two-man McDonnell MTSS concept. [2] MTSS Figure 6: Astronaut transfer, rendezvous and docking with the two-man MTSS. [2] It could be argued that the design in Figure 5—the cross section of a two-man station composed of re-entry capsule plus laboratory module—is visually very similar to the Mercury Mark II plus laboratory module.[15] The only difference was whether the re-entry module was a ballistic capsule or a maneuvering half-cone. In practical terms, to have enough payload for experiments and supplies, this two-man configuration required the more powerful Atlas-Centaur booster. An intriguing variation on this two-man MTSS was where the two-man station was launched into space unmanned, followed immediately by crew and supply on a second flight. The second flight was projected to be a cargo vehicle which consisted of a half-cone re-entry vehicle and a cargo module. That would allow a station as shown in Figure 7, a ten-foot-wide cylindrical station where power would be generated via the solar dynamic power “Sunflower” system instead of fuel cells.[1,12] MTSS Figure 7: Two-man MTSS concept with unfolded “Sunflower” power system. [1,2] The maneuverable, half-cone re-entry vehicle seemed to reflect very much the thinking of the USAF at the time. In the contemporary study SR-79814 “Evaluation of Space Logistics and Rescue (SLOMAR)”, conducted between July 1960 and June 1961, McDonnell was not a contractor. However, all the five SLOMAR contractors came up with re-entry vehicles like the McDonnell half-cone and winged vehicles with some cross range.[13] Finally, the winged re-entry thinking seemed to have influenced McDonnell’s five-man MTSS concept as well.[2] Dyna-Soar re-entry configurations were discussed with many companies in early 1960.[17,18] McDonnell attended but only with a Mercury design for re-entry. Figures 8 and 9 show the five-man re-entry configuration in this new MTSS report, which is remarkably similar to the Bell and Boeing Dyna-Soar X-20 proposals from January 1960.[17] MTSS Figure 8: Cross section five-man McDonnell MTSS concept. [2] MTSS Figure 9: Five-man crew transport in docking with MTSS. [2] More research is needed to find out why a winged re-entry vehicle was chosen in this McDonnell MTSS concept instead of an enlarged ballistic Mercury capsule. It could be as simple as “all other USAF studies preferred them” or “re-entry cross range trumps simplicity.” The report notes that only the five-man MTSS could achieve close to 100% of the planned MTSS experiments. Figure 8 shows the McDonnell proposed five-man crew transport and re-entry system. The crew layout was 1-2-2 for one pilot plus four passengers.[2] The tapering docking adaptor was to connect to the MTSS. As Figure 9 demonstrates, the docking of this crew transporter would be to the back of an earlier launched cargo vehicle plus laboratory module. The cargo vehicle was envisioned as a modified Mercury capsule to minimize development costs. Figure 10 goes into detail what would happen after the initial connection between a crew and cargo module. In the top row, it shows the crew vehicle to be moved to a side berthing port, then a Sunflower erected to supply energy, followed by the arrival of a new cargo vehicle, which is then moved to a secondary side berthing. Quite a busy station for one year of experiments.[2] MTSS Figure 10: Five-man crew and cargo orbital movements during supply cycle. [2] Two types of vehicles, cargo and crew, might be perceived as a liability with its extra costs, but the McDonnell designers actually preferred it for redundancy reasons. The report notes that only the five-man MTSS could achieve close to 100% of the planned MTSS experiments. The smaller, one-man station could probably only do about 25% of the experiments during a 14-day mission. After all, you do need a crew to operate experiments and a larger space station to store more voluminous experiments. The relation between crew size, supply schedules, and amount of experiments is discussed at length in the report.[2] Figure 11 summarizes the MTSS configurations in the report. It also clarifies the boosters to launch them. The recommended development schedule was to start with the one-man station for 14 days, launching on an Atlas Agena B in September 1963, using it as testbed for experiments plus rendezvous and docking. The five-man station would follow later based on at least two Saturn C-1 launches in September 1965 and would allow all MTSS experiments. MTSS Figure 11: Summary of McDonnell MTSS configurations 1961. [2] The report provides insight into some of the USAF research being performed in support of the fledgling military man-in-space program. Contemporary with the Mercury program, the US Air Force continued to be interested in flying astronauts in space The report confirms that the SR-17527 MTSS study by McDonnell was a combination of short- and long-term planning with a pretty ambitious scope. The large overlap between civilian and military space station concepts in the early 1960s was clarified and contributed new insights in configurations and phasing. The military interest continued even after the cancellation of the Dyna-Soar program in late 1963, but more investigations in military space stations eventually led to the Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL) program.