AirSpaceMag.com

The Falcon 9 launch vehicle (SpaceX/Chris Thompson)

If things go according to plan Saturday, the world will witness SpaceX launch its first Dragon cargo supply mission to the International Space Station.  As this flight has been heralded as the dawn of a new age in spaceflight – a paradigm shift in the way the spaceflight is approached – it is appropriate to step back for some reflection and perspective on what this flight may or may not represent.  As noted by many, this particular cargo flight has a lot riding on it – with overarching concern for success (even if a bit unfair), created in part both by vociferous advocacy and excessive public pronouncements.

1.  A successful or unsuccessful result from this flight neither confirms nor negates the value and/or viability of commercial spaceflight.

This proposition should be obvious.  Launch to orbit is an inherently difficult and risky endeavor.  Even launch vehicles with long histories of reliable flight fail, sometimes with distressing frequency.  We tend to think that space access should be routine but that appearance is deceiving; spaceflight is never routine, simply because orbital flight is possible only on the very edge of our capability.  Think of it as carrying a heavy load of luggage while ice skating – you may know how to do it and you may even pull it off successfully a number of times, but if you start taking it for granted, a fall on the posterior is quite likely (with this eventuality more probable in the early stages of the endeavor).

Looked at in another way, a successful mission does not “prove” the case for commercial human spaceflight (the case for commercial unmanned space launch has long since been proven) nor does it negate its feasibility.  The real issue with commercial human spaceflight is the existence of a market.  Right now, such a market does not exist.  New Space advocates have unlimited faith that one will emerge, but hope is not a business plan.  It will take years of successful commercial launches (and safe returns) for the creation of a genuine commercial market.  The uncertainties in the future legal status of commercial human spaceflight is enough to give one pause – contemplate the likely consequences following the first fatal accident in a commercial human spaceflight, after the ambulance chasers get their teeth into the flesh of every company who ever had anything whatsoever to do with the flight.

2.  The creation of SpaceX capability is not “commercial” in the sense that we in the capitalist United States of America understand it.  Likewise, a government space program is not “socialism.”

The word commercial has been re-branded.  Previously, in most entrepreneurs’ way of thinking, “commercial” enterprise meant that a person or group drew up a business plan, raised private capital and shouldered the financial risk in an attempt to make a profit by providing a product or service.  The understanding of the term “commercial space” has been stretched to encompass a business plan where a start-up company requests (and expects) government subsidies on their promise of future delivery of a product and/or service.  Because it’s not “run” by the government, this form of government-sponsored crony capitalism is now deemed “commercial.”   Financial tweaking is not how most would understand or define a new paradigm in space travel.

Typically during the last 50 years of our federal civil space program, we were working toward some clearly articulated, reachable (that adjective is important) goal on some kind of timetable.  Because spaceflight, particularly the manned variety, was considered to be dangerous and technically cutting edge, the program was more of an engineering research program than the deployment of an operational transportation system.  Such R&D has important national security and economic ramifications and as such, fits perfectly under the constitutional requirement for the federal government to provide for the common defense and promote economic development.  If that’s “socialism,” then America has been a socialist country from its founding.

3. True commercial space firms exist, but they are pursuing their goals quietly and generally without excessive hype.  They do not rely on government money to support their R&D costs.

Burt Rutan developed Space Ship One for Paul Allen in order to win the Ansari X-Prize (and did) and is currently developing a new spacecraft for Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic suborbital spaceline.  Robert Bigelow’s company took a discarded NASA design for inflatable spacecraft and is developing a future commercial space station, available for sale of lease (it’s the transportation problem to and from his station that’s holding him back.)  None of these efforts are taking the King’s shilling – they are developing hardware and capability themselves.  It’s interesting that unlike some New Space firms, they tend to make fewer public pronouncements and the ones they do make are both substantive and realistic (you tend to operate that way when you’re risking your own nickel).

4.  The process of contracting with “commercial” firms to carry payloads into orbit is not a space policy.

This last item is obvious, but only if you’re not getting your news exclusively from the space media.  Even if SpaceX is completely successful, all we will have done is to add another player to the existing roster of supply vehicles that enable the occupation and use of the ISS.  Since discarding the Vision for Space Exploration over two years ago, we have no long-term goal or strategic direction for our civil space program.  The pre-existing Commercial Crew and Cargo Program has been billed as a “new direction” but it is simply a utilitarian effort to keep an existing program going, not a new path or direction to follow.  Mirages of human missions to asteroids and following a “flexible path” will produce pointless viewgraph engineering – and no missions getting off the ground.  At least with the VSE, the nation knew where, when and why we were going.

