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Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[April 30, 1968] (Partial) success stories (May 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Chertona Dyuzhina (Baker's Dozen)

Luna 14 is the Soviet Union's latest space success story.  Launched April 7, it slipped into lunar orbit a couple of days later and began relaying data.  Per TASS, the spacecraft is still working fine, returning space weather reports and mapping the moon's hidden contours through the wobbling of its path due to lunar gravity.

No pictures have been returned, nor has there been any mention of an onboard camera.  However, since Luna 12 (launched October '66) did have one, it is generally believed that Luna 14 has one too–and it broke.  We'll probably never know.

Campbell's Seven

The latest issue of Analog is also not an unmixed bag.  However, it's still the best issue of the mag by a long shot since January.  That's something worth celebrating!


by Chesley Bonestell

Satan's World (Part 1 of 4), by Poul Anderson

David Falkayn is back!  The fair-haired protoge of Polesotechnic League magnate Nicholas van Rijn has been sent to Earth to find untold fortune.  More specifically, to inquire at Serendipity Inc., storehouse of all the universe's lore, for the quickest route between Point A (Falkayn) and Point B (wealth).  It's amazing what can be done with computers in the Mumblethieth Century!


by Kelly Freas

To do so, he puts himself at the mercy of the board of Serendipity, becoming a guest on their lunar estate.  His crewmates, Adzel the monastic saurian who talks like Beast from The X-Men, and Chee, who talks like Nick Fury from Sgt. Fury, stay behind…and worry.

With good reason, for Falkayn has been shanghaied, purportedly in love with one of the Serendipity board, but probably brainwashed or something.  Van Rijn gives Adzel and Chee the green light to investigate.

Falkayn stories are always somewhere in the lower middle for Anderson–serviceable but unexciting.  Once again, the author utilizes some cheap tricks to move things along, even calling them out in text in an attempt to excuse them (the long explanation of Serendipity's modus operandi; the sudden coincidence of a call by a critical character, etc.) None of the characters is particularly interesting, perhaps because of the extremely broad brush with which they're described, particularly Van Rijn.

Nevertheless, mediocre is pretty good for a Falkayn story, and I'm kind of interested.  Plus, Anderson's astronomy is always pretty good.

Three stars so far.

Exile to Hell, by Isaac Asimov


by Kelly Freas

This story is remarkable for being the first time Isaac has appeared in Analog (the magazine was Astounding when wrote for Campbell).  It is otherwise unremarkable–this vignette is written in '40s style, with a hoary "twist" ending, which was already incorporated as one of many elements in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.

Two stars.

Conquest by Default, by Vernor Vinge


by Kelly Freas

This one surprised me: alien anarchists, who by their law are forbidden to have polities larger than 10,000 people, take over a recovering post-nuclear Earth.  The Terrans are worried that they will suffer a fate similar to that of the Cherokees–annihilation, assimilation, relocation, or a combination of all three. 

Told from the point of view of one the conquerers, it very much seems like this will be one of those fatuous Campbellian tales where it turns out that free enterprise and libertarianism are the superior forces, and that the solution to "the aboriginal problem" has a neat and obvious solution.

But the story has a sting in its tail.

I had not expected to find an anti-capitalist, anti-libertarian screed in the pages of Analog, much less an acknowledgement of the American genocide…yet there it is!  And because the viewpoint character is an alien (and a comparatively sympathetic one, at that), the full impact of the story is saved for the end.

Four stars.

His Master's Vice, by Verge Foray


by Kelly Freas

Prox(y)ad(miral) Elmo Ixton lands his patrol ship, the sentient craft, Rollo, on the planet of Roseate on the trail of a rebel proxad who has gone to ground and recruited a network of criminal accomplices.  The agoraphobic and irritable Ixton ingratiates himself with very few people, but he does get his man…in time for the tables to be turned when the renegade takes over his ship.

Luckily, Rollo is not about to become an unwitting accomplice.

Not bad.  I didn't much like the Gestapo methods with which the "good guys" extracted the truth from suspects, though.

Three stars.

Fear Hound, by Katherine MacLean


by Kelly Freas

In late 20th Century New York, the city seethes with a despair so palpable, it almost seems the echoes of one person's broadcast pain.  Indeed, that is exactly what it is.  And the Rescue Squad, a corps of intellectual empaths, are on the case to find the source before s/he perishes in anguish, and in the process, telepathically pushes hundreds, maybe thousands more, to the brink of insanity or even death.

There's a lot of neat stuff in this one.  Obviously, you have to buy telepathy as plausible (something Campbell obviously does).  Given that, the idea of a group of people tracking down injured folk by their subtle telepathic emanations, and the unconscious mass effects these have on others, is pretty innovative. MacLean writes in the deft, immediate style that has made her one of SF's leading lights for two decades; the dreamy, choppy execution fits the circumstances of the story.

On the other hand, the bits about smart people essentially providing the brain for dozens of sub-average IQ types through unconscious telepathic links was something I found distasteful. There are also a few, lengthy explainy bits that could have been better worked in, I think.

A high three stars.

Project Island Bounce, by Lawrence A. Perkins


by Kelly Freas

The alien Ysterii arrive on an Earth not unlike that depicted in Conquest by Default.  Here, the crisis is that the blobby amphibians prefer the archipelagos of Asianesia to the dry expanses of Eurica.  This is causing a trade imbalance that will ultimately not only destabilize the world, but potentially lead to a cut-off of peaceful relations with the galaxy altogether.

Perkins doesn't tell the story very well, especially compared to Vinge's writing, and the "solution" is dumb. Two stars.

Skysign, by James Blish


by Leo Summers

Carl Wade, a Berkeley radical type finds himself trapped on an alien vessel floating above San Francisco.  As memory returns to his headachey brain, he recalls the he was the one "lay volunteer" among dozens of men and women chosen as ambassadors for their various technical expertise.

