Tag Archives: space

[February 26, 1970] Made in Japan! (Ohsumi, first Japanese satellite)

[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]

A black-and-white photo portrait of Kaye Dee. She is a white woman with long, straight dark hair worn down, looking at the camera with a smile.

by Kaye Dee

An aerial view of the Expo 70 world's fair site. It shows the pavilions of the expo surrounded by countryside
An aerial view of the Expo 70 site in Osaka

In just three weeks, on 15 March, World Expo 1970 will open in Osaka, Japan, the first time that a world’s fair has been held in Asia. This event is intended to welcome the world to Japan as a celebration of the massive strides the country has made in national re-development since the War. One of Japan’s latest achievements took place only two weeks ago – the launch of its first satellite!

Yes, Japan has now joined the Space Club, as the first Asian nation to put a satellite into orbit. Not only that, but Japan becomes only the fourth country to have launched its own satellite using a home-grown launch vehicle!

A postal envelope with an illustration of the Ohsumi satellite and a caption with launch information

The small satellite, named Ohsumi for the peninsula on the island of Kyushu from which it was launched, was lofted on a four-stage Lambda 4S solid-fuel rocket on 11 February. The launch site, known as the Kagoshima Space Centre, is located in Kagoshima Prefecture at the southernmost end of the island of Kyushu, near Uchinoura. It’s been the home of Japan’s space launch activities since 1962.

At this point, you are probably thinking that you’ve never heard anything before about Japanese space activity – and that would be no surprise, as the Western media, unfortunately, pays little attention to Asian nations outside of reporting on conflicts and (supposed) Communist threats. So you might be surprised to know that Japanese interest in space exploration goes back to the mid-1950s.

"The Father of the Space Rocket"

A black and white photo of a middle-aged Japanese man wearing glasses standing in front of a rocket in an exhibitionProf. Hideo Itokawa around 1961

Japan’s equivalent of Wernher von Braun, and the driving force behind its first decade of rocket research, was Professor Hideo Itokawa, whose influence on Japan's space programme has been so profound that he's known as "the father of the space rocket". Born in 1912, Prof. Itokawa studied aeronautical engineering at the University of Tokyo. During the War he designed military aircraft, contributing to the design of the “Hayabusa” (peregrine falcon) fighter plane, known by the Allied designation of “Oscar”.

Black and white photo of a World War 2 Japanese Hayabusa fighter plane. It is a single-seater propeller-driven aircraft.
But with the initial post-War dismantling of the Japanese aviation industry, Prof. Itokawa was forced to seek a new career, and he worked for several years developing electronic medical instruments. On a visit to the United States in 1953, he happened to read a treatise on space medicine and became inspired by the idea of developing a Japanese space programme! On returning to Japan, he joined the newly re-established Aviation Department at the University of Tokyo and commenced research in rocket development.

Prof. Itokawa moved swiftly to engage both university students and Japanese industry in his dream of spaceflight, and by early 1954, solid rocket propellants were under development, and he had formed a rocket research group at the university called AVSA (Avionics and Supersonic Aerodynamics). 

From Pencil Rockets to Sounding Rockets

With a small research budget, Prof. Itokawa developed a series of tiny test rockets, which culminated in the “Pencil”. Just 23cm (9.1in) long, 1.8cm (0.71in) in diameter and weighing only 200g (7.01oz), AVSA Pencil rockets were launched horizontally, instead of vertically. The first test launch of a Pencil occurred on 11 March 1955, followed by a public test on 12 April at a firing range in Kokubunji, Tokyo, with observers including government officials and the press.

A black and white photo of a Japanese man, Professor Hideo Itokawa. He is sitting on the ground and in front of him is a tiny rocket.Prof. Itokawa during the first Pencil rocket tests. A Pencil sits on the floor in front of him, and he is inserting a stick of solid fuel into the base of another rocket

Constantly experimenting and pushing the technology, as Prof. Itokawa’s rockets grew larger the university established a new launch facility at Michikawa Beach, Akita Prefecture, Honshu, facing the Sea of Japan. Rockets were launched here from August 1955 until 1962, when the present Kagoshima site was established.

A 1954 preparatory meeting for the International Geophysical Year (IGY) (1957-1958) had proposed the use of sounding rockets for conducting research into the upper atmosphere. This idea interested the Japanese delegation, and the United States offered to allow Japan to use American sounding rockets. However, the Japanese Ministry of Education, responsible for the national IGY programme, hoped to develop a locally-built sounding rocket.

A newspaper article by Prof. Itokawa in January 1955, on the potential of rapid rocket travel across the Pacific Ocean, had impressed the IGY co-ordinator at the Ministry of Education. He commissioned the AVSA group to develop a sounding rocket capable of carrying scientific instruments into the upper atmosphere.

Black and white picture of a Japanese newspaper article, with text in Japanese and a photo of a rocketThe newspaper article that attracted the attention of the Ministry of Education. The rocket in the photo was apparently a small paper model built by one of Itokawa's students, carefully photographed to appear like a real test rocket!

The Kappa Sounding Rocket

The IGY organising body had proposed 60-100 kilometres (38- 62 miles) as a minimum research altitude for sounding rockets, so, commencing in 1956, AVSA began a crash programme to develop its “Kappa” sounding rocket, which would be capable of achieving those altitudes using Japanese-developed solid propellants.

Black and white photo of a rocket being fired from a triangular-shaped launcher. A Kappa K-6 sounding rocket launched during the IGY

Rapid development meant that, by June 1958, a Kappa K-6 rocket successfully carried instruments to the target minimum altitude of 60km, conducting observations of upper atmosphere winds, temperature and cosmic rays. By 1960, the K-8 sounding rocket was capable of reaching heights of 435 miles, comparable with many US sounding rockets, and attracting the attention of NASA.

Plans for a National Satellite

Black and white photo giving an aerial view of a Japanese launch facility. Several buildings and towers can be seen.1962 was a watershed year for the Japanese space programme, with the decision taken to launch a 30 kilogram (66lb) satellite into orbit within five years. With larger Kappa sounding rockets under development, and plans to turn the Lambda rocket (in development since 1960) into a satellite launch vehicle, the current Kagoshima Space Centre was established for these larger launchers that needed a longer downrange area. 
A black and white photo of a sounding rocket mounted horizontally on a display stand. The rocket has four fins at the base, and another four fins part-way along its body.A three-stage K-9 sounding rocket capable of reaching altitudes of over 600 miles

Lambda sounding rockets commenced test flights in 1963. The fourth stage needed to turn the Lambda 3 sounding rocket into the 54 ft Lambda 4S satellite launcher was developed by the Prince Motor Company, which merged with Nissan in 1966. It’s interesting to note that Lambda rockets do not have guidance systems, as they would then have the potential to be converted for offensive military use. This could be interpreted as a violation of Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, which prohibits Japan’s involvement in war, and consequently the development of offensive weaponry. I wonder if this will have an impact on the development of larger, more capable Japanese satellite launch vehicles in the future?

In 1964, the University of Tokyo's Institute of Aeronautics and AVSA (which was part of the university's Institute of Industrial Science) were merged into a new body, the Institute of Space and Aeronautical Science (ISAS) attached to the university.

Black and white photo of a rocket on its launcher. The four stage rocket is silver in colour. Lambda 4S rocket ready for the first satellite launch attempt Two attempts were made to launch Japan’s first satellite in 1966, but both were unsuccessful due to fourth-stage failures. A third attempt in 1967 failed, as did a fourth in 1969.

During this difficult period, Prof. Itokawa abruptly resigned from ISAS in 1967. The reasons for his departure from the programme he worked so hard to build are not clear. Was he discouraged by the satellite launch failures? I have heard from a WRE colleague who was recently in Japan that there is a rumour he may have resigned in frustration at pressure from the United States for Japan to abandon its launcher development programme and use US vehicles instead. However, I wonder if that can be true, since there has been technological cooperation between Japan and the United States on the Ohsumi project, particularly in the development of highly efficient batteries that do not lose power at high temperatures.
Colour picture of the Ohsumi satellite undergoing tests in a lab. The satellite consists of a silver cone, mounted on a black, spherical rocket motor. They are sitting on a column in a laboratory with test gear attached.
In Orbit at Last

Despite the earlier failures, persistence has paid off, and on the fifth attempt Ohsumi soared into orbit. The launch trajectory successfully employed a “gravity turn manoeuvre” to place the satellite into its elliptical orbit, with an apogee of 3191.4 miles and a perigee of 326.2 miles.

A Japanese rocket on its launcher ready for lift-off. The red-coloured launcher looks like a large crane. The four stage rocket is coloured red, white and silver. In the background control buildings can be seen on a hill. Ohsumi ready for launch. This time for sure!

Intended as a demonstration of technical capability, Ohsumi was essentially built into the nosecone of the rocket. It went into orbit with the fourth stage motor still attached to it (a design concept not unlike that used for Australia’s first satellite, WRESAT). The launcher and satellite together are said to have cost 120 million yen (AUS$298,000).

Picture of the Ohsumi satellite. It is an aluminium cone mounted on a spherical black rocket motor. Antennas are protruding from the satellite

The small 84lb satellite is about 3 ft long and consists of an roughly conical aluminium instrument capsule, shaped as a 26-sided polygonal prism, attached to the spherical, titanium-cased solid motor. It has two hook-type antennae and four beryllium-copper whip antennae. 5,184 solar cells on the satellite provided power to the batteries. The 24lb instrumented payload includes instruments to measure the ionosphere, gathering data on solar emission, temperature, and density. It also carries engineering testing equipment consisting of a "precise accelerometer", an additional accelerometer, strain gauge-type thermometer, telemetry transmitter, beacon transmitter, pilot transmitter, and a radio beacon transmitter.

Black and white line diagram of the Ohsumi satellite, indicating the location of some of its onboard instruments.Note that the dimensions on this diagram are given in millimetres, not inches

A Short Life

Two and a half hours after launch, mission control at the Kagoshima Space Centre received signals from Ohsumi, confirming that it had completed its first full orbit. However, the mission ended about 15 hours later, on 12 February, during the satellite’s seventh orbit, following a sudden loss of power that ended any radio transmission from the satellite. The cause of the failure is presently unknown. However, although Ohsumi may be “dead”, it is expected to continue in orbit for several decades before it re-enters the Earth’s atmosphere.

What Comes Next for Japan in Space?

Ohsumi was only a basic test satellite, and Japanese scientists are said to be planning to launch the nation's first full-scale scientific later this year. Reports are that, by 1975, Japan hopes to be able to able to launch an experimental communications satellite into geostationary orbit, as well as navigation and geodetic satellites. According to Aviation Week and Space Technology: “If successful, and if the funding to support it is forthcoming, [Japan’s] satellite and booster technology will outstrip that of the older programs of western Europe, placing Japan third in line behind the U.S. and the Soviet Union.” It will be exciting to see just how far Japan can develop its space ambitions in the next decade!

A postal envelope with an illustration of the Ohsumi satellite and a caption about it.



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[February 20, 1970] Fun-nee enough… (OSCAR 5 and the March 1970 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]

A black-and-white photo portrait of Kaye Dee. She is a white woman with long, straight dark hair worn down, looking at the camera with a smile.

by Kaye Dee

Recently, The Traveller covered the launch of the TIROS-M weather satellite, noting that the rocket’s payload also included a small Australian-made ham radio satellite, OSCAR-5 (Orbiting Satellite Carrying Amateur Radio), also known as OSCAR-A.

Photograph of the cover of Goddard News depicting a rocket staged for launchCover of NASA's Goddard Space Flight Centre's in-house magazine, marking the launch of ITOS-1/TIROS-M and Australis-OSCAR-5

A New Star in the Southern Cross

It was exciting to be in “Mission Control” at the University of Melbourne when the satellite was launched in the evening (Australian time) on 23 January. You should have heard the cheers! After all, Australis-OSCAR-5 (AO-5), as we call it, is Australia’s second satellite. It’s also the first amateur radio satellite built outside the United States and the first OSCAR satellite constructed by university students – in this case, members of the Melbourne University Astronautical Society (MUAS).

Photograph of seven suited white men with exuberant expressions standing in an alley presenting the model satelliteThe MUAS student team with the engineering model of Australia's first amateur radio satellite

Radio Hams and Satellite Trackers

Commencing in 1961, the first OSCAR satellite was constructed by a group of American amateur radio enthusiasts. Cross-over membership between MUAS and the Melbourne University Radio Club (MURC) encouraged the students to begin tracking OSCAR satellites, moving quickly on to tracking and receiving signals from many other US and Soviet satellites.

Satellite photograph of cloud fronts moving over the continentNimbus satellite image of the western half of Australia received by MUAS for the weather bureau

One of MUAS’ achievements was the first regular reception in Australia of images from TIROS and Nimbus meteorological satellites. By 1964, they were supplying satellite weather images daily to the Bureau of Meteorology, before it established its own receiving facilities.

"How Do We Build a Satellite?"

After tracking OSCARs 3 and 4 in 1965, the MUAS students decided to try building their own satellite. “No one told us it couldn’t be done, and we were too naive to realise how complex it would be to get the satellite launched!”, an AO-5 team member told me at the launch party. MUAS decided to build a small ‘beacon’ satellite which would transmit telemetry data back to Earth on fixed frequencies.