[14] References Dolfing, H., “The Military Test Space Station (MTSS)”, August 2024. “MTSS Study Part I Configuration Selection”, McDonnell Aircraft, Report No. 7962, WADD-TR-60-881 (I), NASA NTRS 20150016131, 1 February 1961, revised 15 February 1961, 132 pages. General Dynamics/Astronautics (GD/A), San Diego, Calif., Contr. AF 33(600)-42457, Rept. no. AE 61-0570, ASD TR 61-208, Dated: 15 Jul 1961 SR-17527, “MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION. VOLUME I. SUMMARY (U)”, AD 328 351L, AE61-0570-Vol-1, vol. 1, 75 pages. SR-17527, “MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION. VOLUME II, PART I, PRE-1965 SPACE STATION (u)”, AD 328 352L, AE61-0570-Vol-2-Pt-1, vol. 2, part 1, 166 pages. SR-17527, “MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION. VOLUME II, PART I, PRE-1965 SPACE STATION (U)”, AD 328 353L, AE61-0570-Vol-2-Pt-2, vol. 2, part 2. SR-17527, “MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION. VOLUME III. ADVANCED SPACE STATIONS (U)”, AD 328 354L, AE61-0570-Vol-3, vol. 3, illus. tbl. refs. Lockheed Aircraft Corp., Sunnyvale, Calif. by S. B. Kramer, Contr. AF 33(600)-41944, ASD TR 61-21, Dated: 1 Jul 1961 SR-17527, “PRE-1965 “, Rept. no. LMSD-895028, Dated: 1 Feb 1961 SR-17527, “POST-1965 VEHICLE MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION (U)”, 1 July 1961, AD 328 338L, Rept. no. LMSD-895091, vol. 1, illus., tbl., 37 refs. McDonnell Aircraft Corp. (MAC), St. Louis, AF 33(600)-41945, ASD TR 61-212, SR-17527, “Military Test Space Station Study”, MAC Report No. 7962, 15 February 1961. SR-17527, “MTSS Final Report”, Volume I, MAC Report No. 8277, 15 July 1961. SR-17527, “MTSS FINAL REPORT. VOL. II. Preliminary design of early space stations, report 8277-V2, AD0328342, 381 pages, July 1961, SR-17527, “MTSS FINAL REPORT. VOL. III. TECHNICAL DESIGN CONSIDERATIONS.”, ADC 960474, MDC-7962-PT-3, 692 pages, February 1961. Martin Co., Denver, Colo., by R. Hale, Contr. AF 33(600)-42456, Rept. no. M-0361-61-87, ASD TR 61-211, ASD CR 61-14, Dated: Jul 1961. SR-17527, “MTSS PHASE II (GAMMA) VEHICLE DESIGN. VOLUME I, (u)”, AD 328 358L, vol. 1, illus., tbl. SR-17527, “MTSS TEST MISSIONS. VOLUME II, (u)”, AD 328 359L, vol. 2, 178 pp., illus., tbl. SR-17527, “GENERAL HUMAN FACTORS CONSIDERATIONS. VOLUME III”, AD 273 005L, AD0273005, WAL-TR320 4 4 1, vol. 3, January 1st, 1962. General Electric Co, Philadelphia, PA, Missile and Space Div., AF 33(600)-41943, 65-16 FLD.22A “MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION FINAL REPORT. VOLUME II TECHNICAL DESIGN AND IMPLEMENTATION PLAN (BOOK 2)”, Vol 2. BK2., AD-362 668L, AD0362668, DIN-2351-16-5-Vol. 2-Bk 2 “MILITARY TEST SPACE STATION FINAL REPORT. VOLUME III APPENDICES”, Vol 3., AD-362 669L, AD0362669, DIN-2351-16-5-Vol. 3. Carter, J.W., Bogema, B.L., “Inflatable Manned Orbital Vehicles”, in “Proceedings of the Manned Space Stations Symposium”, pp. 188-196, April 20-22, 1960. Berglund, R., “Self erecting manned space laboratory” in “Proceedings of the National Meeting on Manned Space Flight”, NASA NTRS 19620004479, 19620004468, pp 144-149, St. Louis, Apr. 20 - May 2, 1962. Portree, D., “One-Man Space Station (1960)”, Wired, 28 Sep 2014. “One-Man Space Station”, NASA NTRS 19650081309, McDonnell Aircraft, 24 August 1960. “Sunflower power conversion system” quarterly report, mar. - may 1963 (Sunflower 3 kW mercury Rankine power conversion system), NASA NTRS 19650010819. https://ntrs.nasa.gov/ search?q=sunflower RG 255.4.1, NACA Ames Aeronautical Laboratory and NASA Ames Research Center, Series 24, Box 3, Central Files - research correspondence, 1943-1965, “Presentation on MTSS SR 17527 by Col. Lowell B. Smith”, “Presentation on SLOMAR SR-79814 by Maj. Jack W. Hunter”, 10 Dec 1963, 19 pages, National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), Pacific Region (San Francisco), San Bruno, California. “The DORIAN files revealed : A compendium of the NRO’s Manned Orbiting Laboratory documents”, edited by James D. Outzen, Ph.D., incl. Carl Berger’s - “A History of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory Program Office” Aug. 2015 “From Mercury Mark II to Project Gemini” Day, D., “A darker shade of blue: The unknown Air Force manned space program”, September 12, 2022. Milton, J. F., “Review of Dyna-Soar reentry-vehicle-configuration studies”, Boeing Co. Seattle, WA, NASA NTRS 19720063133, January 1, 1960. “Joint Conference on Lifting Manned Hypervelocity and Reentry Vehicles.”, “Part 2: A compilation of the Papers Presented”, NASA Langley Research Center, N72-71002, April 1960. “MTSS experiments”, RG 255, NACA Langley Memorial Aeronautical Laboratory and NASA Langley Research Center Records, A200-4 Manned Space Stations, Series II: Subject Correspondence Files, 1918-1978, Box 421, 422, Sep. 1963 - Nov. 1964, National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), Philadelphia. Col. Lowell B. Smith, USAF, Space System Office, WADD, ARDC, “The Military Test Space Station”, page 18-19, Aero/Space Engineering (Manned Space Station Issue), May 1960. “Modular space station evolving from Gemini, Volume I Technical Proposal”, McDonnell Aircraft (MAC) Report No. 9272, NASA NTRS 19660090229, 238 pages, 15 December 1962. Grimwood, J.M., “Project Mercury - A Chronology”, NASA SP-4001, N63-21848, NASA NTRS 19630011968, 255 pages, 1963. Grimwood, J.M., Hacker, B., Vorzimmer, P., “Project Gemini Technology and Operations, A Chronology”, NASA SP-4002, N69-36501, 326 pages. Swenson, L.S., et al, “This New Ocean. A History of Project Mercury”, NASA NTRS 19670005605, NASA SP-4201, N67-14934, 698 pages, 1966. “Project Mercury” Hans Dolfing is an independent computer scientist with a passion for spaceflight, software, and history and can be contacted at beta_albireo@protonmail.com.