Even as we hope for a successful SpaceX launch and return, it is vital that America recognize that our government has no space policy or strategic direction – commercial or otherwise.  From both a security and an economic perspective, this is a dangerous situation for our nation.

The near-Earth asteroid, Eros.

There’s quite a buzz in space policy circles over the recent announcement of the creation of a new company that intends to survey, study and mine near Earth asteroids (NEAs).  Given my previous advocacy regarding the desirability of learning how to extract and use off-planet resources, many people have asked me to weigh in with my opinion of their proposed business plan.  I’d like to frame my remarks around Michael Listner’s recent piece on the possible legal issues involved in the plan as he has illuminated an interesting angle on the project.

The roll-out of the business plan of Planetary Resources Inc. made a big media splash, as is typical for many of these “New Space” private operations.  Close examination reveals the outline of a plan, but the technical details are rather fuzzy.  Given that no business should reveal too much detail about their plans lest they lose their competitive advantage, the company’s reticence is not too surprising.  To summarize it in broad terms, the plan is to launch a space-based telescope, dedicated to identifying candidate NEAs; at least initially, the main interest seems to be metal asteroids (presumably those rich in metallic elements of economic value, including gold and platinum) and water-bearing asteroids.  The former would have significant economic value in terrestrial markets, providing the possibility of high, near-term payback for investors.  The latter would have value for future in-space operations and could be sold to both national governments and to the private sector, presuming that such markets develop.

The next step involves sending robotic prospectors to the best candidate bodies to survey them, determine their physical, chemical and mineralogical make up, and identify the best targets for resource extraction.  The last step involves snagging a small asteroid (possibly several tons in total mass) and tow it back to cislunar space where Earth-based, teleoperated robotic machines can process and refine the material for sale.  This last step contains the most open questions.  Although such a mission can be envisioned in principle, it is technically out of reach at the present time.  However, I envision no particular show stoppers here – practical details of the material processing and handling these materials in microgravity are the biggest unknowns, but even these issues can be addressed and mitigated before any NEA is retrieved through the execution of some carefully designed experiments in low Earth orbit.

But then what?  This – as always is the case when human endeavors begin in earnest – is where the lawyers come in.

Listner’s article suggests that the proposed activity of capturing and processing an asteroid falls outside the current bounds of any outer space legal regime.  He recalls that the terms of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty (to which the United States is a signatory) prohibits claims of national sovereignty over extraterrestrial objects.  Space mining companies will be subject to the laws of the nation in which they are incorporated and thus, bound to the terms of any international treaty that nation has ratified.  While national ownership of outer space assets is prohibited by the 1967 treaty, the treaty is silent on private ownership.  Thus, the treaty is open to interpretation and subject to the philosophical and economic predilections of the parties involved.  One thing is certain however – if anyone ever does this, they are guaranteed to face protracted litigation that will no doubt take years (and many billable hours) to wind its way through the courts.

Listner goes on to describe issues with liability, mostly in relation to possible damages caused by future space operations or to existing space-based assets.  However, other more alarming scenarios are possible (e.g., suppose a retrieved NEA collides with the Earth during its arrival in cislunar space?)  Although no specific conclusions are drawn, the foreshadowing is a prerequisite for private companies to post a surety bond, one potentially of enormous scale.  If nothing else, such a requirement would certainly put a crimp in many new commercialization plans.

The infamous (at least in space circles) Moon Treaty is the last legal issue discussed by Listner.  In brief, this treaty prohibits private ownership of space bodies and demands that any profits from resource extraction from these bodies be “distributed” amongst the nations of the world.  This document was submitted to the United States Senate in 1980 for ratification and was defeated, thanks to a vigorous educational campaign by the L-5 Society.  Thus, thirty-two years ago, the United States (and also other major space faring nations, including Russia and China) rejected the Moon Treaty.  However, from the standpoint of most lawyers, the treaty has been ratified by 17 nations, giving it the full force of international law.  Considering the multinational make-up of many companies and that their corporate assets can be frozen or in some extreme cases seized (sometimes for entirely specious or arbitrary reasons), the legal status of the use and ownership of extracted space resources must be considered seriously.