Now, Carl and a hundred-odd humans are prisoners in the gilded cage of the ship, offered all manner of food and a fair bit of recreation.  But they are nevertheless under the control of the alien crew, humanoids in skintight suits, with the ability to teleport and put the human captives to sleep at any time.

That is, until Carl, with the help of the Jeanette Hilbert, a brilliant meteorologist, figure out how to wrest control of the whole system from the aliens.  That's only half the story, since Carl and Jeanette have differing ideas on what to do with absolute power.

I liked this story, and Blish does a good job of putting us in the boots of a not-entirely savory character.  I find it particularly interesting that our radical protagonist is something of a jerk; I originally thought that this might be a subtle, anti-leftist dig, but Blish is an outspoken peacenik, so I think he just wanted to create a nuanced character.

Four stars.

Batting Average

Analog thus ends up at a reasonable 3.1 stars–not stellar, but certainly worth the 60 cents you pay for it (less if you have the subscription, of course).  That puts it at the bottom of the new mags (vs. IF and Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.5), but better than the reprints (Fantastic (2.7) and Amazing (2.0)).  The magazine average for the month was 3.1.

All told, if you took the four and five star stories of this month and squished them into one mag…well, you'd need one and a half. That amounts to about 40% of all new fiction this month. Again, not bad.

The sad news is only one story this month was woman-penned, making up for 4.3% of the newly published works.  And that one was MacLean's, meaning Analog wins this month's pink ribbon in a mass forfeit.

Well, I suppose you take your victories where you find them.  At least we ended up on the positive side of the ledger this month…




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Science / Space Race

[April 20, 1966] Space Exploration is Hard (Venera 2 and 3, Luna 10 and OAO 1)

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by Kaye Dee

While manned spaceflight always grabs the headlines, the past month or so has seen some fascinating, if not always successful, attempts at planetary and lunar exploration and the launch of a new space observatory. The failures of some of these missions remind us that space exploration is hard and success is never guaranteed…

Still Unable to Lift the Veil of Venus

Launched just days apart back in November last year, Soviet Venus probes, Venera 2 and 3 were due to arrive at the Earth’s mysterious, cloud-veiled sister planet at the beginning of March, but both seem to have failed just on the verge of success. 

As early as February 1961, the USSR commenced its attempts to explore Venus with the Venera (Russian for Venus) 1 probe. Although Venera-1 flew past Venus at a distance of 100,000km on 19 May 1961, no data were received, due to a communications failure. According to my friends at the Weapons Research Establishment, following that mission there may have been several failed attempts by the USSR to launch missions to Venus, before Venera 2 and 3 were successfully sent on their way back in November.

(top) Venera 1, the USSR's first Venus probe and (bottom) its official follow on, Venera 2. I wonder how many unannounced failures lie between these two missions?

According to various news releases from the Soviet news agency TASS, the two spacecraft were intended for different exploration missions. Venera 2 was planned to fly past the sunlit side of Venus and examine its enigmatic clouds. The spacecraft was equipped with cameras, a magnetometer and a variety of instruments to measure the radiation environment in space and at Venus. Valuable data on the interplanetary space environment was transmitted back to Earth during the flight to Venus.

All Venera 2's instruments were activated for the flyby on 27 February, at a distance of 14,790 miles. While the instruments were operating, the radio had to be shut down, with the probe storing their data in onboard recorders. The plan was for the stored data to be transmitted it to Earth once contact was restored. However, it seems that ground controllers in the USSR were unable to re-establish communications with the spacecraft after the flyby. Attempts to re-establish contact with Venera 2 ceased on March 4, but if communication with the spacecraft can be made at some future point, Soviet scientists believe that it may still be possible to recover some of the flyby data.

Touchdown?

Unlike Venera 2’s flyby (similar to those of Mariner 2 at Venus and Mariner 4 at Mars), Venera 3’s ambitious goal was to land a small capsule of instruments on the surface of Venus, hopefully to unlock at least some of the secrets hidden beneath its veil of clouds. Because some scientists believe there could be life on Venus, the USSR claims the lander was “sterilised” before its departure from Earth so that would not contaminate the Venusian atmosphere or surface with any microbial terrestrial life.

The Venera 3 lander was a metal sphere about 35 inches in diameter, which carried instruments to measure atmospheric temperature, pressure and composition, and light levels at different altitudes, as well small metal Soviet emblems. Interestingly, because some scientists still hold the view that Venus could be a water world, the lander was designed to be able to float and carried a motion detector, which could determine if it had actually landed in water and was rocking in the waves.

Venera 3 was similar to its sister-probe Venera 2. But look closely and you can see the landing capsule at the bottom of the spacecraft

Weighing 884lbs, the lander was designed to drop through Venus’ atmosphere on a parachute, transmitting data from its instruments directly back to Earth, while the rest of the Venera 3 spacecraft went into orbit around Venus to take other scientific measurements. However, like its sister probe, contact with Venera 3 was lost as it approached Venus. Tracking data indicates that the landing capsule entered the Venusian atmosphere on 1 March, although no telemetry was received from the lander. Nevertheless, the Venera 3 lander has become the first manmade object to impact another planet, which is an achievement in itself. The reasons for the failure of the two Venera spacecraft remain a mystery, although some experts believe that the thick Venusian atmosphere may have had something to do with it.

Newly-released Venera 3 stamp (thanks Uncle Ernie!). It shows the Soviet medal and pendant depicting the planet Earth that were carried on board the lander

Advancing the Soviet Lunar Programme

Despite the problems with its Venus programme, the USSR’s lunar programme seems to be going from strength to strength. Following on from the historic soft landing on the Moon with Luna 9 in February, Luna 10 marks another step forward, becoming the first spacecraft to go into orbit around the Moon. (Of course, it’s obvious that this feat was timed to occur during the 23rd Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, but I’m sure it was also deliberately planned to upstage the United States’ Lunar Orbiter program, which is due to commence later this year, with a series of spacecraft that will photograph and map the Moon in advance of the Apollo programme).