Reforging Vulcan

Vulcan A ULA Vulcan Centaur lifts off February 12 on the USSF-87 mission. The launch was a success but one of the rocket’s four solid boosters suffered a “significant performance anomaly” in flight. (credit: United Launch Alliance) Reforging Vulcan by Jeff Foust Monday, March 9, 2026 The Ariane 6 and Vulcan Centaur have remarkably intertwined launch records. On August 12, an Ariane 6 lifted off from French Guiana less than 20 minutes before a Vulcan lifted off from Cape Canaveral. The launches were the third for each vehicle, each of which had suffered years of development delays before making their first launches in 2024. “We’ve had a couple of anomalies that we've worked through,” Elbon said before the launch. “Those are behind us now, and so the Vulcan rocket is ready to go.” Exactly six months later, on February 12, their trajectories crossed again. This time the Vulcan launched from the Cape about seven and a half hours before the Ariane 6 lifted off from French Guiana. This was the fourth Vulcan launch and the first since August, but the sixth for the Ariane 6, which also launched missions in November and December. In a call with reporters in January, Arianespace CEO David Cavaillolès said the company expected to perform seven to eight Ariane 6 launches in 2026, roughly double the four completed in 2025, working towards a peak launch rate of nine to ten missions a year by 2027. “This is incredibly ambitious, and it will be incredibly difficult,” he said. “What we achieved last year gives us quite a lot of confidence.” United Launch Alliance executives were similarly confident in a briefing two days before the Vulcan launch. They said they expected to perform 18 to 22 launches in 2026: two to four of the Atlas 5 and 16 to 18 of Vulcan. However, the company made similar projections for 2025, announcing in 2024 it expected to perform 20 launches in 2025. That was scaled back to a dozen launches by March and nine by August. It ended the year with just six launches, five of the Atlas 5 and that sole Vulcan launch in August. This year, though, would be different. “We’ve had a couple of anomalies that we've worked through,” John Elbon, acting CEO of ULA, said at the briefing. “Those are behind us now, and so the Vulcan rocket is ready to go.” That was a reference primarily to the second Vulcan launch in October 2024, known as Cert-2. About half a minute after liftoff, the nozzle of one of the solid rocket boosters came off, reducing thrust from that booster. An investigation found that a manufacturing defect in one of the internal parts of the nozzle caused it to come off. ULA, working with booster manufacturer Northrop Grumman, made “appropriate corrective actions” to the booster, successfully demonstrated during a static-fire test last February at a Northrop site in Utah. Elbon added the other issue involved design changes to the rocket’s payload fairing. “Those have been completed and actually incorporated in missions that flew near the end of last year,” he said. “What we need to do is execute our launch activities at the Cape and at Vandenberg,” he concluded. “It's very achievable for us to get up to the rate that we need to get up to through this year.” Two days later, it became clear that ULA would not be able to get up to that launch rate executives projected in the briefing. The Vulcan lifted off normally but about 65 seconds after liftoff, shortly after passing through max-Q or maximum dynamic pressure, there was a sudden shower of sparks—debris of some kind, presumably—that appeared to come from one of the solid rocket boosters. The booster intermittently emitted fainter flecks of material until it burned out as scheduled nearly 40 seconds later. The incident did not appear to affect the rocket’s flight. “So far in the ascent phase of this mission, everything has been nominal,” one of the commentators on ULA’s launch webcast said a couple minutes later. “We will conduct a thorough investigation, identify root cause, and implement any corrective action necessary before the next Vulcan mission,” Wentz said. “We had an observation early during flight on one of the four solid rocket motors, the team is currently reviewing the data,” the company said in a social media post about an hour after liftoff. ULA also initially termed the loss of the nozzle on the Cert-2 launch as an “observation.” Several hours later, after the Centaur upper stage successfully deployed its Space Force payload into geostationary orbit, the company acknowledged the seriousness of that observation. “Early during flight, the team observed a significant performance anomaly on one of the four solid rocket motors,” Gary Wentz, vice president of Atlas and Vulcan program at ULA, said in a statement. “We will conduct a thorough investigation, identify root cause, and implement any corrective action necessary before the next Vulcan mission.” The company has not provided any updates since the launch into that