Outposts on the Frontier: A Fifty-Year History of Space Stations (Outward Odyssey: A People's History of Spaceflight) Read online

  “From Salyut, Skylab, and Mir to the International Space Station: with each passing orbit we learn and benefit from accumulated data and ongoing studies not only relating to our precious, fragile environment but the human physiology and possible long-term consequences for astronauts on protracted space missions beyond Earth orbit. This book highlights the incredible history of the orbiting vehicles that enable us to continue that crucial work: the space stations.”

  —Duane Graveline (1931–2016), NASA scientist-astronaut and author of Surly Bonds and From Laika with Love

  “Essential reading for anyone wanting to look beyond our early crewed space shots into the fascinating realm of a half century of international science missions aboard orbiting space laboratories.”

  —Jonathan Ward, author of Rocket Ranch and Countdown to a Moon Launch

  “I am personally delighted that Jay Chladek has written such a well-researched and authoritative book on the global history of space stations for the outstanding Outward Odyssey series. It will be a very welcome addition to the series and my bookcase.”

  —Manfred (“Dutch”) von Ehrenfried, NASA flight controller (1961–68) and support contractor to the Space Station Program Office (1984–96)

  “Team spirit and solidarity: these are the fundamentals for any successful multiperson spaceflight. I once trained hard for a mission to the Salyut 7 orbiting space laboratory, and I know that working aboard any space station, particularly the International Space Station, depends on a truly cooperative effort. This book will give you insight to that wonderfully productive and beneficial international history.”

  —Lt. Col. Patrick Baudry, French Air Force (ret.), Airbus senior test pilot and STS-51G cosmonaut and astronaut

  Outposts on the Frontier

  Outward Odyssey

  A People’s History of Spaceflight

  Series editor

  Colin Burgess

  Outposts on the Frontier

  A Fifty-Year History of Space Stations

  Jay Chladek

  Foreword by Clayton C. Anderson

  University of Nebraska Press | Lincoln & London

  © 2017 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska

  Cover designed by University of Nebraska Press; cover image courtesy NASA.

  All rights reserved

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017940995

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To Alice Anderson

  and

  James M. Busby

  One helped to teach future generations, while the other helped them to learn the history of the future