Where does this legal confusion leave the prospects for the economic development of the Solar System?  That is unclear at the moment.  In broad terms, business does not like legal uncertainty to a degree usually in direct proportion to the amount of money involved.  For both technical and legal reasons, it is highly unlikely that there will be a “gold rush in space.” The technical issues are substantial (particularly for the Planetary Resources Inc. plan) but the legal ones are no less so.  In part, this is why I favor making the determination of how to extract and use off-planet resources a central goal of the American civil space program.  Note well: I do not say that we should turn NASA into a space mining company.  Rather, the role of government is to undertake technically risky ventures with the aim of determining how difficult they might be and to settle any thorny legal issues that may arise.  Questions of international law can only be addressed and settled by national governments – through agreements, treaties, new law and if need be, by stronger actions.  No private sector corporation has this inherent ability – only national governments can resolve these issues.  If such issues are resolved, the private sector can then successfully proceed and grow their businesses and governments will profit too.

I applaud both the vision and the chutzpah of Planetary Resources Inc.  For now, their plan to launch and operate a space-based telescope to map asteroids and locate promising prospects is a good start.  They may even manage to eventually send a probe of two for a close-up examination of a couple of NEAs.  As for the last piece of their plan, at this writing, color me skeptical.

* Henry VI Part 2, Act 4, Scene 2.  Yes, I am aware that lawyers claim that this phrase is taken out of context (i.e., it is actually an ironic assertion that if one wants a poorly run, bad society, eliminate the rule of law), but it is simply too good not to use here.

From the oceans, from the stars. Arthur C. Clarke

Space flight has very little in common with aviation; it is much closer in spirit to ocean voyaging – Arthur C. Clarke, Profiles of the Future: An Inquiry into the Limits of the Possible, Harper and Row, New York, 1963.

The current drift of America’s civil space program has many reaching to discuss the philosophy and methods we rely on to pursue space travel.  Of late, the quote above (which I first read in high school in the late Sixties during my Arthur C. Clarke omnivorous reading campaign) has been tapping me on the shoulder.  Clarke’s captivating style gripped me for some time as I worked my way through both his fiction and non-fiction oeuvre.  Curiously, the above thought has stayed with me, and although I’d forgotten exactly where and in which of his books it occurred, I knew it was his and was able to find it.

From the beginning of the Space Age in 1957, spaceflight and rocket development has had a strong association with aviation, particularly the military variety.  The first astronauts were all military aviators (regardless of their branch of service) and those origins solidified the association of aviation with space.  Air Force public relations devised the term “aerospace” to make the association explicit.  The Army and the Navy had their own missile programs but the bulk of the early research and development was done to facilitate the deployment of a land-based ICBM system under the control of the Air Force.  Early ICBMs like Atlas and Titan (developed to lob nuclear warheads) became launch vehicles for the first human missions into space.

The analogy of manned spaceflight to aviation (at least in the first fifty years of spaceflight) is not altogether inappropriate.  Military and commercial aviation involves small crews that leave from a home base, travel great distances, sometimes fly over unknown territory (where they seldom land) before returning within a few to tens of hours.  Flight durations are short and the ability to deliver crew and cargo is limited.  In the military, this operational template is defined as a “mission,” where principal tasks are completed and then preparation for the next mission begins.  The only “permanence” in aviation is the mission.

The template for aviation has some resonating parallels in manned spaceflight. The pilot’s objective is to complete the assigned mission and return to base.  Astronauts can travel great distances, but are able to land at distant destinations only under extraordinary circumstances.  Mission duration (e.g., to the Moon) is short, on the order of a few days.  Single-purpose, one-shot trips are common and have little capability to deliver a large number of crew and large amounts of cargo.  Although the current plan is to carry more people on longer trips beyond low Earth orbit, the focus (mission) remains fixed on completing the task and returning home – not on creating a permanent, beneficial presence.

A navy has a different operational style.  Sea voyages can last many weeks or months, even years.  Navies can travel to any distant land, anchor off shore and explore it at length.  Ships are typically able to deliver large amounts of cargo and carry large crews and supplies; ships can remain for as long as is necessary to complete their assigned tasks, which can include extensive reconnaissance, including stops of varying lengths to many different ports of call.  A navy must be re-supplied on occasion and requires logistics bases (coaling stations, in 19^th century terms) for replenishment and refurbishing.  A navy both projects power and creates presence; it is the international face of the nation from which it originates.