investigation, including any commonality with the incident on Cert-2. The Space Force said separately in late February it would not launch national security payloads on Vulcan until the investigation was complete and the cause of the anomaly corrected. Neither ULA nor the Space Force have offered an estimate for how long the investigation will take. Ten months elapsed between Cert-2 and the next Vulcan launch, that August 2025 mission. Vulcan A shower of debris is seen in the plme of the Vulcan shortly after passing max-Q on its February 12 launch, linked to an issue with one of the four solid boosters. (credit: ULA webcast) Leadership changes The latest issue with Vulcan comes amid the first change in leadership at United Launch Alliance in more than a decade. On December 22, ULA announced that its president and CEO, Tory Bruno, had resigned from the company for another, unnamed opportunity. The announcement took the industry by surprise, and perhaps even ULA itself: earlier that day the company had published the latest episode of its podcast “The Burn Sequence” hosted by Bruno; the episode gave no indication that Bruno planned to leave the company he had led since 2014. Four days later, Blue Origin announced it hired Bruno as its new president of national security, leading a new National Security Group at the company. “We share a deep belief in supporting our nation with the best technology we can build,” Dave Limp, CEO of Blue Origin, said about hiring Bruno. “Tory brings unmatched experience, and I’m confident he’ll accelerate our ability to deliver on that mission.” Bruno said at the time of the announcement that he felt he had accomplished all his goals at ULA and was looking for new opportunities. “I came to ULA to save it from closing back in 2017, field Vulcan, and put it on a solid path. Did that. My duty was complete,” he wrote in one social media post. “There is a new set of national security capabilities that need to be created ASAP. Blue is the best place for me to serve that mission.” Since joining Blue Origin, Bruno has kept a relatively low profile, but did participate in a webinar last month by the National Space Society that discussed his time at ULA and his decision to move to Blue Origin. He recalled he was “very happy” in a prior job at Lockheed Martin managing its missile work when he was asked to take over ULA. “I’ll be honest, I was a little reluctant at first,” he said of the ULA opportunity. “ULA has Vulcan in service,” Bruno said. “That meant I could go back and do these other things I’ve been worrying about almost the entire time I was there: the missile defense problem and dynamic space operations.” He said he took a “good hard look” at ULA and concluded the company, a Boeing-Lockheed joint venture, was in jeopardy. “They were not prepared for the environment that had just changed around them,” such as the rise of SpaceX and prohibitions on purchases of RD-180 rocket engines from Russia used by the Atlas 5. “I decided that I could help, and there probably weren’t a lot of people who could or would be willing to take that on, so I felt obligated to do it,” he concluded. ULA’s staff, he said, were in “a state of denial” when he joined about the state of the company. With the loss of access to the RD-180 and another vehicle, the Delta 4, “not in any way competitive,” he said the company was in danger of closing. “What that meant was that ULA would close at the end of 2017,” he said. He described efforts to simplify the company’s product structure as well as its corporate structure, the latter involving laying off half its executives and, later, 30% of the company’s overall workforce. He also pushed the company to develop a new launch vehicle, which would become Vulcan and finally make its debut in 2024. That, he said, gave him the freedom to think about a future beyond the company. “ULA has Vulcan in service,” he said. “There’s a great and robust technology improvement roadmap in front of them.” “That meant I could go back and do these other things I’ve been worrying about almost the entire time I was there: the missile defense problem and dynamic space operations,” he said. Joining Blue Origin, he said, allows him to tackle those “urgent” issues, such as through the company’s Blue Ring spacecraft under development. “For a long time, I’ve been very concerned about that particular mission and wanted to do something about it,” he said. “This is one of the reasons why I came to Blue Origin once I felt I was free to take a different path.” With Bruno’s sudden departure, ULA turned to Elbon, its chief operating officer for the last eight years, to take over as acting CEO. But ULA had announced earlier in December that Elbon was retiring, and had named Mark Peller, who had been senior vice president for Vulcan and advanced programs, as the new COO. “I was actually planning on retiring in April. Mark and I had worked a transition, and we were on track,” Elbon said at the briefing. The ULA board, he said, asked him to stay on as acting CEO while they look for a permanent successor. “I agreed that I would do that as they go through the selection process for a new CEO and some period of transition, and then I plan to continue on with retiring,” he said. The company hasn’t given any indication of how long that selection process will take. A top priority for that next CEO