Luna 10, the first spacecraft to orbit the Moon

A pre-launch photograph of Luna 10 indicates that its design is very similar to that of Luna 9, although the instrument capsule on top has a different shape. Launched on 31 March, Luna 10 went into lunar orbit three days later. Its elliptical orbit approaches as close as to the lunar surface as 217 miles, with its farthest point at 632 miles, and takes just under three hours. The 530lb spacecraft is battery powered, rather than using solar panels, so it is unclear how long it will keep sending data back to the Earth, but at present it is producing a regular stream of information about the space environment in the vicinity of the Moon, that will help us understand how safe (or otherwise) it will be for the first cosmonauts and astronauts to explore cislunar space and the Moon itself.

Close up view of a model of the Luna 10 instrument capsule and the small Soviet metal pendants that it carried onboard

Scientific Instruments aboard Luna 10 include a gamma-ray spectrometer, a magnetometer, a meteorite detector, instruments for solar-plasma studies, and devices for measuring infrared emissions from the Moon and radiation conditions of the lunar environment. However, it is not clear whether the probe is actually carrying a camera to photograph the Moon’s surface. Preliminary data released by the Soviet Union indicates that there are higher concentrations of meteoritic dust in the vicinity of the Moon than in interplanetary space, as well as “electron fluxes” that are “70 to 100 times more intense than the cosmic ray background”.

First day cover commemorating the Luna 10 mission. Soviet space covers are masterpieces of propaganda, with the stamp design, envelope design and postmark all re-inforcing the message of Communist space achievement!

A Propaganda Serenade from the Moon!

As the Space Race heats up, the Soviet leadership is always ready to exploit propaganda opportunities associated with space exploration. To celebrate the CPSU Congress, a synthesised version of the Communist anthem “The Internationale” was broadcast live from Luna 10 to the congress on 4 April. (At least, it was claimed to be live: I wonder if Luna 10’s controllers actually used a pre-recorded version in case there were problems with the spacecraft? After all, it would be very politically embarrassing to have a failure of Soviet technology at such a high profile event for global Communism!)

Sky High Eyes on the Sky

The last mission I want to mention this month is NASA’s Orbiting Astronomical Observatory (OAO) 1, not least because this a major space project managed by a woman! Dr. Nancy Grace Roman, formerly a radio astronomer with the Naval Research Laboratory, joined NASA in 1959 and became Chief of Astronomy in NASA's Office of Space Science in 1960. She has a prestigious international reputation and was the first woman in an executive position at the space agency, where she has established the space astronomy programme.

Dr Nancy Grace Roman in 1962 with a model of another of her space observatory projects, the Orbiting Solar Observatory

The heaviest satellite yet launched by the United States (weighing almost two tons), OAO 1 was launched successfully on 8 April, riding to orbit on an Atlas-Agena D from Cape Canaveral. It carried 10 telescopes and other instruments capable of detecting ultraviolet, X-ray and gamma ray emissions to measure the absorption and emission characteristics of the stars, planets, nebulae from the visible to gamma-ray regions The observatory satellite was intended to give astronomers their first clear look at the heavens without the distorting effect of the Earth’s atmosphere and its results were greatly anticipated.

However, before the instruments could be activated, something caused a power failure that resulted in the mission being terminated after just 20 orbits. Because the spacecraft could not be controlled, its solar panels could not be deployed to recharge the batteries supplying the equipment and instruments on board the satellite. Although this is a blow to space astronomy, I’m sure the OAO programme will continue as future satellites are already in development.

NASA illustration of Orbiting Astronomical Observatory 1. While this satellite has failed, there will be future space observatories in this program




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Science / Space Race

[February 6, 1966] Hello, Stranger (exploring Space in Winter 65/66)

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You don't want to miss today's Journey Show!  In this first episode of the new season, we'll be talking about comics: Marvel, DC, British, European — and we'll also be discussing the new Batman show.  Y'all come!


by Gideon Marcus

It seems like a mighty long time…

Looming huge on the horizon, shining brightly at zenith, one would imagine that visiting the Moon wouldn't be all that difficult.  But making the 400,000+ kilometer trek has proved one of the hardest feats for humanity to tackle.  Just reaching the vicinity of the Moon took four Pioneers and who knows how many secret Mechtas.  And while the Soviets managed to hit the Moon in 1959 with Luna 2, the United States went through four Pioneer Ables and three Rangers before duplicating the feat in 1962.  It wasn't until last year's Ranger 7 that we managed a fully successful TV crashlanding mission.

But despite early successes, the real heartbreak kings have been the Soviets.  Since their spectacular Luna 3 mission in 1959, which was the first to return pictures from the Far Side, the Russians have failed in at least four attempts over the past year to soft-land on the Moon.

That all changed on February 3, 1966, when Luna 9 settled gently onto Oceanus Procellarum and returned the first pictures from the lunar surface.

Luna 9 was launched on January 31 amid the typical TASS fanfare.  After the prior failures, it was hard to get too excited until the vehicle actually reached the Moon.  Even then, we in the West had to find out about its success second-hand at first.  The Russians are notoriously mum about their missions until it is certain that they worked (or that news of a failure can be properly massaged).

Luckily, the good folks at Britain's Jodrell Bank radio observatory were able to intercept Luna 9's transmissions, thus giving us a pretty good idea of its timeline.  The U.S. Army also listened in on Luna 9's whole trip, though this fact wasn't broadcast initially. 

Per TASS, we know that the spacecraft began its landing sequence about an hour before landing at 1:45 PM EST.  Jodrell Bank confirms that Luna 9 broadcast a stream of pictures for the next 20 minutes followed by a second transmission at 9:00 PM. 