In contrast to its parallels with aviation, space has yet to show much correspondence with seafaring.  But we should begin to think in such terms – to move away from our emphasis on one-off missions and toward sighting distant lands and conducting remote reconnaissance aimed toward the creation of a long-term presence.  The International Space Station, now continuously occupied for over a decade, is a first step and transition toward this new template.  Note that such occupation does not necessarily imply settlement or even that the same people have been there for a decade.  But we are moving gradually toward that concept as human presence extends to longer periods of time.  As we move outward from LEO, we will build beachheads – staging nodes and depots (logistics bases).  Here, spacecraft can refuel and provision themselves for journeys onward to more distant destinations.

Clarke was articulating the natural progression of human reach and operations.  To transit and settle a frontier, we initially survey and scout on custom-designed trips to obtain knowledge for future exploitation.  As we transition from this “Mountain Man”-stage of pioneering (occasional random visit to scattered points in the wilderness) to permanent bases (outposts) and then settlement (built around trading posts), we need an operational template that satisfies the new needs of space pioneers.  In order to attain and exploit the vast utility of space, longer presence of larger crews and more complex logistical arrangements (the attributes that a space navy provides) is required.

None of this is to say that a space air force is obsolete; forward reconnaissance on the edge of the frontier will always be required.  But as that frontier pushes ever outward, to distances that demand more significant logistical requirements, the naval analogy becomes more pertinent.  After all, John F. Kennedy (a former naval officer) did call space “this new ocean.”

Perceptive guy, that Arthur C. Clarke.

Uncollimated (left) and collimated (right) views of the Moon from the LEND instrument: What's being detected? (from Eke et al., 2012, LPSC 43, 2211)

Attendees at the recently concluded 43^rd annual Lunar and Planetary Science Conference had front row seats to a heated debate on new data from the Moon.  As opposed to how many envision scientific debate – coolly logical, white-frocked intellectuals, dispassionately discussing points of contention in a laboratory – what they witnessed was an impassioned and stormy exchange of differing opinions.  There is good reason for passion.  Subsequent decisions based on these data places the success or failure of future missions in the crosshairs.

Point in question: a team of scientists on NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO) mission claim that their new neutron mapping shows that locations of high hydrogen content are not well correlated with dark areas near the poles of the Moon.  This relation seems to contradict (at least, it is not consistent with) one of the key concepts about water at the poles of the Moon – that it occurs in dark polar cold traps, where water is stable on the surface and cannot be ejected from the Moon (as appears to be the case for most water deposited there).

This new idea is current because LRO carries something called a collimated neutron spectrometer, named the Lunar Exploration Neutron Detector (LEND), an instrument provided to NASA by IKI, the Space Research Institute of the Russian Academy of Science.  NASA flew a neutron spectrometer to the Moon over 10 years ago on a global mapping mission called Lunar Prospector (LP).  That instrument had an omni-directional (4-pi) field-of-view (FOV), meaning that it simultaneously looked in all directions.  As such, the resolution of features on the surface made by this instrument was fairly low, being effectively equal to the altitude of the spacecraft.  The LP neutron mapping spectrometer obtained a best resolution of about 30 km, meaning that any smaller feature could not be resolved in the FOV of the detector.  Unfortunately, most of the dark, cold areas near the poles are smaller than this.  LP detected enhanced levels of hydrogen in both polar regions, but couldn’t detect whether these hydrogen reservoirs were confined to the permanently shadowed areas, thus increasing the likelihood that the hydrogen was in the form of water.

In order to identify zones of high hydrogen content and determine if they were truly associated with the cold, dark areas, as predicted by theory, scientists wanted higher resolution maps of the poles for the next mission to the Moon.  The way to obtain higher resolution is to restrict the field of view of the neutron instrument to where it looks only at a small spot directly below the orbiter.  This involves putting a shield on the detector (called a collimator) that restricts the FOV to the lunar surface only; this technique can resolve areas on the surface smaller than the orbital altitude during mapping.  A drawback to using a collimator is that restricting the FOV means that the flux, or total number of neutrons that can be detected per unit time, is much lower, which greatly reduces precision of the measurements.  However, the longer the counting is conducted, the more precise the data.  LRO was to remain in lunar orbit for at least a two-year mission; it has now been orbiting the Moon and collecting data for almost three years.