Even before Australia’s first-launched satellite, WRESAT-1, was on the drawing board, the Australis satellite project commenced in March 1966. Volunteers from MUAS, MURC and university staff worked together to design and build the satellite, with technical and financial assistance from the Wireless Institute of Australia and a tiny budget of $600. The Australian NASA representative also gave the project invaluable support. The students acquired electronic and other components through donations from suppliers where possible: the springs used to push the satellite away from the launcher were generously made by a mattress manufacturer in Melbourne. Any other expenses came out of their own pockets!

Picture of AO-5 in launch configuration, somewhat resembling a metal-wrapped gift bound up twine holding the furled antennae down as 'the ribbon'Carpenter's steel tape was used to make AO-5's flexible antennae, seen here folded in launch configuration. Notice the inch markings on the tape!

AO-5 is a fantastic example of Aussie ‘make-do’ ingenuity. A flexible steel measuring tape from a hardware shop was cut up to make the antennae. The oven at the share house of one team member served to test the satellite’s heat tolerance, and a freezer in the university's glaciology lab was unofficially used for the cold soak. Copper circuit boards were etched with a technique using nail varnish, and a rifle-sight was used to help tune the antennae! Various components, including the transmitters and command system, were flight-tested on the university’s high altitude research balloon flights.

Colour photograph of the bare circuit-boards set up in a freezer
Colour photograph of a payload collection staged at the back of a truck in preparation for balloon flight
A university lab freezer and hitching a ride with university experiments on US HiBal high altitude balloon flights in Australia used to test the ruggedness of AO-5 components

A Long Wait for Launch

Australis was completed and delivered to Project OSCAR headquarters in June 1967, well before WRESAT’s launch in November that year. Unfortunately, AO-5 then had to wait a few years for a launch to be arranged by the Amateur Radio Satellite Corporation (AMSAT), which now operates the OSCAR project. However, it is surely appropriate that, as OSCAR-5, it finally made it into orbit with a weather satellite.

Colour photographs of the launch vehicle staged at Vandenberg Air Force Base, both before and during ignition

After launch from Vandenberg Air Force Base, AO-5 was placed into a 115-minute orbit, varying in altitude between 880 – 910 miles. This means it will be in orbit for hundreds of years – unlike the short-lived WRESAT.

In Orbit at Last!

Battery-powered, Australis-OSCAR-5 weighs only 39 pounds and carries two transmitters, beaming out the same telemetry signal on the two-metre and 10-metre amateur radio bands. Its telemetry system is sophisticated but designed for simple decoding without expensive equipment. The start of a telemetry sequence is indicated by the letters HI in Morse code, followed by data on battery voltage, current, and the temperature of the satellite at two points as well as information on the satellite's orientation in space from three horizon sensors.

Colour photograph of the Australis OSCAR 5 (a rectangular box) with metal antennae extended

AO-5 includes the first use in an amateur satellite of innovations such as a passive magnetic attitude stabilisation system (which helps reduce signal fading), and a command system to switch it on and off to conserve power. Observations are recorded on special standardised reporting forms that are suitable for computer analysis.

Photograph of a telemetry coding form noting that the satellite is spinning at four rotations per minute

Just 66 minutes after launch, the first signal was detected in Madagascar and soon other hams reported receiving both the two and 10-metre signals on the satellite's first orbit. At “Mission Control” in Melbourne, we were thrilled when MURC members managed to pick up the satellite’s signals!  By the end of Australis’ first day of operation, AMSAT headquarters had already received more than 100 tracking, telemetry and reception reports.

Photograph of news clippings from The Australian (and other publications).  They provide a photograph of the satellite in pre-launch attitude (with furled metal antennae) and photographs (including a portrait of Richard Tonkin) of members of the Melbourne team who designed and built it.A selection of local newspaper cuttings following AO-5's launch. There was plenty of interest here in Australia.

The two-metre signal failed on 14 February, but the 10-metre transmission continues for now. How much longer AO-5’s batteries will last is anybody’s guess, but the satellite has proven itself to be a successful demonstration of the MUAS students’ technical capabilities, and the team is already contemplating a more advanced follow-on satellite project.

Picture of a post-card (posted Jan 23 1970, with an Apollo 8 stamp) with an illustration of a satellite over what appears to be a map of weather fronts. Above the illustration it reads 'ITOS-1 Day-Night Weather Eye', and to the side it reads 'Oscar 5' and 'Australis'
This philatelic cover for the ITOS-1/TIROS-M launch, includes mention of AO-5, but the satellite depicted is actually OSCAR-1


photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Fantastic emanations on Earth

And now that you've had a chance to digest the latest space news, here's some less exciting (but no less necessary) coverage of the latest issue of F&SF.

Cover of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction's March issue-- the cover illustration is a square wrapped wrapped in digits with the top sequence running from 1-17, and the others presenting variations on the sequence.  The inside of the square appears to show four mirrored illustrations of men laying under blankets as though awaiting surgery.  Extending from the crowns of their heads to the center of the square are matching banded gradients from pale to dark blue.
by Ronald Walotsky

The Fatal Fulfillment, by Poul Anderson

Well, this is very interesting.  You remember that Ellison story that impressed me so much this month?  The Region Between, it was called. Well, it has an intriguing genesis.  I'll let editor Ed Ferman explain:

Five of science fiction's best storytellers were asked to write a novella beginning from a common prologue (written by Keith Laumer), to be combined in a book called Five Fates.  The Anderson story and one by Frank Herbert (coming up soon) will be published in F&SF.  We suggest that you look for the book (out in August from Doubleday) in order to catch up with the others: by Keith Laumer, Gordon Dickson and Harlan Ellison.

The prologue, as you may recall, involves a fellow named Douglas Bailey being euthanized.  We don't know why he goes there, but he ends up very much dead.  In the Ellison story, he goes on to have his soul stuffed in a series of different bodies (five of them described in detail) until he rebels against his puppetmaster and becomes God.

Anderson's story is different.

Bailey in his tale is suffering from insanity brought on by the burgeoning population, stifling technology, and all the other bugaboos of modern society.  Each of his fates (five of them!  I see a motif developing) involves a different "cure" for his malady.  The first was obviously destruction.  The second involves radical therapy.  A third involves government subsidy.  Number four takes place in a post-pandemic world where the remaining 5% of humanity is enlightened to a degree that precludes craziness.

The fifth, well… that explains what's going on.  Anderson lays the crumbs such that, if you don't figure it out by the end, you'll at least find the conclusion well set up.

It's not a bad piece, though not nearly as gripping as Ellison's.  Moreover, it's one of those that makes you go "why bother" for too long before you realize Poul's actually got a point to his meanderings.

Three stars.

Books , by Gahan Wilson

Banner reading 'Books' with an illustration of a shelf of books bracketed on the one side by a miniature of a rocket staged for liftoff, and on the other with a diorama of an astronaut having landed on a book acting as a book-end

F&SF's (and Playboy's, and who knows how many other magazine's) illustrator returns to host the book review column.  All are collections/anthologies, and none are SFnal (being either horror or mystery in genre).  He does spent a good page expressing discomfort at how universally misogynistic the stories in Splinters: A New Anthology of Macabre Modern Fiction are, noting that virtually all the tales feature evil women who get their gruesome comeuppance.  He concludes the review by conceding that many of the stories are excellent, and that readers of the macabre will enjoy the volume, but suggests that the next such volume should be misandrist to compensate.

I bring this up because time and again (and again, and again) the Journey has been criticized for just this sort of column—daring to impugn the worth of a work simply because it treats women badly.  Indeed, we are often told that "no one cares" about such things.

We do, and obviously others do, too.

An inked cartoon labeled 'The Dark Corner' which depicts a shadowy blotch with two eyes and a smile in the corner of a room underneath a cobweb

The Night of the Eye, by Dennis Etchison

A fellow is driven off the road by Death in a Car.  He survives, but upon being driven home from the hospital by his harridan wife, Death reappears.

A nothing story.  Not even frightening.  One star.

Harvest, by Leo P. Kelley

If you read Joanna Russ' Initiation in last month's issue, then you already know the premise for this similar story: humans from Earth are making planetfall on a remote colony where the settlers' descendants have widely diverged from the original stock.

In this case, the colonists were involuntary emigrés from an overpopulated Earth, and the incoming ship holds the last vestiges of humanity fleeing from an exploded Sun.

I spent the whole time waiting for the author to drop the other shoe—the way humanity on this new world had changed such that they would be repugnant to the newcomers.

It wasn't worth the wait.  Two stars.

The Falls of Troy, by L. Sprague de Camp

A table where the column headers read 'Schliemann', 'Dorpfeld', and 'Blegen', with the rows indicating the different ways that they classified the various sites from newest (Classical/Roman/Roman & Hellenistic) to oldest (Trojan) and by which cultures they believed to be dominant.

Did the Troy of The Iliad exist?  The answer is a maddening mix of "yes", "no", and "not exactly"—for there were no fewer than nine Troys, all with their unique history and character.  F&SF writer and historian, De Camp, offers up a fascinating, if all-to-brief, summary of what we know about the history of the hill towns on Hissarlik.

Invaluable stuff to the amateur classicist.  Five stars.

Fun-Nee, by Miriam Allen deFord

Sort of a children's tale, it's all about the importance of tolerance, especially on an alien world where the two races are just different enough to elicit physical revulsion, but close enough to be good friends anyway.

A little simple, and perhaps mawkish, but then, I like happy endings.

Three stars.

The Chameleon, by Larry Eisenberg

A politician with a talent for exactly meeting expectations runs afoul of a focus group with too many conflicting desires.

Short, fun, and to the point.

Three stars.

Bridging the Gaps, by Isaac Asimov

Banner reading 'Science' with inset illustrations of an atom (in the style of Bohr), an optical microscope's view of microorganisms, an oscilloscope's view of a sawtooth wave, a satellite in orbit, and a spiral galaxy

The Good Doctor explains how elements fit in the Periodic Table… without really explaining why.  I just don't get chemistry, and he's not making it any easier.

Three stars.

Ink editorial cartoon with a werewolf wearing a spacesuit seated at a cockpit simulator with the moon filling the screen.  In the foreground, one lab-coated scientist relates to the other 'I'm afraid this simulator test indicates Commodore Brent would be a poor choice for the lunar expedition'
by Gahan Wilson

The Tangled Web of Neil Weaver, by Charles Miller

Pretty typical Satanism/voodoo tale about a college kid on the make who crosses a co-ed coven leader when he tries to bed a young witch.  There are no heroes in this admittedly well-told story.

Three stars.

Tuning in

All in all, this is one of those issues that sounds worse than it was.  It was diverting enough, just not stellar.  Given the low lows we've had, this is perfectly acceptable.  Let's just try to up the average next month!

Back cover of March 1970 Fantasy and Science Fiction magazine sharing readership demographics (they're overwhelming young with 84% under 45, and 62% have attended college) and advertising the availability of French, Spanish, and German language editions.



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[January 31, 1970] Both sides now (February 1970 Analog)

[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

All night long

Woody Allen likes to quip that being "bi-sexual" (liking both men and women) doubles of your chance of getting a date on the weekend.

NASA has just doubled the amount of weather they can look at in a single launch.  TIROS-M (does the "M" stand for "Mature"?) was launched from California on January 23rd into a two-hour orbit over the poles.  12 times a day, it circles the Earth, which rotates underneath.  Unlike the last 19 TIROS satellites, TIROS-M can see in the dark.  That means it gets and transmits a worldwide view of the weather twice a day rather than once.

More than that, the satellite is called the "space bus" because it carries a number of other experiments, measuring the heat of the Earth as well as solar proton radiation.  Launched "pickaback" with TIROS-M was Oscar 5, an Aussie satellite that broadcasts on a couple of bands so ham radio fans can track signals from orbit.  Maybe Kaye Dee will write more about that one in her next piece!

Clouds got in my way

If the distinctive feature of the Earth as viewed from space is its swaddling blanket of clouds, then perhaps the salient characteristic of this month's Analog is its conspicuous degree of padding.  Almost all of the stories are longer than they need to be, at least if their purpose be readability and conveying of point.  Of course, more words means more four-cent rate…


by Kelly Freas, illustrating "Birthright"

Birthright, by Poul Anderson

Emil Darmody is the manager for the terran trading station on the planet of Suleiman, a sub-jovian hulk of a world with a thick hydrogen atmosphere, primitive alien inhabitants, and a rare and valuable spice.  When Burbites, an off-world alien race who are the main purchasers of the spice, drop robots to harvest the spice themselves, Darmody must find an ingenious way to stop them without inciting an interstellar incident.  In doing so, he attracts the attention of trade magnate Nicholas Van Rijn, who likes the adventurous sort.


by Kelly Freas

If someone were to ask for a generic example of a story set in the Polesotechnic League, you could do worse than to pick this one.  It has all the usual features: compelling astronomy and sufficiently alien beings; a bold, if naive, hero; women as competent professionals; daring-do; and a cameo by the corpulent and lusty Van Rijn.

Three stars.

Dali, for Instance, by Jack Wodhams


by Peter Skirka

And now, the padding begins.  Golec is a truly alien being who wakes up one day in the form of a human on present-day Earth.  Eventually, he recalls that the mind transference was intentional, a form of reconnaissance.  The problem is, it's not reversible, and he finds his new body disgusting.  Knowing that there may be others of his race on the planet in the same predicament, he seeks them out.  Golec is told that he might as well go native.  Things could be worse.