And this is what Luna 9 saw:

In addition to the engineering triumph that the Luna 9 mission represents, it also yielded a bonanza of scientific information.  For instance, we now know that the Moon is not covered by a dangerous quicksand of dust, which was a big concern for the Apollo people.  Luna 9 has also returned valuable cosmic ray data.

Luna 9's chief success, however, has been nationalistic.  After the two Voskhod flights, the Soviets watched helplessly as our Gemini program surpassed their accomplishments by leaps and bounds.  For the moment, the Soviets are once again ahead in at least one aspect of the Space Race.

At least until Surveyor 1 lands in May…

I got my eyes on you

The Moon hasn't been the only Soviet target these past two months. Since December 10, they have launched six "Kosmos" class satellites, almost all of which likely been photographic surveillance craft like our Discoverer series (which we have continued to launch consistently every couple of weeks).  We can tell this from the angle of their orbit, designed to maximize coverage of the West, and the fact that they land in Russia after about a week in space.  Certainly, these "scientific" probes don't seem to return much data — I think Kosmos 41 was the last with any results published in any of the journals I follow, and it was launched in August 1964.

Stormy weather

The same day Luna 9 stunned the world with its pictures, the United States launched a quieter but no less momentous shutterbug of its own.  ESSA 1, also known as TIROS 11, marked the beginning of a new era of weather forecasting.  The prior TIROS satellites were all experimental, despite their unquestioned contribution to our daily forecasts.  The new TIROS is not only better able to provide instant global weather pictures to any station in view at any time from its 700km altitude, it is the first to be managed by the new Environmental Science Services Administration. 

From test product to fundamental government equipment in six years.  Not bad!

The Sun is Shining

Completing the exploration of the Earth/Moon/Sun trinity is Pioneer 6, launched December 16, 1965.  In the tradition of Pioneer 5, Pioneer 6 is a truly interplanetary probe.  Its mission is not to encounter any other celestial bodies but to instead be a solar weather station in an orbit somewhere between that of Earth's and Venus'. 

Its six instruments have been diligently recording long term data on radiation and magnetic conditions out in deep space, thus far reporting that the "solar wind" blows at about 1,000,000 km/h during quiet periods as opposed to three times as much in active times.  The solar magnetic field appears comparatively unfluctuating, accompanied by a relatively low number of charged particles.

Pioneer 6 is the first of five such interplanetary probes planned for launch over the next few years. 

1-2-3

Our last piece of news covers the multiple launch of December 21.  The Air Force has been testing its mighty Titan IIIC, which remains the world's most powerful rocket until such time as the Saturn 1B takes off later this month.  Since science abhors a vacuum, space aboard the mighty booster was used to launch four satellites into orbit at the same time.

These satellites were OV2-3, a radiation studies probe; LES-3 and 4, communications test satellites; and OSCAR 4, a relay broadcaster designed to be used by amateur "ham" radio enthusiasts.  All of these satellites were supposed to be placed in 35,000 km high geosynchronous orbits, circling the Earth about once every day such that they appeared to remain roughly fixed in the sky.  Unfortunately, while the Titan delivered the satellites into a geosynchronous transfer orbit, a final burn never happened.  The four vehicles are thus trapped in a highly eccentric path that zooms up to 30,000 km while retaining an Earth-grazing 170km perigee.

Moreover, OV2-3 never switched on.  LES-3 and 4 appear to work, however, doing top secret work offering data on communications in the UHF and SHF bands.  OSCAR 4 has been less successful, only being used for 12 transmissions; one of them was the first ever satellite-relayed conversation between the United States and the USSR, however!

Man oh man

The space-related excitment won't stop anytime soon.  On February 20, we'll see our first real Apollo mission when the new Saturn 1B launches a full Apollo CSM on a suborbital flight.  And in March, we'll likely see our first docking in space when Gemini 8 goes up. 

Science fiction made real, indeed!




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Science / Space Race

[December 8, 1965] Space is Getting Crowded (A-1/Asterix, FR-1, Explorer-31, Alouette-2, Luna-8, Gemini-7

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by Kaye Dee

A few weeks ago, I wrote that November had been a busy month for space missions, but just in the past three weeks the heavens have become even more crowded, with six more launches taking place

France Joins the Space Club-Twice!

Congratulations to France on orbiting its first two satellites within ten days of each other, joining that exclusive club of nations that have either launched their own satellite, or put a satellite into orbit with the help of the United States. In France’s case it has done both!

In addition to its participation in the European Launcher Development Organisation (ELDO), France has its own national space programme, managed by its space agency, the Centre National d'Etudes Spatiales (National Centre for Space Studies, or CNES for short). Established just on four years ago (19 December 1961), CNES has moved rapidly to make France a leading player in the Space Race: it has been working with the French Army on the development of a satellite carrier rocket, named Diamant, and with the United States on a series of satellites dubbed “FR” (for France, of course).

France’s first satellite, A-1, was launched on 26 November on the first flight of the Diamant (Diamond) launcher from the French ballistic missile test site at Hammaguir, in Algeria. With this launch, France has become the sixth country to have a satellite in orbit—and only the third nation after the USSR and United States to launch a satellite on its own launch vehicle (Canada, the UK and Italy all launched their satellites on American rockets). 


France's Diamant rocket lifts off successfully on its maiden flight, carrying the A-1 satellite

The 60ft tall Diamant is derived from France’s “Precious Stones” nuclear ballistic missile development programme. It is a three-stage rocket, with the first stage being liquid-fuelled and the two upper stages derived from solid-fuel missiles. The satellite is officially named A-1 (Armée-1/Army-1) as it is the first satellite launched by the French Army, but the French media quickly nicknamed it Asterix, after a popular character in French comic strips. This character isn’t well-known in the English-speaking world, but apparently “Asterix the Gaul” is hugely popular in France. According to some of the ELDO people at Woomera, the A-1 satellite was originally intended to be the second satellite in the FR series. It was hurriedly selected to fly on the first Diamant test launch, because FR-1 was in the final stages of being readied for launch in the United States (more on that below). 


