Arrays of Heaven by Timothy J Gaddo - HTML preview

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Chapter 30

1972-1976

nce Sagan had chosen the off-Earth option for his energy O quest, Kennedy named it, “Earth-Orbiting Energy Stations.”

While Sagan was elbows deep in billions and billions of engineering challenges, Kennedy was engaged in the political and public relations challenges. The gargantuan project could not exist without the approval of numerous state and federal agencies, and to a greater extent, the public at large, who worried that the massive installations that would spin in orbit above their planet might endanger themselves, their children, or grandchildren. Kennedy faced stiff opposition until a reporter quoted him as having quipped that the energy from space would be, “like getting manna from Heaven.”

Everyone from the Sagan Teams, the media, and the public began referring to the project as Heaven. Heaven was easier to say than Earth-Orbiting Energy Stations. It was a positive word with good connotations. The thought of having Heaven all around us didn’t scare people. While Kennedy still encountered resistance, it was of the type he could overcome with skilled applications of the proper inducements, an art at which JFK had become increasingly profi-cient.

The strategizing over Heaven occurred while NASA was developing the Space Transportation System—aka the STS, or Space 238

Shuttle. The success of both projects depended on the same advanced technologies, which made it inevitable that scientists and tradesmen from one project routinely crossed over to work on the other project, a practice not encouraged, but neither was it discouraged. Thus, they laid the foundation for a continuity of skills and knowledge, if not purpose, between the two projects. Even though they differed vastly in terms of creation, funding, and administration, everyone understood that there had never been two large-scale projects so made for each other. A match made in Heaven, one might say.

“There is, however, a problem,” Carl told JFK, as they enjoyed a sunset at the cape, one of the rare times JFK had convinced Carl to take a day off. “The optimum orbit for Heaven PV arrays is a little over 3000 miles above Earth’s surface. The highest orbit the STS will reach is about 600 miles. To go higher would take more fuel…”

“Ah, and we’d need more fuel to lift the extra weight of that extra fuel, right?” Kennedy said.

“Bingo. You’re starting to get the hang of this stuff.”

“Hanging around you too much. Occupational hazard. Have any ideas?”

The engineers who designed the STS struggled with this cruel conundrum. Even by limiting themselves to a 600-mile high orbit, they still had to strap the shuttle to a massive liquid fuel tank and two solid fuel boosters. They designed the external fuel modules to drop away after they burned the fuel within, leaving the shuttle lighter, and at mission altitude. The shuttle would then have enough fuel left onboard to allow maneuvering to carry out the mission, and to position the shuttle to deorbit and reenter Earth’s atmosphere, where it would glide, powerless, to its intended landing target. Sagan knew he would have to find a solution.

“Well, several other space cargo vehicles are under development. Germany, Sweden and Japan are tweaking thrusters, trying to squeeze out more lift per pound of fuel. They may gain a few percent, but it doesn’t look like it’ll do us any good.”

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“What else?”

“Oh, high altitude air launch, blast wave accelerator, ion propulsion, and electromagnetic acceleration are some possibilities.”

“Tell me about each of them,” Kennedy said. So, Carl told him, because he’d learned from Kennedy, too.

The two men had kept in close contact from the beginning.

Kennedy made it a point to visit Carl at least once a month, traveling to wherever Carl was working, and they conversed by phone more often. Kennedy would listen and ask sharp, specific questions. If Carl expressed concern about the wisdom of pursuing one idea or another, Kennedy would often write down Carl’s options. Then, usually a few days later, he might call Carl and say, “You know, I’ve been thinking about that problem you mentioned, and I think you should go with option B.”

The first time that had happened, Carl asked Kennedy why he chose option B, and JFK said, “Why, my crystal ball, of course.”

That first time, and the time after that, Carl treated Kennedy’s opinion the way any self-respecting scientist would treat a statement from someone who cited a crystal ball as the authority.