All of this should have been a one-page prelude to an actual story.

Two stars.

The Wind from a Star, by Margaret L. Silbar

I'm very happy to see Ms. Silbar back, as her last piece, on quarks, was excellent.  This time, she talks about a topic near and dear to my heart: the solar wind.

I've actually just given a talk on this very subject, so most of what she says is familiar.  It's nicely laid out, very interesting, and with some details that are new to me.  Newcomers may find it a little abstruse, and as with her last piece, an extra page or two of explanation, or splitting things up into two, simpler articles, might have been in order.  Asimov would have taken three or four (though, to be fair, he has half the space).

Four stars.

The Fifth Ace, by Robert Chilson


by Kelly Freas

The planet of Hyperica is the outpost of the Realm of Humanity closest to the "Empire", a separate polity of unknown constitution.  One day, a liaison between the two governments brings a gift from the Empire: several giant cat-creatures in cages.  They break out of confinement at the same time an Imperial spy-craft crashlands on Hyperica.  The local Hypericans attempt to deal with both.

This one took me two reads to grasp for some reason.  Much of the story is told from the point of view from the felinoids, who are intelligent and the real invasion, the spy ship being a decoy.  There is a lot of description of the stratified human culture, a host of characters, and a great deal of lovingly depicted gore. 

A lot of pages for not a lot of story.  I did appreciate the portrayal of actual aliens, but I didn't need a page of explanation of how their retractable claws work.

Two stars.

In Our Hands, the Stars (Part 3 of 3), by Harry Harrison


by Kelly Freas

In this installment, the Daleth-drive equipped Galathea, takes off for Mars with an international contingent of observers.  Shortly into the flight, both Soviet and American agents vie for control of the ship.  The ending is not at all what I expected.

This is such a curious book, in some ways just a vessel for delivering polemics.  Worthy polemics, perhaps, on the nobility and folly of national pride.  Nevertheless, it's definitely not one of Harrison's best, with none of his New Wave flourishes, nor any of the progressive brilliance of, say, Deathworld.  His characters are bland—Martha a particular travesty—and there's not much in the way of story.  In fact, I think the whole thing could have been a compelling, four-star novella… forty or fifty pages, tops.

As is, the final installment keeps things from falling below three stars, but no more.

The Biggest Oil Disaster, by Hayden Howard


by Leo Summers

A man named Sirbuh ('hubris' backwards) has a penchant for wildcatting oil wells in the deep sea.  When one of his digs creates the biggest oil spill in history, blackening California's beaches, Sibrah doubles down and calls for the use of a nuke to both seal it and create an undersea storage cavern.  Sibrah's son, devastated by the environmental catastrophe and sickened by Sibrah's cold calculations, can only watch as the inevitable unfolds. 

I assume this is a parable on the excesses of capitalism, though editor Campbell probably enjoyed it as an endorsement of the casual use of atomic weapons.  Either way, it goes on far too long and repetitiously.

Two stars.

The Reference Library (Analog, February 1970), by P. Schuyler Miller

Miller is a great book reviewer; even though he's been writing for decades, and despite writing for the most conservative of the SF mags, he keeps an open mind.  I'm afraid this year might have broken him, though.  The New Wave claimed the Hugos, and so Schuy is trying to wrap his head around the New Wave.  The result is a column that's a bit more scattered and less engaging than most.

He does have fun moments, though, particularly his review of Moorcock's The Final Programme:

"[Jerry Cornelius] is the Cthulhu mythos of the New Wave.  Michael Moorcock..originated him in his "novel" but other authors are making him the antihero of their "stories" just as a group of authors did with the assumptions and beings created by H.P. Lovecraft..

May all of Lovecraft's most powerful entities help the poor befuddled soul who tries to fit all the Cornelius stories together."

Miller also reviews Asimov's Opus 100, which he liked better than Algis Budrys did.  Perhaps Mrs. Miller hasn't had her posterior pinched by the Good Doctor.

Reading the data

It's not so much that Analog is bad these days, it's just that it isn't very good.  The Star-O-Meter for this one pegged at 2.6.  That's worse than virtually all the other mags/anthologies this month:

  • Fantastic (3.3)
  • Galaxy (3.3)
  • IF (3.1)
  • New Worlds (3.1)
  • New Writings #16 (3)
  • Vision of Tomorrow (3)
  • Venture (2.8)

    Only Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.3) was worse, a most unusual state of affairs.

    In the spirit of TIROS-M, here are some other vital figures for the month: ten magazines/anthologies were released this month (though Crime Prevention in the 30th Century only had two new stories).  The four and five star stuff would fill three magazines, which I suppose is a normal distribution.

    Women wrote 5% of new fiction.  On the other hand, Silbar's piece means 33% of the nonfiction is by a woman.  Progress!

    Like NASA, the Journey is expanding its capacity to review the flood of new material.  Let's pray for more stuff in the greater-than-three-star territory.

    It's more fun to review "the day side" of fiction!



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[December 20, 1969] Stars above, stars at hand (January 1970 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Being #2… stinks

On the scene at the launch of Apollo 12, President Nixon assured the NASA technicians that America was #1 in space, and that it wasn't just jingoism—it was true!

Well, even a stopped clock, etc.  In fact, all accounts suggest the Soviet space program had some serious setbacks last year, the results of which will be felt through at least to 1971.  Schedules got shifted as large rockets were earmarked for purely military service in response to the escalating (now calmed) Sino-Soviet crisis.  But the biggest issue was reported in Aviation Weekly last month: apparently, the Soviets lost a Saturn-class booster on the launch pad before liftoff last summer.  I hadn't even heard that such a thing was in development!  The rocket's loss has set back the USSR's manned space program by at least a year, resulting in tepid non-achievements like their recent triple Soyuz mission rather than the construction of a space station or a trip to the Moon.

A rocket being launched into space.
This is actually the rocket from the Soviet film The Sky Calls (American title: Battle Beyond the Sun)

It didn't help that the Soyuz pads were occupied during the summer as the Soviets tried to match our lunar efforts.  It may well be that their Saturn was rushed to service too soon, and similar gun-jumping may have caused the loss of the Luna 15 sample-return mission.

Speaking of which, in September, the Soviets launched Kosmos 300 and 305.  Both of them were heavy satellites that went into the orbit usually used for lunar Zond missions.  And then they reentered shortly thereafter…in pieces.  It's not certain if these were to be circumlunar flights or retries of Luna 15.  Either way, they didn't work out, either.

Meanwhile, the Apollo mission moves blithely along.  Apollo 13 will go to the Moon next March to Fra Mauro, a landing site photographically scouted out by the Apollo 12 folks.  This chapter of the Space Race is well and truly over, won by the forces of democracy championed by such luminaries as Spiro Agnew.

That's a good rock

Speaking of Apollo 12, you may recall earlier this month I talked about analysis of the Moon rocks brought back by Apollo 11.  A similar report has come out about the rocks brought back by Conrad and Bean.  Dr. Oliver A. Schaeffer of New York State Univ. at Stony Brook says they are only 2.2 to 2.5 billion years old—1-2 billion years younger than the Armstrong and Aldrin's samples.  This means some kind of surface activity was ongoing on the comparatively quiet Moon—meteorite strikes and/or vulcanism, we don't know yet.


NASA astronaut Charles "Pete" Conrad, commander of the Apollo 12 mission, holds two moon rocks he and Alan Bean brought back to Earth.  Taken last month at Manned Spacecraft Center's Lunar Receiving Laboratory.

Also, Dr. S. Ross Taylor of Australian National Univ. says the Apollo 12 samples contain about half the titanium as the Apollo 11 rocks and also more nickel, though otherwise, their chemistry is similar.  Thus, the Moon is far from homogeneous, and we have just scratched the surface (so to speak) of the mystery that is the Moon.  As we get more samples from more sites, a better picture will come together, but it will undoubtedly take time; imagine trying to contemplate all of Earth's geologic diversity from just two short digs?

Holiday Feast

Cover of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. It announces the stories Longtooth by Edgar Pangborn and A Third Hand by Dean R. Koontz. The cover illustration shows a racecar driven by a robot on a desert landscape at night.
Cover by Mel Hunter

Longtooth, by Edgar Pangborn

Ben Dane is a widower with a bad heart, stranded by a blizzard at his friend Harp's house.  When the home is beset by a furry, anthropoid monster, the two give chase.  Is it a crazed lunatic?  An alien?  The Abominable Snowman?

Pangborn really lets you live inside his characters, vividly depicting the Maine land and farmscape as well as the personalities that populate his stories.  There's absolutely nothing wrong with the tale's telling, which takes its time, satisfied with the redolence of its scenery.  The real problem is the uninspired ending; what we have here, aside from the liberal sprinkling of four-letter words, is a piece that could have come out in Weird Tales thirty years ago.

Three stars.

Books (F&SF, January 1970), by Joanna Russ

Ms. Russ has come into her own as a columnist—her review of Day of the Dolphin was so funny that I was compelled to read it aloud to my wife.  She goes on to damn Spinrad's Bug Jack Barron with faint praise, agreeing only with the simple premise that all men have their price. Russ gives highest marks to Jack Vance's Emphyrio, which our Victoria Silverwolf enjoyed.

Indeed, Russ' opinions mirror those of our own staff, though Jason liked Dophin more than Joanna did.

Russ ends her piece with a tepid review of a tepid anthology: Best SF: 1968, edited by Harry Harrison.

A Matter of Time and Place, by Larry Eisenberg

The name "Emmett Duckworth" inevitably elicits a weary sigh, for this series following the offbeat adventures of an inventor are invariably stupid.

Such is the case here where Duckworth is pressed into service by the Pentagon to make a host of ambitious but unworkable weapons.  In the end, he discovers that there is a conservation of local entropy: the more domestic disorder in America, the more peaceful the world becomes.

Every scientific assertion in the story is ludicrous.  It doesn't even work as farce.  One star.

Drawn cartoon. It shows a man walking at the bottom of a swimming pool. The mass of water has split in two to let him walk on dry floor.
by Gahan Wilson

E Pluribus Solo, by Bruce McAllister

The last bald eagle, locked inside the Smithsonian for its protection, is under attack.  A mercenary with a vicious falcon sidekick has been hired to dispatch this American icon.  All that stands between them is one overmatched security guard…

This is a gruesome story, and I wasn't sure if I was going to like it, but the end is redeeming.

On the edge of three and four stars.  I guess I'll flip it to the latter.

Car Sinister, by Gene Wolfe

This is a genuinely funny piece.  A fellow takes his Rambler American to the seedy shop in his village to be serviced.  What he doesn't know until too late is that his car has been stud serviced by another vehicle…and his car is now pregnant.

The only failing to this story is that it doesn't end.  It just sort of trails off, either too soon or too long after the punchline is delivered.  The implied biology of cars is fascinating, though.  They seem to be like Gethenians from Left Hand of Darkness: all are capable of giving birth, but they can take on either sexual role.

Four stars.

A Third Hand, by Dean R. Koontz

A genetic freak dubbed Timothy is cooked up in a DoD lab.  Armless and legless, and with only one eye, he is nevertheless one of humanity's most gifted members.  That's because he has an IQ of 250+ and Gil Hamilton's ability to psionically manipulate small items at close range.  Eventually, he is given prosthetic arms and legs to give him a "normal" life—sort of a flip side to McCaffrey's The Ship Who… series (where deformed brains are turned into spaceship control centers).

But that's just setting up the character.  The story starts when Timothy witnesses the death of his guitarist buddy over the visiphone at the hands of a notorious crime boss.  The handicapped genius applies all of his resources toward bringing the fiend to justice.

Koontz throws a lot of interesting future tech into his story: home printers that reproduce daily photostatted newspapers; androids that uncannily imitate their owners; floating death machines called Hounds.  What he doesn't do is anything with his protagonist.  Timothy is unique in all ways except mindset, which is not only conventional, but not even particularly brilliant.  In the event, his main distinction is his limited telekinesis, and if you've read Niven's "The Organleggers", then you certainly won't get much out of this.

Three stars.

Ride the Thunder, by Jack Cady

Highway 150 is haunted, and all the cargo-haulers know it.  And it's because of a mean young cuss called Joe Indian, who runs an old Mack with a load of turkeys, transported in the most inhumane way possible.  What's his story, and how is the spectral visitation ended?  You'll have to read to the end to find out.

A fine ghost story, by a trucker for truckers, originally published in Overdrive, a trucker mag, in 1967.  Four stars.

Bughouse, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Two couples at a personal soirée.  One of the husbands suggests that they might all be a little mad, and he proposes to prove it by having them all eat an Oriental bug poison (which should have no effect on humans—unless they're "buggy").

A slight, but interestingly written, piece.  Three stars.

The Lunar Honor-Roll, by Isaac Asimov

This month's science article has a touching book-end: Ike's dad apparently lived long enough to experience not only the flight of the first aircraft but also the first lunar mission, passing away a couple of weeks after the flight of Apollo 11.  A fan of science fiction, he instilled a love of learning and educating that has served The Good Doctor well.  The meat inside the reminiscence is a nice piece on the naming of the Moon's prominent features.  Why are so many 16th Century, medieval, and Greek astronomers honored?  Why do we have Alps and Apennines on the Moon as well as lakes, seas, and an ocean?