A-1 being readied for launch, mounted on top of the Diamant's third stage

A-1/Asterix is shaped a bit like a spinning-top and, rather unusually, its body is made of fibreglass, which is decorated with black stripes for passive thermal control, to stop the satellite’s interior overheating. A-1 is 22 inches in diameter and 22 inches high, with four antennae around its midriff. It weighs 92 ½lbs and carries instruments for taking measurements of the ionosphere. Battery powered, A-1 was expected to transmit for about 10 days, but although the launch was successful, the signals from the satellite quickly faded, possibly due to damage to its antennae caused by part of the protective nosecone hitting the satellite as it fell away. However, even though it is no longer transmitting, A-1 will remain in orbit for several centuries!


On 30 November, the French Post Office celebrated the successful launch of France's first satellite with the release of a stamp triptych

France’s second satellite, FR-1, was launched on 6 December local time using a Scout X-4 vehicle from the Vandenberg Air Force Base in California. Originally intended to be the first French satellite, FR-1 is the first of a series of French scientific satellites that have been developed by CNES in conjunction with the Centre National d'Etudes des Telecommunications (National Centre for Telecommunications Studies, or CNET). This project is partially funded by NASA’s Office of Space Science Applications as part of a co-operative programme that commenced in 1959, when the United States offered to launch satellites for any nation that wished to take part. Canada, Britain and Italy have all launched their first satellites under this programme (which is why they were launched on US rockets). Australia has been invited to participate but, so far, our government has rejected proposals from the scientific community on the basis that it cannot afford to fund the development of a satellite.


FR-1, the second French satellite mounted on its Scout launch vehicle, before the rocket is moved to the pad

The FR-1 satellite (France-1, also known as FR-1A) carries experiments to study VLF propagation in the magnetosphere and irregularities in the topside ionosphere. It also has an electron density probe to measure electron concentration in the vicinity of the satellite. Weighing 135lb, FR-1 looks like two truncated octagonal pyramids joined at their bases by an octagonal prism measuring 27 inches across from corner to corner. The body is covered with solar cells and bristles with antennae and probe booms. FR-1 is operating smoothly so far, but it carries no onboard tape recorder, so the satellite’s data has to be transmitted in real time when it passes over designated ground stations.

So why the rush to get the Asterix out before FR-1? The launch of Asterix seems to have been a combination of expediency and French nationalism. CNES and the Army were ready to do the first test launch of the Diamant rocket, and these sort of first tests are usually just done with a ballast payload, so that if the rocket fails nothing important is lost. In this case, CNES seems to have thought that they might as well take the risk of putting a satellite on the rocket, because if it succeeded it would give France the honour of being the third nation to launch its own satellite. As FR-1 was already at Vandenberg being prepped for launch, it was easier to pull out FR-2, which was a smaller satellite and already pretty well completed development, to become the payload for the Diamant flight. If the Diamant launch was then delayed for some reason, or failed, France would still become one of the earliest nations with a satellite in orbit with the launch of FR-1. So, as we say in Australia, they "had a bob both ways" on gaining some space kudos!

ISIS-X: International Cooperation Exploring the Ionosphere

NASA must now have a virtual production line, churning out Explorer satellites like sausages for launch about two weeks apart, if the past month has been anything to go by: there was Explorer-29 on 6 November, Explorer-30 on 19 November and now Explorer-31 on 29 November. This latest Explorer is also known as Direct Measurement Explorer-A (DME-A) and it represents the American half of a joint ionospheric research program with Canada, which is collectively known as International Satellites for Ionospheric Studies-X (ISIS-X).


Explorer-31 ready for shipment to Vandenberg Air Force Base

Explorer-31 weighs about 218lb and carries seven experiments that can be operated simultaneously or sequentially, taking direct measurements immediately in front of, and behind, the satellite's path. Solar cells that cover about 15 percent of the satellite’s surface provide its power. Like FR-1, this small spacecraft does not carry an onboard tape recorder, so its data has to be transmitted ‘live’ when it is turned on while passing over one of NASA’s Space Tracking and Data Acquisition Network (STADAN) ground stations.

Explorer-31 was launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base by a Thor Agena-B rocket, riding piggy-back with its Canadian ISIS-X counterpart, Alouette-2. This satellite has been developed by the Canadian Defence Research Board-Defence Research Telecommunications Establishment, as part of the same programme under which Canada’s first satellite, Alouette-1 was launched back in September 1962. This second Alouette has been developed from the original Alouette-1 back-up satellite, although it has more experiments and is a more sophisticated satellite than its predecessor. The name “Alouette” (skylark) comes from that popular French-Canadian folk song that I think everyone knows, even if they have never learned French.


Photos of Alouette-2 and Explorer-31 are hard to find, but they are reasonably well depicted on this souvenir cover marking their joint launch. It's lucky my Uncle Ernie goes to so much effort to build his space philately collection

At 323lb, Alouette is much larger than Explorer-31, but the two satellites have been placed in near identical orbits so that their data can complement each other. Alouette-2 is designed to explore the ionosphere using the technique of ‘topside sounding’, which determines ion concentration within the ionosphere by taking measurements from above the ionosphere. Alouette-1 was also a topside sounder. The satellite is carrying five instruments, three of which utilise two very long dipole antennae (one is 240ft, the other 75ft long). Alouette 2 also has no onboard data recorder and downloads its data when passing over stations in NASA’s STADAN network.

Luna-8-Fourth Time Unlucky!