Kennedy spoke of his fictional crystal ball only to Carl. Carl thought of it as Kennedy’s way of saying he had a hunch. Kennedy enjoyed baiting Carl with the crystal ball boast, knowing Carl was the one person he could count upon never to take it seriously. He hoped he could save Carl some time by pointing to the best option, based on a hint he had gleaned during one or more sessions with his legal pad, but he couldn’t very well tell that to Carl. Exposing the physicist’s well-ordered mind to all the unknowns inherent in the pads would open the door to chaos, of that he was certain. Therefore, he used a euphemism he knew Carl would easily dismiss, while allowing Kennedy the satisfaction of alluding to the truth; he didn’t think there was much theoretical difference between his pads and an actual, functioning crystal ball.

Those first times Kennedy offered an opinion, Carl wasted time exploring other options, only to have Kennedy’s choice turn out to be the best solution. He didn’t know how a man with no scientific 240

background could sort through all the conflicting data to select the best of the lot, but after seeing him do it Carl had to accept it as a fact. It didn’t mean Kennedy would choose wisely the next time, but Carl learned to take a serious look at Kennedy’s opinions. He was even disappointed those times when Kennedy did not call him with one of his hunches, but he accepted that as further evidence that the former president’s opinions were just lucky guesses, worth considering, but not a reason to reorder his scientific convictions.

Carl had been struggling with the problem of gaining the higher orbit for the PV arrays. It was a major part of the overall project, and he wasn’t sure he liked any of his options. He had already decided which of the technologies he would begin pursuing, but he wanted to give Kennedy a chance to either validate his decision, or point out another option he should look at more closely. He had accepted Kennedy’s invitation to the cape so he could pitch the options to him in person. The men talked late into the night. Kennedy took copious notes, much to Carl’s satisfaction.

The next morning Carl left the Cape to resume his work. He waited anxiously for two days. When the call came, he broke out in a cold sweat while Kennedy ambled through five minutes of other issues before finally confirming Carl’s first choice. Carl hung up and shouted, “Hallelujah.”

Ion propulsion was conceived in the early 1900s, and NASA had performed experiments with ion thrusters as recently as the 1960s. This engine uses propellants such as xenon, ammonia or hy-drogen gas to emit electrically charged molecules, to create thrust.

It creates ultra-low levels of thrust, so it’s not suitable for lifting an object into space. It does, however, create ultra-high efficiencies, up to twenty times the thrust per unit of weight compared to conventional fuels, so once an object has achieved a certain altitude in space, an ion drive could accelerate the craft to higher altitudes with little fuel. It also runs on electricity, which would be readily available using the PV array technology the Sagan Teams were designing.

In 1972, Sagan put a large team of scientists and technicians to 241

work perfecting an ion drive. The interrelationships between NASA and Heaven engineers made it clear from the beginning that the ion drive research focused on a drive system that could operate in a space cargo vehicle. In the early years, the STS and Heaven had not committed to each other. STS was just one of several cargo systems under consideration. He and Kennedy watched, with great interest, plans that several other nations were developing for their own versions of space cargo vehicles. At the same time, NASA officials collected proposals from other industries and countries for projects, missions and payloads looking for a ride into orbit. By 1975, however, Sagan believed STS was the system most likely to be opera-tional when the first components for PV stations would need a boost into orbit. He convinced Kennedy to get serious about securing an agreement with NASA, even though the earliest launch was five years or more away.

Kennedy acted on his friend’s advice, and on July 3, 1976, a date chosen to coincide with the Bicentennial celebration, officials from NASA and the CASE Foundation ended their courtship and signed documents committing themselves to each other.

According to the agreement, government payloads critical to security or safety would receive first rights to cargo space on any scheduled launch. The rest belonged to Sagan, if he committed at least eighteen months in advance of each planned launch. The CASE Foundation would pay for that space even if payload were not prepared and delivered to NASA in time for the launch. NASA would waive that payment if they could contract for other payloads on short notice, a possibility that was likely, given the growing list of proposals NASA was collecting. At signing, NASA had plans to build four shuttles, with options for a larger fleet dependent upon the success of early flights, as well as how the market developed for shuttle type vehicles. Securing the contract for the heavy lifting of Heaven project made the market for such vehicles look suddenly brighter.

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