Worth reading.  Five stars.

A Delicate Operation, by Robin Scott

Getting a brilliant doctor out of East Germany to freedom in the West is tough at the best of times.  A "white" operation, where a double is sent in so the target can escape, is considered unworkable because no suitable man can be found for the job.  A "black" op (smuggling out as hidden cargo) is planned, but when the latter fails, it seems all hope is lost.  That is, until Dr. Celia Adams, a supremely talented British biologist, takes matters into her own hands.  Can she succeed where the cynical, oversexed CIA veteran (the ostensible hero of our story) cannot?

This is a tight, fun story whose ending you'd likely only guess because you know it has to be SFnal given where it was published.  Much is made of the East German doctor being gay, which turns out to be fundamental to the plot.

Four stars.

Seasons Greetings!

Well that was a fine repast (even if the two cover authors turned in the lesser works).  And we're now up to a two-magazine streak.  Will 1970 be the year F&SF truly deserves the Hugo it won in August?  That would be something to celebrate, indeed!

Full-page ad showing a Hugo award. The text on the image says: F&SF Wins Hugo. The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has been awarded the Hugo as best science fiction magazine of the year. This is the fifth time the magazine has been so honored, previous awards having been made in 1958, 1959, 1960 and 1962. The Hugo award —named after Hugo Gernsback, the father of modern science fiction— is the annual achievement award at the World Science Fiction Convention. The awards were presented at the convention's 27th annual meeting in St. Louis, based on the votes of its 1900 members. Other Hugos were awarded to authors John Brunner, Robert Silverberg, Poul Anderson and Harlan Ellison; to artist Jack Gaughan; and to 2001: A Space Odyssey. The convention also gave a special Hugo to Neil Armstrong, Edwin Aldrin and Michael Collins for Best Lunar Landing, Ever. F&SF is proud of the honor; the award is received with gratitude and as an incentive for the future, in which we will continue to bring you the freshest, most stimulating entertainment in the field.



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[December 6, 1969] Here comes the Sun (and Moon) — Orbiting Solar Observatory, Apollo, ESRO, and Explorer 41!

[New to the Journey?  Read this for a brief introduction!]

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

With the Apollo missions taking so much of our attention (there were four flights this year), it is understandable that unmanned missions and science have gotten short shrift.  I'm going to try to address this oversight now.

Far out!

Do you remember Pioneer 6 (launched Dec. 16, 1965) and Pioneer 7 (launched Aug. 17, 1966)?  They are deep space probes designed to observe the Sun from widely different vantage points.  In fact, we've been a bit remiss: since '66, two more identical Pioneers have gone up: Pioneer 8 (December 13, 1967) and Pioneer 9 (November 8, 1968).  A fifth and final Pioneer was launched August 27, 1969, but its carrier rocket exploded.  The loss of that one is pretty bad; whereas the others are all spread out fairly equidistantly around the Sun, more or less as far away from it as the Earth, Pioneer "E" was going to be put in an orbit that kept it close to Earth, where it would be used to give as much as a two-week warning of dangerous flare activity.

Nevertheless, NASA is blazing along with four satellites.  Indeed, thanks to the longevity and spread-out positions of Pioneers 6 and 7, they were able to perform an unique experiment.  On Nov. 6, the two satellites were 175 million miles apart on a common line with the Sun, and scientists observed the difference in behavior of solar wind particles due to their passage through space in opposite directions.  In a similar vein, on Dec. 2, when the spacecraft reached points on a common spiral line leading out from the Sun (the star rotates, so it flings out particles in a spiral rather than linear fashion), scientists measured different kinds of solar particles coming from the same events on the Sun.

We'll have to wait for the journals to publish any papers, but this is the kind of large-scale, long-term science made possible by the Pioneer probes!


Another cool example of Pioneer science

Far in!

While the Pioneers study the Sun far from Earth, there are a host of spacecraft monitoring our home star from Earth orbit.  For instance, we haven't talked about the Orbiting Solar Observatories (OSOs) for a while, but there have been six so far.  They were the first heavy satellite series to be launched by NASA, providing nearly continuous coverage of the Sun since 1962, in wavelengths we can't observe from Earth because they are blocked by the Earth's atmosphere: ultraviolet, X-Ray, and gamma ray.

Why was the Sun such an early focus?  Three major reasons: 1) understanding the dangers posed by flares and their relation to the high energy particles trapped by Earth's magnetic field is critical to ensuring astronaut safety, 2) surveying the Sun and comparing changes on the solar surface with fluctuations of space weather near Earth tell us both about the interactions of the two as well as the nature of both, and 3) the Sun is the closest star at hand, and what we learn about the Sun as a star can be applied to the millions of other stars we can observe.

The revelations OSO have given us are not easily conveyed.  It's not like Explorer 1, which discovered the Van Allen Belts—a hitherto unexpected phenomenon—or the TIROS weather satellite, which discovered storms we hadn't even known about.  Rather, they give us a huge body of data with which we can refine our understanding of how the Sun works, and also so that we can better predict space weather.  What's called "basic research."

OSO 1 operated continuously from March-May 1962, and intermittently on to August 1963, returning data on 75 solar flares—most importantly, what events preceded, succeeded, and coincided with them in many different wavelengths, a fingerprint of an eruption, so to speak.


(ground-taken picture of the Sun flaring)

OSO 2 expanded its coverage to the corona, that bright bit of the Sun you can only see during a lunar eclipse.  Its launch was delayed until February 3, 1965 because the original OSO B was damaged in a launch explosion, April 14, 1964, that killed three technicians!  Though OSO 2 returned data for nine months, I can't find a single article on the Sun that stemmed from it.  There's one on about 20 other stars observed by the satellite, though, and the difficulties of seeing through the Sun's glare to them.

OSO 3, the one that launched March 8, 1967, and not the one that failed to orbit in August 1965, was more successful.  It returned interesting solar data, for instance finding solar X-ray sources that weren't flares, determining that the chromosophere (visible surface) didn't necessarily heat up before a flare, and monitoring the change in the solar spectrum over the course of its 28-day rotation.

And the onboard gamma ray experiments told us a lot about the universe.  For instance, the torrent of gamma rays streaming in from the universe is highly confined to the galactic plane, and particularly toward the Milky Way's core, which means it must be galactic in origin.  OSO 3 also observed X-ray bursts from a star (maybe stars) that isn't the Sun: Scorpius X-1, later determined to be a neutron star, and Lupus XR-1 (which may or may not be the same source—the literature is unclear).  The satellite stopped working just last month.

OSO 4 went up October 18, 1967, and was the first OSO to carry an international experiment—a University of Paris device that measures the Sun in the ultraviolet frequency that best shows solar activity ("Lyman-alpha").  Indeed, it was the first OSO to scan the Sun in ultraviolet at all.  Also really cool is that its X-ray resolution is such that it could watch flares in X-ray wavelengths as sharply as we could see it on the ground in the visual spectrum, so scientists could make one to one comparisons.

You'll note the use of past tense—the satellite is still in orbit, but its tape storage failed in May 1968, and last month, OSO 4 was ordered into standby mode.

That brings us to the OSOs we haven't covered yet.  OSO 5 went up on January 22, 1969, and has the ability to scan the Sun in the X-ray range more quickly and thoroughly.  OSO 6 went up August 9.  I don't have too much to say about them because it's too early for papers.  NASA reports both did their jobs fine, and they're still operating.  Like OSO 3 did, they not only study the Sun but also galactic X-ray sources…so stay tuned.

Small satellites are doing their part, too.  For instance, Explorer 41, the latest in the Interplanetary Monitoring Platform series, launched June 21 into a high orbit that goes almost halfway to the Moon.  The Sun this satellite examined has been unusually quiet, an expected trait of the "solar maximum"—the time in the Sun's 11-year cycle of highest output.  On the other hand, low-energy galactic cosmic rays rates fluctuated more than usual, and interplanetary conditions appeared to be more disturbed.  The satellite is still operating.

Finally, and only tangentially related to the Sun, there are the missions of Aurorae and Boreas, launched October 3, 1968 and October 10, 1969, respectively under the auspices of the European Space Research Organization (ESRO).  They report on the brightness of Earth's aurorae, the composition and temperature of the ionosphere, and the charged particle environment in orbit.  The first satellite is still working just fine, but Boreas went into a lower than expected orbit, and it reentered on November 23rd.  Still, the mission was deemed successful.

Rocks to dig

Veering back into the manned space program, there was some exciting coverage during the Apollo 12 flight that I didn't have a chance to relate.  As Conrad, Bean, and Gordon finish their three weeks in quarantine (joined on Dec. 2 by 11 scientists and technicians who had accidentally been exposed to lunar samples), this is a good time to talk about what we've learned from Moon rocks brought back by the Apollo 11 astronauts.

Walter Cronkite had, as a guest on his programming, Dr. John O' Keefe—a geologist at NASA's Goddard Space Center.  The visibly excited O'Keefe stated that the most extraordinary aspect of the Moon rocks is that they are deficient in nickel and cobalt as compared to the Sun, that latter body presumably being representative of the nebula that originally coalesced and formed our solar system.

Why is that significant?  Well, the Earth's crust is similarly lacking in nickel and cobalt (and other "precious metals" that dissolve easily in iron, collectively called "siderophiles").  We know Earth has a dense iron core because nothing else would account for the planet's mass with respect to its volume, and also, it explains why the planet has a magnetic field.  While our planet was first cooling, it makes sense that the siderophiles melted and mostly sank to the center of the planet.

The Moon has no core—we know this because its density (volume divided by mass) is too low, and it has no appreciable magnetic field.  That the Moon's surface rocks correlate to Earth's surface rocks, and because its density appears to be constant from crust to center, that suggests that the Moon was somehow formed from Earth's crust.  It is, in fact, a piece of our planet's outer surface that somehow spun off into orbit and formed its own little, low-density world.

What causes this is still unknown.  Perhaps the Earth was spinning so fast when it was formed that its middle flew off.  Or maybe a rogue planet smashed into the Earth.  What we do know is that the composition of the Moon rocks puts paid the hypothesis that the Moon formed separately from and at the same time as Earth, since we'd then expect its crust's composition to either be more like that of the Sun, or for our moon to have a dense core.

We also know that whatever created the Moon happened quite early in Earth's history.  The lunar rocks have been dated as 4.6 billion years old.  That's very close to the estimated age of the Earth.  What I found particularly exciting is that the Moon rocks must be the very oldest rocks we've ever encountered, except maybe for meteorites.  That's because erosion and vulcanism are constantly erasing the Earth's surface, and the oldest rocks I know of down here are somewhere around 3 billion years old.

As we continue to explore the cosmos, we shall find more data points with which to create an holistic view of the universe, something that would be impossible were we to stay Earthbound.  I am happy that I live in the Space Age, when our scientific knowledge is expanding exponentially.  Who knows what new discoveries 1970 will bring!



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[November 26, 1969] From the Earth to the Moon…and back (Apollo 12)

photo of Gideon Marcus, a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Just four months ago, men first set foot on the Moon, fulfilling a millennia-long dream of humanity as well as culminating a decade-long Space Race between the superpowers. And the question on everyone's lips: how do you top that?

It's important to remember that the flight of Apollo 11 was not the end, but only a beginning—just as John Glenn's orbital flight, Gus Grissom's mission in Gemini 3, Wally Schirra's in Apollo 7 were all beginnings. The Moon Port is open, and it is time to start the exploration of the cosmos in earnest.

Appropriately, the flight of Apollo 12 was planned to mark an incremental expansion upon the prior mission's success. Scheduled for a November 14 launch at 11:22AM Eastern time months in advance, the second lunar mission would include the following improvements:

  • Time spent on the Moon would be 32 hours, half again more than the 21 hours spent by Apollo 11.
  • There would be two Extravehicular Activities (EVAs) rather than one.
  • The astronauts would set up a series of experiments designed to operate for one year from the lunar surface.
  • The Lunar Module (LM) would execute a pinpoint landing at Site 7 in the Sea of Storms, as opposed to the less precise touchdown made by Eagle in July
  • As a result, the astronauts would be able to recover the TV camera from Surveyor 3, which had soft-landed on the Moon two years prior.
  • The Moonwalks would be televised in color this time.
  • After lunar exploration, Apollo 12 would spend an extra day in lunar orbit photographing future landing sites.

In all, Apollo 12 promised to be only slightly more ambitious than its predecessor, but how much more ambitious than a flight to the Moon do you need?

Crew and Capsule

The astronauts selected for this mission included two veterans and a rookie, the first time since Apollo 9 that an Apollo crew has included a newcomer. The mission commander was Charles "Pete" Conrad Jr., an irrepressibly cheerful and talented fellow who almost made the Mercury 7. He was pilot on the Gemini 5 endurance mission and commander on Gemini 11, which conducted docking and microgravity experiments. Richard "Dick" Gordon served as Command Module Pilot, and since he had been Conrad's pilot on Gemini 11, it must have seemed like old times. The newcomer was Alan Bean, who, like Gordon, had been part of the third group of NASA astronauts. His job was to pilot the Lunar Module down to the Moon's surface.