Despite its early lunar exploration triumphs with Luna-1, 2 and 3 (which we in the West nicknamed “Lunik”, to match with Sputnik), the USSR has not had much success since with its Moon program. USSR’s Luna-8 probe, launched on 3 December, was the Soviet Union’s fourth attempt to soft-land a spacecraft on the lunar surface this year. Being able to land safely on the Moon is a technique that both the United States and the Soviet Union need to master in order to successfully accomplish a manned lunar landing later this decade. Two of this year’s attempts, Luna-5 and Luna-7, crashed while attempting to land. Luna 6 went off course and missed the Moon, flying by at 99,000 miles.

Luna-8, intended to land in the Oceanus Procellarum (Ocean of Storms), also failed in its mission yesterday. According to TASS, the “probe’s soft-landing system worked normally through all stages except the final touch-down”. It looks like Luna-8 has followed Luna-7 in crashing on the Moon. Let’s see if Russia has better luck with Luna 9!

Gemini 7-Settling in for a Long Haul

Just a day after Luna-8, the latest mission in NASA’s Gemini program, Gemini-7 was launched on what is planned to be a two-week endurance mission, that will include a rendezvous with the Gemini-6 spacecraft. I’m not going to write about this mission, as one of my colleagues here will do that later this month, but I couldn’t sign off on this article without mentioning the latest addition to the impressive list of spacecraft launched in the past few weeks. The Space Race is really speeding up!




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Science / Space Race

[May 30, 1965] Ticket to Ride (May space round-up)

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by Gideon Marcus

It's been another exciting month in the realm of spaceflight.  We're between crewed missions, what with Voskhod 2 and Gemini 3 having flown in March and the next Gemini due in a few days.  Nevertheless, it has been a field day for robotic spacecraft, with a number of civilian and military packages booking passage aboard a plethora of satellites.  Take a look:

The Shape of Things that Came

Yuri Gagarin soared into history in April 1961, becoming the first human space traveler.  His face became known worldwide. His spacecraft, on the other hand, remained shrouded in mystery. For four years, the shape of the Vostok capsule remained a secret, with only a few dubious artists' conceptions offering any clues to its configuration.

That changed suddenly last month when the Soviets displayed the complete Vostok spacecraft at an exhibition in Moscow.  Now we know that the fanciful cylinders and bullet-shaped craft were completely off the mark — Vostok was spherical.

This is significant.  A sphere is a simple shape, mathematically, and it is not hard to weight a ball such that one end always points down.  In the Vostok, that point is where its heat shield was mounted.  A similar concept was employed with America's Mercury capsule, but the back end of the Mercury is only a small arc of a circle.  That's because American rockets were too weak to loft a full sphere.  Vostok is clearly a much heavier spacecraft than Mercury, and this suggests that the Soviet Vostok rocket was much more powerful than the Atlas and certainly the Redstone that lofted the first astronauts.

The unveiling of Vostok affords us a look into a completely different space program, too.  Earlier in the year, American intelligence determined that the Vostok had been turned into a spy satellite.  Instead of cosmonauts, the new Vostok carries a camera.  After a week snapping pictures in orbit, the capsule parachutes to Earth, and the film is developed.  It's an elegant repurposing, though it has to be more expensive than the American analog, Discoverer.

While the Soviets do not announce their spy missions, it's not too hard to figure out which of their Kosmos "science satellites" are probably spy Vostoks.  Their orbits, sweeping them over Western targets of interest, and their short lifespans on the order of a week give them away.  In just the last two months, it's likely that Kosmoses 64, 65, and 66 were all spy satellites.  In a few days, we'll know if Kosmos 67, launched on May 25, is also a space shutterbug.

Softly, softly

Another probe about which the Soviets are being less than forthcoming is Luna 5.  Launched on May 9, the ton-and-a-half spacecraft was headed for the Moon.  Reportedly, it conducted a mid-course maneuver on May 10, directing it toward the Sea of Clouds — which it hit at 10:10 PM, Moscow time.  Per TASS, "During the flight and the approach of the station to the moon a great deal of information was obtained which is necessary for the further elaboration of a system for soft landing on the moon’s surface."

That might lead one to the conclusion that Luna 5 was the Soviet version of Ranger, a TV probe designed to take pictures until it crashed.  However, Western observers using telescopes saw the plume of dust that one would expect accompanying an attempt at a soft landing.  That such a landing did not occur suggests that Luna 5 was supposed to be an equivalent of our Surveyor, set to launch next year, and that things did not go as planned.  The lunar race thus remains neck and neck.

Exploring, Communicating

The last month saw two more entries into the Explorer series: Explorer 27, launched April 29, is a windmill-shaped little satellite that will measure irregularities in the Earth's shape; a secondary mission is probing the ionosphere.

Meanwhile, Explorer 28 was launched on May 28, and is the latest in the Interplanetary Monitoring Probe series, along with Explorers 18 and 21.  All three craft have high, eccentric orbits that allow them to thoroughly map Earth's magnetic field, though Explorer 18 went kaput earlier this month.

As we saw with last month's flight of Intelsat 1, space-based communications are now a fact of everyday life.  The USSR has now gotten in on the act, following up the flight of Early Bird with their own first satellite called Molniya, launched April 22, 1965.  It has a high, 12-hour orbit, not quite geosynchronous, designed to service the high latitude residents of the Soviet Union during the daytime.  European nations have already requested use of the Molniyas; they feel that the "international" Intelsat corporation too strongly favors the United States.


Finally, the Air Force's second "Lincoln Experimental Satellite," launched May 6, has been a success.  This next-generation communications satellite tests new technologies that will allow it to service hundreds of users at a time.  Its predecessor, LES-1 launched February 11, failed to fire its onboard engine that would kick it from its initial low orbit.  LES-2 had no such problems, and its orbit takes it more than 9000 miles above the surface of the Earth.

Of course, being a military satellite (as opposed to Telstar, Relay, and Syncom), it is possible that we civilians won't see immediate benefits, but I suspect they will trickle down in good time.