Over the last year, the LEND team’s reports have appeared in the scientific literature.  To the surprise of most lunar scientists, their team claimed that in all but two or three isolated cases, hydrogen detected by LEND does not correlate with the polar dark areas.  This puzzling result would seem to indicate that perhaps we do not fully understand the nature of the polar hydrogen and the processes involved in their creation and retention.

Thus the debate commenced at last Monday’s scientific session, when several scientists (I will collectively call them the “skeptics”) who work with neutron data from LP and other missions, differed with the LEND team conclusions, who in turn vigorously defended their results as valid, citing as evidence the coincidence of laser altimetry and neutron data over one crater (Shoemaker) near the south pole of the Moon.  Having studied the LEND data set themselves, the skeptics contended that the actual average count rate for neutrons is less than half of that quoted by the LEND team, meaning that the hydrogen content inferred from the LEND data are significantly less precise than claimed.  Moreover, they estimate that the signal from the collimated (high resolution) detectors is only a few percent of the total signal, whereas the LEND team claims that it is roughly one-third of the total.  The skeptics make the point that if the collimator is working as the LEND team claim, the map derived from the collimated detector should be a sharper, higher resolution version of the low-resolution map made in the uncollimated mode.  In fact, the skeptics contend that the two maps look completely different (see figure at top of this post), suggesting that the collimated product is detecting something else; based on the observed pattern, it is probably related to the amount of iron in the lunar surface.

This is not some arcane, academic dispute.  We will depend on the mapping results from LRO to identify potential landing sites for future missions, including the selection of the most hydrogen-rich areas for exploration and possible future utilization.  Such decisions could involve the expenditure of hundreds of millions of dollars, so there is some pressure to make the correct ones.

So where does this impasse leave the lunar science community?  Mostly befuddled.  The vast majority of scientists simply do not have the time to read every scientific paper published, especially in fields peripheral to their own interests.  However, in the course of their research, scientists often find that they must decide what to believe about uncertain or controversial ideas that may relate to their own studies.  Is there a correct way to decide which interpretation to believe?  After a quick and cursory review of the competing concepts, most scientists will adopt the majority, or “consensus” viewpoint.  If they know someone with relevant expertise, they may ask for and rely on the considered judgment of that expert.  Few scientists are able to read and make their own considered judgments about a field in which they have little understanding or no expertise.  Thus, they tend to choose their position on the basis of non-scientific evaluations of the technical credibility of those arguing for or against a given viewpoint.

In this case, the detailed distribution of hydrogen at the poles of the Moon remains unclear.  While both LP and LEND uncollimated (e.g., omni-directional) maps appear nearly identical, the collimated LEND polar hydrogen maps show widely varying concentrations, with little coherence over short distances.  Repeatability of measurement is important in science.  The fact that two completely different instruments on two different missions found nearly identical results suggests that the low resolution, uncollimated LP and LEND maps are currently the best reflection of reality we have.  These uncollimated data most likely will remain the polar hydrogen maps of choice by working lunar scientists.

A blueprint for the future: Still relevant

Friday March 23rd is the 100^th anniversary of the birth of Wernher von Braun (1912-1977), the man most responsible for creating and implementing a vision of humans in space. Von Braun is legendary in space circles – both admired and criticized by observers within and outside of the program.  As a young space enthusiast and physicist, he worked on solving the practical problems of liquid rocket engines.  Working for the German Wehrmacht, he led the team that designed and built the world’s first ballistic missile weapon, the A-4 (or V-2, as we know it).  In the post-war years, he wrote and spoke about humanity’s imminent future in the new frontier of space.  As head of the Saturn development team and Director of the NASA Marshall Space Flight Center, he designed and supervised the building of the Saturn family of launch vehicles – the rockets that sent men to the Moon.

Von Braun’s contributions are numerous, but in this post, I want to focus specifically on his most lasting legacy, what I call the “von Braun Architecture” – the sequence of steps that von Braun believed would send humanity into space – to live and settle, not just to visit.  To von Braun, space was indeed the “new frontier,” whereby exploration consisted of initial surveys followed by a permanent presence.  In his view, great powers aspire to and accomplish great deeds and the opening and settlement of a new frontier would be the greatest task any nation could undertake.