A promotional color photograph of astronauts Conrad, Gordon and Bean, in their spacesuits minus gloves and helmets, in front of the Apollo 12 Lunar Module.
Left to right: Conrad, Gordon, and Bean

The timing for this crew's mission was determined by quirks of fate, only becoming set in stone in December. NASA has a protocol of assigning back-up crews (stand-ins who will replace mission crews in an emergency) to live missions three flights later. Originally, Conrad and Gordon had been the back-up crew for Apollo 8, along with third group astronaut Clifton Williams. Apollo 8 was supposed to test the LM in Earth orbit. But after the successful flight of Apollo 7, which tested the Command and Service Modules, and with the threat of an impending Soviet circumlunar flight, Apollo 8 was bumped to the 9th slot, and the December 1968 flight was reprogrammed for a mission around the Moon.

Conrad and Gordon backed up the delayed Apollo 9 flight, along with Alan Bean, who replaced Clifton Williams, who had died in a test flight October 5, 1967. Nine plus three is twelve, and so those three were put on the second lunar lander mission. But if Williams had not died, and had Apollo's missions gone as schedule, then it would have been Conrad and Bean to set the first steps on the Moon.

As with the prior Columbia and Eagle, NASA wanted proud names for the Apollo 12 vessels. Thousands of NASA employees and contractors sent in their suggestions, and the all-Navy crew decided on Yankee Clipper for the Command Module and Intrepid for the Lunar Module. This marks the first time that a NASA ship has shared a name with one that appeared on Star Trek—namely, the Vulcan-crewed starship in "The Immunity Syndrome". Of course, Intrepid has also been used for American naval vessels since the country's founding, but one has to wonder if Trek's outsize impact on popular culture wasn't a factor. I guess we'll see if we ever get a spaceship called Enterprise

Official crew insignia for the mission. It is circular with concentric thin blue, thin white then thick yellow edges, the latter sporting the text Apollo 12, Conrad, Gordon, Bean. The center of the insignia consists of a drawn picture of a clipper ship in space in front of the Ocean of Storms area of the Moon, where the Lunar Module was to, and did eventually land. The clipper ship was chosen because the all crew comes from the Navy.

The crew were intimately involved in the creation of the Apollo 12 patch. The blue and gold motif was chosen to honor the U.S. Navy. The Eagle was featured on the last patch; this time, Yankee Clipper got to star. Al Bean went to the library to round up suitable ship references for the clipper and worked closely with the artist to ensure it had a truly "American" look, nixing the first draft as looking too much like the Argo from Greek myth.

Stormy weather

In 1949, President Truman chose Cape Canaveral in Florida to be the nation's spaceport as it allowed launches over the Atlantic rather than over populated regions; it is also as close to the equator as you can get in the continental United States, which means space launches get the most boost from the Earth's rotation.

But it also rains a lot in Florida, and an approaching storm front threatened to delay the Nov. 14th launch date. There was a four and a half hour window that day; if rain grounded the launch beyond that point, the back-up date was Nov. 16th, with a different landing site.

An internal problem reared its head, too: one of the fuel cells (a kind of refillable battery) on Yankee Clipper was leaking hydrogen and had to be replaced.

A color photograph of Apollo 12's Saturn V lift-off from Kennedy Space Center. The sky is completely overcast. The fuel burning at the back of the launcher makes a bright spot in the center of the photograph, with fumes and steam on the sides of the launchpad. Two birds are passing in the frame, near the photographer.

Nevetherless, at 22 minutes past the 8:00 (Pacific time) hour, Apollo 12's Saturn V spurted flame and began its ascent, President Nixon in attendance with his family. The rocket was almost immediately lost in the clouds. Moments later, ABC anchor Frank Reynold's voice went tremulous. He reported that an electrical shock, perhaps caused by a lightning strike, had shot through Apollo 12, taking the fuel cells off-line. Worse, the inertial navigation platform "eight-ball", common to air and spacecraft alike, went haywire. Without these, the mission would probably have to be scrubbed.

A picture of the Flight Director Attitude Indicator. It serves to know at any given moment the relative position and direction of a spacecraft in space.
Flight Director Attitude Indicator: the "platform" or "Eight-ball"

Apollo Commander Conrad, to his credit, retained his cool. "I always like to start out behind the eight-ball and get ahead," he joked as the spacecraft slid into its first orbit around the Earth.

Moonward, Ho!

Once in orbit, a reset brought most of the affected systems back on line, and bright stars were used to realign the platform once Yankee Clipper had passed into night time. Conrad and Bean thoroughly checked their lunar module, entering it ahead of schedule, to ensure there was no lightning damage. That survey complete, they blasted out of orbit into a "free-return" trajectory that would take them around the Moon. On the way, they snapped this picture of the Earth:

A photograph of a crescent Earth taken by Apollo 12 crew on their way to the moon.

They also conducted two color broadcasts, Dick Gordon donning shades to deal with the solar glare. Although we've seen it before, I always marvel at the spaciousness of the Apollo/LM complex compared to prior spacecraft. That one can travel fifteen feet now without hitting anything seems like incomparable luxury compared to the cramped Gemini and Mercury capsules.

After three days, Yankee Clipper decelerated, entering lunar orbit. Apollo 12 was now at that scary juncture, out of radio contact for 45 minutes every hour and a half as the spacecraft ducked behind the Moon. And, as CBS anchor Walter Cronkite never failed to remind us, if the Service Module's engine did not fire, the astronauts would be stranded a quarter million miles from home.

While looping the Moon, the Apollo 12 crew returned live TV shots, gawking at the stark beauty of the horizon, whose peaks looked like distant clouds to them, and at the pebbled landscape, which Conrad described as cotton candy someone had shot BBs at.


The big crater, Copernicus, ejecta of which ridged the Apollo 12 landing site


Fra Mauro, potential future landing site of Apollo 13

Stormy approach

As Intrepid undocked from its mother ship and began its hour-long descent to the lunar surface, two concerns sprung up: firstly, a solar flare had erupted, threatening radio communications, if not the lives of the astronauts; secondly, Alan Bean got a congested nose—but a decongestant pill kept trouble at bay.

Then the LM was on its way, the two Navy aviators, Conrad and Bean, as jovial as any two spacefarers have ever been. Cronkite noted to former astronaut Wally Schirra that the spacemen seemed particularly jocular this flight, to which the Navy Captain replied that that's the way it should be; astronauts shouldn't have to be stuffy.

At first, the spaceship flew almost perpendicular to the lunar surface, not so much landing as orbiting. In fact, until a final burn at about 50,000 feet, Intrepid was in an orbit just nine miles high, such a feat being possible because the Moon has no atmospheric drag.


See how the ship is sideways for most of it?

Once the landing burn commenced, the Intrepid began slowly arcing toward vertical, its engine spewing close to its maximum thrust: some 9000 pounds of force. As the lunar horizon came into view, the astronauts burst into excited exclamations. The target crater was right where it was supposed to be, and they were bang on course. Pete Conrad maneuvered the LM closer and closer to the lunar surface, Bean calling out altitude checks and attaboys in a constant stream. As the module descended, a huge cloud of black dust billowed up—a feature of that site, as Surveyor 3 had found previously. At last, Intrepid landed in "Pete's Parking Lot" just 600 feet from Surveyor 3 with 7% of its fuel left in the tanks, a healthy margin. The pinpoint landing had worked out perfectly.

Going for a walk

Unlike Apollo 11, no post-landing rest period was planned for the astronauts. Who could restrain them anyway, at this point? Just four hours after touchdown, Pete Conrad was out the hatch and making his descent down the ladder. This happened around 3:30 in the morning for me. I have to wonder what viewership was like for this flight given that coverage started at 10 PM. Luckily, Amber works third shift, so we kept each other company on the phone, and when I fell asleep around 11:30 PM, she kindly gave me a wake-up call when the Moonwalk began.

True to style, Pete's first words as he lit on the lunar surface were, "Whoopie! Man, that may have been a small one for Neil, but that's a long one for me!" I watched the astronaut toodle around, in color and at 30 frames per second, for a while, but then fell back into unconsciousness around 4 AM. No worries, I thought. The exciting stuff wouldn't happen until the second EVA…


Hard to tell, but that's Conrad jumping down to the surface

Except when I woke up and watched the news, it turned out Alan Bean had accidentally set up the camera on a tripod pointed directly at the Sun. In short order, the picture tube had burned out. So much for color TV from the Moon.

I'd actually missed the deployment of the Apollo Lunar Surface Experiments Package (ALSEP), which included a seismometer, a magnetometer, and a spectrometer for measuring the solar wind. The last instrument, in particular, would return data that would be compared with that being returned from Explorer 35, which has been in lunar orbit since 1967. This will tell us if the Moon, itself, generates or conducts any electric fields that can't be detected from space. All are powered by a SNAP-27 nuclear reactor that creates electricity from radioactive decay. The solar wind experiment was, in part, built by Marcia Neugebauer, whom you may recall was responsible for similar devices on the Venus probe, Mariner 2.


Diagram of ALSEP components laid out on the Moon

I did not miss, however, the astronauts walking into Surveyor 3's crater. As they bounced around, Bean noted that they looked like they were in one of those overcranked silent films of the '20s. They collected samples, uttering profound statements like, "That's a good rock!" The landing site is particularly good for selenology (the lunar equivalent of geology, natch), because the terrain is rather varied; ejecta from Copernicus crater when it was formed fell over the site, creating a mixed set of soil.

Then they found Surveyor and, as planned, began taking a hacksaw to it to bring some pieces home with them. Interestingly, they noted that it was no longer white, but a kind of tan. A trick of the light or erosion? We don't know yet. The metal also seemed to have crystallized, becoming more brittle than it had been on Earth.

The astronauts blasted off from the Moon and, with almost blasé affect, docked with Yankee Clipper. Bean and Conrad rejoined the more laconic Gordon, and they jettisoned Intrepid's top half. Shortly thereafter, they activated the half-LM's engines and plowed the vehicle into the Moon in a test of the ALSEP's seismometer. So much for that ten million bucks. The result was a Moonquake that lasted a good hour, so long that NASA scientists believe the impact may have triggered a landslide. Either that, or the material of the Moon is unique such that, instead of dampening shock waves, as on Earth, it actually amplifies them.


Intrepid as seen from Yankee Clipper; sorry for the monochrome—I snapped this shot off my black and white TV

After a day of photographing the Moon from orbit, Yankee Clipper fired its main engine, broke lunar orbit, and began the three day trip to Earth. On the way, the space trio gave us one final broadcast and also snapped a shot of the Earth as it eclipsed the Sun. All the while, the astronauts suffered from runny noses and wheezy breath, the consequence of lunar dust ending up in the capsule.

On the morning of the 24th, Yankee Clipper sailed into the Earth's atmosphere and the typical radio blackout. Three minutes before splashdown at 12:58 Pacific time, cameras from the U.S.S. Hornet recovery carrier, 1200 miles south of Hawaii, spotted the three orange and white parachutes, just two and a half miles away. This ties Apollo 8 for the closest recovery. The command module touched the roughest waves ever encountered on an Apollo recovery, immediately inverting. Recovery was swift and efficient, the Hornet's helicopter #66 making its fourth Apollo astronaut pick-up (previous ones included 8, 10, and 11).

Once the spacemen were on the carrier, we got to see that they were not wrapped up in suits, but merely wearing respirators. They jauntily waved to the cameras as they entered their quarantine trailer, where they will stay for five days, before transferring to a larger facility for thirteen more days. Missing were the folks in protective suits immediately washing away their bootprints. One has to wonder if they'll even bother with quarantine after this mission. They don't seem to be taking it very seriously this time.

President Nixon called the astronauts to congratulate them. He capped the conference with an on-the-spot promotion. This is customary for spacemen after each flight, but I think this is the first time the President has done it. Conrad, Bean, and Gordon are all now Navy Captains.

There was some concern that Apollo 12's systems might have been permanently damaged by the lightning that struck on take-off. Nothing seems to have been hurt at all, but there is still a clamor to launch the next missions in clearer weather to avoid another strike.


The lightning strike was caught on camera after launch but not discovered by NASA until later

It is an amazing and saddening thing that the public seems already somewhat tired of the Apollo missions. NBC's David Brinkley and CBS' Harry Reasoner could barely keep the disdain out of their voices as they described the astronauts gallivanting on the Moon, as if they were personally wasting taxpayer money. Conrad and Bean's casual mien, rather than charming the public, seems to have belittled the enterprise in the public's esteem.

Beyond that, NASA itself is in turmoil. They are demoralized at what they see as the end of an era, rather than the beginning of a new one. Vice President Agnew may be gung ho on going to Mars, but President Nixon refuses to make any commitments. To quote Music Scene's David Steinberg, who said this about Nixon's Vietnamization speech, "We would like to go out of our way to salute President Nixon, who in his speech exactly one week ago had the courage and the confidence to believe that he actually said something."


After that comment, an FBI agent stepped up and snapped his picture. This became a running gag.

NASA scientists feel that they have not been listened to, and that the Apollo missions stress engineering and political issues over the acquisition of knowledge. Indeed, many prominent researchers have quit, and others have been laid off.