Another step Moonward

May 25 marked the ninth successful launch of the Saturn rocket, possibly the biggest rocket on Earth.  At its tip were boilerplates of the Apollo Command and Service Modules.  But these mock spacecraft weren't the stars of the show: inside the cylindrical Service Module was a giant satellite, the second Pegasus.  Appropriately adorned with a pair of enormous wings, Pegasus will stay in orbit for years measuring how many micrometeoroids our astronauts are likely to encounter on their way to the Moon.

The reliability of the Saturn is truly remarkable.  Remember the early days of the Space Race?  Chances were 50/50 then that any given rocket, Atlas, Juno, or Vanguard, would blow up on the launch pad, tilt off course, or otherwise fail.  We're now in an age of maturing space travel.  If Gemini's Titan rocket continues to do as well as the Saturn, I do believe that, by the 1970s, everyday citizens like you and me will be able to get tickets to ride into space. 

This week's Journey Show is a special Space Race episode!  Don't miss it!




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Science / Space Race

[August 1, 1964] On Target (The Successful Flight of Ranger 7)

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With the recent American lunar triumph, it is appropriate to take a look back at the long road that winds from Sputnik and ends in Oceanus Procellarum…


by Gideon Marcus

Shooting the Moon

It all began with a dream.

The Moon has captured our imaginations since we were first definably human.  Some two thousand years ago, the Greeks learned that the Moon was our closest celestial companion; it took another 1800 years for Galileo to determine that it was a spherical body, not unlike the Earth. 

It is no surprise that this discovery spawned some of our earliest science fiction stories: Godwins's The Man in the Moone, Verne's From the Earth to the Moon, Wells' recently cinemized The First Men in the Moon. 

With the launch of Sputnik, the heavens were broken open, and science fiction could be made fact.  Indeed, just after the Soviets launched their first satellite, the engineers at Ramo-Wooldrige's (now TRW) Space Technology Laboratories, made plans to build their own Moon rocket out of boosters already in existence, mating the Thor missile they had developed with the Vanguard rocket's second and third stages.  With luck, they would have probe around the Moon less than a year after the inauguration of the Space Age.

It was an ambitious plan.  Too ambitious.  The first of the so-called Pioneers blew up on the launch pad.  The next, Pioneer 1, made it halfway to the Moon before, like Icarus, falling back to Earth.  Pioneer 2 barely limped out of the Earth's atmosphere before burning up.

So ended the first American Moon program.  Enter Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL).

Situated across the San Fernando Valley from its rival, JPL was working with Von Braun's Jupiter rocket, the same one that had launched America's first satellite, Explorer 1.  Unfortunately, JPL's first attempt, Pioneer 3, also faltered on the way. 

And then came the Soviets' turn.

Red Moon

1959 began with a Dream, a Russian Dream.  On January 3, Mechta ("dream") sailed off toward and past the Moon, the first human-made object to become a satellite of the Sun.  The American success of Pioneer 4, two months later, was subsequently eclipsed when the second Mechta impacted the Moon in September, depositing Soviet medals upon Earth's companion — the first interplanetary delivery. 

Capping off this lunar tour de force was the Soviet follow-up, called Luna 3, Lunik 3, and Mechta 3.  Not only did this probe sail around the Moon, but it took pictures.  These missions were not just engineering and prestige shots, they were returning valuable information about the Moon.  It had no magnetic field, for instance.  The never-before seen Far Side was curiously devoid of the "seas" that mottle its Earth-facing surface.

We had to know more.

Local Space Race

With JPL batting .500 with its Pioneers, STL decided it needed to do better than its .000 average (though, to be fair, the flight of Pioneer 1 was a triumph for its time).  Mating the Vanguard stages of its prior Pioneer rocket to the beefy Atlas ICBM, the boys from Redondo Beach were sure they could launch the first bonafide lunar observatory into orbit around the Moon.

It didn't work.  1959-60 saw four failed attempts, all botched because the bleeding-edge Atlas wasn't yet up to the task (and how reassuring that must have been to the Mercury astronauts who had to ride the thing in a couple of years!)

One team's failure is another's opportunity.  While the second STL lunar endeavor was ending in tears, JPL was already hard at work on its own second-generation Moon project: Ranger.

Ranger was actually two programs in one.  This reflected the tension between the engineers, who wanted a craft that could make it the Moon and return information about its surface (of immediate use to a crewed lunar program), and the scientists, who wanted not only to learn about the Moon, but the space between it and the Earth.

The first two Rangers weren't even built to go to the Moon.  Planned to be launched into high orbits on a combination of the Atlas and a powerful second stage called the Vega (this civilian stage later substituted with the military's Agena), Rangers 1 and 2 would measure magnetic fields and the solar wind.

Would, but never did.  Ranger 1 and Ranger 2 both were stranded in useless low orbits due to booster malfunctions (plus ça change).  On the other hand, the satellites themselves were sound, and a modified Block 1 Ranger became the highly successful Venus probe, Mariner 2, in 1962.

Never mind them.  Rangers 3-5 were the real lunar probes, even including giant balsawood pimples on the end, which housed seismometers that could survive impact with the Moon.  It was more important than ever that we know what the lunar surface was like now that President Kennedy had announced that we would, as a nation, put a man on the Moon and bring him safely back to Earth before the decade was out.

Easier said than done.  Ranger 3, launched in January 1962, missed the Moon.  Moreover, it sailed past while facing the wrong way.  The probe took no useful pictures, and a failure of the onboard computer prevented the acquisition of sky science data.

The identical Ranger 4 was both more and less successful.  From a launch and trajectory perspective, it was perfect: On April 26, 1962, Ranger 4 became the first American probe to hit the Moon.  Unfortunately, it was an inert frame of metal by that time; NASA might as well have shot a cannonball.  In fact, the probe never worked, the first Ranger not to function at all in space. 