  Contents

  List of Illustrations

  Foreword

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  1. Humble Beginnings

  2. Chelomei and Almaz

  3. Salyut

  4. The Apollo Applications Project

  5. The Rocky Road to Salyut Success

  6. On-Orbit Diplomacy

  7. Salyut Endurance!

  8. European Participation

  9. Soviet Space Station Mir

  10. The Odd Couple

  11. The International Space Station

  12. Columbia

  13. Construction Resumes

  14. Final Construction

  Epilogue

  Sources

  Index

  Illustrations

  1. Wernher von Braun’s wheeled space station concept from 1952

  2. Manned Orbiting Laboratory concept

  3. Fourteen of the seventeen MOL astronauts selected

  4. The first MOL test launch

  5. Illustration of the MOL

  6. Showing how the MOL’s optics could examine alternative areas on the ground

  7. Vladimir Chelomei

  8. Minister Dmitry Ustinov

  9. Chelomei’s UR-500 Proton

  10. The Almaz system

  11. Almaz and the Soyuz spacecraft

  12. Konstantin Feoktistov

  13. The first civilian station

  14. The Soyuz 11 crew

  15. George Mueller

  16. A 1968 drawing of the S-IVB wet workshop

  17. Illustration of Skylab

  18. Skylab’s first crew

  19. Skylab’s missing micrometeoroid shield and jammed solar wing

  20. Skylab as it appeared after deployment of the parasol

  21. Skylab’s second crew

  22. Skylab’s final crew

  23. Glushko merged Korolev’s design bureau with his own

  24. Salyut 3 shown docked with a Soyuz ferry

  25. Salyut 4 featured a few differences from previous stations

  26. The official ASTP crew portrait

  27. Crews practicing a handshake

  28. Photos of the ASTP spacecraft

  29. Salyut 6

  30. The Orlan suit

  31. Remek and Gubarev

  32. Both Salyut 6 and 7 docked with Chelomei’s TKS spacecraft

  33. Concept artwork of Spacelab

  34. A diagram of the hardware that formed the Spacelab system

  35. Spacelab 1 crew in orbit

  36. The Spacelab 3 crew inside a training mock-up

  37. The Mir core module

  38. Illustration showing how the Kvant 2 module was moved

  39. Mir in 1990 with Kvant 1, Kvant 2, and Kristall modules docked

  40. Space shuttle Atlantis docked with Mir on STS-71

  41. The complete Mir complex

  42. Damage to Spektr after the Progress collision

  43. The American-built Unity node

  44. The crew of ISS Expedition 1

  45. Photo of the New York–New Jersey area on 11 September 2001

  46. The STS-107 crew inside the Spacehab lab module

  47. The ISS as it looked from late 2002 to 2006

  48. The ISS EMU

  49. SAFER unit

  50. Scott Parazynski on the OBSS arm extension

  51. The ISS as viewed from STS-124

  52. Expedition 20 crewmembers

  53. The completed ISS with space shuttle Endeavour docked to it

  54. Expedition 30 liftoff from the Baikonur Cosmodrome’s Site No. 1

  Foreword

  I have known Jay Chladek for about a decade. Essentially acquainted through the Strategic Air Command and Aerospace Museum, located just off Interstate 80 in my home town of Ashland, Nebraska, Jay and my mother Alice were frequent attendees at various museum events. Recognizing in each other in a simultaneous zeal for space, along with an overwhelming desire to occupy front-row seats (Mom didn’t want to look at the back of Jay’s head), they continued to strike up conversations at book signings and lectures, most notably those by NASA astronauts. It was through their developing friendship—further enhanced by my standing as Nebraska’s first and only astronaut—and the completion of my first mission to the space station in 2007 that we would meet and ultimately become friends.

  As an astronaut, I had the wonderful privilege of flying in space . . . twice. While the hours spent orbiting Earth were memorable, far more hours were spent between the countries of the United States and Russia—key training locations for any astronaut destined for the International Space Station (ISS). How interesting that during the time of my training and spaceflights, the United States and Russia would work together as space-
faring partners rather than competitors. These were two prideful space programs, the envy of the entire world. Driven almost solely by the enormous number of dedicated people toiling behind the scenes, they were all working together, half a world apart. They had a single—and remarkably easy-to-state—goal: the safe delivery and return of humans to outer space, including protecting and sustaining these beings known as astronauts and cosmonauts as they lived and worked side by side in space for months at a time. A goal not so easy to execute, these prideful nations were faced with political and financial woes on the ground, catalyzed by the oft-antagonistic relationship of the upper levels of their respective governments.

  I was given a remarkable gift: the chance to see things from both sides. Working at NASA from the very early days of the space shuttle program, before one day joining the astronaut corps and flying in space, I was a ticket-holding spectator of sorts, watching two rival superpowers come together through a program we called the ISS.

  Jay’s book, Outposts on the Frontier, chronicles a large part of this historical transformation. Much as he does while building intricate scale models of flying and space vehicles, Chladek provides the reader with intricate, precise details, covering nearly everything happening in space over the past fifty years. Analogous to the tight-fitting pieces and in-depth paint jobs of one of his model projects, Jay gives the astute reader a deep, interlocking look behind the scenes, clearly illustrating the processes that allowed the program to fall into place. In Jay’s own words, “It is kind of like a big tapestry of international developments . . . the relationship between Russia and America seeming like an episode of The Odd Couple, with the European Space Agency, Canada, and Japan coming along for the ride. Everyone seems to be working together because they don’t have the ability to go it alone anymore.”

  You will put down this book a much smarter reader than the day you started!

  Live long . . . and prosper!

  Clayton C. Anderson

  Acknowledgments

  When I was first approached to write this book in late 2007, the task seemed like a relatively easy one that would only take maybe three years at most. I jumped at the challenge, to write my first space-history book. Little did I know what I was in for, but honestly I wouldn’t change anything for the world. It has been quite an adventure.

  As I write this, it has been nearly a decade since it all began, and finally the fruits of my labor now sit in your hands. The work took longer than expected, but the story was able to benefit from recent events, specifically the decision by the National Reconnaissance Office to declassify portions of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory program. So I would say the wait was worth it.

  I have many people to thank for their assistance, the first one being Colin Burgess, who sent me that first email all those years ago asking me to take on this project. Another shout-out goes to Robert Pearlman, the creator and moderator of collectSPACE.com, who I am pretty sure provided some input about me to help influence Colin’s decision. Sincere thanks also go to the University of Nebraska Press not only for approving me as Colin’s choice but also for continuing to expand the Outward Odyssey book series. Even if I hadn’t been asked to personally take part in it, I still would have every other book sitting on my shelf at home, as the work done by the other authors in the series has been first-rate.

  I also extend thanks to the tireless work of the media-relations people at both the Johnson Space Center and the Kennedy Space Center, who helped me to obtain the proper credentials and access to the facilities. One person in particular I am eternally indebted to is Gayle Frere. She helped to schedule and coordinate my interviews at the Johnson Space Center on multiple occasions and did what she could to accommodate my wishes, even though I was a relatively unknown author at the time.

  Another shout-out goes to the library and records people who are the keepers of the archives for NASA’s Johnson Space Center, at the University of Houston–Clear Lake. They were most helpful in locating research on my behalf and helping to find materials that perhaps have not seen the light of day in over three decades. Others I have to thank include the engineers, space workers, and astronauts I interviewed in person, since this story is ultimately theirs.