will be improving the relationship with the Space Force, which had become strained even before this latest anomaly. In written testimony for a hearing by the House Armed Services Committee last May, Maj. Gen. Stephen Purdy, at the time the acting assistant secretary of the air force for space acquisition, said ULA had performed “unsatisfactorily” in the last year. “Major issues with the Vulcan have overshadowed its successful certification resulting in delays to the launch of four national security missions,” he wrote. “Despite the retirement of highly successful Atlas and Delta launch vehicles, the transition to Vulcan has been slow and continues to impact the completion of Space Force mission objectives.” He added that ULA had “lost launch opportunities” because of those issues. In three cases, the Space Force has moved launches of GPS satellites originally assigned to Vulcan to SpaceX’s Falcon 9 to avoid further delays. In those cases, the Space Force swapped later launches assigned to SpaceX to ULA to allow the GPS satellites to fly earlier on Falcon 9. Asked about ULA’s relationship with the Space Force, Elbon, who noted that as COO was focused “down and in” at the company, said he was not familiar with the specific criticism by Purdy of ULA. “I'll just say our relationship with the Pentagon, the Space Force, our other government customers, I think, is strong,” he said, acknowledging the issues the company had to work through with Vulcan. “I think they understood what we were doing to address them, and we have, and so now it's getting down to the business of launching.” Elbon said then that ULA was “on a good trajectory to have a successful year launching the manifest that we've laid out in our partnership with the Space Force,” but the anomaly on the launch two days later has put that planned manifest in question. “Despite the retirement of highly successful Atlas and Delta launch vehicles, the transition to Vulcan has been slow and continues to impact the completion of Space Force mission objectives,” stated Purdy. Whoever takes over as CEO will not face the existential threat that Bruno said he saw at ULA when he took over in 2014. Elbon noted the company has a backlog of more than 80 missions, including the Space Force as well as Amazon, which has dozens of Vulcan launches booked for its Amazon Leo broadband constellation. ULA also has a “strong commitment from our board, focused on moving us forward into the future,” he added. There was no discussion on the call about rumors persisting for years that Boeing and Lockheed Martin were interested in selling ULA, with interested buyers ranging from private equity firms to Blue Origin. Elbon deflected a question about whether ULA might expand beyond launch. “Both Boeing and Lockheed are very supportive of ULA. They're excited about the future,” he said. “There’s a lot of growth in space, and so over the next period of time, we'll be sorting out the specific path forward and what that means.” Those plans, though, depends on ULA building back the confidence of its biggest customers, particularly the Space Force, and finding a niche in a launch market dominated by SpaceX. 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.

WB-57 Gets Grounded By NASA

WB-57 One of NASA’s three WB-57 high-altitude research aircraft made a gears-up landing in late January. The aircraft were developed during the Cold War to perform intelligence missions. (credit: KHOU) Big wing bird: NASA’s WB-57 gets grounded by Dwayne A. Day Monday, March 9, 2026 On January 27, 2026, NASA 927, a big-winged WB-57F with an elegant white and blue paint scheme, performed a gear-up landing at Ellington Field Joint Reserve Base, trailing sparks and smoke as it slid down the runway, making a horrible sound until it slid to a stop. The WB-57F is not the easiest aircraft to land, because its wings generate so much lift that it wants to be in the air, not on the ground, but fortunately both crew members onboard survived with no injuries. The aircraft, N927NA, sustained significant damage and remains grounded. NASA operates three WB-57Fs, high-altitude scientific research aircraft that have long had many connections to the agency’s space programs. The planes are the legacy of a mysterious Cold War era program that in some ways owed its existence to the U-2 spyplane. WB-57 The Martin RB-57F was developed in the early 1960s due to a requirement for a high-altitude intelligence aircraft with greater payload than the U-2. Twenty-one RB-57Fs were remanufactured from existing B-57B aircraft. By 1972, three aircraft had been transferred to NASA and the remaining aircraft were retired to long-term storage. (credit: USAF) The Canberra In the late 1940s, the English Electric Corporation developed the jet-powered Canberra medium bomber. The Canberra proved to be a highly successful aircraft for the company, which produced dozens of variants and exported them to multiple countries, with some continuing in operation into the 2000s. English Electric manufactured 900 Canberras, with another 49 license-built in Australia. In 1950, the Martin Aircraft Corporation in the United States licensed the Canberra to produce a version for the US Air Force designated the B-57. Martin made several modifications to its early models, notably changing the awkward cockpit and the bomb bay, and eventually