Nevertheless, the money has been paid and the Saturns have been built. Apollo 13 is scheduled to launch next March to some spot scouted by Apollo 12, and we'll have at least four more missions after that (Apollo 20 has been cancelled; Apollos 18 and 19 may be on the block). I, personally, am excited that travel to the Moon has become routine. We are very much at a similar juncture as when Schirra flew his textbook Sigma 7 flight, and he didn't even make the front page. You know what? I am okay with taking the spectacle out of things. Let's get down to the real business: exploration and utilization of space. It's not about the missiles anymore, but humanity.

The kind of humanity down-to-Earth heroes like Conrad, Bean, and Gordon represent. Hear, hear, folks.


The astronauts enter their quarantine trailer, one of them miming a pistol shot at the crew






[November 24, 1969] The Wind That Shakes The Snottygobbles O: New Worlds December 1969

Tune in at 12:45 pm Pacific for LIVE splashdown coverage of Apollo 12!


Photo portrait of Fiona Moore. She is a white woman with long curly dark blonde hair. She has glasses and is wearing a light blue blouse under a sleeveless green velvet vest.
by Fiona Moore

Once again, greetings from London. The big news this month is that Britain is now a space power! Yes, thanks to the launch of the Skynet 1-A satellite, we now have our very own presence in orbit. Can regular rocket launches from Woomera be far behind?

BW photograph of Skynet 1A satellite. It is cylindrical with solar panels making out all of its visible shape.
Skynet 1-A is GO!

In news that’s closer to home, Royal Holloway College has acquired a colour television for the student lounge, and I’ve been taking advantage of my position as Staff Advisor to the Film Club to make use of it. The students’ new favourite programme is a delightfully surreal children’s stop-motion SF tale called The Clangers, featuring aliens that look like pink mice and live on an asteroid. I much prefer it to Monty Python, myself. One of my more enterprising students has worked out a knitting pattern to make her own; I’m sure an official one will be not long in coming. I shall keep an eye on the Radio Times.

Photo from the show. Standing on a desert grey ground, pink mice-shaped aliens with red and gold vests are looking up and raising their arms. There are a few stars visible in the sly. The aliens seems to be made out of fabric.The Clangers, I love them all

On to this month’s, sadly rather thin, issue of New Worlds. Sadly, Britain’s new space-faring ways are not reflected in the magazine’s content. I tend to like New Worlds best when it’s being a SF magazine with a literary sensibility, but this month it is thinking of itself as a literary magazine with a few weird or surreal touches, so I found this issue disappointing. I even found myself missing the Jerry Cornelius segment!

Cover of New Worlds for December 1969. There is the shape of a person with unkempt hair in black on yellow. The cover reads: New Worlds Number 196 3s 6d Special new writers issue Plus: Ballard on Hitler Sladek on God Harrison on Pot Moorcock on Neophiliacs Platt on the Underground & more!Cover of New Worlds for December 1969

Although it is advertised as a “new writers’ issue”, only two new writers are actually included. Once again, book reviews take up almost a third of the publication. There is no art this issue, only photographs, and by only two photographers, which makes me wonder if they’re saving money by not commissioning drawings.

Their 1970 preview advert suggests they should be back in more SF territory with the next issue, which purports to “look ahead to 1980”, and I hope that’s not wrong.

Lead-in

A short one this issue, mostly highlighting the two new writers, C.R. Clive and Michael Biggs, and encouraging people to buy the abovementioned 1970 first issue, promising us Brian W. Aldiss, Pam Zoline and Thomas M. Disch as well as the usual suspects. We all know how well that went last time, so I’m not holding my breath.

Rise and Fall by Marek Obtulowicz

BW photograph of a man with closed eyes. He seems to be sleeping.Photo by Gabi Nasemann

A man named Lykke goes on a few dates with his neighbour, Janet. They have sex and a lot of rather pretentious conversations about autumn leaves. It’s all really rather banal. I struggled to see the point of it all. Two stars.

Hemingway by Michael Biggs

As the title suggests, a Hemingway pastiche about a reporter going to Vietnam. It’s a skilful enough evocation of Hemingway’s style and fairly exciting, and I suppose it’s got the subtext of comparing the current ongoing, seemingly neverending, conflict with the wars Hemingway himself covered. I’m not a huge Hemingway fan but it at least held my attention. No illustrations. Three stars.

Graphics and Collages by Ian Breakwell

Illustration by Ian Breakwell A collage with patterned paper, BW photographs and a text in capital letters covering the whole piece. The text reads: Follow my lead said the old electrician have a stake in the wrecked roomOne of the better collages

As the title suggests: collages of text and pictures forming illustrated short-short stories or prose poems. A portrait of squalor, a joke about an electrician, something about sports and physical culture, a factual article about skin grafts juxtaposed with images of radios and televisions, a piece of what looks like found poetry about business. As with a lot of these things it didn’t really appeal to me, though apparently it appeals to the editors of New Worlds. Two stars.

The Last Awakening by C.R. Clive

Photo by Gabi Naseman BW photograph of a white man. He's looking down to the left of the picture.Photo by Gabi Nasemann

This is the only story this issue that could really be described as SF, a postapocalyptic narrative mostly involving a forty-four-year-old man leching over a teenage girl with the excuse that they’re the only ones left alive. If I didn’t know the author was 27 I would have put it down to wish fulfilment. The prose is pretty good, with some nicely evocative touches about the postapocalyptic landscape, but I wish it had been put in the service of something less predictable. Two stars.

The Wind in the Snottygobble Tree Part II (a Jack Trevor Story)

Photo by Roy Cornwall BW photograph of a street. There are houses and vehicles. A pedestrian is crossing the street in the background.Photo by Roy Cornwall

Not much of an improvement on part I, really, other than that there’s less improbable sex and more time devoted to making it ambiguous whether our protagonist, Marchmont, is a secret agent or just an innocent caught in the crossfire. Apparently it’s to be continued next month. I can’t say I’m terribly looking forward to it. One star.

Book Reviews

Our esteemed editor has told me that I don’t need to review the book reviews, so I won’t go into too much detail about these. However, there are a couple this issue that are worth checking out. J.G. Ballard reviews Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler, treating it as a psychological portrait of a man obsessed with hygiene and pseudo-biology. Elsewhere, John T. Sladek reviews Erich von Daaniken’s Chariots of the Gods, getting more and more scathing as he gets further and further into the weeds; as someone who absolutely loathes that book and rues the impact it has had on some of our more impressionable undergraduates, I giggled all the way through it. Finally, Michael Moorcock has a go at The Neophiliacs, which is somewhat more long-winded than Sladek’s review of von Daaniken but no less scathing.

Advert for John and Yoko's Wedding Album.
BW purple tinted photograph of Ono and Lennon in front of a flight of stairs. They are looking at the camera and surrounded by people in suits.Advert for John and Yoko's Wedding Album, because I can.

In closing, I shall torment the Yoko Ono anti-fan club in my audience by revealing that the last page is an advert for her and John Lennon’s Wedding Album. Sorry, people; she’s here to stay. I understand that her husband is handing back his MBE in protest at the British government’s positions on Biafra and Vietnam. Sadly, I don’t think it’ll make much difference.



[New to the Journey? Read this for a brief introduction!]


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[October 22, 1969] Three for Three! (the flights of Soyuz 6, 7, and 8)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

(Un?)Lucky Seven

In 1959, NASA unveiled the identities of the first seven astronauts—the folks who would fly the Mercury capsule into space.  Over the course of two years, from 1961-1963, six of them rode a pillar of flame beyond the Earth's atmosphere, one at a time.

This month, the Soviets orbited seven cosmonauts at once.

Like Sputnik, this momentous occasion was not exactly a surprise.  Indeed, since late August, the USSR had put out releases to the effect that cosmonauts would be taking to the skies in record numbers.  The mission started innocuously enough with the launch of Soyuz 6 on October 11 carrying cosmonauts Shonin and Kubasov on their first flight.  Significantly, their flight plan included "experiments…on the methods of welding of metals in a high vacuum and in the state of weightlessness."  Such techniques have application in the development of orbital space stations, the next inevitable phase in space development.


Comparison of the Soyuz booster compared to the ones that launched the Voskhod and Vostok capsules

The next day, Soyuz 7 blasted off with cosmonauts Filipchenko, Volkov, and Gorbatko—like the Soyuz 6 crew, all rookies.  Given the prior Soviet announcements, the successful previous flight and docking of Soyuz 4 and 5, and the maneuvers made by Soyuz 6 on its first day in orbit, the launch of Soyuz 7 was no surprise.  In fact, cosmonauts in both crews had been the back-ups for the cosmonauts on Soyuz 4/5.  It seemed a second docking/impromptu space station mission was in the works.  But was that the plan?

Apparently not, for the next day, yet another Soyuz was launched, this time carrying veterans Shatalov and Yeliseyev, who had actually flown on the last Soyuz mission.  By the 15th, all three spacecraft were in sight of each other.  The stage was set.

And then…

The next day, Soyuz 6 crew did do their welding experiments and then landed.  On the 17th, Soyuz 7 returned to Earth.  Soyuz 8 followed on the 18th.  Though all of the spacecraft jockeyed around each other while in each other's vicinity, no docking was made or, per the Soviets, even attempted!

Can we buy that there was no docking plan at all?  We know from Soyuz 4/5 that adding a docking adapter to the basic Soyuz design means extra weight for the spacecraft.  Soyuz 6, with its "Vulkan" experiment package in the forward science module (that spherical bit ahead of the command module, where the crew sits during take-off and reentry) probably couldn't carry anything more.  But Soyuz 7 and 8 could have, and given their particular crews, it sure seemed like a docking was in the offing. 


An ad hoc space station based on an illustration released by the Soviets—was this what was supposed to have happened?

The actual mission of the three spacecraft is anyone's guess at this point.  Certainly, the coordination of three crews in orbit is a big deal in and of itself, so maybe that was the point.  The knowledge gained from the flight of the three Soyuz will be valuable both in the future construction of a space station and also when/if the Soviets decide to try for their own lunar mission (though, if they need three craft to go to the Moon, that suggests their rockets aren't as big as our Saturn V, necessitating more launches0.

But given that the Soviets love their space spectaculars, and we just had the biggest one of all this summer, with a repeat set for next month, I'd bet rubles to borscht that the Russkies had planned something more dramatic than playing orbital footsie.

I guess we'll see come Soyuz 9/10/11!






[September 28, 1969] Apollo’s New Muses (Women Behind the Scenes in the Apollo Programme)

Seven years ago, the Journey published an article on the Women Pioneers of Space Science.  At long last, Kaye offers a much-needed update, this time focusing on the women who helped make Apollo 11's trip to the Moon possible…


by Kaye Dee

Classical literature tells us that the god Apollo was associated with the Nine Muses, the goddesses who inspired the arts, literature and science.

Our modern Apollo program also has its Muses – trailblazing women working behind the scenes in critical areas of the programme. They deserve to be better known, not just for their own impressive careers to date, but also as role models, inspiring girls and young women who might be interested in science, technology, engineering, mathematics or medicine, but are diverted away from them by the prevailing view that careers in these areas are for men, not women.

The famous ‘Dance of Apollo and the Muses’ by the Italian architect and painter, Baldassare Tommaso Peruzzi

As someone who has had to contend with these stereotypes myself, trying to establish a career in the space sector in Australia, I thought it might be interesting this month to delve into the stories of four of the women working behind the scenes in the Apollo programme: modern-day daughters of Urania, the Muse of Astronomy, Mathematics and the “exact sciences”.

The “Return to Earth” Specialist: Frances “Poppy” Northcutt

Every aspect of a lunar voyage involves moving objects – the Apollo spacecraft, the Earth and the Moon. Calculating the trajectories required for an Apollo mission to meet and go into orbit around the Moon at a particular date and time, is a mind-bending feat. But getting astronauts safely home from the Moon is even more important!

NASA’s specialist in the incredibly complex and precise calculations required to determine the optimal trajectories for the return to Earth from the Moon, minimising fuel and flight time, is Miss Frances Northcutt, who goes by the nickname “Poppy”. She is, perhaps, the only one of these ladies that you might have heard of (at least those of you in the United States), as she was such a “curiosity” during the press and television coverage of the Apollo-8 mission that she has been interviewed many times (and more on this below).

Born in 1943, Miss Northcutt earned a mathematics degree from the University of Texas, then commenced working at TRW in 1965 as a “computress”! Yes, that was her actual job title, although in Australia we’d have just called her a "computer" (a term applied here and in Britain to both men and women doing this kind of intensive calculating work). Miss Northcutt was placed at NASA’s Langley Research Centre, calculating spacecraft trajectories for the Gemini missions. She proved to be so talented in this area that within just six months TRW promoted her to engineering work with its Return to Earth task force, helping to design the computer programmes and flight trajectories to return an Apollo spacecraft from lunar orbit to Earth.

A simplified version of the Apollo lunar free return flight trajectories

Poppy Northcutt became the first woman to work in this type of role and was soon undertaking the intricate calculations involved in enabling the Apollo astronauts to travel around the Moon and come safely home. The Moon’s lower gravity changes parameters such as fuel usage, as well as the timing of manoeuvres, so the calculations are particularly tricky. Poppy identified mistakes in NASA’s original trajectory plan, performing calculations that reduced the amount of fuel used to swing around the Moon.