Wernher von Braun set out his architecture in a series of articles for Collier’s magazine, a popular news feature forum in the early 1950’s.  It was a very well received among the young and confident generation that came of age in the shadow of the nuclear bomb  (when science and technology became simultaneously a blessing and a curse to mankind).  Because the series was so popular, it was expanded into three books (Across the Space Frontier, Conquest of the Moon and The Exploration of Mars).  Walt Disney used them to create a three-part episode in his 1955-57 television series Disneyland. The programs described and dramatized each of the major steps of the von Braun architecture: space taxi (shuttle), space station, Moon tug and Mars mission.

To document how his end-to-end system design would work, Von Braun presented detailed engineering drawings and supporting calculations. It was definitely not a mere outline of broad, vague terms listing obvious incremental steps needed to settle space.   Much of his systems analysis is still valid, although today some ideas would be updated to reflect new technologies.  For example, in his architecture, electrical power in space is generated by a solar thermal/mercury vapor turbine system, as photovoltaic arrays had not yet made their appearance in the early 1950’s.  Some of his more advanced concepts have seen partial implementation, such as a reusable space launch system.  Other innovations have yet to be accomplished, such as artificial gravity for the LEO Space Station and cislunar space tugs.

Technical details of von Braun’s half-century old architecture are of lesser importance than his influence on policy.  In broad terms, we’ve been following an implementation of the von Braun space architecture since the Space Age began more than 50 years ago.  The most notable exception and departure from his plan is the Apollo program, which bypassed the shuttle/station stage and headed straight for the Moon because of a geopolitical imperative to beat the Soviets there.  Because of that looming deadline, a new architecture (one that could launch the entire lunar mission in one fell swoop) had to be developed that would bypass the complex and time-consuming development of a reusable launch vehicle and orbiting space station.  Von Braun tackled this problem with his usual enthusiasm, imagining first an 11 million pound super-rocket (the Nova) and then, a “smaller” 6.7 million pound behemoth (the Saturn V) to take America to the Moon.  It was this decadal imperative of Apollo that drove von Braun to develop the heavy lift Saturn V, not some Teutonic tendency toward super-sizing his creations.

After Apollo completed our national goal, NASA fell back on the von Braun Architecture (as the agency always does once it completes a significant milestone):  Shuttle was to provide cheap, routine access to LEO, Space Station was to serve as an orbiting space base and platform to journey beyond and the “moon tug” was to be the Orbital Transfer Vehicle (OTV), designed to transport people and robots to and from high Earth orbits in cislunar space, including geosynchronous orbit (where communications and weather satellites reside), the Earth-Moon L-points and  lunar orbit (it requires the same energy to reach all three from LEO).  Each new NASA program was part of the master plan for space that von Braun laid out sixty years ago.

The von Braun Architecture has staying power because it remains a logical, incremental and cumulative plan that will systematically extend human reach beyond low Earth orbit.  Von Braun wanted space to become a “new ocean” and intended to build the navy to sail it.  He is often remembered for the Saturn V and an alleged penchant for brute-force (i.e., giant rockets), yet the techniques and pieces of the von Braun Architecture (solutions to logistical problems in space), are still being actively studied, advocated and pursued today, including reusable launch vehicles, in-space assembly and fueling, planetary resource utilization and long-duration (read: permanent) residence in space by humans.

Some believe that von Braun was a “technocrat,” primarily interested in megarockets and space power politics; that perception is an unfortunate and incomplete picture of his contributions.  He was as much a space dreamer as Arthur C. Clarke and Gerry O’Neill.  Von Braun believed humanity had a promising, unbounded future in space.  Not content to simply focus on developing a widget here or planting a flag there, he envisioned a path that would enable all activities.  He created an architectural framework that made constant, incremental progress without losing focus on long-range, strategic goals.  For humanity to live and work permanently in space, he understood that we would have to learn how to make what we need from what we found there.  He was not interested in new and ever more distant “stunt” missions; he was interested in and dedicated to, the long-term settlement of space, an objective vital to the future of the human race.

Happy birthday, Wernher von Braun.  We salute your accomplishments, appreciate the trail that you blazed, and miss your guiding wisdom and vision.

Note: Special thanks to my friend Bill Mellberg, historian and humorist (who does a great von Braun impression), for giving me a “heads-up” on the forthcoming von Braun centenary.  Listen to his recent appearance on The Space Show, where he discusses the history of commercial aviation and its parallels (and lack thereof) to modern commercial space.