built 400 of them. The planes are the legacy of a mysterious Cold War era program that in some ways owed its existence to the U-2 spyplane. Throughout the 1950s and into the 1960s, Martin introduced numerous updated versions of the B-57. The B-57B, C, and E models all saw service in Vietnam. Another aircraft, the enigmatic B-57G, with an unusual sensor mounted under its nose and the designation Tropic Light III, also flew in Vietnam during Operation Shed Light, and remained mysterious for years after the war. The sensor equipment consisted of low light level and infrared detection equipment for night bombing missions. In 1954, the Air Force was developing the twin-engine X-16 high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft when the CIA was authorized to develop the U-2. The X-16 was canceled, and the CIA performed high-altitude reconnaissance missions for the remainder of the decade. The Air Force still sought its own high altitude reconnaissance aircraft and contracted Martin to develop a large-wing version of the B-57. The RB-57D (“R” for “Reconnaissance”) was able to fly higher than most existing aircraft, but not as high as the U-2. Only 20 were produced, and they were used for high-altitude photo-reconnaissance, high-altitude signals interception, and radar mapping. Some of them were employed by the US Air Force with Taiwanese pilots to conduct reconnaissance missions over mainland China, where one aircraft was shot down in 1959. RB-57Ds operated from 1956 until 1964, when they were retired due to fatigue problems with their large wings. The Air Force began flying its own U-2s by 1957, but the U-2 was a flimsy aircraft that could not do all the high-altitude missions the Air Force needed to do. WB-57 Cutaway of the RB-57F in Air Force service. (credit: Aerophile magazine) In 1963, due to a requirement for higher-altitude reconnaissance missions, the Air Force contracted Martin to produce a version with an even larger wing, this time designated the RB-57F. The aircraft was capable of sustained flight up to 80,000 feet (24,400 meters), although with a payload it generally operated at around 50,000 feet (15,200 meters). Twenty-one RB-57Fs were produced, remanufactured from B-57Bs. Because they were so heavily modified, the Air Force gave them entirely new serial numbers. The aircraft was capable of carrying signals intelligence sensors and cameras. A primary requirement was the ability to fly high-altitude air sampling missions, carrying equipment that contained filters that trapped radioactive particles blown high into the atmosphere during nuclear weapons tests. The aircraft were operated by the US Air Force’s 9th Weather Reconnaissance Wing, Air Weather Service, Military Air Transport Service (MATS), headquartered at McClellan Air Force Base, California, with four squadrons deployed to California, Japan, Australia, and New Mexico. Aircraft designated Rivet Slice were used for reconnaissance missions, and two-word code names starting with “Rivet” were used to designate specific modifications. WB-57 Twenty-one RB-57F aircraft were built and four flew for NASA. This list was compiled by aviation historian Jay Miller in 1980 for the now-defunct Aerophile magazine. (larger version) (credit: Aerophile magazine) The RB-57Fs flew many different missions with names like Cold Car, Cold Cone, Sold Sand, Cross Check, Paddlewheel, Rough Rider, Slurry, Spinnaker Bravo and Storm Fury. Some of these were in support of civilian missions, including NASA’s Apollo spacecraft recoveries as well as NOAA cyclone monitoring operations. In 1968, the Air Force redesignated the aircraft as WB-57F. WB-57 From 1982 to 2012 NASA operated two WB-57s. A third aircraft was taken out of long-term storage and returned to flight due to increased demand. The aircraft have had many different paint schemes over the years. (credit: NASA) NASA’s WB-57Fs Starting in the late 1950s, NASA’s predecessor NACA operated an RB-57B with the standard wing for flight testing purposes. The plane then became a NASA aircraft when the agency was formed in 1958. The Air Force serial number was 52-1576 (indicating the aircraft was originally ordered in 1952) and initially designated NASA 237 when it was transferred to the agency. It was also designated N637N, N516NA, and finally NASA 809. The aircraft was used for flight testing and as an atmospheric research aircraft. In the late 1950s it was used to test hydrogen fuel at high altitude with a special wing modification. In the mid-1970s it was used to validate the Viking Mars lander parachutes. It was also used for turbulence tests in the mid-1970s and again a decade later. It was retired in 1987 and put on display at Edwards Air Force Base. In 1968, the Air Force loaned NASA a WB-57F to support the agency’s Earth Resources Satellite Program. This mission consisted of carrying sensors to high altitude to correlate their data with data collected by a satellite. A modified WB-57F given the NASA tail number 925 and known as the Earth Survey Aircraft flew missions in 1968 and 1969. During the 2000s, NASA was apparently considering retiring at least one of the WB-57Fs due to lack of users. However, several factors intervened to increase the demand for the aircrafts’ capabilities. Because the aircraft was on loan to NASA, the Air Force required that no permanent modifications