When NASA decided that Apollo-8 would become a lunar orbiting mission, the task force team, including Miss Northcutt, moved to Mission Control to instruct the flight controllers on the trajectory calculations and be available to make real-time calculations and course corrections in the event of unexpected incidents during the flight. Assigned to Mission Control's Mission Planning and Analysis room, Miss Northcutt and her team have been an integral part of Apollo-8, 10 and 11 and are now preparing for Apollo-12. She is the only female engineer in the teams that work in the backrooms of Mission Control in Houston, providing support to the flight controllers.

Poppy Northcutt working in the Mission Control support room during Apollo-8

Working Like a Man (but not being paid like one!)

“Computresses” in Miss Northcutt’s original position are classed as “hourly workers”, with their wages capped at working 54 hours per week (in other words, five nine-hour days). Their male counterparts were not only paid more (as we all know, female workers are generally paid between about half and two-thirds of the wages for a man doing the same job), they were also on salaries and paid overtime.

As an ambitious young woman, Miss Northcutt quickly realised that to earn the respect of her male colleagues and be considered a peer, she would have to work the same long hours they did – even if this meant that she was essentially working 10 or more hours a week for no pay!

A NASA promotional photo of Miss Northcutt at work in March this year. She presents herself as a diligent professional

Her talent and diligence paid off with her promotion to engineer, but, ironically, even though she was still being paid less than her male colleagues, Miss Northcutt tells the story that there was no normal mechanism to approve the pay rise she received with this jump from Computress! Her manager had to keep scheduling the highest possible raise as frequently as he could to bring her up to the full female rate of her new salary. 

During Apollo missions, when shifts last around 12 to 13 hours a day in Mission Control, Miss Northcutt usually commences her duty shifts for each mission around the time that the Apollo spacecraft, coasting towards the Moon, prepares to enter the lunar sphere of gravitational influence. During lunar orbit insertion she stands by to assist with new calculations, in the event of an emergency abort, and she reports for duty at Mission Control every day of the lunar phase of the mission and until the astronauts have returned safely to the Earth's sphere of influence. No one can say Poppy Northcutt isn’t pulling her weight, just like a man!

Sexism, Celebrity and Activism

As the only female engineer in Mission Control during the Apollo-8 mission, Miss Northcutt was such a “curiosity” that she received a lot of attention from journalists. While much of this coverage was not seen in Australia, from what I have heard from friends in America, I understand that many of the questions that she received were quite sexist – and even silly.

Miss Northcutt is a very pretty woman and dresses fashionably, so apparently ABC reporter Jules Bergman thought it was more important to ask about her potential to distract her male colleagues from the mission, than to ask about her crucial role: “How much attention do men in Mission Control pay to a pretty girl wearing miniskirts?” Would they have asked a male flight controller if the suit he was wearing turned the heads of the typing pool?! I gather that she gave him a polite brush off response.

A friend in the US took this photo from her television screen, giving me a glimpse of Mr. Bergman's interview with Miss Northcutt

It is bad enough when reporters focus on her appearance and ask her such inane questions, while she operates at the level of her male colleagues, for far less monetary reward. But Miss Northcutt has also reported an instance in which she discovered that the other flight engineers were covertly watching her on a video feed, from a camera trained on her while she was conducting equipment flight tests.

As a result of her personal experiences with sexism, Miss Northcutt has become a strong advocate for women’s rights, and has joined the feminist National Organisation for Women. Even in her early days at TRW, she worked to improve the company’s affirmative action and pregnancy leave policies. “As the first and only woman in Mission Control, the attention I have received has increased my awareness of how limited women’s opportunities are”, she has said. “I’m aware of the issues that are emerging. Working in this environment I can see the discrimination against women.”

TRW is happy to use Miss Northcutt's minor celebrity to promote itself, but not happy enough to pay her the same salary as her male colleagues!

However, while she is not pleased that much of the attention she has received has been focussed on her appearance, or treating her as a rare exception to the male-dominated world of spaceflight, Miss Northcutt has said that she recognises that being a woman visibly occupying a critical position in the space programme does send a very positive message to women and girls: a career in science and technology is possible if you want it – and are prepared to work for it!

Miss Northcutt has received letters and fan mail from around the world (including several marriage proposals, it seems!) She has said that she is motivated to continue to advocate for women’s rights in the workplace by the letters she has received from young women, who have said how much she has inspired them. 

Whoever Heard of a “Software Engineer”? Margaret Hamilton

The Apollo missions not only need precise trajectories for their lunar voyages – they also need software for their onboard flight computers, which control so many aspects of the flight. If you’re not familiar with this term, “software” describes the mathematical programmes that tell a computer how to carry out its tasks, and a “software engineer” applies the engineering design process to develop software for those different tasks.

The Director of Apollo Flight Computer Programming is Mrs. Margaret Hamilton Lickly, who prefers to be known professionally as Margaret Hamilton.I've heard that women in the United States who prefer not to be categorised by their marital status, are now starting to use the designation "Ms.". I don't know if Margaret Hamilton is using this new honorific, but it seems to me appropriate to apply it to her in this article. 

33-year-old Ms. Hamilton is another woman playing a crucial role in NASA’s lunar program. Not only is she a pioneer in software engineering, she even coined the term!


Like Miss Northcutt, Ms. Hamilton is also a mathematician, having studied at the University of Michigan and Earlham College. Shortly after graduating in 1958, she married her first husband, James Hamilton, and taught high school mathematics and French, before taking a job in the Meteorology Department at the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of technology (MIT) in 1959, a few months before the birth of her daughter.

Ms. Hamilton developed software for predicting weather, and in 1961 she moved to MIT’s Lincoln Lab for the Semi-Automatic Ground Environment (SAGE) Project, adapting weather prediction software into a programme used by the U.S. Air Force to search for potential enemy aircraft. At the Lab, she was the first person to get a particularly difficult programme, which no-one had been able to get to run, to actually work! While working on SAGE, Ms. Hamilton began to take an interest in software reliability, which would pay dividends during Apollo-11’s lunar landing.

A Calculated Move

When Margaret Hamilton learned about the Apollo project in 1965, she wanted to become involved in the lunar programme, and moved to the MIT Instrumentation Laboratory, which was developing the Apollo Guidance Computer. She was the first programmer hired for the Apollo work project at MIT and has led the team responsible for creating the on-board flight software for both the Apollo Command and Lunar Modules. She also serves as Director of the Software Engineering Division at the Instrumentation Laboratory.

The Apollo Guidance Computer was installed on both the Command and Service Modules. Astronauts communicated with it using a numeric display and keyboard

While working on the Apollo software, Ms. Hamilton felt that it was necessary to give software development the same legitimacy as other engineering disciplines. In 1966, she therefore coined the term “software engineering” to distinguish software development from other areas of engineering. She believes that this encourages respect for the new field, as well as respect for its practitioners.

A page from the software for the Apollo Guidance Computer

On one occasion when her young daughter was visiting the lab, the little girl pushed a simulator button that made the system crash. Ms. Hamilton realised immediately that the mistake was one that an astronaut could make. While Ms. Hamilton has said that she works in a relationship of "mutual respect" with her colleagues, when she recommended adjusting the software to address the issue, she was told: “Astronauts are trained never to make a mistake.” Yet during Apollo-8, astronaut Jim Lovell made the exact same error that her young daughter had!

While Ms. Hamilton’s team was able to rapidly correct the problem, for future Apollo missions protection was built into the software to prevent a recurrence. With her interest in software reliability, Margaret Hamilton insisted that the Apollo system should be error-proof. To achieve this goal, she developed a programme referred to as Priority Displays, that recognises error messages and forces the computer to prioritise the most important tasks, also alerting the astronauts to the situation.

In Part 2 of my series of Apollo-11 articles, we saw how, during the descent to the Moon’s surface, the Lunar Module’s computer began flashing error messages, which could have resulted in Mission Control aborting the landing. However, the Priority Displays programme gave Guidance Officer Bales and his support team confidence that the computer would perform as it should despite the data input overloads that it was experiencing, and that the landing could proceed.

Ms. Hamilton with this year's printout of the entire Apollo Guidance Computer software

Ms. Hamilton and her 100-strong team continue to work on developing and refining the Apollo flight software, and I’m sure that they will contribute to whatever future spaceflight projects NASA develops, stemming from Vice-president Agnew’s recently-delivered Space Task Group report to President Nixon.

“I’ve Got Rocket Fuel in my Blood”: JoAnn Morgan

Mission safety and reliability are, of course, critical, but Apollo-11 could not even have made the historic lunar landing if the mission had been unable to launch in the first place! When Apollo-11 lifted off, there was one lone woman in the launch firing team at Kennedy Space Centre’s (KSC) Launch Control Centre, who helped to ensure that would happen – Instrumentation Controller JoAnn Morgan.

JoAnn Morgan watching the lift-off of Apollo-11 from her station in Launch Control

Mrs. Morgan, who was born in December 1940, has described herself as a “precocious little kid” who loved mathematics, science and music, and wanted to become a piano teacher. However, after her family moved to Florida from Alabama, she was inspired by the launch of the first American satellite, Explorer-1, in January 1958, and its significant discovery of the Van Allen Radiation Belts. It was the “opportunity for new knowledge” that space exploration represented that filled the teenager with a desire to be part of the new space programme.

Young JoAnn with one of her favourite books. As a child she loved to read and play with her chemistry set

Soon after, JoAnn saw an advertisement for two (US) Summer student internship positions, as Engineer’s Aides with the Army Ballistic Missile Agency at Cape Canaveral. As we know, job openings are often advertised separately for males and females, but this ad only referred to “students” (not “boys”), so she took the chance, decided to apply, and was successful thanks to her strong marks in science and mathematics.

So, at just 17, JoAnn Hardin, as she was then, began working as a University of Florida trainee for the Army at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. “I graduated from high school on the weekend and went to work for the Army on Monday. I worked on my first launch on Friday night” is how Mrs. Morgan describes the beginning of her NASA career. The Army programme she was working with became part of NASA when it was established in October 1958.

Supportive Male Mentors

While undertaking her degree in mathematics at Jacksonville State University, Mrs. Morgan continued her Summer internships with the NASA team launching rockets at Cape Canaveral. The young student’s potential did not go unnoticed, and she acknowledges that she received significant support in furthering her career from several senior NASA personnel, including Dr. Wernher von Braun, the chief architect of the Saturn V rocket, Dr. Kurt Debus, the first director of Kennedy Space Centre and Mr. Rocco Petrone, Director of Launch Operations at KSC.

Mentors Kurt Debus, left, and Rocco Petrone, right, during the Apollo 7 flight readiness test in the blockhouse at Complex 34

Dr. Debus provided Mrs. Morgan with a pathway to becoming an engineer, and she gained certification as a Measurement and Instrumentation Engineer and a Data Systems Engineer, which enabled her to be employed as a Junior Engineer on the launch team. “It was just meant to be for me to be in the launching business,” she says. “I’ve got rocket fuel in my blood.”

As a young woman joining an all-male group, Mrs. Morgan was fortunate that (unbeknownst to her at the time) her immediate supervisor, Mr. Jim White, insisted that the men on the launch team address her professionally, not be “familiar”, and reportedly told them that “You don’t ask an engineer to make the coffee”! (Which, of course, is often a task that falls to the women in any office).

Professional Disrespect

Despite Mr. White’s efforts to create an environment of respect for his first female engineer, Mrs. Morgan has still described experiencing sexism and harassment, treatment similar to the experiences of Miss Northcutt. With no female restrooms in the launch blockhouses at Cape Canaveral, when she needs to use the restroom, she has to ask a security guard to clear out the men’s room so that she can enter. She has reported receiving obscene phone calls at her station (which disappointingly could only have come from colleagues).

However, like Miss Northcutt, while she has said that she sometimes feels a sense of loneliness as the only woman in the team, Mrs. Morgan “wants to do the best job she can” and works the same long hours as her male colleagues. In 1967, as the Apollo programme was ramping up, her dedication to her work had tragic consequences. The stress and long hours of her job contributed to her miscarrying and losing her first child.

The crowded interior of the blockhouse at Launch Complex 34, where Mrs. Morgan has often worked

Perhaps the most shocking example of professional disrespect and harassment (which could be considered an assault) that Mrs. Morgan has experienced was during a test being conducted at the blockhouse for Pad 34, where the first Apollo missions were set to be launched. When preparing to acquire some test results, she was actually struck on the back by a test supervisor, who aggressively told her that “We don’t have women in here!” She had to appeal to her own supervisor, Mr. Karl Sendler (who developed the launch processing systems for the Apollo programme) to confirm that she could remain. He told her to disregard the test supervisor and continue with her work (though it’s not clear if any action was taken against the offending supervisor).

On Console for Apollo-11

The unpleasant incident with the test supervisor prompted many of Mrs. Morgan’s colleagues and senior managers to come forward in expressing acceptance and respect for her as part of the team. Nevertheless, even though she has worked launches for Mercury, Gemini and Apollo, received an achievement award for her work during the activation of Apollo Launch Complex 39, and been promoted to a senior engineer, Mrs. Morgan has frequently found herself rostered for the inconvenient evening shifts. Since her husband is a school teacher and band-leader, this hasn’t always allowed them a lot of time to be together.