  As for others whom I need to thank by name, they include Bert Vis, who was most kind to allow me access to his astronaut and cosmonaut interview transcripts through Colin Burgess. Special thanks also go to Francis French, whose numerous contributions include helping grant me access to the archives section at the San Diego Air and Space Museum. Still others include Clay and Susan Anderson, T. J. Creamer, Emily Carney of the Space Hipsters Facebook group, Kim and Sally Poor of Spacefest, Geoffrey Bowman, and Manny Gutsche. A special shout-out goes to Bill Grush, proprietor of the gone, yet not forgotten, Star Realm bookshop. There are plenty of others I want to thank as well, but I don’t have enough space to list them all.

  Finally, I would like to save the last bit of thanks for my family. My parents, Gary and Mary Ann, have been most patient and supportive, even during the hard days. My sister, Joanie, and my brother, Jeff, have also found ways (both direct and indirect) to keep me on the right path. Thanks to you all.

  Introduction

  The surface of the earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean. On this shore, we’ve learned most of what we know. Recently we’ve waded a little way out, maybe ankle deep . . . and the water seems inviting.

  —Carl Sagan (1934–96)

  When the Soviet Union and the United States began flying humans into space in 1961, it seemed as though the path was clear for the exploration of our new frontier. To most Americans who grew up reading Collier’s magazine and watching Walt Disney’s Man into Space television series hosted by Dr. Wernher von Braun, the logical path laid out after the first proving flights would include the construction of manned outposts in Earth orbit. These outposts would serve to look down on our planet for study, for reconnaissance of threat countries, and to help build and fuel spacecraft for longer expeditions. Only after this logical step was taken would humankind begin its journey to the moon and beyond.

  Of course, it didn’t quite happen that way. On 25 May 1961, during a special joint session of Congress, U.S. president John F. Kennedy firmly put America’s sights on “landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth” within the decade. At that point, the goal was not so much to just explore space but to try to achieve a space first over the Soviet Union, who at the time seemed to be firmly in the lead with the accomplishments of Sputnik’s launch in 1957 and Yuri Gagarin’s single orbit of Earth a few short weeks before Alan Shepard’s suborbital spaceflight. The goal would have serious repercussions in both the United States and the Soviet Union, many of which are felt to this day. Both countries would have to sidestep the seemingly logical approach to spaceflight and expend their efforts into reaching the moon as soon as possible. As history has shown, the United States succeeded in the lunar-landing goal, while the Soviets fell short of that achievement.

  By the start of the 1970s, the focus had turned to Earth orbit and long-term manned missions with space laboratories. For the Soviets, it would initially be another way to score a space first and divert attention away from their lack of lunar-mission success. For the United States, it would be a way to utilize hardware drawn from the Apollo program in a cost-effective manner, keeping NASA’s astronauts in orbit and the workforce intact while development work began on the space shuttle. The hope of NASA at the time was that the shuttle would serve as a transportation and assembly vehicle, ferrying equipment to and from the next generation of space stations. After many years, that finally happened, but not before the shuttle became a premiere space laboratory of its own.

  Along the way, some interesting things happened. The path initially envisioned by the Americans and the Soviets didn’t quite take place as each side expected. At one point, both countries became partners in an initial joint space mission before political ideologies forced them to again pursue different directions for anoth
er two decades. It wouldn’t be until after the Soviet Union fell that both NASA and the Russian space agency would again look to performing missions together. Additional countries would join in with the superpowers to make space exploration a truly international endeavor, with each one contributing something unique to the venture.

  There were also parallel space station programs at work with more basic goals in mind—offshoots of the Cold War built with the intention of gathering intelligence at altitudes where one couldn’t easily shoot down the vehicle collecting it. For the United States the vehicle was known as the Manned Orbiting Laboratory, or MOL. For the Soviets, the vehicle was called Almaz. Ultimately, only one of these observation platforms would orbit the planet, but both programs eventually provided valuable contributions to the stations and laboratories that would come along later, in ways likely not dreamed of by their creators.

  At a glance, many don’t consider the space station programs to be all that worthwhile compared to what had been done before. Public perception tends to regard station and shuttle missions as little more than astronauts floating around Earth for several weeks spending taxpayers’ money with little to show for it. Our cultures have been brought up to regard progress or success as being something tangible, with a prize at the end, as opposed to something open-ended for the purpose of knowledge itself. A destination on some new world is something we can understand, while Earth orbit seems more like a place already visited, complete with a giant billboard that says, “Yuri Gagarin and John Glenn were here.”

  So the construction and operation of space stations and laboratories tend to generate about as much interest among the general public as a new office building going up in a city. After they are built, not many people really understand what goes on inside or care too much, unless they happen to work in the building. To put it into perspective, think about some of the petroleum and pharmaceutical companies that sponsor public-television programs in the United States, such as the Public Broadcasting System’s Nova. You see the advertisements that showcase the flashy graphics and imagery while a scientist talks about something he or she might be working on that could improve how we live. But other than that, can people really describe what these companies do in their labs? Day in and day out, all anyone sees are the people going to work in the morning and coming home in the evening. It is no different with space-program coverage, as only the launches and landings tend to attract live coverage, while the day-to-day activities might only yield thirty seconds on the evening news or the back page of the newspaper if there is anything “important” or unusual to report.