be made, and its sensor package had to be easily removed so that the aircraft could be returned to its national security mission. General Dynamics developed aerodynamically faired plug-in pallets that could carry both NASA and Air Force equipment. The pallets were mounted in the bomb bay and connected to existing cooling and electrical outlets. The back seat was fitted with removable operating consoles. In 1972, the Air Force decommissioned its weather reconnaissance squadron and its fleet of WB-57Fs. The Air Force sent most of them to the 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMARG) at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Arizona. It is better known as “the boneyard,” a sprawling facility covered with hundreds of aircraft, most used for spare parts until they are scrapped, but some eventually returned to American or foreign service. It also permanently transferred the airplane on loan to NASA as well as two additional WB-57Fs, where they were part of the NASA High Altitude Research Project. The two new aircraft were given tail numbers NASA 926 and NASA 928. WB-57 The WB-57s were used to observe both the 2017 and 2024 eclipses. Here one of the aircraft is seen modified for observing the 2017 eclipse. (credit: NASA) NASA 925 was retired in 1982, leaving the agency with two operational aircraft for the next several decades. Throughout the 1980s, 1990s, and into the 2000s, NASA’s two WB-57s performed various Earth science missions. NASA operated a fleet of Earth sciences aircraft throughout this time. The fleet included two ER-2 aircraft—essentially later versions of the U-2 developed in the mid-1950s—a DC-8, which proved to be a major Earth science workhorse, and multiple other aircraft, including a P-3 Orion and several Gulfstream variants. The planes carried science sensors for atmospheric as well as ground observations. Collectively, this fleet of aircraft is part of NASA’s Airborne Science Program. This diverse and capable Earth science aircraft fleet was, and remains, unmatched, and NASA is an attractive international partner in airborne science because of its range of capabilities. WB-57 NASA operates an extensive fleet of aircraft for research purposes. These are scientific aircraft, not flight test aircraft. NASA's extensive capabilities make it an attractive international partner. (credit: NASA) NASA sources about the planes’ maximum altitude are inconsistent, but it appears that the WB-57Fs can fly up to 63,000 feet (19,200 meters), but with most payloads they fly lower than this. They can carry a 2,700-kilogram sensor pallet in the former bomb bay underneath the center fuselage. The pallet can carry various cameras and other instruments. They have multiple payload location options besides the pallet bay, including the nose, wing pods, wing hatches, aft fuselage, and tail cone. For some research projects, multiple instruments are carried at many payload locations, missions only include a few or only one instrument. WB-57 The WB-57 is a versatile aircraft capable of mounting many instruments in multiple locations. This illustration shows one configuration for a research mission. (credit: NASA) Although NASA’s ER-2s can fly higher than the WB-57Fs, up to 70,000 feet (21,300 meters), the WB-57Fs can carry a bigger payload. NASA even flew an Earth sciences campaign over Central America that involved multiple aircraft simultaneously flying the same path at different altitudes: an aircraft at lower altitude, the DC-8 at medium altitude, a WB-57 above it at approximately 50,000 feet, and a ER-2 above them all at 70,000 feet. Scientists could take readings at multiple altitudes, measuring a vertical slice of the atmosphere. The aircraft have flown many unique missions over the decades. WB-57 WB-57s have been used to track spacecraft reentries, such as the returning sample canister from the OSIRIS-REx spacecraft. (credit: NASA) In 2005, a NASA WB-57 flew four missions out of Mildenhall in the United Kingdom as part of the Cosmic Dust Collector (CDC) mission. The aircraft was equipped with two small metallic rectangular boxes carried under each wing that collected interplanetary dust particles on an adhesive strip. WB-57 In the early 2000s, the WB-57s were not heavily utilized. Several new missions, including the need to track space shuttle launches using a nose-mounted camera seen here, increased demand for them. (credit: NASA) The 21st century and a new lease on life During the 2000s, NASA was apparently considering retiring at least one of the WB-57Fs due to lack of users. However, several factors intervened to increase the demand for the aircrafts’ capabilities. The Columbia accident in early 2003 highlighted NASA’s need for better tracking of space shuttle launches. The aircraft were equipped with a special high-definition tracking camera and other sensors in a specially adapted gimbal-mounted ball turret mounted in the nose. This was known as the WB-57F Ascent Video Experiment (WAVE). The turret was used throughout the remainder of the shuttle program and continues to be used for monitoring various launch and some reentry events. For example, it has been used to monitor Starship launches from Texas, and also monitored the Artemis 1 launch in 2022. It is not unusual for a WB-57 to land at Kennedy Space Center during a launch monitoring period. WB-57 