Still, the mission was heralded (rightfully) as a partial success.  Surely Ranger 5, last in the Block 2 series, would be a win.

No dice.  Ranger 5, launched in October 1962, lost internal power shortly after take-off and sailed silently past the Moon two days later.

Sharper Focus

For those keeping count, the Americans were now 1 for 14 in the Moon Race, a record even worse than that of last year's San Francisco 49ers.  As 1962 drew to a close, JPL undertook an internal audit and came to the following conclusions:

  • JPL's management structure was unsuited to big, complicated projects like Ranger
  • Ranger was too complicated, too dependent on every system working perfectly
  • The general scientific objectives conflicted with the specific, Apollo-supporting objectives

The result was a beefed up management staff that would focus primarily on Ranger until the probe worked.  And a newer, leaner Ranger.

Ranger, Block 3, had one job.  It would crash into the Moon, taking TV pictures all the way down.  No other science experiments.  Up came the hue and cry from scientists, but the decision was made.  As it was, it would take at least another year to develop and launch Ranger 6.  It had to work.

It didn't.

Ranger 6 had a textbook launch on January 30, 1964.  Shortly after the probe reached space, its TV system inexplicably turned itself on and off, but otherwise, all was well.  Indeed, Ranger 6 cruised through its mid-flight course correction burn like a dream, pointed straight and true for the Moon's Sea of Tranquility.  JPL Director William Pickering felt confident enough to declare, "I am cautiously optimistic."

But when it came time for Ranger 6 to do its job, to take TV pictures of the Moon, it stubbornly refused.  The probe impacted the lunar surface without returning a single shot.

Uproar.  Six failures in a row.  There was serious Congressional talk of shutting down the Ranger program altogether.  On the other hand, the mission had been almost entirely successful.  There was every reason to believe (or at least hope) that improved check-out procedures on the next, already built, Ranger 7, would lead to a completely successful mission.  After a NASA investigation and a Congressional inquiry, JPL was given one more chance.

Dream into Reality

Opportunities for lunar missions come once a month, when the Moon is situated such that the least energy is required for a rocket from Earth to reach it.  The latest such apparition started on July 27, the opening of the lunar "window."  Ranger 7's powerful Atlas-Agena rocket, now the most reliable part of the mission infrastructure, stood ready on the launchpad.  The countdown was steady, until, just 51 minutes before the scheduled launch, a faulty telemetry battery had to be replaced.  It was, and the countdown resumed…but the a fatal flaw in a ground guidance component meant that the launch had to be scrubbed. 

But only for a day.  On July 28, the countdown proceeded smoothly, and at 9:50am PDT, Ranger 7 was sent into orbit.  The onboard TV system appeared to be working normally, and half an hour later, the Agena engine fired once more, propelling the spacecraft toward the Moon.

So accurate was this burn that Ranger 7 didn't need a mid-course correction to hit the Moon.  However, the path it was to take would carry it to the lunar Far Side, which would make the transmission of TV pictures impossible.  A day after launch, a short engine burn aimed the probe directly for its destination: The Sea of Clouds.

In the early morning on July 31, 1964, reporters and cameramen once again filed into JPL's von Karman Auditorium for Ranger 7's final descent.  Just six months ago, Ranger 6 had been so disappointing that Walter Downhower, the Chief of the System Design Section who had been the voice over the auditorium speakers that day, refused to ever do that job again.

This time, JPL's George Nichols was the voice of Ranger as it zoomed toward the Moon at 5000 miles per hour.  At 3:07am PDT (yes, I stayed up, too), Nichols was able to announce that Ranger's television system and its six cameras were working properly.  Three minutes later, the first images taken from the vicinity of the Moon began to pour in as a stream of ones and zeroes on a telemetry stream.  Five minutes went by.  Still going.  Ten minutes.  Then, at 6:25 PDT, the hum of Ranger's telemetry abruptly cut off.

But this was a planned cessation — Ranger had hit the Moon!

Where we Stand

In all, some 4,316 pictures were taken of the Moon, all of higher resolution than is possible from Earthbound telescopes.  JPL identified dozens of new craters, never before seen.  One cluster was probably made by rocks thrown into the sky when the giant impact crater, Copernicus, was formed ages ago, two hundred miles away from where Ranger 7 crashed.  More importantly, NASA has gotten its first close-up look of the lunar surface; JPL scientists have identified favorable and treacherous landscapes for the upcoming Apollo missions to land on.

There will be at least two more Block III Ranger flights aimed at other parts of the Moon.  Plans to continue the series through to #14 are in doubt given that the upcoming Lunar Orbiter project (managed by Langley Research Center in Virginia) may already be flying by the time the later Rangers are ready.

And what about the Soviets?  What happened to the madcap competitive days of 1958-9?

As it turns, out, the USSR has had just one lunar probe since then: Luna 4.  Launched during the gloomiest days of Ranger, on April 2, 1963, it was highly touted by Soviet news services.  Three days later, as the craft approached the Moon, TASS and Izvestia reported that a bonanza of science would be forthcoming.

Then…nothing.  The probe sailed past the Moon with hardly any coverage.  A couple of conferences scheduled for the discussion of Luna 4's results were quietly canceled.  Per the British astronomer, Sir Bernard Lovell, the craft actually failed in its mission to enter lunar orbit.

This brings up the interesting possibility that the Soviets have launched other Moon missions and that none of them have been successful enough to be publicly announced.  That would explain some of the Kosmos flights about which the Russians have been so terse in their reporting.  It may well be that the Soviet Union is finding the Moon as tough a target as the Americans were.

The bottom line, then, is this: After five years of diligent effort (presumably by both of the planet's Superpowers), the Americans have emerged the victors in this second stage of the Moon race.

Who will win the third?

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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