Until Apollo-11, Mrs. Morgan was also not selected to be part of the firing room personnel for a launch, usually being stationed at a telemetry facility, a display room or a tracking site for launch. She found this very disappointing, as she always wanted to feel the vibrations from a launch that her colleagues described.

But her desire to experience the incredible shockwave vibrations of a Saturn-V lift-off was finally achieved with the launch of Apollo-11. Recognising that Mrs. Morgan is his best communicator, Mr. Sendler quietly obtained permission from Dr. Debus for her to be the Instrumentation Controller on the console in the firing room for Apollo 11! (This achievement also had the bonus of working day shifts, so that she has been able to spend more time with her husband).

Can you spot the lone woman in a sea of men? In this picture of the Launch Control firing room during Apollo-11, Mrs. Morgan is in the third row, just to the left of centre.

A successful launch is critical to each mission and Mrs. Morgan believes that her prime role in the launch of the historic mission will help to further her career within NASA. Although she has not received the same level of press and television attention as Miss Northcutt, she does hope that even the photos of her in Launch Control – a lone woman in a sea of men – will help to inspire young women to aspire to careers in the space programme, so that, at some time in the future, photos like the ones she is in now “won’t exist anymore.”

Making Packed Lunches for Astronauts: Rita Rapp

You could say that the astronauts are the most fragile component of each Apollo mission. Nutrition is important in keeping crews healthy and functioning during a flight, so space food has to be as appetising as possible, within the constraints of spaceflight and the weightless environment – especially as missions to the Moon, and future space stations and lunar bases will keep astronauts in space for longer and longer periods. 

Physiologist Miss Rita Rapp, head of the Apollo Food Systems team, has been looking after the astronauts' bodies – and stomachs – since she joined NASA in 1960. For the Apollo programme, she has developed the space food and food stowage system designed to keep the astronauts supplied with the right mix of calories, vitamins, and nutrients to enable them to function well in space. One of her goals has been to ensure that crews have something worth eating during their spaceflights.

Rita Rapp with some of her space food innovations that have greatly improved the space food menu for Apollo astronauts

Born in 1928, Miss Rapp studied science at the University of Dayton and then took a Master’s in anatomy at the St. Louis University Graduate School of Medicine. She was one of the first women to enrol in this school. Graduating in 1953, she took a position in the Aeromedical laboratories at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, where she began assessing the effects of high g-forces on the human body, especially the blood and renal systems, using centrifuge systems.

In 1960 Miss Rapp joined NASA’s Space Task Group preparing for the Mercury manned spaceflight programme, later transferring to the Manned Spacecraft Centre in Houston. For the Mercury program, she continued her work on centrifugal effects on the human body. She also designed the first elastic exercisers for Mercury and Gemini missions, devised biological experiments for the astronauts to conduct in-flight, and developed the Gemini medical kit.

The first Gemini biological experiment, designed by Miss Rapp

From Aeromedicine to Space Food

In 1966, as the Apollo programme was ramping up, Miss Rapp joined the Apollo Food Systems team. Although she has continued to work on space health and hygiene projects, in her new role her primary focus became looking at systems for storing food onboard the Apollo spacecraft. Working with dieticians, and commercial companies, she has investigated the ways space food could be packaged and prepared, and become the main interface between NASA’s Food Lab and the astronauts.

Although she tries to use as much commercially available food as possible, Miss Rapp and her team are also continually experimenting with new recipes in the food lab, gradually replacing the earlier “tubes and cubes” style of space food used in Mercury and Gemini with meals that are closer to an everyday eating experience.

She has developed improved means of food preservation, such as dehydration, thermostabilisation, irradiation and moisture control, which allows for a wider range of foods to be suitable for spaceflight, and I have no doubt these useful technologies will find their way into commercial food preparation and onto our supermarket shelves in the not-too-distant future. 


Working with the Whirlpool Corporation, Miss Rapp has developed new forms of food packaging for Apollo, such as the spoon bowls, “wet packs” and cans for thermostabilised food. These containers enable astronauts to eat with more conventional utensils, instead of sucking food out of a tube or plastic bag. Creating a more natural, homelike eating experience is good for the astronauts’ morale and psychological health during missions. You can discover more about Miss Rapp's space food developments in my articles on the various Apollo missions. 

Miss Rapp takes great pride in providing the Apollo crews with the flavours and comforts of home. “I like to feed them what they like, because I want them healthy and happy,” she says. She takes note of their individual food preferences, often devises new recipes and prepares the individual meals of each Apollo astronaut separately. Her home-made sugar cookies, that she bakes herself, are a special favourite of Apollo crews, and additional supplies are included as snacks in the onboard food pantries of the Command and Lunar Modules. She also likes to provide the crews with special food “surprises”, such as the turkey dinner enjoyed by the Apollo-8 crew in lunar orbit on Christmas Eve last year.


Just the Beginning

The women of Apollo who I’ve discussed in this article are trailblazers for women’s participation in mathematics, engineering, and other technical aspects of spaceflight.  While they are not the only women in professional roles in the space sector, female participation in space careers, and in science, engineering, and technology more generally, is still very low.

I hope that by highlighting the exciting Apollo-related careers of the four women above, it will plant a seed in the minds of young girls reading the Journey that they, too, can aspire to careers in scientific and technological fields that are generally thought of only as careers for men. I also hope that growing levels of female participation in the workforce, together with feminist activism, will eventually consign the sexism, discrimination and harassment that women working in all careers experience at present, to the history books—though I won’t hold my breath on it happening any time soon.






[August 31, 1969] Over (and under) the Moon (September 1969 Analog)

photo of a man with glasses and curly, long, brown hair, and a beard and mustache
by Gideon Marcus

Being #2, they try…harder?

Last October, just after Apollo 7 went up, it looked as if the Soviets still had a chance at beating us to the Moon.  Their Zond 5, really a noseless Soyuz, had been sent around the Moon two months ahead of our Apollo 8 circumlunar flight.  Just a month later, the similar Zond 6 took off on November 16 and zoomed around the Moon before not just landing, but making a pinpoint landing in the Kazakh S.S.R. (near its launch site) with the aid of little wings.  Apparently, the prior Zond 5's splashing down in the Indian Ocean was not according to plan.

Shortly after the flight, the Soviets dropped the bombshell that Zond 6 could have been manned—and the next one might well be.

Well, as we all know, the Communists didn't beat us around the Moon.  Moreover, they didn't beat us to the Moon, either.  Remember all that talk about Luna 15 during the flight of Apollo 11?  That was the probe launched just before Columbia and Eagle, rumored to be a sample-return mission.  Well, it crashed into the aptly named Sea of Crises about 500 miles northeast of Eagle's landing site on July 21.  Had its mission been successful, the Soviets might have had bragging rights about getting the first batch of Moon rocks.

But, as the Ruskies found out after who knows how many unsuccessful Luna flights, only succeeding in 1966 with Luna 9, complicated maneuvers rarely work on the first time out.

That said, even with the clear American victory in the Moon race, the Soviets appear to still be going strong.  Earlier this month, Zond 7 sailed around the Earth's companion, landing on August 14.  Still no people onboard, but perhaps they worked out the communications troubles that reportedly plagued the last two Zond missions.

Whether these Zond flights presage an upcoming attempt with people onboard remains to be seen.  According to former NASA chief Jim Webb, the Soviets are also building a super rocket, which they will use to put cosmonauts on the Moon.  Put two and two together, and perhaps the early 70s will see the USSR catch up to and surpass the US.

Unless we get to Mars first…

Being #1, they've stopped trying

Analog has, for decades now, kept the title of the most-read science fiction magazine on the market.  On the other hand, editor John Campbell has been sitting on his laurels for a long time, producing an unexciting periodical for the past several years.  The latest issue of Analog only adds more fuel to the argument that perhaps it is time for the old don to step down and let someone vigorous take his place—at least to bring the magazine into the 1960s!


by Kelly Freas

Your Haploid Heart, by James Tiptree, Jr.


by Kelly Freas

A two-man team is sent from Earth to the planet of Esthaa.  Their mission: to determine of the humanoid inhabitants are, well, human.  The results may put to bed the two competing theories that explain the ubiquity of the human form in the galaxy: common evolution and random scattering, or independent, convergent evolution.

The Esthaans are a robust, beautiful people, but there is something somehow phony about them.  Meanwhile, they seem to be on the verge of completing a genocide against the primitive Flenns…who also appear to be a type of human.

What is the connection between the two races?  And why have the civilized Esthaans developed such an antipathy for the pathetic Flenns?  And is an earlier Terran expedition somehow the cause of all this?

There's some interesting biology wrapped up in this story (as suggested by the title), and since biology is not my specialty, I can't even begin to speculate how plausible it is.  But it's an interesting story, well-written, and easily the best I've read from newcomer Tiptree.

Four stars.

Starman, by W. Macfarlane


by Leo Summers

The assistant fifth mate on an interstellar tramp freighter decides to jump ship on a backwater world.  The natives have reverted to savagery after once having broadcast power and space travel.

Said starman soon learns that Stone Age living isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Luckily, there are a few relics of the old days left at his disposal.

This is a fun, if inconsequential, story.  The writing is breezy, fun, and tongue-in-cheek, though the casual slurs are somewhat offputting.  I'm also getting very tired of humans, humans everywhere instead of true E-Ts.

Three stars.

The Big Boosters of the U.S.S.R., by G. Harry Stine

Speaking of the Soviet super-booster—amateur rocketeer Stine conjectures as to the configuration and capability of the USSR's rocket stable.  Of course, given how secretive the Russians are, there's a lot of guesswork involved.

I appreciated it, but I have to wonder how accurate he is.  In particular, I'm not sure why he believes that Soyuz 1 was launched on a different rocket from the later Soyuz missions.  I've seen nothing to that effect.  Maybe he's talking about whatever is shooting up Zonds around the Moon.  Those are, after all, just stripped down Soyuzes.

Anyway, four stars.  We'll see how right he is in a decade or so…

Damper, by E. G. Von Wald


by Peter Skirka

A tyro hotshot joins the Weather Control Bureau and is dispatched to a small, Arabian country.  When a Soviet incursion threatens the peace, he shifts the focus of his rain-making efforts from irrigation to interdiction.

Aside from the casual and constant male chauvinism, I have a hard time buying weather control as an SFnal theme, particularly so thinly sketched out as it is in this story.  Orbital lasers (don't those count as space-based weapons?) pumped a lot of heat into the atmosphere to evaporate ocean water and create onshore winds—that heat doesn't go away.  What happens when the Earth warms up by several degrees thanks to all that extra heat?  Beyond that, the technique wouldn't work anyway: it takes more than wet air to make rain; you need some kind of condensate material.  That's why planes seed clouds with silver iodide so the water has something to coalesce around to make droplets.

Two stars.

Stimulus-Response, by Herbert Jacob Bernstein


by Kelly Freas

A trio of scientists are using electrodes and encephalograms to record brain patterns.  The goal is to train a dog to use specific thoughts to trigger its food dish.  In the process, the researchers accidentally teach the beagle how to telekinese.

Not only is this story a turgid bit of pseudo-engineering, but then it abandons science entirely to enter the region of Campbell's beloved psi.  Look, I can sort of enjoy psionics if I treat them like a kind of magic, but when they're mixed in with engineering to get a patina of respectability—and the story is deadly dull to boot—well, there's only one score for it.

One star.

In His Image, by Robert Chilson


by Leo Summers

A biologist synthesizes the first androids—they are human in all respects, save for their satyr-form lower halves.  Bred to be performers, they have been conscious just six months, but have the minds of college professors and the bodies of nubile goddesses.  When the Actors' Guild sues for an injunction against their use in the entertainment business citing unfair competition, a friendly reporter purchases one of them despite the fact that they are sentient and, for all intents and purposes, human. The goal is to force the courts to declare the androids fully human and thus exempt from measures against discrimination.

The question of whether or not androids are people has frequently been explored in science fiction, from the sublime Synth to the less than perfectly successful Trek episode Requiem for Methuselah.  Chilson's tale is… well, it's dull and kind of stupid.  The androids have no personality save for interchangeable sex kitten, the writing is uninspired, and the universe implausible.  It's not even clear what point Chilson is trying to make, so muddied are all the story's elements.  In the end, the plot of the story, such as it is, seems only to exist so we can have a trio of jiggly goat girls mincing around.

One star.

The Visitors, by Jack Wodhams


by Kelly Freas

Terrans land on the first inhabitable world ever found and make first contact with the natives.  Turns out "primitive" doesn't mean "defenseless."

This would be a two-star story, inoffensive but not noteworthy, except for the sheer number of words Wodhams wastes getting to his point.  Twenty pages that could easily have been condensed to, I dunno, five.

One star.

Crashlanding

Well, like the Soviets, Analog is churning issues out that look like winners, but really are just unimpressive retreads.  This one clocks in at 2.4, which is higher than Galaxy (2.2), but lower than Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.7), Visions of Tomorrow (2.8), Amazing (2.9). If (3.0), New Worlds (3.3).

Only one new piece of fiction was written by a woman, and if you took all the decent stuff published this month, you'd only be able to fill two digests—and that's with the extra paperback anthology this month.  Whither short SF?  Whither the Soviet space program?

I guess we'll see what happens next month…