WB-57 When WB-57s are assigned to track rocket launches from Florida, they occasionally land at Kennedy Space Center. (credit: adsbexchange.com) The 2001 US invasion of Afghanistan also led to a new demand for the aircraft. One problem experienced by US forces deployed into valleys was the inability to transmit or receive communications because they could be out of view of a satellite. Starting in 2006, NASA WB-57s were deployed to Afghanistan carrying BACN (Battlefield Airborne Communications Node) payloads, which acted as communications relays. Both aircraft were separately deployed to Afghanistan. During these deployments, their NASA logos were removed and they were probably operated by military pilots. There was little information released about these operations. Later, the Department of Defense acknowledged that the WB-57s were sometimes used as technology testbeds so that military aircraft were free to be deployed operationally. WB-57 For many years it was common to put mission stickers on the side of the aircraft. The planes have had several different paint schemes over the decades. (Note the aircraft designation is misspelled in this 2006 photograph.) (credit: Dwayne Day) The NASA aircraft also performed geophysical and remote sensing surveys in 2007 as part of the US aid to the Afghan reconstruction effort. During 28 missions, the WB-57 collected data that was used for resource assessment purposes. From November 2010 to August 2011, a WB-57 was deployed to Afghanistan with the High-Altitude Lidar Operational Experiment (HALOE) payload. These missions ended in the early 2010s as the DoD acquired its own assets for performing them. Two WB-57s were used to observe the August 2017 and the April 2024 solar eclipses. WB-57 WB-57s have been used to track spacecraft reentries, such as the returning sample canister from the OSIRIS-REx spacecraft. (credit: NASA) Operating an old aircraft presents many challenges. One of them was that the agency began running out of tires and no new tires were being made. Fortunately, the F-15 had the same size tire, but the WB-57 landing gear had to be modified to accommodate it. The aircraft cockpits are a mix of old “steam gauges” and modern electronics like navigation systems. WB-57 WB-57 The aircraft are kept at a hangar facility only a short distance north of Johnson Space Center. Here the two aircraft in service in 2006 are seen being prepared for flight. (credit: Dwayne Day) The increased demand for the NASA aircraft in the 21st century resulted in an unusual development. In May 2011, WB-57F 63-13295, which had been retired in June 1972 and placed in long-term storage at AMARG at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Arizona, was removed from storage and trucked to Colorado. At Centennial Airport, Sierra Nevada Corporation refurbished the aircraft to flying condition. On August 9, 2013, it was flown to Ellington Air Force Base north of Johnson Space Center in Texas and turned over to NASA. It was re-designated as NASA 927. The aircraft had spent 41 years in storage, the longest that a military aircraft had been stored before returning to service. It was this aircraft—the newest in NASA’s fleet—that suffered the mishap in January. WB-57 The WB-57 cockpit is a mix of 1960s and modern instruments. Keeping such old aircraft maintained is not easy. (credit: NASA) NASA frequently does not include the “F” in the aircraft designation. As the only operational Canberras in the world, it is not necessary. Whether NASA 927 is repaired and reenters service will depend upon the extent of the damage, the cost of repairing it, and the projected need for the aircraft. There are several WB-57F airframes still in storage at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base to support future NASA WB-57 requirements. The big-winged bird may still rejoin its flock. WB-57 Artwork produced for the 2024 eclipse, which used specialty instruments deployed on two WB-57s. (credit: NASA) NASA WB-57F aircraft: N925NA (NASA 925), AF s/n 63-13501 (Rivet Slice 3 and Rivet Rap), retired September 15, 1982. N926NA (NASA 926), AF s/n 63-13503 (Rivet Slice 2). N927NA (NASA 927), AF s/n 63-13295 (Rivet Chip 8). N928NA (NASA 928), AF s/n 63-13298 (Rivet Chip 11). Further reading: Paul Bradley, Martin B-57 and English Electric Canberra, Volume 2, Phoenix Scale Publications, 2023. Aeroplane Illustrated: Canberra – Britain’s First Jet Bomber. Andrew Brookes, RAF Canberra Units of the Cold War, Combat Aircraft 105, Osprey, 2014. T.E. Bell, B-57 Canberra Units of the Vietnam War, Combat Aircraft 85, Osprey, 2011. Guy Warner, The Last Canberra – PR9XH131, December 2010. Glenn Sands and Gary Madgwick, On Target, Profile 11, Canberra Part 2, The Aviation Workshop, 2005. Kev Darling, Martin B-57 Canberra, Warpaint Series No. 45, Guideline Publications, 2004. Robert C. Mikesh, “B-57 Canberra in Vietnam,” Wings of Fame, Volume 19, 2000, pp. 14-31. Robert C. Mikesh, Martin B-57 Canberra: The Complete Record, Schiffer Military History, 1997. Roland Beamont and Arthur Reed, English Electric Canberra, Ian Allan Ltd., 1984. Jay Miller, “Martin/General Dynamics RB-57F,” Aerophile, Volume 2, Number 3, April 1980, pp, 11-43. Dwayne Day has a list of his top ten favorite aircraft that currently includes 19 aircraft, one of which is the WB-57. He can be reached at zirconic1@cox.net.